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1kook · 4 years

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kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.

—

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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ilguna · 3 years

Text

Redamancy - Chapter Eight (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, murder, HEAVY GORE, mentions of FORCED PROSTITUTION.

wc; 12k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

If it weren’t for the irritating sun rays landing right on your face and into your eyes, you’d bask in this warm feeling forever. It’s like receiving an embrace from spring, herself. Bright sunlight, tolerable temperatures, bees, flowers, sundresses, picnics and comfortable afternoons in the park with your family. You can’t count how many good memories you have from grass fields and playgrounds in District Four.

Watching Alyssum run around the park, making friends and being a kid while she can is the most satisfying part. You can watch her for hours, lose yourself in her carelessness. Your sister hasn’t got a worry in the world to think about, it makes you envy her. A nice house, warm meals, a loving family. None of you are perfect, but you try to be for her.

There’s a lot she’s going to be missing out on already when it comes to parents. She has you, Reed and Mox to fill those roles for her. You’d like to say she can’t miss something she’s never experienced, you’d be lying, though. You miss a regular teenage life that you never got to live, thanks to the Hunger Games. The Capitol is always ruining something, even if they’re not actively trying.

Which brings you back to reality. As much as you’d like to lay here in the soft blankets and keep to your warm spot on the bed, you’ve got to get moving. If the sun is in your eyes already, it only means that your time is up when it comes to sleeping. Like a natural alarm clock, only somehow more annoying, even if it’s not loud and in your face.

You turn onto your back, slowly opening your eyes. You’re met with a white ceiling, smooth and crack-free. Back home in your room, your ceiling has plenty of cracks. When you don’t feel like getting up immediately, you’ll play a game with yourself. See which ones will start on one side of the room and make it to the other. You’ve gotten good at it, and confidently say that there’s a few that go beyond that, they go to the windowsill.

With a gentle sigh, you sit up on the bed, turned toward the window, stretching your arms above your head. It feels good to get the blood pumping through your arms and shoulders again. You can’t really help it when the stretch extends down to your legs. A low moan leaves your lips, and stops dead in your throat when your thighs begin to hurt.

You hum, standing on your feet. It hurts at first, but the more you move around the room, the better you begin to feel. You stare out of the window for a couple of seconds to see that the Capitol is already alive. It’s definitely past noon at this point. So much for a rotating schedule with Finnick, you’ve already ruined it.

You look over the room you’re in, which definitely isn’t your own. It’s Finnick’s, with the bamboo bed frame, white sheets and the hammock across his room. You used to hear him say how much he enjoyed your room over his, something about the ceiling to floor windows that you have. Takes up an entire wall, gives you a great view of the city. Better than the tiny windows he has lining the wall.

The clock says that it’s a little after two. You two really have got to start moving before you miss out on anything inside of the arena. Not to mention, poor Gloss is sitting down there alone. He hasn’t had a friend to sit with since six this morning. A whole eight hours can be boring as hell, and quite frankly, lonely. He might have resorted talking to the sponsors, at this point.

Finnick is still sleeping on the bed, of course. His back is turned to the sun, explaining why he hasn’t woken up just yet. It’s not going to stay that way for very long. You’d leave him sleeping up here if it weren’t for the fact that it’s entertaining to see him hungover. It’s not often you get to see him like that, and you’re not really willing to pass up an opportunity. Plus, you might as well keep him around as company so it doesn’t get awkward later.

Before you wake him up, you find and put on your bra. He got to see all of you last night, there’s no reason to continue to walk around shirtless. You pick up your pants, and tank top, as your shoes are kicked off by the door. You begin to pull on your jeans, having to bounce slightly to pull them up all the way, when Finnick rolls over.

He groans, throwing his arm over his face to keep the sun from getting in his face. You’re satisfied to see that he’s about to get the same unpleasant wakening that you got, until you realize that his arm completely blocks out the light. What a shame, you were looking forward to watching him come to life like a zombie.

“Hey,” your voice is soft, not really wanting to disturb the peace. He doesn’t seem to hear you, or maybe you’re too quiet. You speak a little louder, “We should probably get down to the betting room, check on our tributes.”

Finnick freezes, and then jolts upright. His wide eyes land on you easily, face twisting as he slowly thinks over the scene in front of him. You pull on your tank top, raising your eyebrows as you wait for him to come to the conclusion himself. After a couple more seconds, he hums out a small tune and falls back onto his pillows, closing his eyes.

“I thought I was still at a client’s house for a second.” he breathes.

“Good morning,” you muse, “How are you feeling?”

“Besides the pounding headache, my back’s pretty messed up.” his eyes open, giving you a sly smirk. You grab one of his shoes, which aren’t as close to the door as yours are, and chuck it at him. Finnick laughs loudly, catching the shoe before it makes a hole in the wall, “I’m fine, considering that I finished half of your drink last night on top of mine.”

“One of us had to be responsible, and I figured that you wouldn’t want to be the one.”

“The next time we go out, I’m going to make you loosen up.” Finnick says.

“If you’re calling me uptight, I’ll shove a stick up your ass so you can see how it feels.” you lean against the wall.

He rolls his eyes, getting out of bed. He’s got a pair of boxers on, so he’s not completely naked either, “How are you feeling?”

“Well rested, actually. Your bed is pretty comfortable.”

“You’re welcome to sleep here any time.” Finnick says, kicking yesterday’s jeans into the corner, as well as the shirt.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” you snort, collecting your shoes, “I’m going to take a shower and get ready. I’ll see you in the dining room.”

“Sure.”

You leave his room, shutting the door behind you. In your own, you quickly change and throw the dirty clothes off to the side for easy collecting when the avoxes come around later. It’s not as hot inside of the Tribute Center as it was yesterday, but the heat is still apparent enough to be one of the first things on your mind. You settle for a pair of shorts, sandals and a white tank top.

You throw the pile of clothes onto the bathroom countertop. The door whooshes shut behind you, sending a cold breeze of air straight to your back. Much like yesterday, you turn the shower water to cold, just on the verge of being warm. You decide to skip getting your hair wet, since you don’t really have time to mess around. It’s a quick wash with sweet smelling soaps before you’re out again.

As you’re drying yourself with the cyan blue towel, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. And with what you see the first time briefly, you have to go back to check that you saw correctly. A scowl appears on your face when you get closer, fingers gently brushing against your collarbone. Little dark marks litter your skin.

You press your lips together, staring for a couple of seconds longer. You have no choice, you have to cover these up. So, you pull on your clothes and get to work with the makeup, trying to find colors that’ll cancel out the hickey colors. You spend a good ten minutes blending, color correcting, and starting over when it’s too obvious. When you’re finally done, you can still tell that they’re there, but it won’t be the first thing anyone sees when they look at you.

You’d just wear a regular shirt if it weren’t for the fact that you’re already sweating with the tanktop on. You put on the sandals on your way out, making sure your ring is secured on your hand. Finnick is already sitting at the dining room table when you get out there, hair wet and he’s dressed in pink and white.

“Took you long enough.” he says, stabbing his fork into a pancake piece and placing it in his mouth.

You glare as you sit down on the chair, “I had a problem. Actually, you gave me a couple of problems and I solved them.”

His face twists, eyeing you now, trying to find the difference. When a plate of pancakes is served in front of you, plate hot to the touch, you cut up the pancakes, slightly amused by his determination to try and prove you wrong. Does he really think that he’ll be able to? You’ve gone through this plenty of times before with Anchor.

Finnick shrugs, “Whatever you say.”

At least now you have insurance that you did a good job. Finnick might be some type of moronic but that doesn’t mean he misses details. It’s the small things that you have to look out for. Another skill that you need when you’re mentoring, another thing to add to the list that you’ve gotten good at after these years. From what you remember, Finnick’s not too bad at it, himself.

The avox turns on the tv without either of you asking, but you thank him anyway. As you go for fruits instead of syrup this morning, you catch up on the arena with Finnick. Sanguin is in the cornucopia, a fire going in front of her. She’s got some sort of animal skewered using her sword, roasting it over the fire. She looks pissed, staring into the fire, letting the flames flicker in her eyes.

You’d like to say that she finally lost her mind, but she lost it a long time ago. Way before Bauhinia. Maybe while she was being strategically trained to think that the other tributes in the arena were animals? Or maybe when she volunteered for the Hunger Games like it would be a walk in the park? It’s hard to say exactly, there’s a lot of moments in these past few weeks where she could’ve gone wrong.

At any rate, she’s got enough water to last her a while. You can confidently say that she won’t be leaving the cornucopia unless it’s to get more food. There’s no way that the sponsors are going to cough up any money just for her to eat. Especially when she’s supposed to be trained for the arena. She should know how to hunt and gather. Besides, you’re sure that Gloss would want them to wait until it’s something important, like that healing cream. Even then, it took a couple of people to pitch in. The prices are getting amped up, it’s harder to pay for things now.

You have a feeling that she’s sitting down there for a reason, instead of going off and trying to hunt down any other tributes. She’s healed by now, you watched her put more healing cream on her body last night before she decided to call it a night. Which means that this morning, the entire wound has got to be gone. She’s still going to be sore when moving around, but that’s an obvious nuisance. She technically should be able to work through it.

So, if she’s not interested in hunting Tekla, that means she’s waiting for Annie to come out of the village. And you’d say that’s a pretty big problem, except for the fact that it’s not. Annie’s got plenty of food and water from her raid on the career backpacks and whatever Marsh was holding before he died. If she doesn’t want to, she won’t have to leave the house unless it’s for some sort of Capitol-generated emergency.

After yesterday, you can’t see them doing something like that. You don’t even think that both tributes dying were intentional. They like to watch the last couple of teens fight it out, since they’re the ones that are either: one, completely trained for the arena and know how to take another tribute out with a simple tree branch and a rock. Or, they’re completely lucky and know how to blend into their surroundings and stay there until the Capitol is forced to step in. They only do it when there’s been several days without any interaction between tributes and the Capitol citizens are starting to riot.

Those tributes are the ones that can go days without food. Water, not so much, but they’ll find a source nearby and stick with it as long as they can without getting suspicious. It’s not an impressive feat to go days without eating, it just goes to show the horrible living conditions inside of the other districts. Fortunately, your family hit rock bottom, but you never had to keep digging.

As for Annie, she’s still looking pretty dead inside of her house. She’s moved to a different corner that gives her a better look to see. It looks like she’ll doze off for a second before jerking upright, hand tightening around her sword. You saw her sleep last night, it was the whole reason why you and Finnick decided it was acceptable to leave the betting room in the first place. With the peace of mind of knowing that Annie was finally getting the rest she needed.

When you were at the bar, you didn’t really keep track of what was going on inside of the arena. Which, looking back on it, probably wasn’t a brilliant idea in the first place. If there was an emergency with Annie, knowing as soon as possible would’ve hypothetically saved her life. But you also just wanted one moment for yourself, with Finnick and a drink. It wasn’t much to ask for, and you’re sure that it was well-deserved. If it wasn’t, Annie would be dead in a ditch right now.

To some extent, she might as well be. While Sanguin is fueled with hate-fire right now--literally. Annie looks like her soul has been ripped out of her body. She’s pale, the previous kind girl light in her eyes is gone. She looks like a corpse, freshly pulled out of the coffin. You wish you’ve seen this before, because maybe that would make it easier to understand why she isn’t grieving like normal. Normally, tributes cry for hours, sometimes days until they have to pull it together to win. Annie is just… she’s completely lifeless. Actually, she looks like she’s given up with trying to survive inside of the arena. Which is a dangerous mindset to adapt, especially now.

Just two more tributes to burn through, all she has to do is hold on. Let Sanguin and Tekla fight it out, hope that one kills the other, and the one gets severely injured enough to bleed out and die. It would make the whole thing a lot easier on her, you know that. The last thing she’d probably need on her plate right now, is another death. She’s already got two genuinely impressive ones--taking out the male careers? You’re the only other person who has done that in the past five years. And she’s witnessed the death that would affect her, and it’s taking its toll already. It’s been two days.

Well, as long as Annie stays where she is, eats, drinks and sleeps when she needs to, she won’t have to worry about anything. However, this idea also goes for Sanguin, on the assumption that Tekla isn’t bold enough to go ahead and attack her uninvited. Sanguin’s also set for days--if she has extra food stored somewhere in the case of emergencies.

The only person that might get bored and start causing havoc is Tekla. She’s in the woods by herself, in a patch of grass unguarded by trees. She lays in the sun with her eyes closed, hands laced behind her head. Looking exactly like she did on the first couple of days inside of the arena. This time, she has a good reason to be carefree. Before, she had more than ten other tributes to worry about, all fighting to go home. Now it’s down to two others. It should be a walk in the park, if it weren’t for the fact that she’s being put up against two careers.

You wonder what her odds look like right now. They hadn’t changed last night, not even after she killed Seven boy. But now that it officially looks like she’s going to make it to one of the final fights and be crowned victor, she’s gotta have moved up. District Nine hasn’t had a victor in a long, long time. Their last one was a guy, and he’s the first male to be put into the mentor spot. If you remember correctly, there’s only five victors in Nine, which means that four of them are female.

Figures that their new potential victor would be a girl, right?

It looks like you don’t really have anything to worry about arena-wise. Really, if you wanted to, you could just stay inside of the apartment. With half-alive Annie, vengeful Sanguin and cheerful Tekla, it’s safe to say that today’s a free day. Things could change, but that’s just your prediction. The only reason you’d have to go down to the betting room is to show up for Gloss, but he doesn’t really matter, does he? You can just go and see him tomorrow.

“You’ve got a look on your face.” Finnick says, your eyes find him to see that he’s staring.

“So?” you stab a strawberry and place it in your mouth, resisting the momentary sour expression before the sweetness takes over.

“It’s your indecisive look.”

Now, your face twists, “I do not have an indecisive look--”

He laughs, “It’s unmistakable! You get the look when you’re thinking over something important.”

“Like a decision?” you ask, trying to be serious, but you end up laughing.

He seems to let it go for a moment, until he’s looking at you again, “What was it?”

You shrug, “I was just thinking that we wouldn’t have to go down to the betting room if we didn’t want to. The silence in the arena gives us a couple of liberties that we wouldn’t have on a normal day.”

“Oh, so you do have a relaxed side.” Finnick thoroughly enjoys the face you make, raising your fist as a threat to punch him in the arm again. You wonder how far he can push you before you finally give him a nasty bruise, “And you also woke me up for nothing.”

“Technically you woke yourself, I just spoke.” you shrug, “Can I get some more coffee?”

“Might as well go back to bed while I can, then.” Finnick says, but he doesn’t move from where he’s sitting.

You wait, receive your coffee, and let him stare at you for a little while, “What are you waiting for?”

“It wouldn’t be responsible--” he mocks the word in your voice, “--to go back to bed, wouldn’t it?”

You glare, “Finnick, you have the night shift, anyway. Stay awake, go back to bed, get drunk at The Victory Speech, have dinner with Gloss, I don’t give a shit.”

“You seem like you want me to go away.” he says, “I think I’ll stick with you, then.”

“Fine by me.” you scoop up your coffee mug, taking it with you when you go downstairs to sit on the couch. You pull out a coaster to not ruin the pristine glass table.

There’s not much to watch the tributes do at all. Sanguin roasts her food, and you think she ends up daydreaming some, because she burns the bottom side of the meat. Doesn’t even wrinkle her nose or look fazed when she bites straight into that part, even when it disintegrates in her mouth the more she chews. After she’s done eating, she moves to the back of the cornucopia, hiding behind a stack of boxes to take a nap.

Annie turns her knife over in her hand, spinning it between her fingers before she knicks herself one too many times. After that, she settles for pulling out a line of rope from her backpack, tying and untying knots. It’s a common hobby that people use to soothe anxiety and pass time when there’s nothing else to do. Doesn’t surprise you that she’s resorted to this. Although, you do begin to worry slightly when you watch her jump at the slightest of sounds and nearly get up every single time to check.

You’d say it’s a reasonable response, thinking that Sanguin is after her. But the house creaks the same way every time, lets out the same groan each time the wind blows too hard. It’s not like they’re new sounds. She should’ve picked up on this by now, realized that there’s no need to get ready to hurry into battle. Watching her grab her knife, lean forward, and listen for any other sounds over and over begins to make you feel antsy.

“There’s something wrong with Annie.” Finnick says.

You hum, “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“What do you think it is?”

You shake your head, “Still working on that idea.”

“Anything you’ve seen before?”

“If I have, I don’t remember.” You lean back into the couch, “Let’s just wait and see how bad it gets.”

And the truth is, it gets worse, because it can always get worse. The good news is that you’ve figured out how to help her, on top of figuring out the problem in the first place. The bad news is that it requires a sponsor. And like you said earlier, all the prices have gone up. Getting one now would be a nightmare, but you have to try anyway.

As you go down to the betting room with Finnick, you think it over.

Annie is suffering from paranoia. She’s obviously shell-shocked from watching Marsh die, otherwise she would be acting normally. You guess that allowing two tributes that have known each other for a handful of years, go inside of the arena together wasn’t the brightest idea. But it’s not like you could control it. You don’t think that they even planned for it to happen, it was just a coincidence.

This is just one part of the problem, watching Marsh die. She also might be feeling guilty because she didn’t try harder to keep him from going. It makes the most sense. She tried to convince him to stay, but the second he showed resistance, she caved and followed. Guilt like this will haunt someone forever. If she wins, she’ll be stuck with thinking that Marsh could’ve gone a better way.

You know this, because you carry around a considerable amount of guilt, too.

The last part, concerning Annie, is the fact that she hasn’t slept in a while. Paranoia feeds off insomnia. Getting an hour or two of sleep after watching your friend die right in front of you, in arguably one of the worst ways possible, is an unfortunate series of events. She can’t prevent not being able to sleep, so you’ll just help her as best as you can.

When you presented all of this to Finnick, he agreed. Said that he was thinking something along the lines of what you are. The only hiccup that he’s worried about is finding sponsors wealthy enough to sponsor this late into the games. They also have to be betting on her too, so that if she does win, they’ll get the return in full.

The betting room seems slightly busier than usual. Like you predicted earlier, Gloss decided to go ahead and take company in the Capitol people. Tekla’s mentor seems busy off in the corner, with people that don’t look like they nearly have enough money to sponsor this late in the game. It wouldn’t be any use trying to steal them, just a waste of time.

Gloss knows people, but that would mean to interrupt what he’s doing right now, which seems fairly important. The group of people that Finnick had approved of is thin, pooling their money together wouldn't even buy a loaf of bread. Much less what you’re thinking about right now.

It only leaves a couple of people, ones you haven’t talked to in days. You stop a couple of steps inside of the room, allowing Finnick to come in and shut the door behind him. He waits there for a moment, before coming around the side.

“What are you waiting for?” His voice is slightly hushed. No one has really taken notice of your appearance just yet. If needed, you could probably slip out the door and no one would know the difference.

You look at him.

You made an agreement, take his advice on who to be around and who to stay away from, and he’ll help you. You thought that it would be easy then, because you didn’t need the sponsors. Annie and Marsh had a strategy down, they didn’t look like they’d be needed help anytime soon. They had everything they needed at the moment. But now that Annie needs something more, you’re stuck.

Having Finnick around to be a second body, a second pair of hands and eyes and ears, has made a difference. You’ve slept well, you’ve been allowed to hang out with friends when given the opportunity, and you can finally pace yourself. No more running around like it’s life or death, or being afraid to sleep because an arena is particularly dangerous.

However, you can do it alone. Annie’s needs right now is going to come before whatever requirements Finnick has. Bringing a tribute home is crucial, buddying with Finnick is a perk. If he gets mad at you for this, there's always next year.

“I need you to come with me and not intervene, or go back upstairs.” You say, squeezing the finger your ring is on.

His face twists, “It depends—“

“No. You go upstairs, or you don’t intervene.” You start towards the sponsors, “I mean it, Finnick.”

You’re not even halfway across the room before they spot you. You smile at them, letting them welcome you. When you don’t feel Finnick’s presence behind you like normal, you turn to look. The door is sweeping shut, you briefly catch a glimpse of him leaving.

The sponsors are happy to see you again, you talk with them for a while, and watch what goes on inside of the arena. It’s all small talk, or questions about what you feel like is going to happen. Until they finally bring up Annie, how she’s doing. And just because you can’t hold it in, you spill it all out, being completely honest with them.

Annie is hurting right now, and she can’t help it. She can’t simply fall asleep because she’s afraid of the nightmares and the vulnerability that comes with it. There’s always the possibility that her body simply isn’t letting her sleep, too. She’s not physically tired, so why would she lay down and try? So, you think that if you find something that’ll make her drowsy, she’ll feel more inclined to.

You can’t guarantee that it’ll work, but it’s worth a try if it means that she wins the games, right? The sponsors seem to think so, and with a budget, you bring them over to the sponsoring table. Everything under the sun is allowed to be sent to them. Name it, and thye’re probably have it. It’s just the price that makes it impossible to work around.

You know for sure that pills are out of the question. The second you see the price, you’re switching gears. Medicine? Maybe. You look at all the options they have for tributes for when they’re sick. You’ve seen a handful of these brands in District Four, all of them expensive. With the money that the Capitol gives you, you can finally afford them. Which means that Alyssum doesn’t have to suffer through colds like before. The medicine works wonders, but the Capitol version will be too much for her to handle. It might as well be a tranquilizer.

Something more natural, then. Those are always cheaper. You go through it, seeing the little vials of brightly colored liquids and the contents. Ones to make you throw up, give adrenaline if the tribute is dying, allergy medicine to save them from anaphylactic shock. And finally, one for sleeping. Without a moment of hesitance, you tap on it.

They all pitch in a certain amount, allowing the vial to be covered in full. You thank them, with assurance that it won’t go to waste. Annie is a tough tribute, she’ll be able to win. All she needs is a little sleep to reset her body, hopefully start her over. It’s like shutting something completely off before trying again.

You take a breath before writing on the paper, ‘Drink it all’.

You get to stand back and watch as the gamemakers find the best way to send it to her. You don’t doubt that she’ll hear the noise that the gifts make. Especially if she’s hearing noises that aren’t being picked up on the microphones. It’s where they have to drop it off to make sure it doesn’t get caught on anything on the way down, like a corner of a roof.

The chiming is a sound that you still hear in your nightmares. You watch as the silver parachute glides through the air, slowly moving between the houses. At first, it doesn’t seem to alarm Annie, but then she jolts, pauses to make sure she’s hearing it right, and then gets up. She shoves her knife into her belt, carefully goes down the stairs so that it doesn’t break beneath her.

She looks more alive like this, the color has returned to her face slightly, she’s got a smile hinting at the corner of her lips. When she finally comes out of the house, swinging the door open and letting in the natural light, she cries out in shock and covers her eyes. She mutters out a few curse words, squinting through the sun until her eyes adjust.

She spots the gift in the middle of the walkway. The smile grows more, scooping the tin into her hand. She gives the area around her a little look-around before disappearing back into the house, shutting the door and locking it. Even though it looks like the lock won’t do much for her anymore. The doorknob is practically falling off.

She makes it all the way to the third floor, back into the corner of her room. She slips down the wall and pops open the lid of the container. The first thing that Annie sees inside is the note, which she reads over carefully before moving it out of the way for the vial. It’s small, not at all as big as they normally sell them earlier on, but those ones also have the tendency to knock a person out for a whole day. This will just keep her asleep for a few hours, maybe the entire night if she drinks it now. You hope that she’ll be up at a reasonable time tomorrow.

Annie uncaps it carefully, and takes a small sniff. You can’t imagine that she recognizes the smell, even though it is sort-of distinct. If the medicine is fresh, it’ll usually smell sweet. If it’s not, then it’s stale, maybe a little sour. Obviously, one is more desirable than the other, but it works the same either way. Whether or not it’s fresh doesn’t affect the way it works.

When Annie is satisfied with the smell, she goes ahead and caps it again. There’s no directions, so she’s going to have to decide how she wants to do this. The sun will be setting in an hour, maybe two. Annie eats some dry foods, drinks some water. It’s smart, her wanting to get food into her body beforehand. If it were you, you probably would’ve just settled for drinking it straight, it might have worked faster that way.

