#i feel like she should have either gone with the sheer sparkly dress OR the ruffled overskirt

[themakeupbrush]

Wilma Elles at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival

#wilma elles #cannes 2022 #i feel like she should have either gone with the sheer sparkly dress OR the ruffled overskirt #both looks too showgirl and busy #also what's with the border at the bottom #cannes film festival #2022 cannes film festival

[hearts-hunger]

no strings attached — part three

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⮡ part one | part two

Series Summary: The destination wedding of a high school friend brings you and Jake together for the first time since graduation. Can you make it though a long weekend without killing each other, or worse, falling head over heels in love?

Chapter Summary: You and Jake are careless with each other, but isn't that what you've always been best at?

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x Reader [+ Sam x Danny, Josh x OC] | Genre: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, mutual pining | Word Count: 4.7k | Chapter Warnings: drinking

A/N: I know it's been a while but we're back, babey!! I'm excited to see what you guys think of this chapter with all its little twists and turns. I hope you like it! ♡

The sun was starting to sink behind the mountains when you made it back to your cabin, and you stood on the porch, huddled in Jake’s jacket, unable to open the door. You heard him inside — it sounded like he was pacing. Your hand flinched at the doorknob, and you tried to gather the courage to turn it.

Finally, after what seemed like both an eternity and only a split second, you sucked in a deep breath and opened the door.

He stopped pacing when you came in, and your eyes met. He was half-dressed, tucking a soft, barely-buttoned pink shirt into snug black pants. Your heart was in your throat as you looked at him — he could hardly have looked more handsome, or more displeased to see you.

“I’ll be out of your way in a minute,” he said, his voice flat. He finished tucking in his shirt and skirted around you to get to his bag, and you quickly stepped out of his way.

You checked the time; you’d need to hurry if you were going to get to the bachelorette party on time. You and Jake did an awkward dance around each other as you got ready, and he was gone before you’d even put on your dress.

You breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind him, but the shakiness in your hands didn’t go away when you were alone. You kept replaying the argument, feeling worse and worse every time your words echoed in your head. He was right — you did have feelings for him, and you’d always been scared of them. You’d let your fear ruin whatever there was between you, again. Worse than that, though, was the way you'd hurt him, and the guilt of it wouldn't let you be.

You tried to push it aside as you got ready; even though you didn’t much feel like socializing, you figured you should at least make an appearance at the party. When you were ready, you looked in the mirror to take stock of yourself. The dress you’d brought was one you’d never worn before, an olive green cocktail dress with long, puffed sleeves and luna moths embroidered on the skirt. Your sheer thigh-highs wouldn’t provide much warmth, but the bachelor and bachelorette parties were both going to be in the main cabin, and you’d be plenty warm inside with all those people.

Thankfully the path to the main cabin was cleared of snow, and you hurried inside into the crush of party guests, following the directions to the right side of the building where all the ladies had gathered for the bachelorette party. Music was blaring, drinks flowing freely, a variety of sparkly phallic decorations on every available surface. It wasn’t exactly your taste, but it wasn’t your party, and you found a spot by the bar and ordered a margarita.

“There’s sparrow, right there.”

You looked over at the door and saw Josh giving you a wave, and you returned it. He gave his girlfriend a parting kiss and gently pushed her towards you before he left to join the bachelor party, and she looked relieved to see you as she made her way through the room.

“I’m really glad you’re here, sparrow,” she said over the music. “I don’t know what I’d do if I was here alone.”

You smiled. “Yeah, me either. Though we could technically go over to the guys’ party if we wanted to.”

She took a sip of her drink and gestured to the Same Penis Forever banner on the wall. 

“And miss all this?” she said. “I don’t think so.”

You laughed. “It’s... interesting, isn’t it?”

She gave a wry smile. “Not my cup of tea. Besides, I think Josh would have a heart attack if I had an underwear collection box at my bachelorette party.”

You almost choked on your drink. “A what?”

She grinned and nodded to the box on the far end of the bar, emblazoned with the words “drop your panties” in bright pink letters. Your eyes widened at the various unmentionables overflowing out of it.

“We’re supposed to take off our underwear?” you asked, aghast.

She laughed. “No, I don’t think so. I think it’s a game where everybody brings a pair, and we try to guess who brought what. It said something about it on their wedding website.”

“I guess I didn’t read the fine print,” you said. You finished your drink and asked for another one. “But no raunchy games at your bachelorette party, huh?”

She shook her head. “It’s not really my style, and it’s not Josh’s either.” She glanced towards the door, where the hallway stretched to the guys’ side of the party. 

“He’s too much of a teddy bear for all that,” she said fondly. You looked over too, catching a glimpse of Josh and the boys at the bar, deep in conversation. Jake downed a shot of tequila and chased it with a lime wedge, and you took a long sip of your own drink.

“And as lovely as this place is, we’ll probably do something smaller for our wedding,” she said, pulling your attention away from Jake.

“You’re already planning it?” you asked.

She blushed, and it was very endearing. “Well, I’m already planning it. Daydreaming about it, really.” Her smile was sweet and wistful. “It probably won’t be for a little while, because neither of us wants to plan a wedding while things with the band are picking up — we both decided it would be better to wait until he’s not stretched so thin with recording and touring.”

That made sense to you. You glanced down at her left hand, looking for a ring you might have missed; she noticed and smiled. 

“We’re not officially engaged yet,” she said. “I mean, he’s asked me a million times to marry him, and I’ve said yes every time, but it’s tricky to put it out in the open like that.”

“Do you have trouble with fans?” you asked.

She shrugged. “It depends. Most of the ones I’ve met and seen on social media are really sweet. But there’s always one or two who are...”

“Less than sweet,” you guessed. You couldn’t imagine the pressure of being in the spotlight like that, of having your relationship subject to such intense scrutiny. 

She nodded. “We learned our lesson the hard way with that one,” she added ruefully, getting another drink. “That whole business with Jake’s ex...”

She trailed off, looking a little embarrassed that she’d mentioned it.

“That must have been awful,” you said, feeling a pang of sympathy for Jake that brought up your own guilt again.

She shook her head. “It was awful,” she said. “It broke my heart to see Jake treated like that. Not just by her, which was bad enough, but by so-called fans, too.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, knowing she’d be just as angry with you — and rightfully so — if she knew how you’d spoken to Jake earlier.