She drinks it, slipping to the floor. She pulls the sleeping bag over herself, closing her eyes. It’s going to take a second to kick in, but it’s enough time for you to go upstairs and out of the betting room. You’ll be back down here bright and early tomorrow, there’s no point spending more time than you have to.

You thank the sponsors, shake hands and exchange hugs. Before you leave the room, you see that the Afternoon Line Odds are all the same. Sanguin’s is 2-1, Annie is 3-1, Tekla is 7-1. All very good odds, but not as good as Sanguin. Hopefully, that’ll change within the next couple of days. You leave the room before Gloss can see that you’re down there.

You spent a good hour or so just talking to the sponsors. The fastest part was getting them to agree on sending Annie a gift. It wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be. Finnick makes all of them out to be like criminals, constantly looking for their next fix. But they understand that you’re not like that. They can have their eyes on you all they want, it’s not going to happen.

Just before you go inside of the apartment, you’re sure that Finnick isn’t going to be out in the living room, or he’s not going to be inside of the apartment all together. However, when you step inside, you’re surprised to see that he’s on the couch, his arms crossed. He doesn’t bother to look over, not even after you shut the door. You almost feel guilty for doing what you did.

Almost.

You sit on the couch next to him, pull your legs up beneath you, and sit in silence. There’s no point to try and talk to him right now. You know that he’d probably like a moment to cool off. It might even be better if you didn’t sit in here at all, so he won’t be fuming next to you. But it’s not like you have much of a choice. You can’t just go back downstairs and sit in the betting room, that would be stupid. If Finnick’s right about the sponsors, there’s no reason to stay around them more than you have to.

So, silence it is. It’s a while before either of you have anything to talk about. Annie should be asleep by now, an entire hour later. There’s no way that the vial would take more than five minutes, even with a full stomach. Still, you watch as her eyes open, a frown appearing on her face, eyebrows turning in.

Your mouth falls open, you stand from the couch, “That’s not good.”

“What did you give her in the first place?” Finnick asks.

“It’s one of those natural sleeping medicines, the expensive ones?” you briefly look at him, before you go back to the tv, “Costed a fortune, so it should’ve worked. The gamemakers wouldn’t send a dud, right?”

“Probably not.”

You sit back down onto the couch, hands falling into your lap. You made sure that it was the sleeping medicine, and not the sick stuff either. The only other option that was left for Annie besides this, was the herbal tea. And that shit hardly ever works for you, or your siblings when you use it back home. The most the tea would do anyway, is make her drowsy, not even a guarantee.

It’s a good thing that you didn’t even consider the tea, because if the vial did nothing, Annie would be able to drink the entire box of tea and still not feel a single thing. The medicine was a waste of money, and who knows what it’s going to do to her. Make her even more delirious than she already is? Like she, or you guys, need that at all. You were already worried over her paranoia, now you’ve got to be worried about her accidentally killing herself?

There’s nothing you can do about it now. You’ve just got to sit back and wait to see if it kicks in, after all. There’s no point in going downstairs to tell the sponsors it was some sort of mistake, because you really didn’t know that this was going to happen. If you did, you probably wouldn’t have bothered in the first place. Everything is worth a try until it’s wasting resources. You might have been able to use the sponsor money later on.

Still, you have to sit and painfully watch as Annie progressively gets worse. Turns out, that if you don’t fall asleep with the medicine, it starts to work as a hallucinogenic. On top of Annie’s paranoia, she’s not hallucinating she’s hearing noises, and maybe even seeing things. You close your eyes and rest them against your palms when you lean forward, not really liking to hear Annie go through it.

It’s stupid. You’re not even sure how Annie’s resisting the drug, anyway. She’s not doing it on purpose, she clearly recognized the smell if she laid down immediately after. And it’s not like they had any sort of drugs available for hallucinations. No mentor would willingly give their tributes something like that, so why would it be offered?

No matter what happens, though, you’re glad to see that Annie doesn’t leave the house. She stays where she is, clutching onto her knife, staring into space. She’s just like how she was before you sent her the sponsor gift. Only this time around, she’ll randomly jump as if there’s been a loud sound, and then her eyes will follow things in front of her, even when there’s nothing there.

Elysia comes into the apartment around the same time you guys normally eat dinner, a little out of breath, “Oh, there you guys are!”

You look over your shoulder to see that she’s dressed in lime green and black. The black helps accentuate the green part, which you’re not really sure is a good thing. You’re sure that everyone can see her coming from a mile away, literally.

“You were looking for us?” you ask, she nods, heading over to you and Finnick.

“In the betting room, I thought you’d be down there since you normally are.”

Figures that the one time you wouldn’t be down there, she’d go, “Looked like there wasn’t much going on today so I thought we could stay up here. I only went down there to send the gift.”

“I saw that.” she says, “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

You three do it over dinner. With Elysia hardly eating and doing most of the talking, Finnick watching the tv and only chiming in when he’s needed, and you trying to do all three at the same time. It’s easy for the most part. Remember when you said that you got good at multitasking? This is an example of that.

She mostly tells you what you already figured out, which is that it turns out to be a hallucinogenic after a while. It should wear off, but it’ll take hours to do. Like, for the amount of time she should have been asleep for. She’s already got a couple of hours under her belt, you’d say that by tomorrow morning, she’ll be back to normal. So, there’s no reason to sit around and wait.

You and Finnick can get a full night of sleep for once. You just have to get up early tomorrow morning to assess the damage. You’re sure that it’ll be fairly easy to do, you’ll have to get yourself into the habit of waking up early again, anyway. You’ve got the boarding school to worry about. Anchor won’t want to do it alone forever.

Before you give it up tonight, you check the tv one last time. Annie is in her room, so she’s fine. Sanguin looks like she’s officially laying down to sleep, her weapons are displayed around her, all ready to be picked up and used at any time. As for Tekla, she’s made a bed in her little clearing in the trees. However, she’s bold, with a fire going that is distinguishable in the dark. She’s lucky that the back of the cornucopia is turned towards her, otherwise Sanguin would be more than tempted to take Tekla out.

You head back to your room after dinner, mainly to brush your teeth. You pace in your room for a moment, caught in the decision of whether or not to talk to Finnick or to leave him to be angry on his own. You’re sure that he’d appreciate being by himself, but there’s also this morning and last night to talk about. You can’t really just leave those alone, who knows what kinds of problems they’ll cause in the future.

“Okay.” you sigh, heading out of your room and to his. You knock on his door, waiting a second, “Finnick?”

It’s a couple more beats of silence, “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

You open the door to see that Finnick is sitting on the corner of the bed. He looks up when you step inside, you shut it behind you, and lean against the door, “I’m sorry about earlier. I know we had an agreement, but the sponsors were at my disposal. I decided that I might as well, because I was sure that it would work.”

“And it should’ve.” Finnick mutters, “I would just like it if you wouldn’t go and do it again.”

“Yeah, I won’t. I don’t even have the options for it.” you laugh slightly, he cracks a smile, “You should probably know that I prioritize my mentoring job over everything else. If it’s the needs of the tributes versus you, I’m going to pick the tributes every time.”

“I know, you don’t have to be sorry for it.”

“Good, cause I wasn’t.” you grin.

Finnick rolls his eyes, “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“You can probably guess what it is.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with the horribly covered up hickeys, would it?” He’s cheeky now.

“Maybe.” you give him a soft smile, “I’d just like to know what we’re doing, and if we’re going to continue on with it.”

Finnick makes a face, “This is going to sound like shit, but I’ll go with what you want.”

“You’re right, it does sound like shit.” he laughs first, and then you join in, “The thing is, Finnick, is that I don’t have a problem with it. But the last time I checked, you were the one that told me that we weren’t good together. So are you sure that you’ll go with what I want, or are you going to break up with me in a couple of months after you realize it again?”

Finnick opens his mouth, and then closes it. “I deserve that.”

“It wasn’t an explanation, Finnick. In fact, it made things worse when we were just fine on the train, and then you come back from seeing Snow and--!” you’re shaking your head, giving yourself a moment before you start speaking again, “and suddenly I was supposed to know that we weren’t together anymore.”

“But you know why now, right?” Finnick asks.

“Parts of it.” you rub on the ring, “I know that it was because of Snow and the sex work. He made you break up with me to make you more available to the Capitol, right?”

“No, I actually made that decision myself.” he says.

You raise your eyebrows.

Finnick stares, tilts his head for a moment like he’s unsure, “There’s more to it.”

You wait, thinking that he’s just going to give up the information, but he doesn’t, “Okay…?”

“I don’t want to make you feel guilty.”

“Then why’d you say anything at all?”

He laughs, “To not make me look like an asshole.”

You snort.

“Alright well,” Finnick pauses, “President Snow had me taken to his mansion after the train, you know this. He told me that it’s not uncommon for victors to be well received by the Capitol, but I was different because I was handsome or whatever,” his face twists, “And since I was sixteen, I was finally eligible since it’s more morally correct to sell a teen into sex slavery when they’re sixteen and not fourteen.

“Snow said that I didn’t have a choice. I had to get into it or…” Finnick shakes his head, “There wasn’t even an or at the time. He just said that it was something I had to do, and I told him no, because I was finally feeling better and I had you. Then he urged me to say yes, didn’t even tell me that there would be consequences, so I told him no again….”

He’s angry, “And he fucking killed my entire family, gave the order right in front of me. I thought he was kidding, like it was some sort of sick joke until I had to fucking listen to it.” Finnick looks at you, “He didn’t even flinch when the screaming started, or when my brother started crying. I didn’t even know what to do. And after it was over he told me that the next person he’d kill next would likely be you, or your family if he could get to them. Or worse, sell your body too.”

You can feel the blood drain from your face.

“And I didn’t want that to happen, so I said yes. And then I broke up with you because I hoped that it would make the decision a whole lot easier but I think…” he grits his teeth, “I know it would’ve been easier with you to support me.”

No words form in your mouth, you stand in silence as you try to absorb the information.

“I’m…” your eyebrows draw in, “...selfish.”

“No.” Finnick says, “You’re not. You didn’t know, how were you supposed to? I told you nothing, I wanted a clean cut but it turned out to be messy, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, Finnick?” you look at him, “I’ve been giving you a hard time--why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you come around later?”

“Because you moved on, like you should’ve.”

“I didn’t!” you laugh, moving forward, “Finnick, I hardly spoke to anyone after the year we broke up. My brothers fucking hated you for that entire year because of it. It took forever to convince them otherwise. The entire time, I was hoping that you were going to come around and tell me that it was some stupid prank. I would’ve forgiven you!”

He gives you a smile, “It’s better that I didn’t.”

You give him a look, and then sit on the hammock, “I guess that explains a lot.”

“You guess?” He laughs, “That’s it?”

“There’s not much to say, Finnick.” you shrug, “You said you didn’t want to make me feel guilty and I do anyway.”

“I didn’t have a choice. If you want, you could thank me for saying yes.”

You stare at him, he develops a cheeky smile, “Come on, that was mildly funny.”

“Mildly is the key word.”

The two of you sit in silence for a second, and then you dip your head, “I would be willing to give it another try, if you are.”

“Yeah.”

He’s got a grin on his face, like you just told him he’s getting a car for christmas.

“My brother’s will have to warm up to you again.” you warn him.

“Okay! They liked me before, right? What’s one more time?”

“They hardly give out second chances so you’ll have to consider yourself lucky.”

Finnick softly smiles, “I already am.”

A sharp pain in your chest wakes you in the morning. Your eyes shoot open, sitting upright in bed. It spreads immediately, like your heart is pumping it out; the source of the problem. You try and take a deep breath, hoping that you’ll get your mind off of it, but it makes the pain worse. Mid-breath, you stop, and exhale too deeply, causing another shock to go through you.

A groan leaves your lips, tears appearing in your eyes. You carefully get out of bed, wanting to be on your feet, hoping that laying down was the problem. You make no sudden moves, allowing the blood to make its way to your feet as you pace the room. With your palm, you rub small circles around your chest, which seems to relieve some of the pressure.

The clock on the stand reads eight in the morning, four hours before you actually have to get up and get ready for the day. You have a feeling that if you go and lie back down now, right when the pain is beginning to subside, you’re only going to make it worse. Plus, you don’t think that you’ll be able to fall back asleep, not with the adrenaline running through your body.

You take deep breaths when it doesn’t hurt, starting to feel dizzy from the self-hyperventilation. In no time, the pain is almost completely gone, only lingering in aches every now and then. You stand around for a few minutes longer, watching the sun rise high enough to finally come through the window before deciding that you might as well get ready.

The Tribute Center seems to have found its happy medium between too hot and too cold, as last night it was like existing in a frozen tundra. You’re lucky that the blanket they provide retains heat, otherwise you would’ve been bundled up a lot more than you were. Because of this, you think that you can settle for a lukewarm shower.

You lock your bedroom door before disappearing into the bathroom. The shower runs in the background as you undress, throwing all the dirty clothes by the door. You look over the tattoo on your collarbone, which is practically done healing by now. With the cream that the tattoo artist gave you, it doesn’t take weeks to heal like it does in the districts. As for the one on the back of your neck, it looks like it was done yesterday, when really it was years ago.

When you step inside the shower, you allow the water to run through your hair. You might as well wash it today. The shampoo you use smells like straight sugar, same goes for the conditioner. The bottle says it’s good for your hair, but the list of chemicals on the back is seriously concerning. The bathroom provides a matching body wash that smells exactly like the shampoo. You know for a fact that you saw a body lotion in one of the drawers, a part of you wonders if that’ll be overkill.

You turn the shower off and let the machines dry your body and hair. You decide to use the body lotion anyway, and by the time you realize that it’s glittery, it’s too late. You stare at your hands for a couple of minutes in shame, watching the white shimmer in the light. However, when it’s completely spread over your body and dried, it doesn’t transfer onto your surroundings, so that’s a good sign.

You brush your teeth while manually putting your hair together. You go for half-up, half-down since it’ll keep most of the hair out of your face. In the end, you still pull out a few strands to make sure that your face isn’t bland. Before you can do anything else, you have to get dressed.

The dresser holds plenty of skirts to work with, which you’re not opposed to. You sift through them, figuring that white will be fine. When you hold it up to your hip, you see that the skirt ends above the knee, so Finnick won’t have a reason to freak out. As for the shirt, you settle for a light pink, scoop neck bodysuit, with white underwear. When you finally get the entire outfit put together, you look at yourself in the mirror.

You’re very pretty today. The skirt doesn’t ride up too bad, even when you move quickly. The bodysuit prevents anything serious from showing, just in case the skirt does find a way to get stuck, or you spin too fast. You apply mascara, pull on white slip-on tennis shoes and the ring. Needless to say, you’re looking extremely girly today.

The clock says it’s reaching nine, you’d say that breakfast will take thirty, and then you can meet Finnick in the betting room at ten. So, you go out to the dining room to see that Elysia is nowhere to be seen. You refuse to believe that she left before you got up, she has to be sleeping in. Normal Capitol people stay up late and rise at noon. But then again, Elysia is an escort and she’s far from normal sometimes.

An avox turns on the tv, so you sit down at the table and wait as they serve brunch in front of you. It’s hashbrowns, steak, and a bowl of assorted fruit. You pick through your food, not super hungry and in the mood for all of it. Nevertheless, you’re sure to thank the avox that serves it to you, and continues to come back around to give you orange juice and coffee.

The arena screen is split into three, which isn’t new. It was like this last night, since there aren't many tributes to focus on at the moment. If there’s only three, you might as well show all of them and what they’re doing. At least one of them has to be doing something mildly interesting.

Tekla is still in her small clearing in the trees, which is fairly close to the dam, now that the gamemakers have marked it on the map. It’s a beautiful place to rest, you’d even picnic there if you had the opportunity. It’s not a good spot, though. It’s too close to the dam, too easy to kill her if and when it breaks. Still, she lays on her back, eyes closed. You can’t tell if she’s awake or not, but you’re going to guess that she is, judging by how her hands are intertwined over her stomach.

If she were sleeping, she’d probably be more annoyed by the sun. Instead, she’s directly under it, which might actually end up giving her a sunburn if she isn’t careful. That’ll be miserable to work with inside of the arena. You can’t even do anything to remedy the burn this far in, except for natural leaves and plants. You can’t think of any off the top of your head that you’ve seen so far.

Sanguin is in the cornucopia, she’s awake and stretching. She doesn’t look tired, despite the fact that it’s obvious that she just got up. Judging by her ratty blonde hair and the way her face twists each time she leans over. She stands up straight, and then grins slightly, turning around and going back inside. She combs through her hair with her fingers and sits on the edge of a box, sword right next to her. Maybe she’s planning on going out hunting today? You hope she doesn’t actually think she’ll get anything out of the village.

Especially with how awful Annie is looking. She’s got her arms wrapped around her body, knees pulled to her chest. The good news is that she looks to be asleep, mouth slightly open, leaned up against the connecting wall in the corner. But she’s got deep purple bags beneath her eyes, she’s only recently fallen asleep. You wonder how long it’ll last before she’s jolting awake.

It’s good that she’s sleeping, with no thanks to the medicine that you sent her. It probably drove her insane into early this morning, like you said would happen last night. You’d say that it’s a good thing, but with the way that Sanguin keeps looking to the village, it’s not. Annie needs to get up and be ready for a fight. Unfortunately, there’s no way you can warn her of this. You’re all out of options.

You finish your food, thank the avoxes, and leave for the betting room. There’s not a lot going on right now, it’s early morning. Everything big that happens in the arena is normally dedicated towards the afternoon to the evening, for the gamemakers at least. As for the tributes, they’re welcome to make and wreak havoc as they please, when they see fit.

The betting room is quiet and empty when you get down there. Finnick and Gloss are sitting by each other on the couch. You hold the doorknob on the door, carefully setting it against the doorframe so that they won’t hear you. If they thought that you scaring them was bad when they were semi-expecting you, it’s going to be worse when you’re supposed to be sleeping.

You stand behind them for a moment, squinting down at them, wondering if they have the same sixth sense that you do when people are standing over you. Your question is answered when Finnick barely glances over his shoulder, and then jumps three feet in the air when he realizes that they’re not alone. Gloss has the same moment, inhaling sharply.

A laugh erupts from you as you go around the couch to sit on the arm next to Finnick, “You two are too easy.”

“You’re like a fucking ghost, I didn’t even hear you come in.” Gloss says.

“That was on purpose.” you cross a leg beneath your thigh, “Woke up early by accident, thought that it wouldn’t hurt to come down and keep you two company for a little while.”

“Well, the afternoon schedule was nice while it lasted.” Finnick mutters.

Your face twists, you look down at him, “You’re a bad liar. There’s no way you like waking up at midnight and going to bed at noon.”

Finnick tilts his head for a moment, making a face, “I mean…”

You slap the side of his head before he can say anything else, “You don’t have to prove you’re a teenage boy.”

The Morning Line Odds say that everyone is still at where they were yesterday, so there’s no need to take in new information. You’re really just left to sit and wait for anything important to happen inside of the arena. In the meantime, you talk to Finnick and Gloss about the unusual silence. With your guys’ luck, it’s not going to last very long. There’s no way that the gamemakers will allow two normal days in a row.

However, today’s the ninth day of the games. You’re sure they’re going to want to keep it going on for a little while longer, so maybe they will allow fate to be in the tribute’s hands. In that case, you all might as well buckle up for a long day, because it’s going to take hours for Sanguin to make it to Annie, with the pace she’s going right now.

It’s almost ten in the morning when people begin showing up inside of the betting room. All brightly dressed, and particularly chatty this morning. This is when you decide to officially sit between Finnick and Gloss, not wanting the sponsors to see that you’re in a skirt today. Finnick seems happy, which is all that matters.

Unfortunately, Annie wakes up. She jolts, eyes flying open as she reaches for her knife. She gets to her feet without a word, carefully making her way across the bedroom to the window, where she rubs it down to look outside of it. Her eyebrows are drawn together, staring straight at the dam.

She seems satisfied for a second, gently nodding to herself. She goes to move away, until Sanguin comes into clear view. For half a second, you think to yourself that it’s a good thing that Annie is paranoid, because she just spotted the threat she’s been waiting for. After that, Annie scoops up all of her belongings, not leaving a single trace that she was there, besides the now-clean window.

She carefully goes down the steps, making it to the base floor without falling through the floorboards. Outside, she takes a deep breath, shuts the door and tries to jam some rocks beneath the door to make it harder to open. She tiptoes in grass to make sure that there’s no footprints, makes it a few houses over before she even considers walking through the dirt again.

None of it matters in the end.

A thunderous crack echoes throughout the arena so loudly that it breaks the microphones and makes several people scream out in surprise. You all watch in deafening silence as the dam continues to crack, and water begins to spurt out in large streams.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Today is the day.

You stand from the couch, moving a few feet forward to see better. Finnick and Gloss join you, not a single word passes between you three as you watch in awe. If such small cracks are already sprouting in streams big enough to create rivers, then how will the rest of the water fare? You have no choice but to wait and watch.

The screen is now in four, with one long screen on top completely dedicated to the dam, and three bottom squares for the tributes.

Tekla is on her feet, already rushing down the hill. She’s got no weapons on her hand, no backpack to weigh her down. She’s left it all behind in her peaceful circle in the woods. She whips through bushes, swings around trees, barely makes it over root and rocks on her way down. She’s freaked, struggling to keep her hair out of her face, constantly tucking it behind her ears.

Her feet look like they have a mind of their own, though. With the way that she goes down, it’s almost like she’s dancing, how flowery it is. However, her panic isn’t easily masked. She’s obviously shaking, and sometimes she’ll fuck up and have to catch herself before it’s too late.

Sanguin is standing on top of the hill, everything still on her as she stares at the water making its way towards her. Her eyebrows are pushed together, trying to assess the situation and if it’s worth worrying over. The answer is yes, because it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the concrete blows, and she’s left with a real problem. She slowly turns her back to it, picking up her pace, jogging through the grass. She’s still carrying all of herself.

And finally, Annie is also running through the buildings, just as panicked as Tekla is. The only thing that Annie has is her knife, clutched with white knuckles. She’s as white as a sheet too, breathing heavily through her mouth. You can empathize with her, even if she’s a while away, she knows that she can still be reached.

Another large crack sounds, Tekla slaps her hands over her ears and risks a glance behind her. There’s a jagged horizontal crack that runs from the right side to the left. It’s a matter of time before it goes. The concrete is spider-webbing, developing into a worse problem. Tekla tries to quicken her pace, but there’s only so fast you can go downhill before you risk hurting yourself.

Sanguin has dropped her things, running as fast as she did to catch up with Bauhinia. Her feet slam into the ground, and launch her forward another couple of feet before she’s connecting with the dirt again. She makes it across the second lower clearing, going uphill again. Those hills are going to be an absolute killer when it comes to the water.

The gamemakers are evil. It’s been exactly nine days, ten minutes and forty seconds since the tributes got inside of the arena. You said a week and a half? It hasn’t even been that. They’re in a hurry to get the big event over before one tribute can kill another. Why? Because it’s more fun cheering on the running tributes than watching them kill each other. It’s like betting on a running horse, who’s going to make it to the finish line first?

Annie stops, taking in deep breaths as she watches the dam through a row of trees. She’s able to watch as the final crack breaks the dam open like an egg. Concrete and debris go flying into the trees as the water creates a nasty flattening path through the woods. Almost every tree that the front water initially hits, is uprooted and brought with.

Tekla’s scream is piercing, lasting a couple of seconds before she’s completely cut off. She doesn’t die immediately, you’re able to watch as the water brings her along. She’s suspended in the middle, legs kicking, hands wrapped around her throat. She has half the mind to hold her breath, so that’s good news. The bad is that she’s a quarter mile underwater. There’s no way she’ll make it to the surface in time, if she did know how to swim.

You think you’ll have to watch her drown when she runs out of air, but an entire tree branch goes straight through her back and out the middle of her chest. Bubbles erupt around her face, hands grabbing the wood just before the cannon sounds. One down, three to go.

Sanguin has one more hill to make it up before she’s in the village. Her arms are pumping, face a bright red, her glances over her shoulder are quick and spared. She doesn’t do it often because it slows her down, it’s a brief check to see how far ahead she is in front of the water. And the truth is that it’s catching up on her. Just like you said, the hills are a nightmare.