She took a deep breath. “But enough with the heavy,” she said, giving you a cheerful smile. “The boys are probably well on their way to getting drunk, and I say we join them.”

The bartender brought over two shots of tequila at her direction, and you both salted up the side of your hand and had a lime wedge ready.

“Cheers, sparrow,” she said, clinking her glass against yours.

You downed the shot and slammed the glass on the bar, quickly sticking the lime in your mouth. She grinned and flashed the lime peel, and you both collapsed in giggles.

“I’ve missed you, sparrow,” she said, putting her hand over yours. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You felt a tug of guilt and panic. If Jake told her what had happened between you, you didn’t know if she’d ever speak to you again.

You managed a smile. “Me too.”

Both of you stayed at the bar and talked as well as you could over the sound of the music, opting out of the games in favor of getting absolutely plastered. 

“Does everybody call you baby?” you asked her, leaning on her arm. “Or only Josh?”

She smiled. “Just Joshy.” She tapped your nose. “But you can too, if you want.”

You felt a brief, entertaining flutter at her touch. Though you felt you’d unfortunately never be over Jake as long as you lived, you liked girls too, and she’d always been cute.

“Maybe we should see what Joshy has to say about that before you go giving me privileges,” you teased.

She giggled. “Hey, that’s a good idea. Let’s go see what the guys are up to.”

You hesitated. “Oh, I dunno. Aren’t we supposed to stay on this side, with the girls?”

“Everybody’s too drunk to care,” she said, which was probably true. She tugged at your arm. “Come on, sparrow. Let’s find you a guy to make out with.”

You blushed at the thought, but you fleetingly wondered if it might help take your mind off Jake. You let her take you over to the bachelor party side, and as she’d said, nobody seemed to mind. 

“Baby!” Josh said happily, pulling her close and giving her a deep, messy kiss. You felt a pang of jealousy, and it didn’t ease when you saw Sam and Danny wrapped up in each other’s arms. Giving them space, you backed up against the bar, bumping shoulders with someone.

“Oh, sorry — ”

You looked over as you gave your apology, and blushed vividly when you met Jake’s eyes.

You tried to step back, but you wobbled in your high heels. He caught you on instinct, pulling you flush against him.

“Easy, sparrow,” he said, his voice low. You shivered at his touch.

“Sorry,” you said again, pulling back. He made sure you were steady before letting you go.

“‘S alright,” he said. “You drunk?”

You weren’t sure why the question irritated you.

“Maybe,” you said, though it was painfully obvious. “Aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “Not as much as I want to be.”

“Me either,” you said. You’d have to drink yourself into a stupor to be this close to him and not feel the sickening mix of guilt and desire that flooded you now.

He waved the bartender over.

“What are you drinking?” Jake asked you.

“Tequila.”

He turned to the bartender. “A margarita for the lady, and a tequila soda for me. Please.”

When your drinks were brought over, you downed yours quickly.

“Trying to set a record, sparrow?” Jake asked.

You scowled. “How about you worry about you, and I’ll worry about me?”

He raised a brow. “Oh, so you do believe in people minding their own business?” He took a long drink. “I never could have guessed.”

The guilt you'd managed to push down flared back to life. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

He watched as you finished off your drink. “Getting there.”

You faced him straight on and looked up at him, flush with indignation. “What’s your problem?”

“No problem, sparrow. Just making an observation.”

“You were always good at that, weren’t you?” you shot back. “Making observations about me and not doing a damn thing about it.” Like the blatant, unavoidable observation he must have made years ago that you were in love with him, like the observation he must have made now that you wanted him more than you’d wanted anything in your life.

His eyes darkened, and he closed the distance between you.

“What would you like me to do about it, sparrow? Maybe I should kiss you like you kissed me, show everybody what they missed.”

You flushed. “I don’t want you to,” you lied.

“That so?” he asked. “Well, I have some advice for you, sparrow. Don’t mouth off to me again unless you want me to find a way to shut you up.”

You didn’t know who moved first, and you couldn’t find it in you to care as he kissed you like he’d never get enough of you. You also couldn’t find it in you to care how you whimpered under him, nor how it made him pull you closer.

“Jesus,” he gasped, letting you come up for air. He wiped the back of his mouth with his hand, his pupils blown with desire. “You’re something, aren’t you, sparrow?”

“Something good or something bad?” you asked, pressing close. 

He pulled away, and the rejection stung.

“I haven’t decided.” He finished his drink and set the glass on the bar. “See you around, sparrow.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, and you hated the desperation in your voice.

“You’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t want me on top of you,” he said. “Or don’t you remember?”

You shored up your hurt, defensive. “Yes, I remember.”

He grabbed his suit jacket from the barstool he’d left it on. You watched as he left, and you turned back to the bar when he closed the door behind him.

“Another, please,” you said, sliding your empty glass towards the bartender.

You felt a hand on your arm. 

“Sparrow.”

You turned to see both Sam and Danny watching you with concern and surprise. You shrugged Danny’s hand off.

“What?” you asked.

He pulled back from you. “No offense, but... what the hell was that? With you and Jake?”

You took your drink from the bartender. “Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing,” Sam said. “You just kissed the daylights out of each other. I thought you couldn’t stand him.”

“I can’t,” you said, giving them a rueful smile. “But he can’t stand me either, apparently, so I guess we’re even.”

You made to leave, but Danny gently stopped you and pried your drink from your hand.

“I’m not trying to make you mad,” he said when you opened your mouth to protest. “But I think maybe you ought to take it easy for the rest of the night.”

“I’m fine,” you said, but you let him set your drink back on the bar. He was right; your head was swimming, and you didn’t need any more to drink.

He took your hand. “Let me walk you back to your cabin, sparrow.”

You nodded, not up for arguing. Jake’s kiss had taken it out of you, and you were thankful for the way Danny let you lean on him.

“Be right back, love,” he said to Sam. He led you outside, and scooped you up into his arms when a few steps showed how unsteady you were in your heels.

“Oh, hello,” you said, putting your arms around his neck in surprise even though you knew he wouldn’t drop you.

He smiled. “Hi, sparrow. You had a lot to drink, huh?”

You sighed as you leaned your head against his shoulder. “Sure.” You tapped his chest. “You’re pretty strong, Danny.”

“I do my best.”

You hid your face against his neck when you started to feel dizzy. “This is pretty stupid, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Bet you didn’t plan on carrying your old pal from high school through the snow this weekend.”

He chuckled. “Not the first time I’ve carried a girl home, believe it or not.”

He set you down when you’d reached the porch of your cabin, and he kept a chaste hand on you until you were upright.

“You have your key?” he asked.

You fished around in your little bag until you found it. “Yep.”

You opened the door, and Danny came inside for a minute.

“Gonna be ok?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yes. Thank you for carrying me back.”

He smiled. “My pleasure, sparrow. Text me if you need anything, ok?”

You gave him a hug, and he didn’t hesitate to return it.

“Try and get some sleep,” he said when you let him go.

You gave him a mock salute. “Yes sir.”

When he left, you sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to wait out the dizziness you felt. You hadn’t been this drunk in a long time, and you couldn’t say you disliked the feeling; you were giggly and warm, unburdened by any of the negative emotions you’d been wrestling with all day.

You touched a hand to your lips, still feeling Jake’s warmth. You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you, forgetting all about the way you’d argued before and after your kiss.

You didn’t know where Jake had gone, and you foolishly wished he was with you. You laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling; you were way too wired to sleep, despite your promise to Danny that you’d try. 

“Hey,” you said to no one, sitting up as you suddenly remembered the hot springs you hadn’t had a chance to see yet. A dip in the warm water sounded wonderful to you just then, and it didn’t take much for you to convince yourself to leave your cabin. You didn’t have the presence of mind to change out of your party outfit, and you were vaguely surprised you didn’t break your ankle trekking over to the bathhouse.

It looked abandoned; no light came through the huge, foggy windows of the otherwise barn-like structure. You slipped inside and were enveloped in the steam that rose from the surface of the hot spring. A raised stone pit at the corner of the pool held a cheery little fire that reflected on the water, providing the only light.

“Of course you’d show up here.”

You jumped at his voice. “Jake?”

He stepped closer to the fire, and its flickering light cast shadows on his face. He was shirtless, and his hair was already damp and curly from the steam.

“I didn’t know you were here,” you said.

He hummed. “Who’s on top of who, now?”

“I can leave,” you offered.

He shook his head. “Do what you want, sparrow.”

What you wanted to do was to kiss him again, but you didn’t say that. He unfastened his belt and started to pull down his jeans, and you blushed deeply as you averted your gaze.

“Jake,” you said, almost scolding.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a naked guy before.”

Your face burned hotter, and you gave a slightly hysterical laugh. “You’re naked?”

“Well, I’m not swimming in my clothes, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You hid behind your hands as you heard him get into the water, and you didn’t dare look for fear of seeing something you weren’t sure you’d be able to look away from. What was he doing, stripping down right in front of you?

“Open your eyes, little sparrow.”

You slowly pulled your hands from your face, letting out a breath when you saw he was covered by the water. Or, half of him was — the firelight was warm on his skin, catching the silver pendant necklace that rested on his chest.

“Scandalized?” he asked.

You gave him a lazy grin. 

“You’d like that, wouldn't you?” you asked. You shook your head. “I should probably go.”

You weren’t sure you could have handled this sober, but you certainly couldn’t handle it drunk. Not without doing something stupid.

“Well, you came all this way,” he said. “You might as well stay a while.”

“Oh, I see,” you said, stepping closer to the pool against your better judgment. “So you decided I’m something good after all?”

He came closer, venturing into the shallower water, and you tried to keep your eyes on his.

“Not just yet, sparrow,” he said. “Though I don’t think you’re decided on me, either.”

You hummed.

“You don’t have to stay if you’re uncomfortable,” he said after a moment.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You should go. But whatever part of you that might have been wise enough to make you leave didn’t seem to have much sway at the moment.

“These shoes are the only things making me uncomfortable,” you said, trying for a bit of levity. You attempted to lift a foot to take them off, but you quickly decided against that when you could barely stay upright on both feet.

He rolled his eyes. “Come here,” he said, beckoning you over as he came up to the edge of the pool. You did as he said, and he unfastened your high heels for you and eased them off with surprising gentleness.

“You women and your high heels,” he said. He looked up at you. “Sit.”

You shook your head. “I’ll get my stockings all wet,” you said, though that was hardly the most pressing reason. You didn’t know what you’d do with him so close, close enough to kiss.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He skimmed his hands over the water. “It’s nice and warm, though. You’ve got to be cold in that dress.”

“You don’t like it?” you asked, lowering yourself to sit on the edge despite yourself, sitting with your legs to the side under you.

“I didn’t say that.” He tugged gently on the hem, his fingers running over one of the luna moths. Your breath caught in your chest, and you couldn’t think of a single intelligent thing to say.

“Let me take them off,” he said, running his knuckles over your stockings. 

You shivered at his touch, and he gave you a ghost of a smile.

“Cold?” he asked.

“No.” It wasn’t the cold making you tremble like that, and he knew it.

He eased your dress up the littlest bit, and his gaze was steady on your face.

“Tell me to stop, sparrow,” he said. It wasn’t a challenge; you knew he’d stop the moment you told him to, and he was giving you the chance before he went any further.

With shaking hands, you pulled your dress up over your knees. He hooked his fingers behind your knee and drew your leg out from under your dress, supporting your ankle with one hand as he swept his free hand up to your thigh.

“Fancy,” he said, thumbing over the lace at the top of your thigh-highs. You felt heat race through your body.

“Do you like them too?” you asked. Your voice was nervous, and the desire in his eyes was softened by his smile.

“Yes, sparrow,” he said gently. “I like them too.”

He pulled the flimsy stocking down in a fluid movement, and you thrilled at the feel of his fingers on your skin.

“I like them better when they’re off, though,” he said, giving your thigh a feather-light kiss.

You sucked in a breath. “Jake.”

He eased that foot into the water and went for the other one, repeating his movements as he took your other stocking off; your skin sparked at his touch, his fingers trailing down your leg with tenderness and intention. He discarded your stockings onto the pile of his clothes, and no sooner had he returned to you than you spread your knees to let him stand between them.

“You’re naked,” you said.

He smirked. “We’ve been over this, sparrow.” He ran his hands over your thighs, pushing your dress up further. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” you said, breathless. “But you can’t stand me. Why did you want me to stay?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Are you going to let me kiss you, or do we have to go to therapy first?”