Not only because she has to run up them, which tires her out more. But because the water gains momentum and unpredictability with every hill it surges over. The water doesn't seem to endlessly pour out of the dam, though. It seems like the gamemakers had a prepared forcefield. They just wanted to let out a controlled amount of water. Big enough to kill a couple of tributes before it thinned out and became a minimal threat.

Sanguin starts uphill the same moment the water hits the hill just behind her. Down it goes for a couple of seconds, before it’s surging above her in a giant wave. Sanguin makes it into the village, running beneath the roofs as if it’ll protect her from the water. She runs straight for a while, before starting to zig zag towards the corner.

She must realize that it’s not worth it, and that the diagonal running only slows her down, because she goes back to running straight, heading closer and closer to where Annie had been staying.

Speaking of which, Annie’s on the run again. You can tell that she’s keeping track of the height of the water. Even though the houses are decades old, they seem to be slowing down the water, since they’re all individually filling up inside. Sanguin doesn’t seem too focused on the fact, mostly wanting distance. She’s almost on the brink of losing it, though. Her steps are getting sloppier the more she goes.

Annie goes around a corner and into an alleyway, effectively blocking the water from her sight. It’s stupid, she’s not going to be able to keep track of it the same way she has. Sanguin has a point when it comes to running straight away from the water.

And then she starts climbing the walls. With how narrow the walkway is, she can scoot her way up little by little. It burns a lot of her time, and cranks up your anxiety, watching her do this. You know that she’s trying to get herself above the tide now. The houses where she’s at, are at least two stories tall each, not counting the roof.

Annie grabs the gutters, using her arms to pull her onto the red-orange shingles. You get a glimpse from where she’s at now to see that the water is lower, but she’ll still have to swim, even if she gets onto the high point of the roof. She takes one last look at her knife before she frisbee’s it to her right, making sure that it’s far away from her when the water does come.

Sanguin is losing ground. Soon, she’ll be stuck swimming too. It seems like that their times are lining up. Annie bends her knees, cracks her fingers, prepares her arms. Sanguin’s glances get more and more frequent, anticipating the moment the water hits her.

Annie dives straight in, letting the water welcome her. She doesn’t waste time, swimming straight to the top. Her face is serious, she has her eyes locked on the surface, kicking her legs hard, arm over head. While Sanguin holds her breath, fingers squeezing her nose shut, eyes following the structures in front of her. She narrowly misses the wall of the first house, before slamming right into the neck.

Just like with Tekla, there’s a large burst of bubbles. Sanguin struggles now, trying to swim to the top. She makes a few inches at a time, but it’s hardly noticeable, or comparable with how well Annie is doing. In fact, she’s reached the surface already, inhaling loudly.

The water directs Sanguin into a wall again, this time her head cracks against the wall. The water turns a light shade around her head, and it’s minutes before the cannon finally sounds. Which signals the water to drain, lowering Annie onto a roof nearby.

Her dark hair is stuck to her face and neck, clothes completely drenched. Her mouth is slightly parted, breathing loudly.

You grab onto Finnick’s arm, “Oh my god.”

“Congratulations, guys.” Gloss has got a grin on his face, he slaps you on the back.

“She did it.” you say, “Annie’s done it!”

Claudius Templesmith’s, the announcer, voice comes over the arena, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Seventieth Hunger Games, from District Four, Annie Cresta!”

Annie’s face drains of color again, before it’s bursting in red, “I win.” she murmurs at first, barely audible, before tears of relief are filling her eyes. Much louder, this time she screams; “I win!”

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@f1nal-g1rl / @starlight-selene / @neenieweenie / @amixedwitch / @accxio / @suranne-doesstuff

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #redamancy #redamancy chapter eight #finnick odair redamancy

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steve0discusses · 3 years

Text

S5 Ep12: Brand New Mokuba Just Dropped

My tumblr has decided that it can’t save drafts again. Which sure is a problem I keep having but no one else seems to have...but were back. Back and ready to talk about cards.

First off, lets address the best thing about this episode, it’s the return of The A Team animation team! Dunno if it’s the same ones that did the seasons before, but it is a pretty good team this episode, so there’s lots of that to look forward to. Everyone is now 2 feet taller (Kaiba is 4 feet taller) and there’s just some really nice shots going on. It’s not as shiny as other seasons, which makes me think it might be a different team or a different studio using a different method (you don’t really see them playing with line weights anymore which makes it seem like a different method to me) but still--it’s a nicer looking episode today.

So we start off this episode with Seto begging us all to forget the hell that just happened and just get on with it. Of course, no one’s gonna do that, because yo, what just happened was kind of weird.

And because there’s only like...I dunno...maybe 2 episodes left in this arc? (kind of a quick arc, honestly) Leon decides to do a complete personality reversal. Although, it’s really hard to do a reversal when you didn’t have a personality in the first place...so I guess this more Leon showing us A personality--and I’ll take it.

He’s a little jackass now, but it’s youknow...still Leon so it’s not really that bad. Like we deal with Seto on the reg, so I feel like Leon as a jackass is just like...well that’s just how you play cards in this universe.

Everyone speculates whether or not Seto actually did a crime, and a SURPRISING number of them said he did not! Weird! But hey...I’ve gone over a billion times before, their memory is like when you throw popcorn into the ocean--it just fffzt’s and then it’s gone.

Roland was THIS close to actually saving Kaiba corp a huge hassle for once. This Close, Roland. You almost did it.

(read more under the cut)

I love that Roland has decided to give all these teens maybe the uncoolest nicknames in the entire world, and the teens have not made any indication whether they do or do not appreciate their alliteration nicknames.

But despite the fact that although Roland uses these opportunities behind the microphone to embarrass them just SO MUCH, the Kaibas still persist in having him introduce most of the matches. It makes it feel like the Kaibas freakin love this. They love his Dad jokes. I cannot tell if they are like “yes, please embarrass my friends.” of it they’re like “yes. Roland that was so cool. Yeah Leaping Leon. Good one! You’re so cool!” Because they don’t know what fun is.

Also, look what I see in the sky.

Truly a sign that they have overcome their trauma of seasons 2-3.

Or maybe they had a lot of blimps laying around and this is a completely unrelated blimp? Either way, I’m glad they can still handle the sight of a blimp.

And then, just out of nowhere, Mokuba hit puberty.

Which I mean, it was inevitable. It was going to happen some day. Luckily, we will be getting a new Mokuba this episode to make up for the fact that this one has done A Flirt and it was probably a completely innocent turn of phrase he has no idea is a double entendre but do the writers know that?

And while we ruminate the decisions there, lets bask in the glory of purple staircase.

This is such a purple staircase!

On another, identical staircase walks Leon, who gets to have a discussion with Zigfried, who probably just stood next to the wall and just chameleon’ed in here without getting caught cuz coincidentally this staircase dresses like him.

Freakin Mai?

Anyway, lets start this duel where like...I dunno, it’s a little late to start stealing souls, but maybe Leon will do a stab? (He will not)

So glad the storyboarder is back to kind of flex. I don’t normally see Roland drawn with this much attention. Look at him go. That’s the stance a grown man takes when he’s ready to embarrass a bunch of teens.

Kaiba writes a speech introducing himself, or Roland just kinda made up a speech as if Kaiba hadn’t asked him to do that. Either way it’s kind of a big way to talk yourself up--but he is trying to talk up the theme park so people will actually like...go. So it makes sense.

Also what is this nonsense where people worldwide are watching a theme park opening match? Card culture is so weird because we’ve noticed in other seasons there are people that don’t play cards, and I feel like they’re not watching this for fun. It’s like when I watch news unfold--they’re watching to see if they have to raid the toilet paper aisle and the canned goods again to prepare for yet another onslaught of card nonsense.

Legit Mokuba was like “Look at my bro. Look at how he gave up dueling to throw this nice tourney for everyone!” and it’s like...Mokuba...he just dueled...Mokuba...he’s putting all the profits directly in your pockets this is hardly a martyr up here.

Seto Kaiba decided to inform the world that he would have won if he was actually playing and that was sure a statement he made after losing to Yugi like...3 times now? Several times.

Everyone else converses how Leon’s acting weird. I don’t know why they care all of a sudden, because no one acts normal playing this game, but the plot desires them to care.

Which is when we find out...

...the new Mokuba...

That’s right. He was a Mokuba the whole time. For once we haven’t abducted Mokuba, instead...we have too many Mokubas.

This Mokuba even has hella long hair, too. I imagine if Mokuba proper had a ponytail it would probably look just like this but black. It would have been just--so good if he whipped off that ribbon and shook out his hair and it fluffed into a horrible Mokuba mess, but you know, that’s one of the many reasons why I don’t write for this series. That and I was like in high School when this came out.

(Please admire Kaiba’s head of Security who looks like he’s about to drop a poop out of terror. It’s a really small detail, but I appreciate that the storyboarder had him kind of antsy in the background)

Seto insists that the only one to beat Yugi Muto will be himself and it’s like...I know. That’s why I keep expecting someone to get stabbed by this tiny purple haired Mokuba. But instead, Leon’s too busy feeling mad that he’s not necessarily playing the game for fun.

But he’s still playing the game though? so I feel like Yami doesn’t have many stones to throw here. Leon hasn’t even cheated yet. (As if Yami isn’t cheating basically all the time by being 2 people in one body)

I can’t BELIEVE this show would throw that at me after the number of times I have seen Yami Muto nearly murder other people (and sometimes literally do a murder) out of revenge. Yami is basically a revenge god...like...show...what? It’s season 5, I thought we’ve basically cemented this in. Occasionally the show will just be all “card games are supposed to be fun though!!!” and it’s like...these are the last children on Earth who are playing card games for fun.

If anything, it should be Leon lecturing them on how to have fun. They just murdered a Great Leviathan with cards. Before that they were dealing with Noah, with Marik, with Pegasus, with Bakura. The times that Yugi has just played a game for fun has been...This Arc.

So maybe Yami is just begging himself to have fun for once. Maybe he’s just mad that he can’t play a single tournament without someone getting possessed? Maybe his frustrations really aren’t about little Leaping Leon, and more to do with Yami sick and tired of being a protagonist.

But, youknow, it’s not an anime, unless the protagonist hypocritically can get away with every sin out there and everyone else gets punished for it. So lets find out just how far Leon fell from fun-having grace with a flashback.

This Belle cosplayer went off in like...one of the most hilariously bad accents I’ve heard in a while, it was just so much, I’ll probably cap it because lolol.

But since Leon wasn’t actually in line to inherit the company, he has to sort of hole up in his room for his entire childhood. It’s kinda weird, since we can’t assume that Zigfried will either a.) live forever or b.) have or adopt or raise children in any capacity. But they’re pretty sure Zigfried will live forever, and in this universe--maybe.

Also, I’m really not sure why they have to dress like it’s 1890, but they sure are. The Victorian era just never left the Von Schroeder house. Like these women are wearing corsets to be in that dress, and you can’t BUY a corset to match this type of dress, you have to make your own, and I know, because in Quarantine, I got really into historical sewing videos.

I can’t believe I spent an entire year watching historical sewing videos. Holy crap. I don’t even sew.

But then again...Seto is kind of drawn like he wears a corset...so maybe people are still wearing them in the Yugioh universe? Maybe that’s how their fashion just works?

Guys...I analyze Yugioh fashion a lot but the fact that the Edwardians never freakin left this worldly plane is just...that’s canon to Yugioh. I really just want to sit back and analyze Yugioh fashion with a moodboard and try to connect all the dots logically as if they aren’t just one-off jokes, but I don’t know how I’d fit that on this post.

And like, one of y’all brought up in a comment in the last post that what’s neat about this arc is we are seeing Zigfried as what Seto would have been like if he hadn’t like...gotten cursed by Yugi Muto. So, going off that idea, I think it’s kinda fun that Zigfried’s outfit is a bit of a younger take on Pegasus’ whole look with the wrist lace and a fusion of Gozaburos look of wearing a cravat with a smoking coat. It’s fun to imagine that this is what Seto’s inner gremlin dresses like (which...now I think about it...was a thing from S1 where Yami defeated a Seto gremlin but...I don't remember much about it) Of course, Seto would also be hella dead if he hadn’t gone through the Yugi cycle, but it’s still a fun road to think about.

Plus, when we go down that road, it really makes this arc look even more like it’s just about Seto Kaiba’s therapy sesh to recover from the last several seasons that he’s accidentally (or intentionally??) invited the entire world to watch and that’s very funny to me.

Bro has informed me you can make a deck out of Jerry but could not show me any receipts.

...I mean that is Dartz right?

Like I know all the characters have cards of themselves IRL and all the characters are also based on cards that were made before they were on TV (with the exception of our main cast that was...youknow, a horror manga) but like...

...what’s up, Dartz?

Anyway, our little Mokuba decides to sneak out the house and run around the world at the ripe ol age of ... what I’m guessing is like 10-12, and is pretty sure he can just get away with that. Luckily, the crimes he’s committing are exactly the type of crimes that Zigfried needs.

(Pretty sure their Dad died or is incapacitated but OK, dub, go ahead and pretend that plot point didn’t go down last episode.)

Also, I’m really glad we got a good storyboarder for this part who was like “Zigfried looks...like that?” and still managed to make this character design really work this episode. In some parts they even gave Zigfried those wide Marik Eyes that are kind of ubiquitous with Yugioh. It just needs the right hands to draw it, and then any amount of...this outfit...can work.

So, just like when we met Mokuba in S1, he’s gonna do a duel on Yugi to save his family and probably also like Mokuba, not give a damn for how this game is supposed to be played. Luckily, this time Pharaoh doesn’t have any star chips lying around for this kid to just run around and steal before booking it out the back gate.

Yugi over there with his twitter-brand hot-takes, not knowing the difference between actual brainwashing and blackmail/family pressure.

(WHY IS MAI HERE?)

Look at that hatching!

Ah this is the 00′s content I’m here for! Check out the soft brush! The dodge and burn! Ah! Man this sure was an era of computer art! and stuff like this cost a lot of money to make and it looked ... like this!

Now I’m pretty sure we can make art that looks this dated on like...a free phone app.

PS please do not ever shade your art like this. This is what you don’t do. Do not do this. I will shed a single tear shaped like the Photoshop symbols for dodge and burn.

Also...guys...

next episode is Ep 13. Every season so far this show has been like “we’re normal, everything is normal” getting us complacent until exactly Ep 13, when everything gets really effed up. So...

will that happen? Will they continue this tradition into S5 or has it been a coincidence until now? Excited to find out.

Anyway, if you just got here, this is the link to read these from the beginning in chrono order:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#ygo #yugioh #yu gi oh #S5 #Ep12 #yugi muto #leon von schroeder #good because I forgot his other last name #zigfried von schroeder #seto kaiba #mokuba kaiba #roland #joey wheeler #tea gardner #the others who didn't say or do anything so I probably shouldn't tag them #Can't believe how quickly this arc is wrapping up

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captaindarkchocolatesstuff · 4 years

Text

Yandere Witch! Tooru Oikawa x Lesser Witch! Reader

[Warnings: Does shoving a bloody rose petal into someone’s mouth count as a warning? Idk, one vry jealous Oikawa]

To be an all-powerful witch also meant being a well-known one. It came with the title of “Grand Witch”.

Though Tooru couldn’t help but hold a distaste towards two other witches, one in the same ranking as himself (maybe even higher) and one still learning to grasp their potential.

Then he met you, a witch with no coven or any sort of special magic that made you unique, in fact, you were pretty weak for a witch. You could only shapeshift into a single animal (a bunny), and the only spell you ever used was summoning a gust of wind that couldn’t even push an averaged weighted person down since your mana was pretty low. Yet you were comfortable being the way you were with your only talent of making various positions and somehow gathering the company of animals.

To Tooru, it felt like you were meant to meet each other somehow. He was crowded outside the mansion where a meeting of all witch covens took place, most were young women surrounding him and the majority were witch apprentices or novice witches themselves, with a few masterful witches here and there.

He felt his patience running low until you came through the crowd, shoving your way through to get to the mansion and unknowingly shoving him aside, to say he was surprised was an understatement.

The witches screeched at you, “Hey! What’s the big idea! How dare you shove a great Grand Witch like Oikawa away like that!”

You turned to look at them with a scowl and raised a brow, “Oi-what now? Hmph”, your eyes land on him as soon as he moves to readjust himself from your abrupt shove.

“I’m Oikawa, Oikawa Tooru the great Grand Witch of the Aoba Johsai coven Ms….”, Tooru trails off as he waits for your introduction after revealing himself.

Instead, he is met with your indifferent shrug and curt greeting, “(L/n) (Y/n), the covenless witch…”, you then snapped your attention to the surrounding witches, “as for you lot I say you scram, you’re bothering the others that are trying to get in the mansion, your behavior is awfully rude and bothersome to the witches that came here to get what they need”, you huff before entering the estate and slamming the door shut on their faces before they could say anything.

While many of the ladies were huffing and pouting about your brief entrance and hasty exit, Tooru stood there as if in a trance, drawn to your being as you tried to distance yourself from other witches.

That was how he was able to learn your level without having to creep about, because of his persistence you reluctantly let the Grand Witch intrude on your life and daily business. Tooru admits that while your magic as a witch was very weak (almost… pathetic to put it nicely), your skills as a potion maker were exceptional, it surpassed that of the Grand Ushiwaka and other grand witches, himself included.

And that is what bothered him, he hated the Grand Ushiwaka enough as it is but for that witch to have a developing interest in you...made him loath the grand witch. He found you first, he spent more time with you than he did, so it was only right that he should have all of your attention.

“Oikawa, please remove your presence from within my area, you’re distracting me”, you bluntly state.

“Uwah! (Y/n), I thought we built something special!!”, he pouts as he leaned his body against your own.

Grunting at the action you stomp your foot on his making him yowl in pain as you shove him away from you as you glared down at him, “It was more like you kept intruding on my daily activities, now leave me be I have a potion that I am working on”

“So cruel (Y/n)! Eh- wait what potion are you working on anyway?”, Tooru stands before peering over your shoulder.

“A love potion, a woman from a nearby town wouldn’t stop pestering me about her love life and begged me to make her something so she can receive the love of a man she has her eyes for, to make her stop I decided to do just that”, you dully explain as you huff.

Tooru blinked, “Love...potion?”, he said out loud, more so to himself rather than to you. It suddenly clicked in Tooru’s mind that maybe he could use that same potion or something stronger.

When you looked back at the grand high witch, you saw him lost in thought his eyes glazed over before snapping his attention to you, he smiled before straightening up and bowing suddenly, “Ah~ I just remembered I had something to do, I’ll see you around some other time my little witch~!”, he purred before taking his leave.

You stared at his back as he left before sighing and getting back to work, but you couldn’t help that tingling feeling that something was amiss.

What clicked in Tooru’s mind was a spell, potions were never long-lasting and it is likely that any potions that he would make would not work on you since you were more resistant, but spells on the other hand could last an eternity. You were not resistant to spell casting, it was merely the potions that you made that you gave yourself that made you a little bit resistant to weaker spells.

So Tooru searched his coven estate’s library, making sure that no one would disturb his search, but as time passed his patience began to chip away, with a growl, Tooru shoved the book in his hands back into the shelf so harshly a book fell beside him. Now on most occasions, he would shrug it off but the dusty cover certainly held his attention, with a contemplative hum Tooru picked it up before dusting it off.

As he opened it he lifted a curious brow at the spells that were there, they were complex but not difficult to do, as he turned the pages he couldn’t help but be fascinated with the many spells that were long forgotten. With more enthusiasm, he flipped page after page to find what he searched for until finally, he found it.

With a breathless laugh and growing grin, he spoke, “Now… let’s get to work”.

~~~

You took Tooru’s absence as a chance to catch up with all the things you missed, like hanging out with your friends and setting up events that required your attention.

As you put some books away you hear someone call out to you, “(L/n)”.

Turning you see the Grand witch of Shiratorizawa, with a hum you briefly sigh, “Ushijima, what can I do for you?”, you ask as you go back to shelving the books.

“I was… I was wondering if you could assist me in making a certain potion”, he says, making you pause, raising a brow, you look over your shoulder, “What Kind of potion exactly?”, you ask.

“One able to reverse a spell that turns an individual into an animal”, he states, you suddenly grin at the familiar request.

“I’m assuming that Goshiki turned himself into an animal again, didn’t he”, you chuckle as you turned towards the witch, a knowing grin on your face as Wakatoshi gave you his usual blank stare before his eyes darted to the side.

“Yes, he still has trouble with his spells, yet his potion crafting has been improving”, he says. “Of course it has, I’ve been tutoring him whenever he came to me with his problems, now here”, you say as you reach into the pouch tied to your belt and bring out a peach vial.

The Grand witch took it as he looked at you with narrowed eyes, if you didn’t know how to read the man you would’ve thought he was glaring at you, so you smiled, “It’s to reverse him back to his humane state, I always have one on me knowing how the newer witches get”.

Wakatoshi nodded before giving you one last glance, “Would you mind teaching me sometime in the future”, he asked.

You blinked before smiling, “I wouldn’t mind”, with that he was gone, his behavior never failed to amuse you.

Then you felt arms wrap around you, “You know I hate it when you’re around Ushiwaka (Y/n), are you trying to make me jealous?”, Tooru’s voice hummed in your ear. Yet you couldn’t help but sense an undertone not too pleasant, still, you shrugged him off as you turned to face him.

“I thought I told you to stop doing that Oikawa”, you frown. You almost froze when you saw a look in his eyes, one that you couldn’t catch onto quick enough before it left him, yet it left you unsettled before he spoke.

“(Y/n), would you mind stopping by at my coven’s garden, I think I found a new species of flowers but I wanted your professional input”, Oikawa hums, grinning when he sees that your eyes narrowed at him, “Cheekmate”.

~~~

Honestly, you should’ve listened to your prior intuition, maybe then you wouldn’t have ended up in this mess with the head of the Aoba Johsai coven.

After arriving at his coven he did indeed lead you to the garden and you saw a ritualistic set up instead, candles and rose petals strewn about. Turning to Tooru you glared at the man.

“What exactly are you trying to do here Oikawa”, you growled, more irritated at the fact that you could’ve been up in your cabin working on potions instead of wasting time, and as usual Tooru gave you his charming smile but when he opened his eyes a jolt of fear struck you.

“Ah, right, you see at first I was alright just basking in your presence, getting to be around you for the majority of the days until I grew a little too attached to you little witch”, he purred as you stepped back, trying to distance yourself from any oncoming danger until he lashed out his hand to grip your jaw harshly.

As you cried out at the sudden pain he continued, “Oh witchy you really don’t know what you do to me, did you know how much you drew me in? You're such a cruel little tease and it was all fun while it lasted but…”, his dead stare made you shiver as you gripped his wrist that was clamped painfully around your jaw, you squeezed your eyes shut and flinched when he suddenly leaned down close to your ear, “I really meant it when I said I hated seeing that damned Ushiwaka near you, and I would’ve let it go if it weren’t for the fact that you let him near you”, he hissed.

With gritted teeth you tried kicking out at him and clawing at his face in desperation to get out of his grasp, all while he was chanting a spell, one you weren’t familiar with and only heard of this time but yet you knew something was terribly wrong. The smell of iron hit your nose as the candle lights around you flickered until the flames turned purple, tugging desperately at Tooru’s arm you he suddenly slammed his lips upon yours, taking advantage of your surprised yelp he shoved his tongue in your mouth and that’s when it hit you.

The taste of iron hit your tongue before you felt the texture of a rose petal, and as Tooru forced you to consume the bloody petal he pulled away and whispered into your ear while what felt like a painful inferno erupted throughout your entire body.

“...and even in death we shall never part, for our souls are now one”.

As the now red moon shined upon the earth, an agonized scream rang throughout the sky.