You quickly shook your head. “I want you to kiss me, Jake.”

He gave a pleased hum. “That’s better.”

He pressed his mouth to yours, and then it was only skin and heat and hunger between you. He raised his hand from the water and grazed a few fingers over your jaw, rivulets of warm water running down your throat. With the barest touch, he pulled you down to him; you went willingly, opening your mouth against his.

You let your hands wander over him, wanting to be as close to him as you could; you gave a choked groan when he kissed a love mark under your jaw.

“Jakey,” you sighed.

You felt his smile. 

“Jakey, huh?” He trailed kisses down your neck. “You’re so cute, sparrow.”

You flushed with pleasure, and you ducked your head to get him to kiss your lips again. He obliged you, opening his mouth to kiss you deeply, sighing when your fingers traced over his jaw. 

What was it that possessed you every time you were near him? This was all it had ever been between you — and probably all it ever would be, if this weekend was any indication. Maybe this was all it was meant to be. Maybe you would only ever have Jake like this, greedy for your kisses, pliant under your hands, your passion fueled by irritation and tension and frustration. Maybe you weren’t supposed to have anything more.

The thought could have driven you crazy. It could have made you sob until you couldn’t breathe. But you were drunk, and he was hungry for you, and you convinced yourself that it was enough.

You tangled your fingers in his hair.

“I want you,” you said, your voice tight. “Please, Jakey.”

He lifted his head from where he’d been kissing just above your sweetheart neckline.

“What?” he asked.

“I want you,” you repeated. One night would be enough. It had to be.

His expression faltered, and if you hadn’t known better, you could have sworn he looked guilty.

“Sparrow, that’s not — ” He shook his head. “We can’t. Not like this.”

“Why not?”

He sighed. “It’s... hard to explain.”

You touched his face. “You want me too, Jake, I know you do. We don’t have to overthink it.”

His expression was colored with regret and sadness. You felt something shift between you as you looked at him, some understanding, some gentleness that hadn’t been there before.

He put his hand over yours. “No, sweetheart.”

You felt an embarrassed blush creep into your cheeks, and almost wished he hadn’t been so sweet in his rejection. He let his hand fall when you pulled away, and he gave you space as you got to your feet.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “No, I’m sorry.” You were a little lightheaded as you stood, still drunk, and you closed your eyes and steadied yourself against the raised edge of the fire pit.

“Hold on,” he said, and you heard him get out of the water. He toweled off and got dressed quickly, and he was by your side shortly after.

“Come here, trouble,” he said, his voice soft and affectionate. He knelt and helped you put your shoes back on, and you suddenly realized how tired you were.

“My stockings?” you mumbled.

He patted his jacket pocket. “Right here. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

You nodded and let him lead you back to your cabin, wrapping your arm around his and leaning close. 

“Sorry I can’t carry you,” he said. “Between the snow and all the shit I had to drink, I’m pretty sure we’d both end up in the hospital if I tried.”

You laughed, and he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” he said sincerely. “I shouldn’t be so careless with you, sparrow. It’s not fair to you.”

You sighed. You knew what he meant. 

“We’re careless with each other, I think,” you said.

“One of our many talents.”

You gave a rueful smile. “That’s one way of putting it.”

When you got back to your cabin, Jake made sure you were taken care of first. He unclasped your necklace and unzipped your dress, and he got some medicine from his bag as you got into your pajamas.

“Drink up,” he said, giving you the medicine and a full glass of water. “Or you’re gonna have a hell of a headache tomorrow.”

You gave a soft groan. “I’ll probably have one either way. But the wedding’s not until late tomorrow, right?”

“Right,” he agreed. He took the empty glass from you and steered you towards the bed. “Plenty of time to sleep it off.”

You snuggled under the blankets, already feeling the pull of sleep. “You’re coming to bed soon?”

“In just a minute,” he assured you. He smiled as you tried to keep your eyes open. “You can fall asleep, sparrow. I won’t be offended.”

“I need to tell you something before I fall asleep,” you said.

He crossed to your side of the bed and hunkered down so you were face to face.

“What do you need to tell me?” he asked softly.

You could barely keep your eyes open, but it was important that you say what you needed to.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” you said. “About your ex. It was an awful thing to say. I know I hurt you, and I’d give anything to take it back.”

He brushed your hair back from your face. “I know, sparrow. I forgive you.” He kissed your nose, and you closed your eyes. “You can go to sleep now, sweetheart. I’ll come to bed soon.”

You gave a sleepy sigh. “Love you, Jakey.”

His thumb brushed gently over your cheek. “I love you too, sparrow.”

Read part four!

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka angst #sam kiszka x danny wagner #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #no strings attached fic #maddie writes stuff!

[hockeysweetheart]

I was thinking about Katniss saying she never wanted to have children. I noticed most of the time she said she never wanted kids Gale was involved. Yes there are points fear yes if her and Peeta had kids with Snow in power. Her children would have a one way ticket to the games.  But after the Peeta’s baby bomb she was like okay didn’t expect then then very shortly after she’s like well the damage is done thank god I had no say in this. and Then a few chapters later she was like it’s not my plan to have kids with Gale your crazy. 2 seconds later oh I dream of a world Peeta’s child is safe. 

Okay Katniss who knew Gale better but Peeta longer. She is totally like me Marry Gale ahahaha your so Funny Me Have his children pfft not a freaking Chance. But when it comes to Peeta she could of denied it but she didn’t. sure she said “it’s for an act” but she knows she was fooling herself saying that because of the sheer fact that she was like well he’s not that bad... blushes...  plus  she never worked up any excuse for Hey Peeta   we over. Because I truely beileve she  had feeling for him the whole damn time.  and when it came to Gale she’s like were friends. Peeta it’s like oh my god you saved my life I can’t live without you. ( without admitting shes in love with him).  becuase lord knows how long that took.  anyways I got off track a bit.  

I’ll say this again  she wanted to be with Gale because it would be the biggest slap in the face to the Capitol but she couldn’t let go of Peeta.  without Fail every single  time she had sparks with Gale  her Feelings for Peeta were not far behind.  Plus she totally burned that bridge when Gale came out as a player.  but It’s Gale confusing Katniss when they kissed. Because not once before the games did he say btw I like you any sign of it that Katniss caught on.  Whereas Peeta is flirting with Katniss the whole freaking time. and yes Katniss is a little slow to catch on so slow in fact it took Peeta  to tell the whole  world that he’s madly in love with the world before she realized that he was just a boy in love with me. ( in fact it took her longer to realize that).  