#bewitching week [event]#yandere haikyuu #yandere x reader #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere tooru oikawa

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costellos · 4 years

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tell me who you’d take on a date and where you would go! — CLOSED

@thisbloghasnoaesthetic asked: Id love to take Jotaro on a date. Just something chill. Like getting some good food. Or just sitting together doing nothing. I'd love to just read a book with my head on his shoulder. Just enjoying eachothers quiet comfort :)

omg that sounds like a great date for Jotaro! he definitely seems like the type to want a chill date. he’d probably opt for something that offers takeout if you’re referencing Part 3!Joot, somewhere a little nicer but just as casual if you’re referencing Part 4!Joot. and while you’re reading, you might just catch a teeny, tiny smile on his lips. but don’t say anything or you’ll ruin the moment 🤭💕

anonymous asked: i would wanna take kakyoin out to an indoor roller rink so we could rollerskate together 🥺 it’s one of the things i like to do most and i’d wanna skate around w him while holding hands! also cause he’s tall, i feel like it’d be hard for him to keep balance and prevent himself from falling lolll. but we could go out to an ice cream place nearby afterwards and watch the sun set (if the time is right) 💗

how cute!! sharing something you love with the one you love most... I dig it. Kakyoin would be soooo embarrassed, though! he just wants to impress you but his center of gravity is absolutely awful. rip. at the end of the day, however, he’d be so appreciative that you shared something so personal with him. ❤️ let him pay for the ice cream, it’s the least he can do!! and maybe hold your hand while you watch the sunset 🌅

@lavaicerinkk asked: I would ask mista, probably to like a concert or something like that. We'd probably go as homies, then when we get home id be like "what if we kissed haha" and hed be like 😳😳 ok, and then we live happily ever after

LMAAAAOOOOO. I feel like this is v in character for Mista.... he’d be caught so off guard by it! esp since he probably would’ve accepted that you were just friends. not that he’d say no, tho 👀 he’d just be like, “wait, for real?” and waste no time kissing you after you gave him permission. what a happy ending. 💕

@murcx04 asked: Take someone on a date huh hmmmmm- Josuke is my bet HAHA Hed be so refreshing to be with óuò. And we'd go shopping kfbfjfn And that where- he'll just show his pleading eyes and want you to buy the shoes he wants oh boy-

I agree, he would be a very refreshing plus one! I think a shopping date would be v traditional with him. I’m imagining you both at the mall, where he cackles at all the weird sex stuff at Spencer’s and shares his food court soft pretzel with you. 🥨 he probably wouldn’t explicitly say that he wants new shoes, but he’d nudge you and be like, “hey. if you wanna know what to get me for my birthday...” and point to the Air Force 1′s on display. so subtle. 🙄

anonymous asked: tbh i think i'd like to take kira out to dinner and go on a walk. i know its a simple date but i think he's really neat and i don't really like big or flashy events and i don't think he would either kjfnksnjks. its just sumn that would suit both of us nice

ooo interesting choice, nonnie! I 100% agree with you on this one. Kira would probably take you to one of those restaurants that have private rooms. I think some ritzier places are like that? anyway, he’d want to focus this date all on you. no mindless chatter from other patrons, no screaming children — the more noise he can minimize, the better. and during your walk, I can see him allowing you to take the reins on the conversation. he just finds everything you say so fascinating! 🌷💗

@catnymous asked: I'd take Fugo first to just a simple lil cafe then to the park :3

Cat!! I missed you!! you should come into the askbox more often, I always enjoy your replies. in the meantime, Fugo probably overthinks a lot so this date would be casual enough for him to relax. he would probably opt for some coffee and a slice of cake that he can share with you 🍰❤️ and a stroll through the park would be the perfect way to walk off the calories! (plus when you get to a fountain he’ll probably make some corny wish about getting to spend more days with you like this a;sdfkjl)

anonymous asked: Idk if you’re familiar with part 7... but I would bring Johnny to the planetarium; it’s a place that I love, and bringing him to a place special to me would mean a lot, I think. I’d tell him all of my favorite things about space. And, it’s a little mushy, but I’d remind him that just because you can’t always see the stars doesn’t mean they’re not there; every one is special and the same is for people. And of course, it would be a fun day out to appreciate the beautiful things in the world

unfortunately, I’m not familiar with Part 7... :( but thank you so much for sharing nonetheless! this is such a heart-warming confession 💕 I wish there was more I could say; I love that you’d share all your favorite things about space, and how everything and everyone is special. 💫 such a beautiful confession.

@serenityblaze44 asked: I would take Bruno and/or Abbacchio to a conservatory or garden, maybe bring a picnic. Nothing too exciting, just time to relax and spend time together. Then go home for cuddles.

por que no los dos? ahaha nah I’m joking... unless 👀 no but for real, this sounds ideal for both of them! ❤️ they would both appreciate the time to unwind. I could see Abbacchio prepping all the food, while Bucciarati handles everything else (packing the blanket, utensils, alcohol, etc.). they’d probably opt for somewhere outside of Naples since it’s far too crowded in the city. afterwards, be prepared for a gr8 nap between two warm, loving boys!!

anonymous asked: I'd take Kakyoin on a date! I think it would be really fun to go somewhere like an amusement park or arcade so we could just kinda be stupid together and forget our problems. Id go on the Ferris wheel and try to kiss him at the top but he'd probably shake the cart the whole time to freak me out 😂😂 After everything he's gone through, he deserves to have a lot of fun and id love to see him smile 🥰😍

aw friend, this is such a sweet scenario! hopefully the Ferris wheel doesn’t give him too many bad memories of Death Thirteen though ope,, anyway, what a lovely way to forget about all the stuff he’s endured! he’d playfully challenge you to some arcade games (and I’m using “playfully” lightly here) and then destroy you. 🙄 but it’s okay, any tickets he gets will immediately go to a cute stuffed animal just for you 🧸

@hadesaedes asked: OOOH I’d have to go with either Yukako or Koichi (even tho i have like TWO hands either is fine). Yukako is a very passionate and strong lover which I LOVE cause im shy with affection so being bold with it is MWUAH. While Koichi is also passionate I like to think he enjoys more simple and low key dates which is my type of thing. Having to just bask in each other’s company without having to fill the silence is GREAT. THEY ARE BOTH GREAT!!! In this essay I will-

AHHH A+ CHOICES, FRIEND. Yukako and Koichi would spoil you so much!! they’d handle any date expenses (movie tickets, food, etc.) and would adore having any opportunity to hold your hand 😊 Yukako would probably be more physically affectionate; she’ll either have her hand on top of yours or her feet wrapped between yours when sitting. Koichi would opt for compliments, praising you on how cool and smart you are! wow, what a supportive pair 🤝

anonymous asked: It's very hard to choose, but I'd go on a date with Bruno. Idk I'm just very gay for him. He knows a lot of nice and fancy places in Naples, but since that's not really my world, I'd take him to a small coffee shop or something. Nothing fancy or expensive but still very enjoyable. Maybe some ice cream. Walking through the city and going to a restaurant in the evening. Maybe something fancy this time, or just a simple pizza

how lovely!! Bucciarati would honestly be open to try anything, but I think a small coffee shop would be v enjoyable for him. there’s so much you can learn about someone over a cup of joe. ☕ since he’s been living in / around Naples his whole life, he’d probably share some neat facts about the city while on your stroll! “the Amalfi Coast is best known for its limoncello liqueur. I know a great place to try it if you’re interested.” 🍋

@moloko-tyan asked: Hello, little bird💫sending you rays of love and positive energy! This new event is so much fun. Several hours I wondered with who I wanted to go out, ahah. And I think it would be Erina. She deserves to have fun especially after all those awful events in her life. We would go to atelier. We could go through fabrics to choose which fits the best. We would look at lovely laces, buttons, jewels and we would argue about models of dresses and evening gowns. I want her to feel safe🌻 thank u so much!

friend! I always get so excited when you pop into my askbox!! ty for participating 💕 Erina is such a great choice imo. and this is such a creative date! she’d have so much fun running her fingers over all the interesting fabrics. Erina would take the most beautiful dresses and hold them up against you, saying how lovely the color suits you. 👗 although she’d be too shy to try those dresses on herself, she would have so much fun spending the day with you!!

anonymous asked: I hope it's okay to send this (I honestly don't want you to get overwhelmed)! But if it's okay: I would love to take Fugo on a date! I love this boy with all my heart and I would love to travel with him to my country to a town next to the sea and give him a tour of its history (and visit the local art and history museums there)! And later grab some ice cream and walk along the seafront in the evening where there are less people and just enjoy the walk together as the sun sets. -Turtle Anon🐢

oooohh, Turtle Anon!! thank you for your concern. you’re all good, don’t worry! anywho, that’s a wonderful date for Fugo. he would have an absolute blast reading about all the art and history your country has to offer 🏛️ you might have to push him along though, he’s the type to absorb everything n really slow down when reading... but at the end of the day, as you’re walking along the beach, he’d thank you for sharing a part of yourself with him. he’d be so honored! ☀️

anonymous asked: tbh i'd love to take narancia on a super spontaneous date... only the date and time are set, the entire day is just going around town and doing whatever stupid fun random things,, eating street food and going into shops to try on random fits and running around laughing, mayhaps go to an arcade, or do some karaoke. and then wind down at like a mcdonalds late at night, tired but happy and satisfied.. hhh nara is v fun i just wanna hang out w him honestly 🤕😔🤕😔

yeeeess this is the perfect date for Narancia!! he loves spontaneous stuff like this. he’d have so much fun gorging himself on street food and playing around with weird fits. he’d probably put on the stupidest things he can find, like this. and if you go to karaoke, be ready to screech some absolute bangers. he will not take anything less than confident (yet bad), loud (yet joyous) singing. 🎤 n while he might be falling nodding off at the McDonald’s, he’d sleepily tell you how amazing the day was and how he wants to do this again 💕

@tomomi012 asked: I'm going to share another ideal date idea, but with Kakyoin. I'd like us to go to one of those cat cafes in Japan. I mean, cats, coffee and a cute Japanese boy, is this heaven? and I would tell him: "Nori, today I am in heaven"

ofc, share all you want! omg... I love this idea..... Kakyoin would be so soft anytime a cat approaches him. he’d do a little “pspsps” and hold out his finger for them to smell. and once a cat actually nudges him, he’d just melt! he wouldn’t show it outwardly, but you can see it in how bright his eyes get. I think Kakyoin would be the type to either attract a ton of cats or cats hate him, there’s no in between. 😭❤️ both make for some gr8 scenarios, though!

@pommmejuice asked: for your post about taking a character on a date :,) i think i’d like to take abba to art museums/cultural centers ,, i’d love to talk to him about my culture and what life is like (if he’d be interested;; lol) n maybe afterwards while we get italian food he can talk to me about what italian culture is like, the parts that aren’t shown in the media 🥺 so uh a date where we’re both learning new things about each other hehe

n maybeeeee take fugo to a café where we can study together n talk about our favorite things in our lives/culture.... n maybe hold hands on the table and maybe stare into his eyes tenderly ... you know because he’s my BFF (Best Friend Forever) .. you know how best friends do.. 😳

ooo Ireeene I figured you’d say Abbacchio :3c but that’s such a cute date for him! ofc he’d be interested in learning more about you!! you wouldn’t see it, but every time you share something you that you love about your culture, Abbacchio’s gaze on you would be so loving... 💖 he adores that you’re sharing so personal with him (of all people!!). and he’d get a kick out of telling you misconceptions about Italy. don’t get him started on how much he hates the Mario Bros.

as for Fugo, he would react similarly. I could see him ask more questions about your culture, while Abbacchio lets you go on and on. he’s so interested in everything about you!! and the moment you hold his hand... wow... get ready to see some intense blushing... he wouldn’t pull away, but his attention would turn to something else and his stutter would be apparent. pull yourself together, Fugo! 😤

anonymous asked: I'd take Rohan on a date, I'm a lil gay for that trash man. Tbh, it would either be an amazing date or a total disaster. I think we'd plan something fun and relaxing, like going to an art gallery or seeing a movie, but we'd end up in an adventure because that's what keeps happening to Rohan for some reason. At the end of the day we'd go to a restaurant to put a normal ending to that strange day

HAHAHA omggg friend this is a pretty accurate description of Rohan’s life. I think he’d be really annoyed that the day ended up this way, but he’s glad that he got to spend it with someone he tolerates. 💕 Rohan would try to push past those feelings once you go to the restaurant. this date is still salvageable!! he might complain a lil, but ultimately, he’d try to focus on you and what you enjoyed 🥰

@xxbluejayxx asked: For the Jojo date thing, I'd take Abbacchio. Well not really picky about the kind of date, I feel a nice quiet one at home would be best. It could be a homemade dinner, a movie night, or both. When it comes down to it, for me anytime spent with someone I love is time well spent, and that is something I will willingly admit

this is such a peaceful date for Abbacchio! I agree, a quiet date at home would be best. 😊❤️ as I mentioned in other scenarios, he’d likely take over kitchen duties. no need to worry about anything, just tell him what you want and he’d whip it up for you! and when it comes time to watch the movie, he’d tell you to sit a lil closer to him... he’s not very good with verbalizing affection, but he loves when he can feel your skin against his.

anonymous asked: I reeally wanna take Polnareff on a date. He deserves it sooo much. He's such a handsome sweetie. Id turn on the charm for him for once, like he always does. I have a beautiful image in my head of an outdoor patio restaurant with hundreds of strings of lights. We both dress up and have a lovely meal under the stars and magical lights, and then our favorite song plays and we have a dance beneath the lights. I think it would be goofy and romantic, stepping on toes as we attempt to dance around 😍

ahhh Polnareff would be so flattered to have you flirt with him! he’d probably get a lil flustered since this is nicer than what he’s used to, but seeing you dressed to the nines would make make him go 🥵 likewise, he’d push himself through the situation by just focusing on you. and when you start dancing... wow!! he’d lose himself laughing and being absolutely miserable at showing his moves. but it doesn’t matter, because he’s here with you and everything is okay ⭐

@rat-makes-stuff asked: Ok so I would take Giorno back to my home state of Michigan. Mafia boss has got to be tired as hell, so what's better than walking through the woods and collecting rocks at Lake Huron (I'm biased that's my favorite lake no CAP). We would watch the sun set and then look at the stars when they come out. Wildflower picking, trying to see how many deer we can find, and picnics by the lake? Yes pleaseee

before I start, Tumblr wasn’t letting me tag you in this!! so I hope you still see my response :( anyway, this is such a relaxing date! Don Giorno would love to unwind in nature. he’d probably take some stones he found near Lake Huron and turn them into a bouquet of flowers for you! 💐and since he’s probably never seen the sky without light pollution, he’d be astonished at how beautiful the sky is. he wouldn’t be able to say anything, just pull you close to him and thank you for taking him out here 🌠

#rat-makes-stuff #xxbluejayxx #pommmejuice #tomomi012 #moloko-tyan #hadesaedes #serenityblaze44 #catnymous #thisbloghasnoaesthetic #lavaicerinkk #murcx04 #toya slides u a note #ask game response #Rat I'm going to fight you about Lake Huron #Lake Michigan gang wya

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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Through the Looking Glass || Morgan & Skylar

Timing: Early last week

Parties: @mor-beck-more-problems, @theskyeandsea

Contains: Mentions of drug use, depictions of death and dying

Summary: Morgan and Skylar take a break from it all to have a fun, innocent time at the carnival.

Skylar basked in the rays of the summer sunset, taking in a deep breath to fully absorb the sugar-laden scent that mixed with the salty sea breeze in a surprisingly pleasant way. The heat of the day had faded and the flashing lights of various attractions blinked against the backdrop of the ocean. She could hear sounds of carnival games whirling and children laughing as they ran from one ride to another-- it was… wonderful. And nothing that she’d ever experienced before. Her mother had never liked the idea of state fairs or carnivals, calling them “backwoods entertainment” or other things like that. She’d never been to the circus either, though a part of her really didn’t mind that. The idea of seeing animals having to perform had always made her a little uncomfortable. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar figure walking up and she offered a wave. “Hey, Morgan!” She said with her usual brand of quiet enthusiasm. “I’m glad you wanted to check out the carnival with me. I, um, I’ve never actually been to one before.” She admitted with a sheepish smile.

Morgan opened her arms to Skylar and pulled her into a hug. She was a tall girl, Morgan could never wrap her up safe the way she seemed to need sometimes, but she did her best, giving Skylar a little squeeze. The weeks since they’d seen each other had taken the stuffing out of her. New medication could be rough like that, and Morgan wrestled with the urge to ask if there was anything more to it. Another hunter attack? Another White Crest wilderness mishap? “Hey, you,” she said instead.”I’m glad you said yes. There’s at least a seventy percent chance this place is chock full of magic, but I can’t help but want to go back and it’s much more fun with a friend. “And you’re definitely not alone there. This might be my second trip, but this is still my first carnival. It’s so big, I don’t think even two trips would be enough to see or try everything. But we can do our best, right? We’ve earned a little break from all the mess. And I really want you to tell me if turkey legs are still all they’re cracked up to be.” She linked their arms together and lead them under the entrance archway. There was enough sun for her to read all the signs and posters indicating what lay where on the fairgrounds and she stopped a moment, feeling the same twinge of wonder rise up all over again at just how much there was, and how simple the choices were, all just a matter of want, of color, of impulse. Nothing more weighty or more complicated than that.

Initially taken aback by the hug, Skylar relaxed into the gentle embrace, squeezing Morgan back in kind. How long had it been since they’d last seen each other? How long had it been since she’d seen… much of anyone, actually? After her run in with the hunter, she’d spent so much of her time holed up in the house or hiding at work, desperately trying to keep her head down. She didn’t know if the man was still out there, only what he was capable of. But… it had been over a month since that awful night. Over a month since she’d gained the new scar that sliced across the back of her leg. “You’ve already been here before? Did you come with Deirdre?” She asked as she let Morgan take her arm and guide her into the carnival proper. It was loud and the noises from the people around them were slightly distracting, but being close to Morgan helped her focus on her words. “Turkey legs? Those sound really great, I’d love to try one.” She said, intrigued by the idea. Something that she’d be able to eat without worrying how people would look at her. That honestly sounded really nice. As they walked through the carnival, she took in all the games and lights, the various rides that spun around in dizzying circles. It seemed so fun and lighthearted-- a welcome change from everything else that had happened to her in the past few months.

“I did, yeah,” Morgan said with a smile. “It was quite the adventure, and uh, maybe as a consequence, we should steer clear of the Museum of Monstrosities pop-up stop. And that whole, uh, area. Just in case anyone recognizes me from last time.” She gave Skylar a sheepish smile. She felt a lot of things about that particular part of their visit, but regret wasn’t one of them. She knew, sure, that there was value in preserving artifacts and remains for the sake of history, for the preservation of people always on the run or in hiding, but that wasn’t what she’d seen. Hopefully this time, they could keep things easy and safe. “Come on, I’ll get you a turkey leg and you can tell me what I’ve been missing out on while we figure out what we want to hit up first. It looks like there’s a lot of people taking pictures by that stand over there, but I can’t see what it’s for…”

Though she was a bit puzzled, Skylar nodded all the same, “That works for me. I’m not really interested in that sort of thing anyways. I figured there might be some… weirdness here. Given that it’s a White Crest carnival. But, yup, I’m very okay with not poking around that side of the carnival.” She said with an affirmative thumbs up. As they meandered through the carnival, her eyes flicked from attraction to another, Skylar could feel the tension start to ease from her shoulders. Being able to hang out with a friend, enjoy their company, do something new and interesting-- it was all just a nice break from reality. Kind of like how anime night with Rio and Winston had been. While she couldn’t remember the specifics of what had happened, it was still a very nice time. And hopefully tonight would be more of the same. “Oh, you don’t need to do that.” She said with a wave of her hand as she stood on her tiptoes, trying to peer over the crowd before them. “Um, I think it’s for some kind of lion..?” She asked, though her voice was uncertain. “Do you want to check it out? I’ve never actually seen one, so it could be neat. And,” Skylar pointed over towards one of the nearby stalls that was off to the side of the line, “There’s a turkey leg stand on the way while we wait. Two birds with one stone?”

“I think that sounds like a great plan,” Morgan said. She followed Skylar to the stall and took their turn in line, glancing up at her to see how she was easing into the day. She didn’t seem any more anxious than usual; there was even a hint of a smile pulling at her lips. But that flattened look remained. Maybe the side effects of her medication were more than just her mood. “Hey, I really am glad you got yourself figured out with your new meds. I got lucky that my happy brain shots don’t mess with me. It’s just my old prescription with an extra magic kick. But when I was first getting started, it was really hard.” She gave her a little nudge. “Anyways, I remember Turkey legs being really greasy and good. If it’s not just a little crispy on the outside and warm and juicy on the inside, throw it away as a lost cause.” She got on her tiptoes to look at the crowd by the lion’s den. “Must be a small lion. Think it’s a cub, or some supernatural critter we don’t know about?”

At the mention of her medicine, Skylar could feel her stomach twist a little, the inside of her left arm suddenly warm. But, she did her best to focus on what Morgan was saying instead, about how what she was taking really helped her. “That’s really lucky. I’m, um, I’m sorry about the other day. I just underestimated how much it was going to affect me. But it’s all good now.” She said with a nod. The pain was lessened, even now. Of course, she had some of the valium Felix had sent along with the bliss coursing through her system, cutting through the pain. But… Morgan didn’t really need to know that. As they passed by the turkey leg stall, Skylar slipped away from Morgan and bought herself one and was surprised by how tasty it was. There was a little bit of char, it was dripping with greasy, and just a little bit hard to chew through. While she was more than capable of eating with her veneers in, she was very aware of how easy it would have been to bite into the leg with her real teeth. Swallowing, she wiped her mouth before nodding in approval at Morgan. “Definitely worth the line for this, mhm!” She said before taking another bite as she looked over the crowd. She could just barely make out golden brown fur from where she stood, along with a very wispy looking mane. “It might not be very well taken care of..?”

“It’s really okay, Skylar,” Morgan said. “Things happen, especially here. We get taken away from ourselves for a little while. And then we come back. And yours definitely wasn’t that bad.” She smiled and stepped back to appreciate the scene of the turkey leg. Was it bad, somehow, to have so much excitement for something she couldn’t have? To fixate on how the skin peeled from the meat and the little bits of juice and how grease…? She could almost taste it in her mouth. She could only taste heat when it was boiling, enough to burn anyone else’s tongue off. If she reached for the wrapper, the grease would only be the memory of itself. Better to let Skylar have her fun and remember being at the rodeo on her own time, while she still remembered it at all. Besides, they might have a lion to save.

Morgan stuck close to Skylar as they made their way over. Crowds always parted for tall people and soon they were looking at...a dog. Morgan bent down and put her finger out to the animal’s snout. As he sniffed her experimentally before nosing her into pets, she noticed the seam around his head where his ‘mane’ pressed against his golden fur. Yep. Definitely a dog.

“He does tricks!” The boy handling him said. “Hey, Lion, can you roar?”

The dog wriggled into the most majestic pose he could manage and gave it his best effort.

“Lion, lay down!”

Lion laid down, puppy eyes turned upwards for approval.

“Good boy, Lion!”

Morgan exchanged a look with Skylar. Lion’s coat glowed in the afternoon sun and his tail wagged with delight as he received his ‘lion’ treats. Not much of a supernatural injustice or mystery there. “Is it okay if we pet him?” She asked.

Shifting with a slight unease at Morgan’s words, Skylar was suddenly grateful for the space between them. That, and the excuse not to respond as she took another particularly large bite of the turkey leg. Instead of responding, she offered a tentative smile and continued to shuffle forward towards the… lion. Which turned out to be nothing more than a dog wearing a scruffy fake mane, trying its very best to do the tricks that his owner commanded. In hindsight, seeing an actual lion might have been far too much for her, particularly if they were up this close. As it was, this “lion” was nerve-wracking enough. But, it seemed like a really well trained dog. As Lion’s tail wagged excitedly, eagerly looking up at his owner with a wide grin, Skylar couldn’t help but laugh a little. “If you’d like, that’s okay with me.” She said with a nod and followed behind Morgan as the two went up to the small stage where Lion sat, wagging its tail and accepting pats from the passing onlookers.

As she waited for Morgan to get her turn, Lion’s eyes lit up at her approach and darted across the stage towards her. Before she could react, the dog had stolen the turkey leg from her hand. “Lion! No, bad do-- lion! I’m so sorry, Miss, you coulda lost a finger.” The boy apologized as he grabbed Lion by the scruff of his “mane” and pulled him away. Meanwhile, the dog happily munched on the turkey leg, still very much grinning through the meaty bone in its mouth. “It’s okay, really.” Skylar laughed, shaking her head. “Well. That wasn’t exactly what I expected.” She said to Morgan as the crowd began to exit the small stage area. “Where to next?”

Morgan tried not to laugh too hard at the prospect of the golden mix dog taking someone’s finger. Lion was a lot of things, including meat hungry, but he yapped too happily and smiled too wide to look like much of a threat to anyone, even at his hungriest. But so as not to insult either one of them, she thanked the handler and went down the nearest walkway with Skylar. She looked up and down the stalls thoughtfully. “Probably not the games. Most of them are run by fae and not in the biggest at playing fair. And that game--” she pointed at one, “Looked a little weird to me the last time I saw someone play it. But, ooh, this is probably safe?” Morgan unfurled from Skylar and backed her way into a large wooden stall marked The Hall of Mirrors and Mystery. “I’ve always wanted to go into something like this before, but I’ve never had the chance. What do you think? Down for a little Wonderland walk, Alice? Feels like they have AC in here too.” She beamed wide, hand outstretched for Skylar, and slipped into the dark hall.

“That sounds good to me,” Skylar nodded as she followed Morgan through the crowd of people and they resumed their wandering through the carnival. At the other woman’s words, she raised an eyebrow, “The Fae? How did you figure out that they were running the games?” She asked, a bit curious. Did Morgan have some kind of sixth sense that came with being a zombie, that allowed her to figure out what other people were? Looking over in the direction of where she pointed, Skylar grimaced. People were just plunging their hands into what looked like a giant tub of mayo-- no, no thank you. “Mhm, I’d like to stay clear of that one too.” As the other woman peeled away from her, she tilted her head at the Hall of Mirrors. It didn’t seem too scary, unlike some of the thrill rides that dotted the carnival grounds. It was just a hall of mirrors, that was it. Looking at Morgan’s outstretched hand, Skylar nodded, “Does that make you the March Hare? Well, let’s go down the rabbit hole together.” She said with a smile of her own.

“My girlfriend has a very nifty way of looking out for me,” Morgan said with a grin. “Remind me to tell you how she won me two prizes at the dart game sometime.” She gave Skylar an elaborate curtsey and took her arm again as they moseyed inside. The mirrors were lined with bright strips of neon lights. Their reflections warbled in the first hall before their eyes like they’d been stretched out over the river. Then the room opened out to a large gallery, lined with mirrors fanned out in every possible angle, some into more halls, others into dead ends. The rest of the people with them scattered to their own corners, taking selfies and making fun of each other. Morgan let her fingers ghost over the edge of the panels she passed as she took them to the left. It was sweet, even, how much work had been put into something so simple. Then Morgan caught a glimpse of another self from the corner of her eye. She would know that Little Mermaid backpack anywhere. “Skye…” She knew exactly what day this was. Her little arms were so tired from carrying all the things she could squeeze into that dumb, plastic backpack. But the water was so high for her, she knew all her books would get ruined if she slid on the straps and carried it the normal way. She hadn’t packed enough clothes, and the neighbor’s boat had been left waiting because she was crying over the water in her socks and her ruined books. Her mother had yelled at her in front of all those strangers… She dropped Skylar’s arm. “Skylar, are you seeing this too?” She asked in a whisper.

Following Morgan inside, Skylar’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the hall, the only illumination coming from the bright lights that wreathed the mirrors in light. It was simultaneously blindingly bright and incredibly dark at the same time inside the hall. As she took in the room, she peered into some of the mirrors, a smile growing on her face as she saw how the various mirrors distorted her appearance. Some of them made her appear taller than she already was, others stretched her face, still others-- as she glanced over at Morgan, she was caught off guard by a reflection in the mirror. A small girl, with a bright Little Mermaid backpack… Blinking, Skylar looked around the room, trying to find the girl in the reflection. But, it was just her and Morgan. “I-- yes, who’s that?” Glancing around the room, she tried to look for any sign of supernatural monsters that might have snuck up behind them. Was it a ghost, trapped in the mirror? But, the expression on Morgan’s face was one of… recognition. Like she knew who the girl in the mirror was.

Before Skylar could question her further, she froze. A woman, her height, sandy blonde hair, her same blue eyes, but… much older. There were wrinkles around her eyes, the skin around her jaw tighter. And the way she held herself, was stronger, more assured. She stared at the woman, watched as her fingers began to sign something, though the mirror was too unfocused to make out the specific signs. But, she could make out the general idea. Safe, community, you are good. Swallowing, Skylar nudged Morgan, “I… Can you see her too?” The woman in the reflection looked to be about fifty. Who was she? Why did she look so familiar?

Morgan had knelt down to look at her nine year old self. She was trying so hard not to cry and Morgan felt a sickening twist of embarrassment for her. Just breathe, kid, she wanted to say. Just breathe while you still can. This isn’t gonna be the last time you lose everything, just pull yourself together. But she was just following her movements pitifully, struggling to carry herself upright with her wet things. She didn’t look away until Skylar’s call. She peered over at the next mirror and-- “Oh, Earth. It’s you. You look so--” A wet laugh burbled out of her. Morgan wiped the corners of her eyes and scrambled up to get a better look with her. “Um, I know these, she’s...comforting someone, yeah? She’s--” Older than Morgan would ever look, something she hadn’t bothered to think about before. What a life she was going to have, or might have, at least. It wasn’t going to be fun pretending to be a student or a younger friend of hers if they were even going to get to know each other that long. Morgan squeezed the girl’s arm gently. “She looks like she’s doing really good.”

The slightly off sound of Morgan’s laughter caught Skylar’s attention and she glanced over just in time to see the woman dabbing at the corners of her eyes. Not wanting to draw attention to it, she bit the inside of her cheek. It was only then that she processed Morgan’s words. It was her? No, that couldn’t be her. She looked so… assured. So calm and steady, like a tree that had weathered a storm and still remained standing tall. That couldn’t possibly be her. “I thought it might be my mom.” She whispered quietly, before reaching out to touch the mirror. Before her fingers could touch the reflective surface, the image seemed to ripple and she was face to face with her own reflection, tentatively reaching out to the mirror. The same clothes, the same choppy hair, the same blue eyes with dark rings below. “It’s me again.” She said, slightly aghast. “What was that?” Skylar asked, turning to Morgan, hoping the other woman would have some kind of answer.

“No, but she’s just your height, and the freckles--” Morgan was about to trace the pattern along the reflection when it shifted back to normal. “It...must be some kind of magic. Maybe it’s reading our memories, or the threads of fate. Showing us...our path, or some of them.” She rolled her shoulders and clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to steady herself without breath and moved down to the next mirror. “She is real, you know,” she said, putting on a brave smile despite her sniffles. “Fate? You have plenty of choices and opportunities, but once you’ve locked yourself past the point of no return, she won’t let you--” Morgan’s words died in a silent scream. She stumbled back into Skylar, trembling. Looking back at her was her body, but not rammed through with steel on the pavement. She was shot through with magic, energy warping her veins til they bulged white. There was a circle around her and a cauldron of blood at her feet. “Something went wrong,” her reflection whimpered. “I went a-a--”

Morgan backed away from her before another twisted, death-throes sound could escape her twisted mouth. “Sorry,” she stuttered, turning away and stumbling down the hall, only to find the vision of another death, this time, her body ground to a dark smear in some empty lot. She went stiff, turned again, and saw herself as it had really happened: stuck to the ground and choking on her pain as she cried. Stars above, there had been so much blood. She hadn’t remembered the blood except for what had stuck to her body. There was Deirdre and Remmy huddled around her, and the way everything burned and blurred because she was crying so hard and how she had fought because in that moment it was the end of everything: the last glimpse of the sky, the last cloud, the last look at someone who loved her, but the rest---Morgan’s hand went to the spot on her stomach as she remembered. Every time she’d tried to lift herself off that stick, she hurt down in places she didn’t know she could. She’d hurt so much she’d barely been able to speak at all. Morgan screwed her eyes shut and clamped her hand over her mouth. “S-skylar?” She croaked. She didn’t want to be here anymore. If she had been fated to die the moment she came here, maybe even fated to become this (“Not a ‘this’, never a this,” Deirdre’s voice reminded her) she didn’t need to look at it. But Morgan’s jaw was clenched, her chest barely full with enough air to speak at all. “Skylar--?” She tried again, praying she was loud enough to be heard.

“But…” Skylar’s words died in her throat as she continued to stare back at her own reflection. How could that possibly be her? The woman who’d looked at her, she’d seemed… so much stronger, so much braver than she could ever imagine herself being. No, it couldn’t be her. As she listened to Morgan’s words, she wondered just what this place was. How could it know? How could magic see things that could be, or that would be, and project them out like this. Opening her mouth to ask Morgan another question, she caught sight of another Morgan in the mirror, a black cauldron rippling with red liquid at her feet--

Before she could react, the other woman had ran in the opposite direction, away from the terrible image in the mirror. And Skylar found herself alone. Except, she wasn’t. Not really. The image of not-Morgan faded from the reflective surface and a small figure appeared, her hair cut at a lopsided angle. Skylar’s eyes widened, a lump forming in the back of her throat. Blood, she could feel the blood that ran down her chin that day. That was the day she’d bit the awful boy who’d cut her long, beautiful hair. That had been the day her mother had taken her to get her hair cut in a choppy bob, to hide the large hunk of hair that was suddenly missing. She looked at the little girl who stared back at her with tear-filled eyes and blood crusted lips. Skylar wanted to cry. Wanted to sweep her up in her arms and tell her that it would… it would be better. But would it? Would any of this ever get better? Biting the inside of her cheek, she turned and ran in the direction of the exit. She had to get out of here, she needed to leave this place.

Morgan listened for any sign that the girl was nearby. All the grief she had buried rose up from the grave she’d dug at the bottom of her soul. It pulled on her bones with the coldest fingers, twisting her until she bent double, sore and aching. Then she heard crying. “Skylar--?” She choked out. She still couldn’t get her throat to open or her lungs to work. She looked around her and saw--another self. A live one, with flecks of gray in her hair and wrinkles around her mouth. She couldn’t stop her tears from coming anymore than Morgan could now. “What’s wrong?” Morgan rasped. She looked fine enough, save for the handle of whiskey in her grip and the mess of glass and dirty clothes at her feet. But there was something wasted-looking about her, like her insides had gone all shrivelled. “What did you do?”

The older woman shook her head and hid her face, ashamed.

“S-stop. Stop that. Answer me. Please, answer me. What did we do wrong now?”

The woman only popped off the lid of the alcohol and drank deep, grimacing with hatred before bending over with cries again.

Morgan stumbled down the hall, fingers catching on the bright edges of the mirrors. If she could just stick to one wall, she had to be able to find the exit. She passed herself crying in the bathroom as Karen was dragged away by her mom, the fragile whimpers she’d made when her mom explained that she was cursed, but no worries, great great grandma Agnes did it, it wasn’t just because she had the misfortune of being born. Stars, she never stopped crying, and it was all the mirrors were throwing back at her, a cascade of nothing but misery until, all at once, silence crashed through the hall.

The Hall of Mirrors, Skylar had realized, wasn’t a whimsical place. It wasn’t a fun, happy diversion from reality. No, it was just another reminder of how awful, how terrible this place was. How… inhuman she was. As she ran through a room full of more of the strange magical mirrors, she saw glimpses of her past self, of future selves. A small girl crying in the corner of the library the day after her brother had abandoned her for his new, better friends. A woman looking wistfully out to the sea. A seal, with deep scars running across her front fins and jaws. Tears began to streak down her face as she tried desperately to find the exit. She didn’t want to see this. She didn’t want to remember her past, she didn’t want to know what awaited her.

As she rounded a corner, Skylar found herself in a nearly pitch black room. The exit? It had to be, why else would it be so empty, so dark? As she took a tentative step forward, she realized the room was dark because the neon lights around the mirrors of this section had burned out. The room was filled with the barest hint of illumination that leaked from the hallway she’d just come from. She stood there for a moment, hesitant. Was this the right way? The instant the doubt entered her mind, a doorway creaked open at the end of the hall, filling the room with rays of sunlight. And that was when Skylar let out a horrified gasp.

A crumpled woman stared up at her from where she lay on the ground. An empty vial lay next to her and behind her, something burned. She couldn’t tell what it was, she was too focused on the tangled, matted hair, the scarred… collapsed veins of her arms. Sores, she could see ugly red sores that mottled her body. Dry, cracked hands rubbed at her skin, as though trying to brush away phantom bugs that crawled against her. Skylar stared in horror as familiar blue eyes looked back at her from sunken eye sockets. Even then, the expression on her face was serene. “It’s easier this way. For everyone.” The woman-- no, Skylar realized. Hardly a woman. This version of herself in the mirror… she couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than herself. A choked sob spilled out of her as Skylar sank her head into her hands, unable to look for any longer.

In the quiet, Morgan kept her trembling hands over her ears, just in case she was mistaken. She couldn’t handle another cursed, dead end future, she just needed to find Skylar and get out. Then she heard it: the faintest flutter in the air, a breathless laugh. She lowered her arms and looked, ignoring another series of selves that twinned with her exactly, alone at what might as well have been the end of the world. Morgan wanted there to be a point to all this, a reason to keep trudging through the days, even if it was so fucking rare and next to impossible.

Of course the Morgan in the mirror hadn’t aged a bit. Her dress was a little nicer, but no one would have been able to tell them apart otherwise. The only sign this picture had been summoned from years ahead was the girl next to her. She wasn’t more than thirteen by Morgan’s best guess, still round and soft in the cheeks. She swayed awkwardly on legs she hadn’t grown into yet, and only had to rise on her tiptoes to surpass Morgan’s height, which she did gleefully with a smile that made Morgan’s chest ache with recognition. Brown hair fell down her face and over her shoulders, ornamented with an uneven cascade of flowers and tiny bones she had tried to put in herself. She was, Morgan realized, a near-perfect rendering of Deirdre, only younger, happier. Her nose was sharper and upturned and her eyes were much closer to hazel than brown, but it was that same effervescent spirit that sometimes fell out of Deirdre when they were alone and happy, rendered large over the girl’s entire body. And she had wings: a thin set of moth wings patterned gray and brown and white like the trees in winter. They fluttered in giddy fits as she tried to show off the mess she’d made of her hair and cajole her Morgan into doing something for her.

Morgan reached out for them, forgetting the glass until her fingers knocked against it. She didn’t dare ask aloud, as if doing so might jinx this future’s existence. But she knocked, trying to get their attention. Was this everything it looked to be? Were they that happy? What was the girl’s name? And where was Deirdre? The Morgan in the mirror gave her a smug smile, seeming to read her thoughts, and mimed that her lips were sealed. Morgan could have watched them until nightfall, watching for some hint about how to get to that place, but the sound of another cry, markedly different from her own, jolted her out of her longing.

Skylar. Shit.

“Skylar?” Morgan called. “Where are you?” She followed the hall into another room and-- “What the hell is that?” She rushed over, but the image of Skylar’s ruined body faded as soon as she was close enough to get a good look.”Skye?” She asked softly. “Hey, can I help you up? We’re almost out of here, okay?”

Skylar didn’t want to see this, she didn’t want to see any of this. She didn’t want to know what the future held for her, not if this could happen to her. This was just… too much to bear. Even if the other possibilities existed, this one, the one that stood before her-- she let out a shuddering sob. As awful as this final one had been, the others replayed in her mind. The ruined jaw of a seal, an older woman staring with intense longing at the sea… She didn’t want to know those existed. None of them were good, none of them were right. Skylar felt the tears roll down her cheeks as she buried her head deeper into her hands. “No. No, no, no.” She mumbled to herself.

Skylar felt more than heard Morgan next to her and did her best to quell the sobs that shook her body. Peering through her hands, she nodded. “P-please. Please, I can’t… I can’t.” She said before retreating back to the shelter of her hands.

Morgan reached for the girl, pulling her up with ease. “You’re gonna be okay,” she said. “There’s nothing to see anymore, and we’re getting out of here.” She hefted them towards the wall she’d been following and soon found another door. One push and light streamed into the dark room. Morgan dragged them out, stumbling into the fair grounds and kicking over one of the cones that blocked it off for anyone mistaking it for an entrance. She held Skylar steady and upright. “Deep breath, honey, okay?” She said. “We’re out. You can take a big breath now. We’re safe.”

Breathing, she could do that. She could do that. Skylar let Morgan lead her out of the Hall of Mirrors, burrowing her head into the smaller woman’s shoulder. What she’d seen in there, what could come to pass… No. No, no, no. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. She forced her lungs to fill, made herself hold the breath, measuring time by the rapid pounding of her heart, before letting it out. Over and over, she did that until the panic began to fade. The fear remained, the dread and horror still hovered over her like a dark cloud. But, at least she was out of there. At least she was safe. “I… Need to go home.” She whispered. “Can we go?”

“Yeah, honey, we’re going home right now.” Morgan took Skylar’s hand firmly in her own and steered them quickly back the way they’d come. She could no longer pick out any one sound or sight. The lights were too bright in the afternoon sun, the sand glared cruelly against her eyes, bouncing against their bodies like spotlights. Morgan hurried them faster, faster, not letting go of the girl’s arm for a moment. “We don’t have to do anything else today, okay?” She said. “We’re just gonna go. We’re going, Skylar, okay? It’s already behind us. We can talk about it later. For now? It’s gone.”

#wr skylar #wr chatzy #wr skylar chatzy #through the looking glass #wr #wickedswriting

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tarithenurse · 5 years

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Stranded - 2 of 2 (or 3)

Pairing: Loki Odinson x fem!reader Content: A bit of drama, but mostly fluff. Some errors due to lack of proof reading. A/N: So people liked the original (see Masterlist) and asked for more though I’d meant for it to be a one-shot…and then I thought: why not? There will be one more part after this if you guys are interested, other wise I’ll let this be the last.

Pacing back and forth, Loki only listens half-heartedly to the nonsensical babble of his friends. Lady Sif is entertaining Thor and the Warriors Three with her latest news from the training of the newest guard – she had assisted Tyr in a mock battle which he and his team had lost.

“Loki?” the victorious warrior call out.

The long strides carries the prince in question to the door where he has to turn around. “Yes, marvellous. Well done, lady Sif.”

Raucous laughter finally causes Loki to pause.

“Oh, brother mine,” the deepest voice hollers, “your thoughts are so far astray a skirmish may break out and you would not notice.”

Fandral, at least, finds a smidgen of compassion. “Is it the fate of the Midgardian that troubles you?”

There is understanding to be found despite the mirthful twinkle in his eyes and Loki admits to the worries. The Midgardian has been called before the All-Father, interrupting the stroll through the gardens that she and the raven-haired prince were enjoying after lunch. The two of them spend nigh all their waking hours in the company of each other as though each day is the last, they have together – it may as well be because lady [Y/N] is bound to return to her homeworld sooner rather than later.

Always. A word spoken so easily, taking their willing hearts captive. But always and forever will end eventually, Loki knows, as his father is ill-inclined to allow the use of Bifrost for the youngest son to travel to and from Midgard once [Y/N] has returned to a home she has no longing for.

“But this is simple!” Despite Volstag’s enthusiasm, the rest of the chamber’s occupants wait silently for him to elaborate. “If you cannot go to her then she must stay here.”

Loki frowns. “As much as I would love this, we all know how Odin’s attitu–“

“Yes, yes!” Fandral picks up on his friend’s idea. “A young maiden can easily be disguised among the people of Asgard or Vanaheim for a while until the All-Father’s attention has shifted and he has forgotten about the foreigner –”

“– at which point the young prince conveniently forgets the cause of his broken heart when he finds a new love,” Volstag completes, the two friends beaming.

… Reader …

You had decided with yourself on the very first night in Asgard that you like Frigga. The queen is kind, smart, and wonderfully wise to the point where you’re beginning to suspect that she’s got a lot more to say in terms of the affair of the kingdom than she officially is supposed to. Right now that’s a good thing. Sitting face to face with king Odin all on your own would have been nerve wrecking (the guard in full armour and with a fabulous but rather lethal looking spear might not help either) so you’re thankful for Frigga’s presence.

I wish Loki was here. It’s not the first time the thought presents itself during the audience, but you try your best to keep calm. This is about him too, though. Odin is ignoring that detail quite brilliantly, however, as he talks about your future without pausing for you to get a word in.

The thing is: as a so-called Midgardian, you’re not supposed to have come to Asgard at all. Now that you happen to be there, the quasi-mythological ruler is worried if other people might suddenly pop up from either Earth or anywhere else, really, and as you haven’t been able to explain how you managed the trip…well, it’s hard to put that concern to rest. The next point that Odin wants to discuss (or rather, monologue) is how you were to handle the knowledge you now have of Valhalla and the “realm” once you do return home. At this point, you take a risk by interrupting the old god to promise that of course you wouldn’t say anything to anyone, and at least Frigga supports you (and further adds that no one would believe you anyways which hurts but is true). Odin? Not convinced.

A song you can’t quite remember enough of keeps bouncing around in your brain: Should I stay or should I go now…unfortunately, you can’t recall more of it so it only adds to your frustration. Seeking Frigga’s gaze, you’re seconds away from losing your temper.

“Perhaps, then, we must consider the simpler of two options?” Frigga winks quickly at you, making sure her husband doesn’t see. “It appears to me the best solution would be to have [Y/N] stay. I am certain that she can make herself useful, and although it will be hard to leave everything behind…it time, she might find happiness here?”

You don’t dare to say anything or even breathe as you wait for Odin to make up his mind.

Tugging softly at the beard, the king mumbles to himself. “It would eliminate the risk of the wrong people obtaining any information, exploiting it…”

“Indeed, dear husband.” Frigga has clearly counselled like this before. “Of course…accommodating lady [Y/N] need not be your concern. Such trivial matters could be dealt with by, say, Loki?”

The beard gets an extra tug before the god lights up with a smile, his eye nearly disappearing between the wrinkles. “He has taken quite an interest in you, has he not?” For a second, you recognize Thor in that face.

“Y-yes, your highness, prince Loki-i is very uhmm kind to me.” Nooo, why do I have to stammer?!

“So it shall be,” Odin declares with a grand gesture, “you must remain here...or on Vanaheim if that is more agreeable. Loki will be informed of this and he shall be in charge of your settlement.”

To his right, Frigga winks again, a mischievous smile at the corner of her mouth. “Do not worry, dear girl, I will be delighted to ensure everything is fine.”

It’s clear the audience is over and you get up, making sure to bow (which makes the king guffaw quietly) and thank them both before you rush out.

Every cell of you is aching for Loki with the exception of your braincells that are working overtime to make sense of what just happened. I’m staying? Odin never asked what you wanted and maybe he knew already from the queen whom you’ve talked a lot with about your home and the situation there, but it still feels odd to have someone else make a decision on your behalf as though it isn’t actually your life at all. But…I wanna stay. Pausing briefly next to a statue of a stern-looking Viking, you feel the warmth of the golden metal reflected in your chest and stomach. Yeah, staying feels right. For a moment, you bask in the soothing serenity that everything only can get better from now on.

But…what if…? A new wave of disastrous possibilities rise to engulf you, drown out the joy. Fighting the tide is useless as you own mocking voice pokes fun at you and questions everything you might just have gained. What if Loki doesn’t really want you around? Or if he does, for how long then? A simple “Midgardian” really can’t hold his interest for very long, the sing-song voice in your skull jeers.

A strong arm wraps around your shoulder, bulging muscles squeezing a bit too tight for comfort as they pull you into the shadows behind the golden statue. Too surprised to say anything, you automatically follow the order to remain quiet whispered by a deep voice.

Thor peers at you with gleaming eyes. “Lady [Y/N],” the whisper sounds like a distant rumble of thunder, “do not be alarmed.”

Easy for you to say! The heart is stuck in your throat, hammering frantically. “Oo-kay?”

… Loki …

Urging the stead out of the stables, the young prince resigns to the fact that he will not have a chance to double-check the hastily packed supplies - at the very least the trip to Vanaheim should not last more than a few days, though, now that any official passages are out of the picture.

Loki lingers for a few seconds, looking wistfully at the golden-capped towers of Valhalla before he spurs the horse into a gallop out of the city.

Leaving has never been this hard before. He knows he will return, forced to keep up the charade until the All-Father has forgotten the incident of the Midgardian intruder, but in this very moment, he has left the fate of his true love in the hands of his friends.