Okay Katniss is a bit slow to show it. But some kisses were for I couldn’t do this without you. That beach kiss was all love sweetheart ( at that point we all knew that Peeta won Katniss’s heart.)  But like Gale literally almost got whipped to death and her reaction was like was like just give him the meds to knock him out let him slip away. and for Peeta when he hit that force field it’s like  oh my god I cannot live without you. Don’t ever do that again. and like later without Peeta I’ll never be truely happy again. I do I need you. I’ll be damaged beyond repare with you gone.

Below are some refences I pulled up of The whole “ not having kids or marrying to doing both”  subject... 

chapter 1  the hunger games 

"We could do it, you know," Gale says quietly. "What?" I ask. "Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," says Gale. I don't know how to respond. The idea is so preposterous. "If we didn't have so many kids," he adds quickly. They're not our kids, of course. But they might as well be. Gale's two little brothers and a sister. Prim. And you may as well throw in our mothers, too, because how would they live without us? Who would fill those mouths that are always asking for more? With both of us hunting daily, there are still nights when game has to be swapped for lard or shoelaces or wool, still nights when we go to bed with our stomachs growling. "I never want to have kids," I say. "I might. If I didn't live here," says Gale. "But you do," I say, irritated. "Forget it," he snaps back. The conversation feels all wrong. Leave? How could I leave Prim, who is the only person in the world I'm certain I love? And Gale is devoted to his family. We can't leave, so why bother talking about it? And even if we did. even if we did. where did this stuff about having kids come from? There's never been anything romantic between Gale and me. When we met, I was a skinny twelve-year-old, and although he was only two years older, he already looked like a man. It took a long time for us to even become friends, to stop haggling over every trade and begin helping each other out. Besides, if he wants kids, Gale won't have any trouble finding a wife. He's good-looking, he's strong enough to handle the work in the mines, and he can hunt. You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find.

the hunger games chapter 3 

Finally, Gale is here and maybe there is nothing romantic between us, but when he opens his arms I don't hesitate to go into them. His body is familiar to me  -  the way it moves, the smell of wood smoke, even the sound of his heart beating I know from quiet moments on a hunt  -  but this is the first time I really feel it, lean and hard-muscled against my own.

the hunger games chapter 10

I don't know what to think. "I should have been told, so I didn't look so stupid." "No, your reaction was perfect. If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real," says Portia. "She's just worried about her boyfriend," says Peeta gruffly, tossing away a bloody piece of the urn. My cheeks burn again at the thought of Gale. "I don't have a boyfriend." "Whatever," says Peeta. "But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides you didn't say you loved me. So what does it matter?" The words are sinking in. My anger fading. I'm torn now between thinking I've been used and thinking I've been given an edge. Haymitch is right. I survived my interview, but what was I really? A silly girl spinning in a sparkling, dress. Giggling. The only moment of any substance I hail was when I talked about Prim. Compare that with Thresh, his silent, deadly power, and I'm forgettable. Silly and sparkly and forgettable. No, not entirely forgettable, I have my eleven in training.

the hunger games chapter 23 

Four of us left.

For the first time, I allow myself to truly think about the possibility that I might make it home. To fame. To wealth. To my own house in the Victor's Village. My mother and Prim would live there with me. No more fear of hunger. A new kind of freedom. But then. what? What would my life be like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I'm not really sure who I am, what my identity is. The idea scares me some. I think of Haymitch, with all his money. What did his life become? He lives alone, no wife or children, most of his waking hours drunk. I don't want to end up like that.

"But you won't be alone," I whisper to myself. I have my mother and Prim. Well, for the time being. And then. I don't want to think about then, when Prim has grown up, my mother passed away. I know I'll never marry, never risk bringing a child into the world. Because if there's one thing being a victor doesn't guarantee, it's your children's safety. My kids' names would go right into the reaping balls with everyone else's. And I swear I'll never let that happen.

catching fire chapter 2 ( this was what katniss was gonna say to gale after he kissed her)

That week I managed the snares and dropped off the meat with Hazelle. But I didn't see Gale until Sunday. I had this whole speech worked out, about how I didn't want a boyfriend and never planned on marrying, but I didn't end up using it. Gale acted as if the kiss had never happened.

Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. Or kiss him back. Instead I just pretended it had never happened, either. But it had. Gale had shattered some invisible barrier between us and, with it, any hope I had of resuming our old, uncomplicated friendship. Whatever I pretended, I could never look at his lips in quite the same way.

catching fire chapter 4 

In my room, I remove my sodden slippers, my wet robe and pajamas. There are more in the drawers but I just crawl between the covers of my bed in my underclothes. I stare into the darkness, thinking about my conversation with Haymitch. Everything he said was true about the Capitol's expectations, my future with Peeta, even his last comment. Of course, I could do a lot worse than Peeta. That isn't really the point, though, is it? One of the few freedoms we have in District 12 is the right to marry who we want or not marry at all. And now even that has been taken away from me. I wonder if President Snow will insist we have children. If we do, they'll have to face the reaping each year. And wouldn't it be something to see the child of not one but two victors chosen for the arena? Victors' children have been in the ring before. It always causes a lot of excitement and generates talk about how the odds are not in that family's favor. But it happens too frequently to just be about odds. Gale's convinced the Capitol does it on purpose, rigs the drawings to add extra drama. Given all the trouble I've caused, I've probably guaranteed any child of mine a spot in the Games.

catching fire chapter 18 

There. He's done it again. Dropped a bomb that wipes out the efforts of every tribute who came before him. Well, maybe not. Maybe this year he has only lit the fuse on a bomb that the victors themselves have been building. Hoping someone would be able to detonate it. Perhaps thinking it would be me in my bridal gown. Not knowing how much I rely on Cinna's talents, whereas Peeta needs nothing more than his wits. As the bomb explodes, it sends accusations of injustice and barbarism and cruelty flying out in every direction. Even the most Capitol-loving, Games-hungry, bloodthirsty person out there can't ignore, at least for a moment, how horrific the whole thing is. I am pregnant. The audience can't absorb the news right away. It has to strike them and sink in and be confirmed by other voices before they begin to sound like a herd of wounded animals, moaning, shrieking, calling for help. And me? I know my face is projected in a tight close-up on the screen, but I don't make any effort to hide it. Because for a moment, even I am working through what Peeta has said. Isn't it the thing I dreaded most about the wedding, about the future - the loss of my children to the Games? And it could be true now, couldn't it? If I hadn't spent my life building up layers of defenses until I recoil at even the suggestion of marriage or a family?