The plan is simple. Loki will wait until the cover of darkness at which point Fandral will smuggle [Y/N] out of the castle. Thor will stay behind to distract their father and mother, however in case that is not enough then Lady Sif, Hogun, and Volstag will remain as well to give credibility to any scenario established to throw the king (and potentially Heimdal) off the tracks.

The raven-haired prince prefers to leave with his sweetheart (and argued vehemently for this until Sif commented that he would be the first to be kept under observation as soon as Odin’s mind was made up). No, it will be better that he already is out of sight, and as he is needed to navigate the hidden paths between realms, then this is the only other option.

…

No rest for the wicked. Anxiously pacing around and around the same tree, Loki’s mind is a mess and his guts are filled with alternatingly lead and butterflies. There has been no comfort in the company of his steed as the animal has found a patch of sorrel collecting the evening dew. Now the last bird sings goodnight, ending its tune on a soft twirdle that echoes through the dusk before stilling.

The shadows grow deep. Loki’s horse decides it is time to settle in for the night, rubbing the saddle that lies on the ground into position before lying down with its head upon the embossed leather. The man walking in circles find no rest.

When a light finally can be seen, moving between the trees as a glowing orb entrenched by sharp teeth of darkness, Loki’s heart stops. One horse. He supposes it shouldn’t surprise him. Do Midgardians ride horses nowadays? A tentative breath makes room for normal breathing until he realizes that the single horse only has no rider while merely a single shape walks beside it. Fandral…where is [Y/N]? It is as though a bottomless crevasse open before Loki’s feet, invisible currents trying to pull him in, making him stagger as he steps forward to wards the blond man.

“Where is she?” Loki is aware how his voice shakes, but it does not matter. “Has Odin sent her away already?”

The mischievousness beneath the gentle smile is similar to Loki’s own, yet he cannot abide the sight of it and nearly looses his temper before Fandral finally answers. “As surprising as it may be, our carefully laid plan turns out to be unnecessary for a different reason. Come, my friend.”

… Reader …

You’re steaming with indignation, but thankfully for your surroundings a sense of appreciation for the (misplaced) helpfulness is creeping in…or maaaybe it’s the abashed apologies on repeat from Thor.

He’d scared the life half out of you when he grabbed you, and pretty spot on compared to the myths the guy had carried on with the “plan” without listening to any of the objections launched at him with an increasing amount of violence. Admittedly, your fists probably weren’t the worst pain he’s imagined through his life. It wasn’t until you’d been brought to the rest of the gang that you get a word in, stopping the outrageous escapade.

“We truly were just trying to –“

“I know!” You interrupt Thor a bit harsher than intended. Oops. “I know and I…I’m thankful…it’s just…” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose for a moment, “perhaps it’s best to ask next time if the help is needed?”

The blond warrior slash god has the decency to agree before making himself scarce to see if someone elsewhere needs any help.

Left alone, you finally have a chance to look around the room. It’s not your own but Loki’s and although you’ve been in there before, it’s the first time you really have the time to look around – or more correctly, it’s the first time you’re not being distracted by Loki in all his kind and brainy splendor.

…

Mesmerized by one of the few books you can actually read (honestly, you’d just wanted a peek to see what sort of literature the god likes) the sound of running footsteps barely manage to register with you before the door is slammed open to reveal a dishevelled Loki in front with a Fandral and Thor behind (both looking appropriately apologetic, still).

“[Y/N]…”

The silver tongued prince is rarely in lack of the right thing to say and you would have felt smug about it if it wasn’t for the desperation in his eyes. Large, roaming your face and shape in sign of any sign of distress before they light up with the intensity of a winter’s sun, stealing your breath away and making your knees go soft. An impractical change as you’ve just stood up. But of course, within a split second he’s there, practically sweeping you off your feet and into a lover’s embrace, lips meeting soft and hungry.

When next you become aware of your surroundings, it’s nice to see that the door has been closed to provide the two of you with some privacy.

“I thought…” Loki’s breath fans your cheek and neck. “If only I had dared to imagine father would let you stay…”

Pulling back slightly to kiss his nose, you share the anxious shiver of what could have been. “Your mom probably had something to do with it, to be fair.”

“I shall be sure to thank her.” He is somehow able to lift you and carry you to the bed without getting tangled in the dress you’d been told to wear today by a maid, and for a second it’s like you’re a real princess. “My love.” The plush mattress rises to hold you instead as the gentleman of a god kneels before you. “I could not stand the risk of losing you, not now and not ever…”

Waaaaait a second…

“I have no token to offer you in this moment as a symbol of my undying love, yet I must ask…” At this point you’re certain you feel your brain implode. “Will you take me as your husband?”

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psychicrunawaybouquet-aus · 5 years

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Hey guys, so like once a year I write something Spideychelle. Be warned I don’t proof read. This also happens to be a tacky combination of angst and fluff. Enjoy.

Even after all this time, she still frantically checked the news every night, she still followed Spider-Man alerts, she still turned up the radio at the mention of his name she still wore her webbed spider necklace every day without fail. Eventually she had begun to wonder if it was worth it. She had left him to escape Spider-Man, and yet she everywhere she looked, he was there. She still loved him, she still loved Spider-Man and there was nothing she could do to escape it. Her 3 month hiatus in Europe only reminded her of when they were young, when they first fell in love. Her 6 months spent completely dedicated to work and nothing else only served as a distraction. But by the time she had accepted that worrying about Spider-Man and being with peter was better then worrying about Spider-Man and being without peter, it was too late. There was a girl, apparently her name was Gwen, she was small and feminine and delicate and According to Ned she was a teacher that volunteered her spare time saving obscure African animals. Gwen it seemed, was everything MJ could never truly be for Peter.

So she moved on. She dated sporadically but it was mostly empty. And then one night her phone rang, it’s insistent buzzing waking her from sleep abruptly. She didn’t even check the caller Id she just sleepily answered. ‘What is it?’ She demanded weakly her voice clouded with sleep.

There was an extremely small, anxious breath that immediately caused MJ’s nervous system to kick into gear. ‘Mj, something happened.’ It was the voice of Ned Leeds, but it sounded broken, concerned afraid. ‘What happened?’ She heard herself say her heart in her throat. ‘It’s Peter... he, it was bad MJ. It’s bad.’

‘Tell me straight Leeds.’ She heard herself say in a harsh cold manner.

‘They don’t think he is going to make it.’ MJ nearly dropped her phone but she forced herself to listen to the other end of the line. ‘I thought you might want to be here. In case...’ Ned’s voice broke before he paused and continued. ‘There is a car on the way. We’re upstate, it’s ugh. It’s up to you.’

She couldn’t find her voice, all she could hear was vacant ringing of blood rushing in her ears. She was shaking, she was sure that she was going to throw up. But she needed to go. ‘I’ll be there.’ Was all she said before hanging up.

....

The upstate facility was much the same as she had remembered it. Cold, commercial, an echo of heroes that had sacrificed their lives. Peter couldn’t join the dead. Not yet. He was too full of life, too good too... she couldn’t go any further. Yet her feet kept moving as she was guided through the concrete hallways until eventually she was met with a small waiting area occupied by a pale looking May Parker, a puffy eyed Ned Leeds and a small terrified looking blonde who she knew to be Gwen Stacey.

Suddenly MJ felt awkward, out of place. She had no right to be here. She shouldn’t have come. But before she could consider her mistake much further May was striding towards her pulling her into a crushing hug. She let her arms hold May, she tried to be as strong as she could for a woman who has lost so much. May released the embrace allowing Ned to pull MJ into a crushing hug. ‘He’s still here. Thanks for coming.’ Ned whispered to her.

Thanks for coming. The words rang around her mind over and over again as she gently smiled at Gwen and took a seat in the small room. It could have been hours or minutes of silence before the doctor emerged. She heard him say that Peter was in an induced coma, that they didn’t know if he would come out or even make it through the night. That he may be able to hear them, that they should say their goodbyes just in case...’

Gwen and May both burst into tears and Ned’s head simply hangs low. But MJ bites the inside of her mouth. She has no right to cry. She let him go for this exact reason, she let him go to protect herself. She will kill him herself before she lets him die like this.

So they all go in, one by one and utter their private goodbyes to Peter Parker, and MJ, she goes last. She didn’t even want to go in at all but May gives her this strange look of understanding. She seems to say if you don’t say goodbye you will regret it.

So she walks in the room with beeping machines and flashing instruments and as soon as the door closes she sinks to her knees and feels her body rack with sobs. Peter looks so fragile in the bed. He’s bruised and sallow and it takes her 3 whole minutes before she can will herself to stand up and approach him.

But when she does, she takes a seat at his side and brushes the back of his hand with her fingers selfishly. He isn’t hers. But she allows herself to imagine that he is. She allows herself to feel the love she has been denying herself for two years and the emotions are unbearable within her own body.

‘Peter.’ She murmurs likely to no one. She isn’t sure if he is there anymore but she tries anyway. ‘I’m so sorry. You’re so bloody stupid but so aM I’ She took a shaky breath before she moved closer to him on the bed, clasping his still but warm hand. ‘I still love you so much.’ She admitted. ‘ I’ve loved you everyday since I was fourteen and I don’t want to know a world that doesn’t have you in it.’ Her body collapsed on itself until she was resting her forehead against his. ‘Please Peter, I love you.’

But he didn’t move, he didn’t answer, she didn’t really expect him too. But the fear and disappointment in seeing his eyes still closed, his face still vacant. It was horrifying. So she turned around and walked away, briskly wiping her eyes before she left the room.

....

They waited all night. Gwen falling in and out sleep in her chair. May patting her hand gently. Ned tapping his leg. MJ sat by herself digging her nails into her palms to keep herself from crumbling. Until she found herself getting up and walking towards the kitchen. She made an espresso and downed it, splashing water in her face to keep herself alert.

‘MJ.’ May called. ‘He’s brainwaves have changed, they think he’s waking up.’

She and May ran the way back to Peter’s room halting abruptly outside of it. Waiting for the doctors inside to pass on information.

May held her hand so tight, they were crushing each other. MJ felt as though her breath had stopped all together and that her heart was going to beat so hard it would escape her chest.

Eventually the doctor emerges. He leads with ‘Mr. Parker appears to be waking up we think it’s because of ....’ MJ only hears that he is waking up. She immediately wonders if he would be ok, if he would be safe and she was over whelmed with her thoughts. He isn’t hers. She reminds herself. So she recesses to the corner of the waiting room. They only let May in Peters room anyway.

Pepper Potts offers to let them stay. They all agree and MJ begins to realise that she has probably over stayed her welcome. But she can’t leave until she knows that he is ok. A shower does her good, and as she sits in the bland waiting room again, the waiting seeming to never end, she finds herself alone with Gwen. May was still locked in Peters room, Ned had gone to rest, so here they were.

‘Hi MJ.’ Gwen said in a sweet but tired tone. ‘I’m Gwen.’

‘Hi Gwen.’ MJ said softly. ‘I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.’

Gwen offers her a sad half smile. But changed the topic speaking suddenly she said. ‘I didn’t know about Spider-Man. I mean, I didn’t know that he was... is Spider-Man. It’s a lot to process.’

MJ felt a wave of empathy for the blonde opposite her. She knew exactly how she felt. But to learn Peters identity and nearly loose him all in one day. Well that must have been a lot.

‘I’m sorry.’ MJ says stiffly. ‘That must be very overwhelming for you.’ She has never been a particularly motherly or caring woman, especially in the company of strangers, but she tried to make her voice sounds genuine.

Gwen leans forward in her seat. Her face open and vulnerable. ‘Peter always spoke so highly of you MJ, I can see why.’ She paused before she continued. ‘Did he ever.. did he tell you the truth?’

And MJ knows what she is asking, she wants to know if Peter trusted MJ and not her. Part of MJ wants to bask in the knowledge that that part of Peter was just for her, that their relationship was special but she suppresses it.

‘No he didn’t. I knew but only because I figured it out back in high school, before he and I even...’ She cuts herself off, there was no need to go down that road.

‘Well I feel stupid now.’ Gwen chuckled.

‘No dont.’ MJ said quickly. ‘He used to be terrible at hiding it. But to be honest I think If he had of been able to keep it from me he would have, he always wants to protect the people closest to him. He wouldn’t have wanted to lie to you, he’s just stupid and would have done it to protect you or whatever.’

‘I don’t feel very protected now.’ Gwen said looking down at the floor. ‘I feel like maybe what I thought we had wasn’t even there at all.’

......

Peter officially woke up at 1:30 pm 30 hours after his accident. May had wiped the blood off of his face and the doctors had run some preliminary tests. He appeared to have no brain damage, no memory loss, no permanent injuries that wouldn’t heal with time. All thanks to that spider bite.

MJ was ready to leave, safe in the knowledge that he would be ok. But then apparently he had asked to see Ned and Gwen and apparently her as well. So once again she went last. And as she entered she felt a strange mix of immense relief to see Peters eyelids blinking, his arm moving his chest rising and falling as well as intense fear. After two years of silence what could she say to him? After her emotional admission on his death bed how could she look at him?

‘Hey MJ.’ Peter said weakly. ‘Hey dork.’ She said taking a seat next to him, forcing herself to look into his lively youthful eyes. ‘Sorry I scared everyone’ he said his voice rough from swelling and fatigue. ‘It’s good to see you.’ He added.

‘It’s not good to see you. Not like this.’ She saw his hand move, as though he was gesturing for her to hold it, she slowly and hesitantly slid her hand into his. His warm skin immediately sending an electronic pulse up her arm. It still felt so right. His hands still felt the same.

‘MJ’ he coughed out. ‘I think I had a dream about you. When I was out.’

She smiled at him. ‘What happened in the dream?’ She said it so kindly, so genuinely. He made her so sappy she hated it.

He gave her a weak smile. ‘You were just here. Now I think maybe it wasn’t a dream.’

He doesn’t say it out loud, but she knows what he means. He heard her. He had heard everything she said. He felt her presence and there was no getting around it.

‘I won’t be staying much longer Peter.’ She forced herself to say. ‘I need to go home, and you belong with May and Ned and Gwen.’

‘I still love you MJ. I know it’s not fair to say, not fair for Gwen and not fair for you. I know this was the reason you didn’t want to be with me. But I nearly died, and I can’t live another day with out telling you. I tried to stop loving you MJ but I just can’t.’ He looks so earnest as he speaks, even though his swollen features she can see how soft he is, how much he wants her to understand.

She feels tears well in her eyes. And it takes a while to find her voice. But eventually she speaks. ‘We can’t do this now Peter. But thank you for telling me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I should never have.’ But she can’t continue. Yet again her voice is caught in her throat. He’s with Gwen, no matter what they feel, it’s all done now.

‘I love you Peter.’ She said gently as she squeezed his hand. His eyes shon with tears as she said it. ‘I hope you get better soon.’ She gently pulled her hand away from him and as she left the room she didn’t look back at him.

.....

So she went home, went back to her life and months past until, on a quiet Sunday afternoon there was a knock at her door. She swung it open forcefully, fully expecting her Uber eats delivery but instead she was met with the face of Peter Parker.

‘Hi MJ.’ He said, his voice uncomfortably high pitched and shaded in awkwardness. ‘Umm hi dork.’ She said, blinking at him.

‘Can I come in?’ He asked. She just moved out of the doorway in reply allowing him to pass.

‘Nice place’ he said. It wasn’t, she was a single income earner in New York, it was a shoe box. ‘Thanks.’ She muttered anyway.

There was a beat of intense awkward silence in which she couldn’t look at him but he only seemed to be able to look at her. Eventually she met his eye, and they both moved to talk, their words stumbling over each other.

‘You go first.’ They both said together. Causing the two of them to break into laughter in MJ’s tiny apartment.

‘Actually I will go first’ Peter interrupted before she could speak.

‘Wow ok then.’ She said, dead pan. ‘come into my house and demand to speak first.’

But he was used to her taunting by now and apparently he couldn’t be deterred. so he ignored it, stepping closer to her he opened his mouth and began to explain himself.

‘I broke up with Gwen.’ He said abruptly. ‘Or she broke up with me, I’m not clear on that still but the point is, we broke up. Four months ago’ he added on the end.

‘Oh.’ Was all MJ could manage in response, she wasn’t exactly sure how to comfort her estranged ex boyfriend on his more recent breakup so she just kind of patted his shoulder and murmured ‘sorry bout that.’

Peter smiled at her. Completely smiled, his whole face erupting with happiness. ‘What?’ She questioned, taken aback by his lively expression and odd reaction. ‘MJ.’ He spoke her name like it was everything like she meant everything, at least to him. He sniffed before he continued ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t do this to you, but I have to try.’ He pauses again and finally looked away from her, taking a deep breath as though building up the courage to say something profound.

And suddenly she knows why he is here. He loves her still. She is sure of it, she can feel it radiating from his entire being. But she is afraid to hear it. She winces in preparation and finally he says ‘MJ, I love you. I want to be with you.’

She wishes that she was stronger, she wishes that she could turn him down and let him live out his heroic saviour complex by himself. But she just can’t. No matter how strong she was in every other aspect of her life, Peter was always her weakness.

‘I can’t promise not to be Spider-Man.’ He added. Taking her hand, his physical contact further obscuring her better judgment. ‘But I can promise to be more careful, to spend less time in the suit. To make sure I put you and our safety first. I want to compromise MJ, I can’t live with out you. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.’

She moved closer to him and before she could stop herself she had pulled him into a crushing hug. She burried her face in his neck and relished in the feeling of him. So familiar, so solid, so peter. ‘I though you were going to die.’ She admitted as her body racked with tears. She hadn’t cried over it yet, and the intense emotion founded on years of build up was ready to explode.

‘I know. I know.’ He cooed. ‘I’m so sorry MJ.’

.....

They talked all night. They held each other all night. And the truth is, that life was never easy for them, but at the end of the day, they had each other, and it’s all they ever really wanted.

#spideychelle #peter parker #michelle jones #spider man: homecoming #spider man: far from home #peter x michelle #peter x mj

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yes-i-do-love-my-fridge · 5 years

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First Meeting/Touch - April Klance Prompt from Monthly Klance - Day 2

I hope this is like, okay. I sort of got this idea from the ‘Garden of Words’ anime. It’s a really good anime. Though, here, I tweaked a few things. Hope ya’ll like it!

Title: “The Rain of Dreams”

Tags: Adopted!Lance, Alternate Universe, First Meeting, Sort of Meet-Cute, Businessman!Lance, Writer!Keith, Photographer!Lance, Bisexual Lance, Gay Keith

Lance has always been his parents’ puppet.

He never once disobeyed them; knowing how much trouble that would lead him to. So he stuck to their orders, listened to their wishes, and buried his own dreams deep down inside.

It was fine. Just like his parents would always say; he wouldn’t be where he was without them.

He met Keith at a bus stop in the rain.

While he was rushing off to his parents’ company, it started raining. Big, fat raindrops started pouring on his head and on the sidewalk. So he ran quickly to the nearest bust stop to avoid getting his clothes wet.

But he isn’t so lucky.

“Damn it.” Lance cursed lightly as he sat down on the seat. “I just had this suit from the dry-cleaners.”

On top of getting his suit wet, he was late. And god knows how time is so important to his parents. He groans, already imagining the disappointment on their faces. He slumps down on his seat and runs his fingers through his hair.

As he grumbled to himself, he felt a presence beside him.

“That’s my spot.”

Lance looked up and saw a guy, with blank and striking amethyst-colored eyes and jet black hair. He looks beautiful. Lance tried not to stare too much at his eyes and gestured to the empty seat beside him. “There’s an empty seat here.”

The guy shook his head and pointed at the spot Lance was sitting on. “That’s my spot.”

Lance nods slowly and slips to the other seat, giving up his own. Lance watched as the guy closed his umbrella and took the spot Lance sat on. The guy stared forward blankly, not even uttering an apology or an explanation to why he wants to sit there.

Lance shook his head at the guy’s weirdness. If he wasn’t so beautiful and Lance wasn’t slightly attracted to him, he would’ve put up a fight rather than giving up his seat easily. Lance sighs and looks away from the guy, looking forward and watching as the raindrops fell.

He always did like the rain.

He loved the way it would sometimes drop quietly on the ground, or pour harshly throughout the day. Whenever he was sad, he would seek comfort in the rain, and everything was better. He remembered when he was a kid, all alone in the orphanage, and when it would rain, he would run outside and just bask in it. Sometimes, he even went there with his best friend, Hunk. Even Pidge, when she wasn’t so busy doing something in her laptop.

But as they grew older, and Lance got adopted and was separated from them for a while, they still kept in touch. Lance missed those times when they were just kids and had no care in the world. Now, they were all grown up and had jobs and are too busy to do some childish stuff they did all those years ago. It made Lance a bit sad, but what else could he do?

Lance and the guy sat in silence for a long while before the bus finally came. Lance stood up and glanced at the guy, who was still staring blankly ahead. He decided to hop on and ask the bus driver if he knows the guy.

“Oh, Keith?” The driver says. Lance repeated his name softly. So his name was Keith. “Yeah, poor kid. Lost his family, and always sits on that spot whenever it rains. No one knows why, though.”

Lance thanked the bus driver and sat down on a seat, watching the guy- Keith- from the window. He was still staring blankly, with his impassive face and cold amethyst eyes.

As the bus drove off, Lance wondered if they would meet again.

The next day, Lance came prepared. He watched the weather forecast. It said that it would rain for at least a month. Lance brought an umbrella outside as the rain started pouring. He walked once more to the same bus stop and there- there he saw-

Keith.

He’s actually there. Again. In the same spot he stole from him the day before.

This is weird, Lance thought as he sat beside him. It was quiet; only the sound of raindrops and cars passing by filling up the air. He waned to strike up a conversation with him, but he didn’t quite know where to start.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

Lance jumped as the guy- Keith- spoke up. “I... I’m sorry for how I treated you yesterday.”

“It’s alright.” Lance replies too quickly.

A heartbeat passed before Keith spoke again, but with a depressed tone when he did. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me by now.” He glances at Lance for confirmation, and Lance nodded guiltily. He sighed and stared back up ahead. “I see.”

“But for what it’s worth,” Lance tries, “You don’t have to tell me anything about what happened to your family. If you’re- um- not comfortable to talk about it.”

Keith nods and gave him a warm smile. “That... that would be great. Thank you.”

Lance smiled back at him and waits patiently for the bus, a feeling of accomplishment surging in his bones. He doesn’t know why he feels proud, but he does.

Keith’s kind words feels so much better than all of those ‘Congratulations’ his parents tell him.

The next few days, when it rains, they always seem to meet.

Lance doesn’t know why he feels so excited when he sees rain pouring out from his window. He doesn’t know why he feels so happy when he arrives at the bus and sees a familiar pretty face; already sitting there with his regular blank expression.

They always make small talk; exchanging stories, but not really revealing anything about their personal lives. It was pleasant, fun, and comfortable. He always felt at ease with him, even though he barely knew him. He doesn’t know why. Keith was just... he just had that effect on him. The more Lance gets to know him, the more he wants to know him.

Eventually, they started to grow closer. Their pleasantries turned to deep conversations that sometimes makes Lance miss his bus. The questions like, “What’s your favorite color?” turned to, “What’s your dream in life?”

Keith asked him that, once, and Lance only laughed. “Oh, I always wanted to be a photographer.”

“A photographer?” Keith repeated. Lance nods. “But...”

“But what?”

“But... why don’t you have a camera or any equipment with you?” He questions. Lance’s eyes widened, before he gave him an awkward chuckle. “Oh- I, um- I’m actually not a photographer.”

“Why?” Keith prods. “Isn’t that your dream?”

“Well, yeah, but my parents need me to take over the family business so- uh, I can’t really be a photographer.” He finishes lamely, darting his eyes everywhere to avoid Keith’s.

He was silent for a while, before he muttered a quiet, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Lance assures. He quickly changes the spotlight. “How about you? Any dreams or plans in life?”

Keith just smiles and looks up at the rainy sky. “Well...”

“Well?” Lance prompts.

Keith looks back at him and his smile grew more shy. “I’ve always wanted to be a writer.”

“Oh really?” Lance smiles. A writer, huh? “What stories are you writing?”