The moment we step off the elevator, Peeta grips my shoulders. "There isn't much time, so tell me. Is there anything I have to apologize for?"

"Nothing," I say. It was a big leap to take without my okay, but I'm just as glad I didn't know, didn't have time to second-guess him, to let any guilt over Gale detract from how I really feel about what Peeta did. Which is empowered.

catching fire chapter 24

Peeta won't let him, though. "It's too dangerous," he says. "I'm not tired. You lie down, Katniss." I don't object because I do need to sleep if I'm to be of any use keeping him alive. I let him lead me over to where the others are. He puts the chain with the locket around my neck, then rests his hand over the spot where our baby would be. "You're going to make a great mother, you know," he says. He kisses me one last time and goes back to Finnick. His reference to the baby signals that our time-out from the Games is over. That he knows the audience will be wondering why he hasn't used the most persuasive argument in his arsenal. That sponsors must be manipulated. But as I stretch out on the sand I wonder, could it be more? Like a reminder to me that I could still one day have kids with Gale? Well, if that was it, it was a mistake. Because for one thing, that's never been part of my plan. And for another, if only one of us can be a parent, anyone can see it should be Peeta. As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta's child could be safe.

mockingjay chapter 3 

I skim my list. "Gale. I'll need him with me to do this." "With you how? Off camera? By your side at all times? Do you want him presented as your new lover?" Coin asks. She hasn't said this with any particular malice - quite the contrary, her words are very matter-of-fact. But my mouth still drops open in shock. "What?" "I think we should continue the current romance. A quick defection from Peeta could cause the audience to lose sympathy for her," says Plutarch. "Especially since they think she's pregnant with his child." "Agreed. So, on-screen, Gale can simply be portrayed as a fellow rebel. Is that all right?" says Coin. I just stare at her. She repeats herself impatiently. "For Gale. Will that be sufficient?" "We can always work him in as your cousin," says Fulvia.

"We're not cousins," Gale and I say together.

"Right, but we should probably keep that up for appearances' sake on camera," says Plutarch. "Off camera, he's all yours. Anything else?"

I'm rattled by the turn in the conversation. The implications that I could so readily dispose of Peeta, that I'm in love with Gale, that the whole thing has been an act. My cheeks begin to burn. The very notion that I'm devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning. I let my anger propel me into my greatest demand. "When the war is over, if we've won, Peeta will be pardoned."

Dead silence. I feel Gale's body tense. I guess I should have told him before, but I wasn't sure how he'd respond. Not when it involved Peeta.

mockingjay

They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly. When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it. Carrying him was a little easier, but not much.

The questions are just beginning. The arenas have been completely destroyed, the memorials built, there are no more Hunger Games. But they teach about them at school, and the girl knows we played a role in them. The boy will know in a few years. How can I tell them about that world without frightening them to death? My children, who take the words of the song for granted:

My children, who don't know they play on a graveyard. Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other. And the book. We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver. But one day I'll have to explain about my nightmares. Why they came. Why they won't ever really go away. I'll tell them how I survive it. I'll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I'm afraid it could be taken away. That's when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I've seen someone do. It's like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years. But there are much worse games to play.

#thg #Katniss #katniss everdeen #Peeta #Peeta Mellark #gale hawthorne #gale #Hunger Games #The Hunger Games #CatchingFire #catching fire #mockingjay #katniss and peeta #everlark

[timelordthirteen]

Night Shift 3/?

Mr. Gold/Lacey French, Explicit

Summary: Now bite your tongue, it's too dangerous to fall so young. Take back what you said, can't lose what you never had.

Notes: Several people wanted a flashback, so here is one from happier times. Please note the rating change and the additional tags and warnings. For the 31 Days prompt #8: red.

[AO3]

Lacey’s red dress swished around her knees as she walked.

She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket and shivered, the wind biting at her bare legs and toes where they peeked through her sparkly, open toe heels. Initially, she hadn’t planned on going to Granny’s annual holiday party, but after the incident with Gold and the cider, she’d gone home and had a good cry, deciding that she wasn’t going to let the bastard ruin what little joy she still found in the holiday season. Granny’s party was always a good time, and the one night during the year where wearing her uniform to work was frowned upon. She might have chosen something a little more formal than necessary, but she really liked this dress.

It was a red velvet cocktail dress with a halter strap that went behind her neck and was finished with a satin bow that buttoned instead of tied, ensuring no accidental wardrobe malfunctions. The fabric crossed in the front, right over her chest, in a deep V, which paired well with her one and only push-up bra, and made her look like she had a lot more cleavage than she really did. She’d bought it a couple of years ago for another party, and only wore it once, which was criminal since she knew she looked fantastic in it.

Gold had certainly thought so at the time.

He’d been invited to a Christmas party given by a business contact in Boston and invited her along. They had only just started to be a thing, and a weekend in a big city, staying in a posh hotel room sounded heavenly. It had been, at the time, and looking back it had also been a real turning point in their relationship. After that, everything felt much more serious, or so she thought, and it wasn’t long before she was staying over at his house and sitting in his kitchen in nothing but his shirt, sipping wine while he made dinner.

She’d bought the dress just for that trip, spending way more than she would have normally, even dipping into her reserve fund to get shoes to go with it. He’d been suitably impressed when she came out of the bedroom, all sparkles and velvet with lace underneath. The entire party had been foreplay, and the memory made her stop and close her eyes as she sucked in a breath through her nose.

A moment later, Leroy called out a greeting to her, and Lacey shook her head, making her mess of brunette curls sway against her shoulders. She waved to Leroy, and then plastered on a wide smile as she pushed open the door to the diner.

December 2017

Lacey let out a small sigh as she leaned over and set her wine glass down on a nearby table.

The low neck of her dress afforded Gold a very tempting view from a few feet away, and he let his gaze drop for just a second before it snapped back up to hers like a magnet. Her lips curved, and there was no mistaking the the way her eyes darkened, igniting a low heat in his stomach. His tongue darted out to wet his mouth, and she crossed her legs together, sliding the sheer black stockings over each other, the delicate crystals set in them shimmering in the yellow glow of the dining room.

Gold finished off the rest of his scotch, and politely ended his conversation with Abe Midas, senior partner at the law firm throwing the party, and a man whom Gold had worked with for many years when he lived in the city. He turned around, frowning when he saw the table where Lacey had been was empty, but like a moth drawn to the fucking flame, he found her all the way across the room, standing by a side door. She made a small come hither gesture, then slipped through the door toward the back hallway off the hotel’s large banquet room. It took him several minutes of annoying hellos and how are yous as he tried to follow after her, and by the time he reached the door he was ready to take his cane to the next person to interrupted him.

He cleared his throat as he came through the door, just in case, but Lacey was there waiting for him, leaning against the wall in what seemed to be a rather secluded corridor. The din of the party was muted, making it feel as though they were truly alone, and he stepped closer

"What took you so long?" she asked, her speech just a little bit breathless as he trapped her between his body and the wall.

"All these bloody lawyers," he replied with a roll of his eyes.

She laughed lightly, trailing the tip of her index finger down his tie to where his suit jacket was buttoned. Then she hooked her finger over the fabric and pulled him closer, tipping her face up to brush her mouth against his.

“You looked like you needed a break from them.”

He smiled crookedly and nodded, bumping his nose into hers. “I did, thank you.”

She flicked her tongue over her bottom lip, and the motion is like a flint to stone, sparking something inside of him. He captured her mouth, kissing her hard and deep as he pushed her back against the wall. One hand goes to her hip, and hers wound around his neck, sighing into his mouth as her lips parted to invite him in.

Gold pulled back reluctantly. "We should probably not do this here." His voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat again.

Lacey touched her hands to either side of his face. Her lips were pink and already a bit swollen as she grinned. "Why not?"

Because there’s people on the other side of this wall.

Because we could get caught.

Because I’m bloody in love with you.

He said none of it and kissed her again. Her hands slid around his neck, her nails scraping against his nape, and a shiver ran down his spine, which she must have felt because she did it again and again. He tilted his head, sealing his mouth more firmly over hers, tongue dipping inside as she met him halfway with a soft, throaty moan. His hand skinmed down to squeeze her backside, and she arched her spine with a gasp as he pinned her in place with his lower body. Their hips met, and the sound that she made sent all his blood rushing down as stars danced across the inside of his eyelids, and his pulse thrummed with how badly he wanted her.

There's a new sense of urgency underscoring his need to learn for her, from the way she tasted to the feel of her skin, to how perfectly her body seemed to fit with his. Fuck, they should have skipped the party and never left the room.

His hand was under her dress before he knew it, pushing aside thin, damp silk to sample her wetness and pull a strangled noise from her throat. He leaned his forehead against hers, breathing heavy and fast as he pushed a finger inside her where she was hot and tight and already clenching around him.

“God, Lacey,” he gasped, feeling a thrill of pleasure wash over him as he added a second finger.

He watched her with a half-lidded gaze, drinking in the soft gasp that she made, and the way her lashes fluttered shut as her mouth forms around a small, strained oh. He pulled nearly all the way out just to feel her pussy tense as his fingers entered her again, and she rocked her hips forward until he was as deep inside her as possible. She snuck a hand down between them and ran her palm against the hard ridge of his cock where it throbbed against the front of his trousers, making him groan. Their mouths fell back together, the kiss half breaking apart from the weight of each hitch in their breathing.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, her head moving and knocking lightly against his.

“Can’t wait to fuck you, Lacey. I’ll make you come so hard, sweetheart, until you beg me stop.” She whimpered at that, and he nipped her puffy bottom lip. “And then I’ll wring one more out of you.”

He built a steady rhythm with her, thrusting his hips into her hand at the same time as he pressed up inside her, until they were both rutting against each other in earnest. For a long moment, there was nothing but Lacey, her quietly stifled moans in his ear, and the tickle of her hair where it brushed against his cheek until a telltale warmth bloomed deep down. He slowed just long enough to shift his hand and rub into her clit, the nub of it swollen and deliciously sensitive, making her whole body twitch like a live wire when he moved his thumb over it in tight, rough circles.

He couldn’t wait to get her upstairs and into a bed and make good on his promise, to make the whole room smell of sex and her perfume. She keened and threw an arm out against the wall for purchase, her nails scratching the wallpaper as she came hard. After she came down and her breathing returned to near normal, he wiped his hand off his pocket square and tucked it in his jacket.

“Had enough small talk and hors d'oeuvres for one night?” she asked, looking up at him through her lashes as she reached for his belt.

She gave it a small tug, and his eyelids fluttered, closing briefly as he felt his cock pulse with need. “Yes,” he managed. “I think I’m ready for the main course now.”

Gold’s hand tightened around the handle of his cane as he watched Lacey enter Granny’s diner.

All he had to see was the dark red peeking out beneath her coat to know what she was wearing, and to remember what it was like to strip it off of her and make her scream. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, swearing he could still smell her scent on him in that back hallway outside the hotel banquet room.

A week ago, he’d made the regrettable choice to confront her and ended up with a lap full of hot cider, though it only did damage to his trousers. There’d been a general stickiness he had to shower off his legs, but on the whole he figured he rather deserved all that and more. He could have opened with an apology, probably should have over a year ago when they’d first had their falling out, but always was obnoxiously stubborn in that regard, never doing what was best for him, particularly when his defenses were up. His first reaction was always to lash out, to tear down the other person and make them cease to be a threat, except all that had managed to do was strain his relationship with his son and completely alienate the woman he loved.

Gold swallowed against the thick lump in his throat and let his head drop.

He still loved her.

And that, he supposed, was a fitting punishment, being forced to carry around all the feelings and memories, unable to do anything with them, or exorcise them from his heart. He’d tried after all, tried hating her, tried forgetting her, but it was all in vain. She seemed to have forgotten him just fine, after switching her life around specifically to avoid him. How she’d managed it so well in a town of less than five thousand people he’d never know, but then again he was quite the predictable homebody, so he supposed it wasn’t all that difficult. But now that he knew where she was and what she was doing, now that he could see her every day from a distance, it was like salt in the wound.