He immediately deflates and looks away from him. “I- I’m actually not writing anything at the moment.”

“Oh... why?”

“Because...” He trails off, staring blankly with his amethyst eyes at the grey sky. “I’m not happy.”

It was another day with Keith.

This time, Lance arrived an hour early just to hang out and talk with him. He’s not sure, but he thinks Keith is grateful to have him around.

If last time was about dreams, then today it was about family.

“Huh, why would you want to know about that?” Lance nervously says after Keith asked him to tell him about his family. Keith just smiled and shrugged. “Well... I feel like we should get to know each other better. It’s been, what? Two weeks since we met, right? And I fee like we still don’t know each other that well.”

“Don’t you feel like...” Lance cleared his throat. “That we’re going about this a bit too fast?”

“Oh.” Keith says, sounding disappointed. “Well, it’s okay if you don’t like to-”

“No, no, no,” Lance interrupted. “Sure, I’ll tell.” Lance’s heart skipped a beat when Keith’s face immediately lit up.

Ugh, being bisexual really makes him a big mess. Or maybe he is already a mess even if his sexuality is not involved.

“Um...” Lance started, looking away from Keith’s curious and excited eyes. He doesn’t think he can handle looking at his pretty eyes for so long, or else he’ll just keep blushing like a high school girl with a crush.

Well, he’s not quite sure if it’s a crush that he feels, or just some one-time infatuation. Either way, there’s something that he feels and he’s not quite sure what to do about it.

“Well, to start off, I.. um...” Damn it, this is harder than telling Keith that he was bisexual. But thank goodness that when he did, Keith accepted him easily. In return, Keith came out to him as gay.

But this is different. This was his family that he was talking about. He always hated talking about his family. He hated the way people’s faces would scrunch up in pity, or sympathy when he would talk about his past. They would ask him multiple times if he was okay, and he was! He is! People just exaggerate so much about his life and how ‘sad’ it was, and Lance hated that about other people.

“Do you know the Garrison?” Lance asks. Keith nods. “Well, it seemed that both of my parents used to work there. And well, there was a mission. To go out in space and look for Kerberos. People said that it was a pilot error, but I didn’t believe them.” Lance smiles at the ground in a bittersweet way. “I was six years old at that time. Me and my siblings were all underage. Naturally, we got separated in the orphanage.”

Keith was silent. Lance continued. “No one wanted to adopt five kids at once. Little by little, I watched as they got adopted by different people. Marco. Rachel. Luis. Then Veronica.” Lance swallowed a lump that was forming in his throat. “It was hard, being left behind. But I’ve met friends. The two of them lived in houses that was close to the orphanage. And we would meet up at the playground, or at a diner, and play and talk and bond.”

Lance smiled when he remembered the times he, Hunk, and Pidge spent together when they were kids. Those were the times where, even though Lance wasn’t adopted, he was free. He wasn’t obligated to do something he didn’t want to do. He wasn’t forced to do something in his life that made his energy drain with each and every day.

But things were different now. He isn’t an orphan anymore. He’s not a kid anymore.

“The three of us called ourselves the Trio. The Three Musketeers. The Adventurers. The- you get my point.” Lance explained, scratching the back of his head nervously. “We promised that we’d explore the world. To go to different cities and countries. Hunk would be a well-known engineer, Pidge would be a famous programmer, and I would be a photographer. We promised that we’d achieve our dreams and support each other when we do. But then...”

Lance sighed. “Then I got adopted.”

Keith was still quiet, but Lance knew that he was listening. That he didn’t want to interrupt and wanted Lance to keep talking. “I was twelve- I think? Saying goodbye to them was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Hunk wouldn’t stop crying, and Pidge’s huge eyes would just look at me and though there were no tears coming out, her eyes were so glossy and it made me so sad when I saw them like a mess. I mean, I was also a mess but seeing them was so hard. We promised that we’d meet again. And we did! Six years later, we met again. We kept in touch. And they pulled me through the hard days, just like before.”

“My step-parents... well, they pushed me into doing business. They wanted me to take over their business. I... I couldn’t say no.”

Lance smiles sadly, actually a bit sad at the way how his life turned out to be. He looks at Keith. “So? What’s your story?”

Keith smiles at him, which made his heart do weird things. “Well, not like yours, but it isn’t any different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Next time, Lance.” Keith shook his head, looking up at the pouring sky. “Next time.”

They had their first fight today.

They were both sitting on the seats at the bus stop again, not really talking but only listening to the sound of the rain.

That was, until, Keith spoke up.

“You should quit your job.” He says in all seriousness. He turns to look at Lance. “If you’re unhappy about it, then just pursue the career you want.”

Lance started laughing, which confused him. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.” He says, shaking his head in amusement. “Look, I thank you for your suggestion, but no- I will not be disobeying my parents for a dumb dream.”

Keith furrows his eyebrows in slight anger. “What do you mean, ‘dumb dream’?”

Lance shrugs. “It’s just a dream; one that I know won’t come true. It’s fine, though, I don’t need-”

Keith stands up abruptly, his jaw set and his fists clenched. He looked mad, something that Lance hadn’t seen on him before. “It’s not stupid if it’s your dream! You should always follow what you want; not what people expect of you!”

Lance furrows his eyebrows. Is he serious? Is he really giving him this cliché talk? “It’s just a dream. I don’t need it. My future is set in stone, I can’t change that-”

“Yes, you can!” Keith interrupts. “You should live your life doing what you love! Not what you’re forced to do!”

Lance balled his hands into fists.

He really thought Keith was different. That he wouldn’t be like all those people that he met that told him the same. ‘Do what you love!’, ‘Do what makes you happy!’ All that crap. Why would he do that when his step-parents, who raised him and fed him and took care of him, only asked for that one thing? He’s grateful for them. He’s grateful that he gets to live in a house, to have new clothes, and to be raised well. Why would he want to pursue his dream when the only thing his step-parents asked of him was to take care of their business?

No one understands. Keith doesn’t understand.

“What do you know?” Lance muttered.

Keith furrows his eyebrows again, this time, in confusion. “What?”

Lance stood up and pointed an accusing finger at him. “Why, instead of writing and ‘doing what you love’, you sit here and brood like you’ve lost everything?”

“I did lose everything!” Keith yells, standing up and giving Lance a hard gaze. “My brother, my parents, everything!”

“But you should live your life, Keith!” Lance yells back. “You should do what you love and not go out only because it’s raining! You’re not living your life!”

He was going to continue, but he stopped when Keith’s palm made contact with his cheek.

Quiet.

The sound of raindrops filled the air.

This... this is the first time Keith had ever touched Lance’s face, or even touched him at all. Period. Even after weeks of hanging out, they never touched.

Except those times where Lance imagined of running his fingers through Keith’s pretty hair, even if it was a mullet. Those times where he wanted to reach out and interlock his hand in Keith’s when they would both just sit peacefully and watch the rain.

Lance never imagined that the first time Keith would be touching him was by a slap.

“Goodbye, Lance.”

The sounds of Keith’s footsteps away were louder than the rain around them.

Another sound filled Lance’s ears.

The shatter of his heart when he hears a sob escape from Keith’s lips.

The next few days were sunny.

Lance couldn’t see him anywhere. When he arrives at the bus stop, he was greeted by an empty seat; untouched by anyone.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and sat down, feeling guilt gnaw at his insides.

He wishes he could see him.

But if it wasn’t raining, it’s nearly impossible to find him.

Lance doesn’t know when he’ll meet him again.

Probably not any time soon.

Lance calls up someone who he has ignored for months.

“Hey, buddy, how you’ve been?”

Hunk’s kind tone and words greeted him. Lance tears up, knowing how badly he treated him and Pidge for them just trying to help him be happy.

He pushed them away. His friends. The people who tried to be friends with him. Keith.

He pushed them away because he’s a coward.

He pushed them away, even though all they wanted was his happiness.

“Lance, you okay?”

Lance tried to blink back his tears.

“Buddy? Is everything all right?”

Right then and there, Lance broke down.

Lance walks down the corridor.

“Lance, bud, I’m sure this Keith guy only wanted you to be happy.” Hunk explains softly, after Lance explained everything. “I’m sure he just wanted you to achieve your dream.”

Lance knocks on the door, which clearly has a plaque that says, ‘Chairman’,

“That’s it, Hunk!” Lance groans. “I can’t- I don’t want to achieve my dream! I’m happy the way I am right now!”

“Lance,” Hunk starts softly. “Have you ever thought, that maybe Keith didn’t see that? That he knows you’re unhappy with what you’re doing right now, that’s why he tried to push you to pursue your dreams?”

Lance went silent.

Lance hears the, “Come in!” and opened the door. He saw his step-parents sitting on the couch, seemingly in a conversation before Lance had shown up. They both gave Lance a smile and asked him to sit down.

Lance did, and he told them he had something to say.

“Lance, we just want your happiness. Keith does too. He knows you. We know you. And we know you’re not happy.”

Lance carefully explained to his step-parents, saying how much he’s thankful for them. For adopting him, and for being his parents. He’s very, extremely grateful.

But he didn’t want this.

“But in the end, it’s all up to you, buddy.” Hunk tells him. “Do you want to keep staying at your parents’ business, or do something that makes you happy? Whatever you choose, we’ll still be here for you.”

Lance watched their expressions changed. He thought it was out of disappointment for him leaving the business, but it was disappointment for something else.

His step-mom took his hand gently, and looked at him in the eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us from the start?”

“Lance, what do you choose? Business, or happiness?”

They weren’t disappointed because he didn’t want to take over the business.

They were disappointed because he didn’t tell them that he didn’t want to.

All his life... he was scared of being ungrateful. Of disappointing his parents. But now, right here, they were telling him that it was okay. That he didn’t have to take over the business if he wanted to pursue something else.

They wanted him to be happy.

All his life, his parents said, they gave him everything- because he wouldn’t say what he wanted. He wouldn’t ask for their help, or complain, or even ask for anything. His parents just wanted him to give him something that he liked. That he wanted.

They’re so sorry they never asked.

“Lance?”

Lance chose happiness.

A few months later, and a bit of training, Lance decided to buy a new camera since his current one was so old.

As he payed for his equipment on the counter, he thought he saw a familiar black-haired guy from the corner of his eye. He told the employee to wait for a minute and ran outside, his eyes searching the crowd for any sign of an emotionless amethyst-colored eyed guy.

There... there was no one.

Lance enters back in the store, defeated, and not noticing the same black-haired guy hiding behind a pole with a smile on his face.

Out on a sunny day.

It hasn’t been long after Lance became a photographer, and truthfully? It’s great.

He’s finally doing what he loves, not what he’s forced to do. It’s really fun, and he owes it all to one special guy.

I wish... he thinks. I wish I could thank him.

He didn’t expect for his wish to come true.

Lance walked on the sidewalk, texting Hunk about their plans to go to a nice restaurant or something with Pidge, until he felt something drip on his head. He reached up to his head and saw water.

Water.

His eyes widened and he looked up, his smile growing as rain started to drop from the sky.

Rain.

It’s rain.

Lance grins. Finally. He turns on his heel and started running. Running to the bus stop to where he knows he’d be.

Running to the place where he’ll finally get to see him again.

Running to the guy who made him open his eyes and see what he needed to see.

He ran. And ran, and ran, and ran and ran and ran.

Until he finally arrived. He arrived, and saw- there he saw-

Nothing.

No one was there.

Lance’s shoulders slumped. He... Keith’s not here. He sighed and was about to turn back back home, but he froze.

‘Cause there was someone behind him.

Breathing heavily as if they rushed and ran towards this place.

Lance slowly turned around and there he saw-

Keith.

Keith, who had a bright smile on his face with flushed cheeks from running. Whose eyes were twinkling with joy and pants were heavy with exhaustion. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lance beat him to it. “I-” he cringed by how high-pitched his voice sounded. “I quit my job. And I became a photographer.”

He smiled widely, his eyes twinkling and making Lance’s heart beat faster. “That’s good.”

“How about you?” Lance asked. “What did you do?”

Keith smiled and turned his head up to the sky, watching as a stroke of thunder flashed through it.

Gosh, he looks beautiful.

“Well...” He starts.”I first went to my parents’ grave and talked to them. For the first time.”

Lance grins at him as Keith clasped his hands behind his back. “It was... it made me feel lighter. It actually made the weigh I feel on my shoulders a lot lighter.”

Lance laughed and stood close to him. “I guess that’s just the magic of talking, huh?”

Keith laughs with him, and Lance’s heart goes overdrive. “Yeah, I guess it does. And because of that, I moved on.”

“You started to write?” Lance questions.

Keith shook his head slightly. Lance’s gaze looked down as Keith’s fingers intertwined with Lance’s. Lance smiled, held his hand tighter, and looked back up at him. Keith strayed his eyes away from the sky and locked it with his. A soft smile spread on his face.

“No.” He says. “I started to become happy.”

#klance #monthlyklance #april prompts #first meetings #bisexual lance #lance mcclain #keith #lance #keith kogane #gay keith #first touch #slight angst #fluff #sort of??

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okimargarvez · 5 years

Text

PRISON BREAK

Original title: Prison break.

Prompt: what if from 9x12. Warning: mention of sex, slight A.U., Penelope OOC.

Genre: angst, comedy, smut.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 19 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💏😘😈❗👨‍👩‍👧‍👦🎲🎈👻.

Song mentioned: La paura non esiste, Tiziano Ferro.

GARVEZ STORIES

PRISON BREAK

Another day like the others, another time-card-punching. Sometimes he would like the hours to pass more quickly, but then he stops a second and realizes that he can't do anything, because he doesn't have a goal, an object, he simply proceeds by inertia, because there is no other alternative acceptable, neither from society, nor from his religion. Like when you change house because you are alone, like when you ask around and you never find forgiveness, like when you go everywhere and everywhere there is no light, as always anyone who speaks, a voice, always...

He doesn’t expect to see a change. He learned not to expect anything at all. Maybe that mission has nothing to do with it, maybe it was already like that before but did not have the courage to admit it. Maybe his whole life was just a mistake, and his mother would have done better to keep her legs closed that night. Or maybe not, but now he is no longer able, even if he strives to get a headache, to remember what life was like before. They say the war changes people.

The young man shakes his head trying to drive away those thoughts, only to be able to get right into his role, to show the outside world his beautiful tanned face while smiling greeting colleagues. Until no one notices it, he will at least be left alone to bask in self-pity.

She should have accepted it. A person with sense into her, would have done it. She had the opportunity to save herself, to avoid ending up in this place, and she refused it for a stupid matter of principle. Never on the side of the feds. But not even with Shane. It was to escape him that she had found herself in this mess.

Of course, she couldn't imagine that they would propose a job to her. The great boss wanted her skills at his service. But she had been adamant and so here she is, waiting to enter what will become her home for who knows how long, perhaps for life. After all, she had committed a serious crime and therefore had to pay her debt to society.

The best thing she can do is screwing up, since she was born. This thing was even less serious than the last, the girl thinks, scratching her wrist, just where the clearest sign of what looks like a scratch or a cut is still partially visible. And you need... you need to be sad... you want it… However, mistake doesn't exist, it exists only when it's evening, only who wanted to be wrong, does it…

They call her name. She stands up. She feels the glances of the other prisoners on her. She tries to ignore everything, because, in the end, she is not at all sorry to have hacked those companies and would do it again, even if the conclusion was the same. If you do not even have the right to fight and believe in your ideals, what are you living for?

Yet, this time there is something different.

It is that shortly before arriving at his workplace, he received a call from Rossi, the only one who had stood by him on that occasion, who had defended him so much that when they finally decided to not to degrade him, but to send him to a more humble and more "adapted to his temperament and his ability" work; that time, the Italian American had left the Bureau for the umpteenth time, to return to his first passion: writing. He had been like a second father for him.

Doing him a favor was not at all a nuisance, on the contrary. To succeed at least once to repay the debt that he felt to have towards him, was only a pleasure, an owe.

The guy enters the room with a folder in his hands. Certainly, he doesn't expect that the matter that he has to deal with, it's a young person, like that girl. He remains on the threshold to look at her for a moment, while she seems not to pay much attention to him. She has brown hair, neither light nor dark, with reddish reflections, just a little longer than the shoulders. She is dressed entirely in black: the black jacket is particularly bizarre and she wears a black skirt that just covers at least the legs and black shoes; the only thing of another color, a strange metallic gray, is a kind of corset that highlights, as if it were needed, further the prosperous breasts, exposed to the sight by a showy neckline. She also wears mesh gloves, as well as a bracelet on her wrist... handcuffs. No other accessories. The make-up is the last piece to understand who he is dealing with. A goth.

After what seems like an hour, he finally decides to get closer. He must remember that he is the law and that she is a potential criminal. A hacker, according to what he read. But the reason she's here gets a smile from him: boycotting multinationals who tested their products on innocent animals. He strives to be professional, he owes it to Dave. -Mrs.Garcia?- another surprise was to find that she it is not a Latin chica at all. Her skin is too pale, and definitely it brings out more because of those dark clothes. And her traits are certainly not Hispanic. In fact, on her file there is written that she was adopted.

She looks at him in an apparently indifferent way, just because she is forced. The first thing she thinks as soon as her eyes rest on him, is "that is the most beautiful man I have ever seen", actually. She can't avoid starting a comparison with Shane, without wanting it and without realizing it. He is definitely higher; more muscular, his skin is darker, tanned... his eyes more intense. She doesn't know and doesn't want to know why such an adjective came to her mind, but she finds it particularly apt. Yes, intense. He must not be more than thirty years old, certainly they are almost the same age, but his gaze seems more mature, as if he had seen terrible things, since he came on Earth, and maybe he really is.

They remain staring at each other without neither opening their mouth, for at least two minutes. Then he forces himself to do something, as not to remain stuck in that limbo forever. -You know why you're here?- he suddenly decides to give up the formal ways.

She glances at him as if to ask him if he believes her stupid. -Sure. I hacked a few web sites and ended up on the black list of the CIA.- she pronounces the whole sentence as if she really doesn't give matter to the situation, but he is not so naive, indeed. He soon had to learn to read the traits of who is lying or is not telling the whole truth. She can pretend with all her might, but it is clear that what she is feeling right now is simply fear.

And wherever I go, wherever I go, that fear will come back tomorrow, tomorrow...

-Good.- if she wants to play this game, he certainly doesn't back down. -I have to enter your data in the database, before deciding in which area to send you. Do you understand?- the girl still doesn't replicate anything, just looking at him. ...and wherever it go, wherever it go, be sure enough, and tighten yours reasons... It is at that moment that he decides to change his approach again. -Ok, Penelope- immediately notice how her shoulders stiffen and her lips stretch out, hearing him say her name -we try to make it as painless as possible.- he pauses, gets up and approaches her. She backs away the little she can with the handcuffs hooked to the table. He scrutinizes her from above. -My name is Luke and I will take care of your case, of you, as long as you stay in this jail.- she jumps as he approaches her. -So it would be better if you get used to my presence.- she closes her eyes and swallows. The young man waits, resting a hand on the table, not far from the female arm. From that position he has a good view of his breasts, but he is not here for this and he has to repeat it at himself a few times.

-Tell me what you want from me and let's get it over.- the girl finally says. The tone of voice wanted to play hard and tough, but after a few words it falters and finally breaks like a glass dropped to the ground. Even the eyes seem to fill with tears, some of them escape and a black strip is now painted on her face. He has to kept himself from stretching the hand and cleaning her face. She closes her eyelids again but begins to shake.

-Penelope...- he calls her by her name, although he uses a distant and professional tone.

-Don't call me Penelope! We are not friends, you aren't a man I met in a bar and who wants to flirt with me!- with all those jumps she continue to pull the handcuffs, causing red marks on her wrists. Luke, this time without thinking, tries to stop her by blocking her both arms on the table. She desists almost immediately.

-I’m aware that this is a difficult situation. You have no previous. And, but this must stay between us, if it was me, you shouldn’t even be here. Animal experimentation is something... horrible.- for the first time, Penelope opens her eyes wide and looks at him like he is a human being.

-You... are you an animal lover? Do you love animals?- now yes, this is the real Penelope. She tries to wipe away the tears, but it's not possible, so Luke decides to do it for her. Just one of his hands is as big as her face and for a moment the girl enjoys the of caress as if it were only this, and not a pitying gesture.

Luke nods, leaving his hand in that position for a few seconds too long. -Yes, I can’t stand the violence on the weak or those who can’t defend themselves.- suddenly he feels embarrassed to talk about himself. He is not used to exposing himself, it is much more convenient to interrogate others. When he breaks the contact, they both feel an icy chill. He returns to the chair and pulls a computer out of the bag. He notices immediately the way she looks at the device, i.e. with interest. -I have to evaluate your level of danger, to decide where to send you. I'll ask you some standard questions, try to answer honestly, ok?- she nods. He doesn't know her yet, but she wouldn’t be able to lie anyway.

Because mistake doesn’t exist, and the fear doesn’t exist, because whoever hates you can pretend it, just to see you cry... but I will love you...

Penelope is very nervous while awaiting the results of the test. She doesn’t know what to expect. Perhaps she is afraid of discovering that she had always been a psychopath, that her whole life was a train directed towards this ultimate, definitive failure. Maybe she did well not to get into the FBI, maybe it's really better if they lock her up and throw away the key.

Maybe.

Like when, for sadness, you travel around the world...

Luke is definitely much quieter, certainly not at stake his life, but already from the answers of the girl has understood how much more that she is a victim, more than executioner and guilty. She hasn’t had an easy life in the last year. Her parents died in a car accident and even if she didn’t want to tell him explicitly, it is very evident that she considers herself the only responsible person; not the drunk driver of the van with a fake license plate, but she, who had snuck out. Regret was the only thing he read in her eyes. It incorporated everything.

Like when you look at me and I don’t answer...

She had absolutely not wanted to tell him why she hadn’t accepted the advantageous offer of Agent Hotchner. She had remained irremovable until he approached to remove the handcuffs. Now she is still massaging her own wrists, she never looks up, nor does she say a single word. She seems to wait that him leaving, but she should have understood that it is not over yet.

-Penelope.- he says only her name, as if he just liked the sound of it. He approaches her, catching the slight shake of her shoulders. He stops a few centimeters. -I have the results. You're not a danger to society.- he struggles not to laugh as he saying it, as if someone could ever believe something like that. Okay, the appearance can be deceiving, but... -It’s the time to go.- he is almost touching her shoulder, not even knowing if this is a gesture of encouragement or what, but at the last he surrenders and pulls back the hand. She stands up and turns to him. -I'm sorry.- he adds, biting his tongue a second later. He has to get not involved. Who knows why, what is this girl, to be able to penetrate his barrier of protection and indifference towards everything. Is it possible that a prosperous breast is enough?

Like when, as always, you always wait, like when you only look at your faults...

-I'm sorry, Penelope, but I have to search you. It is the procedure.- he tries to show himself as neutral as possible to the prospect of passing his hands on that explosive body. The girl opens her eyes wide, looks at him directly, challenging him to do it seriously.

-But this shouldn’t deal with women agents?- she is right and Luke knows, but what she ignores is that her stay here is not completely regular, so the fewer people know, better is. Only a week, and then he can go back to his gray routine. He can do it. The young man stands in front of her, puts his hands on her shoulders and starts to grope her arms, as they teach him to do. He then moves onto the ribs, inadvertently touching the outer side of the breast. He continues downward, but feels her eyes on him, though she says nothing. Even when he touches the girl's hips, he pretends it's an aseptic gesture, but both feel a shock. He lowers to check even the legs, too uncovered. It is clear to both that there would be no need for it, what can she hide there? But he acts anyway, as if he couldn’t do otherwise, so with a simple glance he makes her understand his next move. Penelope leans on the table, while he gently takes one shoe first and then the other, checking that there is nothing inside. Thus, barefoot, she feels even more vulnerable. Luke helps her to wear them again and without realizing she finds herself against his chest.

And when nothing, when nothing can offend you... it's only then that you really know how to be... only sometimes, certain nights, only when you love yourself...

When man feels the breast of the brunette against his body, every rational thought goes out the window. Maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to help Rossi. How could he imagine that it would be so difficult? It's been too long since the last time he did...

-I bring you the new uniform.- the words overlap as he runs out of the room, before she could notice the reaction that has caused to him their closeness.

She would have had to bet that she will not to sleep the first night, but as usual she was able to delude herself. Every time she tried to close her eyes she relived the scene of the search, but instead of agent Luke, there was her ex-boyfriend and he didn’t limit himself to brushing the boundaries of her body, he demanded and even a lot. What she had never allowed him to get.

She had tried counting sheep, anything, but sleep hadn’t come, or rather the weariness of all the hours she had been in Virginia had made itself felt, but she hadn’t been able to rest anyway. And wherever I go, wherever I go, that fear will come back tomorrow, tomorrow... Penelope without realizing it starts scratching the red mark on her right wrist, the more the anxieties become strong, tormented her, the more she takes it out on herself, until the blood comes out. When the liquid begins to run along the entire arm, the girl is forced to notice what she has done, but this doesn’t stop her.

The nail penetrates into the flesh, made ever more tender and fragile. Her eyes closed, she sees her mother's lifeless body, covered by a sheet, next to her husband's. They don’t look like real people, but wax statues. She can feel that cold voice asking her Do you recognize them? Are they your parents? It would have been enough to open the mouth and answer affirmatively, yet she hadn’t succeeded. Not even to nod. She had signed all the documents and then went outside. It was not raining, on the contrary, the sun was shining in the sky. She had never felt before so alone in her life.

And wherever I go, wherever I go, that fear will come back tomorrow, tomorrow...

Luke managed to sleep, but his dreams weren't less painful than the young girl's thoughts. He woke up with a stain on his underwear, something that didn’t happen him since he was in high school. He only remembered that he was shouting a name, some orange spots and then...

He needed to run to work. He had to keep an eye on Penelope... Miss Garcia. Six more days before Hotchner comes to claim her. Anything can happen in a prison, even in a woman prison. Especially to someone like her, who doesn’t seem at all prepared to handle such a situation. Women can also be crueler than men. And he is not the only agent. Since he works in this place, he has witnessed things he would rather forget. He knows how it works, he always knew it. Those rumors that flying around are not just rumors, for once. All the girls who end up there must undergo a further test, not marked on any card. The last admission tests.

He can’t imagine what they could do to her. He understands that he can’t allow it to happen, not just because Rossi asked him to. Penelope has something special, forces him to come out of his selfish shell, pushes him to want to try again the feeling of having that soft body against his, maybe to wrap his arms around her hips and what he would be willing to do to listen his name coming out of those lips?

because whoever hates you can pretend it, just to see you cry...

When he arrives in front of her cell, his head full of imaginary moans and his hands that still seem stained with that semi-transparent liquid, he certainly doesn't expect to find her in that position. Penelope has practically fainted on the cot, her brown hair completely covers her face, the orange jumpsuit doesn't hide her forms. But what strikes him the most is the right arm, abandoned, as lifeless, the fingers of the hand that almost touch the floor tiles... and a red spot that is slowly spreading out beneath it.

Not even the time to think about it, he has already put the key in the lock and is going behind the bars. The finger on the neck to feel a pulse, how many times he has done it since he works for the good guys, but never has he felt so apprehensive, never wanted to feel at least a minimum heartbeat, something that indicates that she is still on this earth. And luckily there is.

-Penelope, Penelope, wake up!- how it's possible that no one have noticed it? It is useless for him to wondering this, he knows. She is worth nothing, in here. Her death means less taxpayers' money to spend and work to guarantee her a correct standard of living. While wrapping the handkerchief around the girl's wrist, stopping the blood flow, Luke wonders if the reason for this extreme gesture is to be found in something that she had already inside her, or if they have accelerated the times and she has been already subjected to the infamous test... But he can't even manage to conceive it, so he drives away the thought, focusing only on simply actions. He went at the first aid course, but right now he seems to have forgotten everything.

The girl opens her eyes, blinks several times, trying to focus on him. -Luke...- she whispers. A solitary tear begins its crossing until it lands on his arm. -Why...- it should be him the one who has to ask her such a question, but he can understand what she means. Why didn't you let me die?

He's almost tempted to reveal everything, Hotch's plan to convince her to join the FBI, how he was recruited in this, but he miraculously manages to hold back. -The animals need you, Penelope.- instead, he tells her this, one hand on the wound, the other strokes her hair. -I have to take you to the infirmary.- he warns her, immediately catching the fear in her brown eyes. -Don't worry, I got you. Can you walk?- a stupid question. He doesn't wait for the answer and picks her up, carrying her on the white bed. While he is still talking, he doesn't even know that the sound of his voice is able to calm her down. -Why you did it, Penelope? This wasn't in your profile. You can act as tough as you want, but I understood you're not a goth, you're full of hopes and colors. Do not try to be what you are not, because you will not be able to do it.- he says, applying the bandage and admiring the result. -Why you did it?- he asks her again.

-I didn't do it knowingly, it happened and... I simply didn't do anything to stop it. To fix things. I thought...- both the voice and the gaze falter. -I thought it was not worth it. That the fate had decided in my place.- once the cap was removed, everything pours out without any brakes. -In the bottom I don't want to live in a world where most people believe that animals are born to be exploited and killed, that an alternative is not even thinkable. In a world where fakes win, where if you stay at home reading a book you're a loser, if you show that you love a person, you're weak. I don't want to be part of it anymore, I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to.- it's an endless chant. The girl even begins to sway, until he stops her, holding her by the shoulders.

Often you would like a pair of wings, often the most trivial things, often you hug your stars or often... the skin limits you...

-That incident wasn't your fault...- Luke understands that what she said is true, but that the real issue is still another. This doesn't concerns him, however, and her expression remembers this to him.

-Just because did you read a few sentences in a file, do you think you know me and can judge me? I'm not just a name or four words, and if I can't be something else, then maybe it's really better to die.- in what she says there is all her love for life that she feels forced to disown by a dark force; only those who have loved immensely can get to hate so much. -There is no only one reason in the world or one person for whom it is worth continuing this torment.- while listening to her, always holding her in a sort of strange hug, he finds himself wishing to become that someone.

What's the point of all this? I've only known her for three days.

He has to bring her back to her special cell, before anyone realizes she's not here and starts asking too many questions. He must also make sure that nobody takes advantage of her, at the risk of saying that... she is his now.

Two more days have passed, yet she hasn't even noticed it. The only contacts she had with other human beings were the moments when they brought her meals. However, she didn't eat anything. Since he found her with a hurt wrist, Luke didn't show up anymore. Surely, he also understood that she wasn't worth the effort even of a look.

She can't understand why they slammed her into a solitary confinement. Of course, she's a dangerous hacker, probably among the worst, but she hasn't killed anyone. She repeatedly meditates on removing the bandage to resume work where she was interrupted, but then renounces. It is too long and painful. She is not able to do it again consciously.

She's a weak all the way. But who chooses to put an end on this, is strong for the courage it takes, or is it more the one who, despite everything, decide to stay and fight?

She needs something to implement her plan.

Luke enters without thinking in the least about what could happen. He is concerned. In the last two days, he did nothing but think of the prisoner 435228, Penelope. Every time he closes his eyes, he visualizes her forms with extreme precision and he seems to be able to concretely touch her. But it's not just this. If it were simply sexual desire, he wouldn't be so much anxious.

The problem is far more serious. The problem is that he imagined things he didn't think capable of. Things that he doesn't even want to repeat in his head. Children. Children with light skin but dark hair and those eyes, those eyes so deep and full of pain. He never wanted to become a father. Why force a poor creature to extricate itself in such a complex world?

But his perfectly rational convictions don't cancel those crazy thoughts or dreams he has made, so absurd and inexplicable.

Yet, he is still here, a few inches from the girl. Stay away from here has been unbearable, but he will have to get used to it, because she will not stay here. The feds will find a way to force her to join them. They have the good means. Or they will take her anyway away from there. So the best thing is that he checks if everything is fine, that the bandage is clean, otherwise he will have to change it and then leave. He still has to resist so little time.

They look into each other's eyes for a few seconds. -How are you, Penelope?- he tries to read the answer from the way she bends her lips. -Do you feel better?- he takes another step in her direction. Of course, he doesn't expect her to do the same and so he feels her scent, her natural smell that shouldn't be so good, not after living in a damn cell, penetrating through his nostrils and confusing his mind even more.

-Luke.- here, she did it. She called him by name. The strange tone, which she had never used before. But the surprises have just begun. Without understanding how, he finds himself against one of the cold walls. The body of the young woman press on his, the breasts... and then her lips. And her tongue. Her moans. Who knows if the room is really soundproof, as they told him? Even if it is not, he can’t her stop or stop himself. His big hands wander from her face, neck, shoulders, even if he would definitely want more. -Do you want me, Luke?- asks Penelope, almost not breaking away from him. The seductive and mischievous voice sends the blood directly in a single point. Or maybe it's because she repeated her name. -If you want me, Luke, you can have me.- she continues to provoke him, caressing his bare skin; her hands feel less problems during the exploration.

He can perfectly visualize her beneath him, while she moans seriously, shouting Luke out loud. But it's wrong. She is still part of a mission. He can’t sympathize with prisoners, less than ever with her. It goes against the one he always believed in, in which his father always believed. Never a single call. Always the best in all the tests. What would he say now of what he has become? Forced to work in prison and infatuated with a "criminal". -Yes, I want you.- he admits bitterly. -But...- she stops him placing a finger on his mouth.

-I want you to be the first one.-

She enters the cell again with one hand behind her back, but she still manages to hear a strange clink. On his face he has a kind of smile. Maybe she should have a little fear, but she asked for it. -Go, 435228, the time has come to make a nice ride.- the arrogant tone annoys her above all because she remembers that even if now he is not serious with her, with her other "colleagues" he could being and... the thought makes her jealous. Stupid.

-What are those?- now he has revealed the mystery. Handcuffs. Her eyes widen as she peers at the reflecting surface. He admires her ingenuity, her amazement and above all her candor. He winks at her and before she realizes it, he is behind her, something makes a metallic noise and she is no longer able to move her arms. -Why?- she asks with her surrender tone that excites him to death.

-Because you are still the prisoner and I am the guard.- he clarifies whispering softly, in her ear, after having moved a lock of brown hair. Goosebumps. He doesn’t know if she's really ready for it, but by now it's too late, the mechanism is started, the game started and will not end until "game over" appears on the screen. Pushing her with one hand on her back he lets her out, and then close the bars of the now empty cell.

He chose the perfect moment when they are all busy with their lunch break. Nobody will notice her absence, she hasn’t even a friend. Because she is different, it's not like them. He told her one of these days. It seems centuries have passed and instead it’s not even a week that he met her. And she offered herself to him. At first it was just a gimmick to distract him and get something to help her leave this world. Then, gradually, the farce became real, as well as his muscles pressed against her chest, his tongue in her mouth and the need to find out what else he could do, it became too pressing.

He leads her across the gray corridor, then through an unknown area and then stops in front of a door. When he opens it and pushes her inside, Penelope realizes that it is a closet. Dirty, dusty, extremely reduced. Certainly not the location that a teenager would have imagined would become the background of...

Luke wastes no time. Once having prevented access to anyone, turning the keys repeatedly in the lock, he reaches and presses her against the wall, the only side not overgrown with boxes, brooms and various tools. The mouth is molded with that of the woman, who begins to moan when she feels his tongue at the same time making its way into her palate and his hand resting on her breast and then squeezing a nipple through the fabric. The pleasant torture continues for a time that seems endless to her.

-How... how will you do it this way?- she asks him when he allows her to catch her breath.

-Don’t worry.- he smiles convinced. -I know my tricks.- and perhaps the shocked expression of Penelope is due more to the fact that this sentence for her is tantamount to an admission by him that she is not the first prisoner that he brings here with such intentions, rather than for the next gesture of man. The orange t-shirt is divided into two perfect halves and the busty breasts of the brunette, without any constraint that holds them back, come out into the open, exposing themselves to Luke's eager look. -But... it was my uniform!- is a weak protest and she is aware of it.

His hands are particularly cold and her nipples get more and more numb, until he bends down to take them in his mouth and suck, almost hoping to see them come out of the milk, then stay a few seconds with his head between the two promoters, a relaxed expression that had not visited his face since who knows how long . -Don't worry, there are a lot...- he replies with a certain delay, still too distracted. -I'll bring you another one.- he reassures her continuing to play with this part of her, never satiated. -This was still old, and it stank.- restrain herself is increasingly difficult, every gesture of Luke seems perfectly calibrated and goes to touch the right points in the correct sequence. Penelope fears she might have an orgasm sooner than expected. -These pants don’t do you justice.- he comments at a certain point, after having pricked her for a few more minutes, rubbing her against the wall and having fun moving his hands and tongue in sync, entering her mouth just when he pinches the tip of a breast and enjoying the way in which the girl's eyes open and close for ecstasy of pleasure. Penelope didn’t know what to expect as she doesn’t know if she should be grateful that he didn’t immediately go straight to the point. These preliminaries, however, are killing her. He comes off and starts to take her pants down. She strives in all ways not to think, doesn’t allow his brain to work. She knows that her breasts attract many male looks, but she doesn’t consider her lower half at the same level. But he doesn’t seem to agree with her, because he doesn’t utter a disgusted cry, nor does he stop torturing her. She closes her eyes as his cold hands run along her legs, the skin behind her knee, her thighs, her ass and then... some fingers move forward. They exceed the elastic of the panties. She holds more than a moan, even for the difference in heat. And then he stops. This time, his eyes are wide open and incredulous. He pulls out his fingers and stares them. -You... you're virgin!- strangely Penelope keeps her eyes proud and nods.

-Yes, why, is this also a crime?- it is the first time she reacts to his provocation, which she acts in this way. Luke still can’t believe the information he has just acquired. -I only twenty-two years.- the idea that no man had her before him, excites him even more, makes him feel as if she were really only his, as if she had waited on purpose... but at the same time he also feels the weight of this responsibility.

-But... that ex-boyfriend of which you spoke to me... I thought...- he seems to be lost.

-No.- she exclaims with firm tone. -I was in love with him- she confesses -but I always felt that something was wrong, so I denied to him this part of me.- she simply ends with a shrug that rocks her breast still naked.

-Do you want to lose your virginity... with me?- why instead of asking it, he does not do it, before she changes her mind? But he is not the macho she believes he is, and he is forced to tell her. -I’m not that kind of man.- a phrase that seems strange, absurd, crazy, even to his own ears. He wasn’t this before he met her.

-I'm not usually that kind of woman either.- and she has the fact of being inviolate on her side. -Yes, I want to lose it with you, why not?- he has the decency not to answer. -Before I die, I want to find out if I really missed something in all these years or I was right.- just for a moment, Luke's excitement cools. It is a phrase that is often used as an example, without being conscious of its weight, a way of saying, but she has said it differently. He senses something black beneath the surface but decides to ignore it.

-Looks, it also depends on who you're doing with...- but it's a losing battle.

She tries to get away. She is wounded, she feels rejected. -Do you want to do it? If you don’t want it, give me a shirt and leave me alone.- how far she is from the reality! He doesn’t reply anything but shakes his head and silences her by placing a finger on her lips, the same one that a second ago was inside her. Then he bends down, takes off her shoes and pants, and for last those pink panties that would catch his eye even if he didn’t want to. She is left wearing only that torn shirt, and yet she is not cold, because she trembles with anxiety and doesn’t know if she wants to die yet. Luke pulls himself up again and smiles at her, almost a sweet smile.

-Because that it's the first time, this may hurt a little.- he explains in a calm tone, while the hands, no longer so cold, return to take care of her lower half. -We need to lubricate the area a little, to facilitate the operation.- the way he talks, if possible, drives her more crazy. The fingers are no longer uncertain, they perform precise turns, various lunges that snatch out of her mouth moans of pleasure. He plays with her clit and by the way the girl looks at him, he gets confirmation that this is really her first experience and that the damn who had driven her to be arrested to get rid of him, hadn’t had the least privilege to really touch her body.

But he had certainly touched her heart and soul. Thinking about this irritates him and for this he pushes a little too rude, to which she responds with a lament of pain. He stops and looks at her. If she asked him to stop, if she told him she changed her mind... he would be able to respect her will. But she doesn’t seem to waver in her purpose, so after a second, he starts again.

-Right because it will hurt, you may scream a little too loud. I'll have to stop you, so the whole prison won't able to hear us, okay?- she doesn’t nod but blinks her eyelids once and stares at him as his fingers continue to do their job. It's not so bad, Penelope thinks, while he takes off his shoes and pants while remaining in boxers. A protuberance greets her. She has never seen a naked man before. She doesn’t want to feel embarrassed or strange about it. But it's really hard to believe that the swelling is all due to her. Luke also removes that garment. They are both covered only in the upper half, from the waist up and this should make the whole situation already unreal.

Still, the closet seems less small, less dirty, less dusty, less ugly. Perhaps the boundaries disappear, perhaps it all disappears, when he makes her lie down on a sort of cot that she hadn’t noticed before. He opens the handcuffs to leave locked just one hand, which he fixes in the edge. He spreads her legs and crouches near her aperture. Ready? he asks her with his eyes, without speaking, then holding her he gives the first push, penetrating the first part of her, the one where his fingers have already been. When he feels he is projected in the right direction, he lies down in turn. He still looks at her, but no sign from Penelope seems to indicate that she has changed her mind. Luke sighs and gives a second push, followed by a third one.

At first she doesn’t feel nothing, then a huge burning, so almost as if someone would tearing her apart. The cry of pain of Penelope, which doesn’t sound very like a moan, is muffled by the great hand of man, pressed on her mouth. He doesn’t stop, although her pupils dance from side to side, and he feel the girl's lips move, trying to say something. Enough, I changed my mind, I don’t want it anymore. Enough, enough, go out, get away from me, stop! Even a few tears flow down her cheeks, but Luke keeps moving back and forth, every time he comes out, he seems to take the urge to penetrate even deeper and slowly, very slowly, the pleasure replaces the suffering, she feels completely filled by him, who begins to kiss her by going in sync with his pushes. Penelope follows him, the tears now dry on the lashes, a small crimson stain underneath that she ignores.

Sometimes he lets her moan but is forced to absorb the strongest moan, both his own and hers, when they reach their full enjoyment, and he empties into her cavity without the slightest regret.

This was also quite predictable. Penelope no longer wanted to meet him, after what happened, although she was the one who proposed it. Just as it was obvious that he would end up seeing it with his own guilt.

Now Luke is waiting to finally see the elusive agent Aaron Hotchner and his subordinate, in charge of convincing her to agree to join the FBI and consequently take her away from him. But maybe it's better this way. If he will not see her anymore, the obsession will lessen. Shouldn’t he already be grateful enough to have been her first time? In a shabby closet, wearing handcuffs. Everybody dream something like that.

He understands that it's all bullshit. Maybe it works in any booklet or in a film of little cultural value, but not with him. Even if he is deeply mistaken, must he tell her what he really feels for her, without expecting anything in return, without demanding... to demand what? What he did was wrong in all respects.

For the umpteenth, last time, he enters that cell.

-What are you doing here, Luke? I asked you to leave me alone!- he notices with a sigh of relief that she hasn’t hurt herself again. At least that. He approaches, she moves back and ends up against the wall.

-I know, but I need to tell you something. I'm not very good at declarations, so I'll tell you what I feel. Yesterday it wasn’t just sex. It was also my first time, because before then, I just had sex. We made love, Penelope. I'm fucking in love with you, I think of you obsessively, I know it's wrong, but it's not enough to stop me. I don’t just dream about erotic things, ok? Even the rest...- she doesn’t understand, is confused, and the way he talks about himself, almost sobbing, certainly doesn’t help.

And I will love you more than any tomorrow, more than any other of what you thought...

-But a prisoner and a guard can’t fraternize.- that's all she can say.

-This will not be a problem anymore.- Penelope widens her pupils as she listens to his story. -Agent Hotchner and a certain Morgan are coming, they will try to convince you to join the BAU. There will be no document or proof that you were here... my job was to keep an eye on you this week, to prevent that something could happening to you... to keep you safe for them. They don’t intend to give up on you.- the hand hits as fast as the tongue of a reptile, the attack of a snake. Five red fingers on his cheek. Luke doesn’t react.

-So it was all a joke! And was this last confession too? Congratulations, Luke, why don’t you sign up for drama academy? You are a sublime actor.- the tears flowing on her cheeks are of anger and disappointment.

-No, there was nothing fake. I really fell in love with you, no one asked me to pretend it... I just had to protect you, but I failed, I wasn’t able to protect you from myself. I'm sorry, but believe me, it wasn’t fake.- she shakes her head.

-I... I don’t really know what to think.- they are disrupted. It's time for Penelope to decide her destiny.

Months have passed, yet the obsession hasn’t vanished at all, hasn’t diminished. There were a thousand other prisoners, no one keeps him up like her. Luke is now resigned to a gray life, a boringly quiet routine. He doesn’t expect that call, as he didn’t expect the one from Rossi.

He doesn’t expect that job, that sudden offer.

Joinining the Behavioral Analyst Unit.

The only thing they can tell him is that someone has pressured. Someone managed to find proof of his innocence. All the problems vanished, all forgotten. Reintegrated with honor, father is proud of you.

He didn’t expect it, but he should have understood that behind it was her hand .

-Penelope.- as the first time and like all the others, the girl's name sounds like music through his lips.

-Luke.- she says. They are alone. It was she who asked the rest of the team to leave her for a moment with the Newbie. She didn’t want to give other explanations.

-Why?- he simply ask, the voice broken with various sweet nuances.

-Because it’s right. I read your file. You're perfect for this team. And you didn’t deserve to stay in that place.- she doesn’t add anything else, but he knows he understood. There are things you can’t hide, there are some things I can’t cry about you...

-Well... thanks. You didn’t have to do it.- these are phrases of circumstance, but through their mouths they take on a different meaning. She nods and puts a hand on her hip. At that moment he notices some different details in her. She changed her hair color. Now she is blonde. How it's possible he had need all this time to notice it? Overall, she's radiant, she looks like another person. Surely one that no longer needs his support. So why come here, help him? Just to return a favor? He must have been a superlative lover, in this case, because he didn’t feel he had really done any good for her, in fact. And her breast... yes, it definitely got bigger and looks even harder. In that first, one night, he didn’t have the chance to do everything he wanted... how long he wanted to reach out and... no, not here! Nowhere, in fact.

Penelope seems about to say something but gets stuck and runs to the sink. She vomits. Luke don’t need anything else.

I don’t care now to pretend, you can read my eyes...

-You're pregnant.- it's not a question. She cleans her face and turns to face him. How can he claim to know it's his baby? It's been weeks. She may have found another one. Maybe a blond and pale boyfriend like her waiting at home. Maybe the asshole from which she had escaped. Maybe she gave him another chance. Still, he feels it's his. He feels it with the hairs of his arms, in the way she looks at him.

-It is not a problem that concerns you.- she completely changes attitude, puts her hand on her stomach, in protective way, but the voice falters, trembles. She never told him she loves him. And yet, he know this too. Luke decides that their "relationship" has been strange from the beginning, so he doesn’t see why now it should be otherwise. He puts his arm around her waist and draws her close to him, caresses her cheek with his other hand.

-Don’t be afraid of me, Penelope. Don’t be afraid of the future or at least allow me to have fear with you.- he moves his hand on her stomach, intertwine their fingers and this time it is the girl's turn to understand. -I would grow up with you this baby even if it wasn’t mine... but I know it is...- those tears in the corners of his intense eyes are the final proof that he is telling the truth.

-Luke, you don’t have to do it. I don’t want to condemn you to a life you don’t want, just because I haven’t been able to keep my legs closed.- he would almost give her a slap, for the absurdity that she said. Instead he merely shakes his head.

-It's not a question of honor. What grows inside you is the labor of love. It was only very bizarre the path we have had to do to get to conceive it.- he smiles, everything fades into that.

I wish I could lose, without ever having to give up...

She puts her lips on his and for the first time in more than a year she feels really safe. She releases all the tension and surrenders to that unwanted feeling, but never disowned. Without more fear.

But the mistake doesn’t exist... fear doesn’t exist . Fear, fear, fear doesn’t exist

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#garvez #criminal minds #cm #penelope garcia #luke alvez #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #garcia x alvez #alvez x garcia #tiziano ferro #la paura non esiste

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