He exhaled and looked up again, staring through the shop window at the lights across the street, the warm glow of Granny’s party like a beacon through the snowy night, advertising food and fellowship and terrible Christmas music. There’d been a moment when he was with Lacey where he thought he could have that kind of life, but he’d bitterly thrown it all away. Somewhere along the line, his life had become a prison of his own making, and no matter how much he piled his beloved things up around him there was no comfort in it anymore.

Sighing heavily, he turned away from the window and pulled on his coat. The night air was bitterly cold, and the snow had changed from light flurries blown about by the slightest wind, into wet, heavy flakes that were quickly covering every surface. He scowled as he walked to his car, slower than usual to avoid any icy patches, but a sound caught his attention.

Across the street, Lacey came stumbling out of the side door of Granny’s into the alley by the dumpsters, and he watched as a tall figure followed after her. His eyes narrowed when he realized it was that scumbag Keith Nott, and his lips curled back to reveal a flash of teeth as he took a step into the street. Keith appeared to give Lacey a push, and then said something Gold couldn’t make out. A moment later, the two were in shadow, and a few seconds after that he heard Lacey cry out.

Lacey pressed her hands to Keith’s chest and pushed hard, but the lumbering idiot wouldn’t budge.

“Keith,” she said loud and firm, “I said no, now get off me!”

Keith sneered down at her and held her against the wall. “Come on, baby, why else did you come out here?”

“To get away from you!” she spat.

He leaned in, bringing his stomach turning beer breath close, and she turned her face away with a wince. A second later, the pressure on her shoulders was gone, so was the smell of Keith, and she could feel a sharp, cold rush of air against her.

She blinked, and then gasped as she saw Keith curled up on the pavement, held there by something pressing into his side.

“I believe,” came Gold’s voice, as he stepped out of the shadows and pushed the end of his cane harder against Keith’s ribs, “that the lady said no.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #golden lace #golden lace fic #night shift #fic #my golden lace fic #31 days of fandomas #fandomas 2019

[ladynuwanda]

Heart of Darkness (Michael LangdonXFemale Reader) - Chapter 4: Sealed with a Kiss

Waking up at a place you don’t know where it is having no idea how the hell you’ve gotten there. What fun.

 All I could feel was a blinding pain at the back of my head, but when I tried to bring a hand to it I saw that I couldn’t move it. In fact I couldn’t move at all. Anything except my eyes, and I was looking around madly, as best as I could, panic growing in my chest. I was lying on a hard surface, like a table, in a dim-lit room, I could see there was someone else in the room from the corner of my eyes.

It was a man, not much more than a boy, walking busily around the room, lighting candles and reciting words in what sounded like Latin. When he turned around I lost my breath for a moment and I felt like my heart had skipped a beat. He had the most beautiful face I had even seen in my life, framed by silky golden curls. It’s not an exaggeration when I say he looked like an angel. His face looked positively radiant, specially in contrast with his black clothes, but his expression was so utterly miserable, it was sort of heartbreaking.

 He stopped by the table, speaking louder now (definitely Latin, and although I couldn’t quite make out the actual meaning of the words, it already sounded ominous enough) and I saw a flash of silver when he raised his red gloved hands. A knife. Oh, shit! I would have screamed if I could make a sound. The fact that he didn’t look very happy either was no consolation. He looked at me like he was about to apologise and I could tell something made him stop on his tracks. “You’re not a virgin”, he furrowed his brows at me.

 Panic gave place to confusion, and I felt a crease appearing between my eyebrows as well. He rolled his eyes muttering “oh, fuck it” under his breath. With a careless red wave of one hand whatever was holding me still was gone, and I could move again. I sat up on the table as he walked to an armchair and sat down looking exhausted. I knew I was definitely not off whatever hook he had me on, but I couldn’t avoid the warm feeling of relief that took me when he dropped the knife to the floor by the armchair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 “You were supposed to be a virgin. I can’t believe Miss Mead got it wrong... she was never wrong, you see? Not my Miss Mead!”, I was thinking that it was funny the way he said “my Miss Mead”, like everyone was supposed to have a Miss Mead, but that made me think of the lady I met at work. She had pleasant manners and sparkly green eyes, and I remember thinking I wanted to look half as cool when I got to her age, with the faux mohawk and black lipstick... the pain on the back of my head stung again. Whoever this Miss Mead was, she probably knocked me unconscious and dragged me to this place.

 He was still muttering to himself and I had no idea what I was supposed to do or say when his blue gaze fell on me again “... I mean, you ARE the girl from the library, right?”. I nodded stupidly. “And you’re not a virgin... now that’s a surprise!”, I wasn’t sure if I should be more offended that he simply assumed I was a virgin because I worked in the library, or by his disgusted tone when he said I wasn’t. I couldn’t tell exactly what kind of shaming he was giving me, but I knew there was some. And to my surprise I heard myself saying “I’m sorry” like a complete idiot.

 “Well, you should be! You were supposed to serve a greater purpose, I was supposed to consume the heart of a virgin tonight... but now I can’t, can I? Miss Mead is already back at Kineros to have her memory erased and it’s too late for me to find and capture someone else before the eclipse is over.”, very little of what he said made any sense to me, and he seemed to be talking more to himself anyway, but I think I got the meaning of the part about consuming a heart. Consuming. What a civilised way to say he was gonna cut my chest open with that silver knife of his, rip my bloody heart out and eat it raw before my corpse was even cold. “All because you humans have to succumb to lust all the time... was it lust, or are you gonna tell me it was love?”, his icy blue eyes were on me again.

 What was I going to say? Should I tell him it was love? Would that somehow make me less tainted, and therefore more eligible for heart-eating? Why should I even be honest to this psycho? Was I supposed to open my metaphorical heart to this very literal heart-eater? What for? But then I noticed something weird in what he’d just said “you humans”? This whole conversation somehow managed to get crazier by the minute...

 He raised himself from the armchair and was walking towards me now. “It was love. You loved him dearly. He was... your best friend. You trusted him with your life, but he betrayed that trust. He broke your heart”, he placed both hands, in those unsettling red gloves, on  the table in front of me, by my feet, and looked deep into my eyes, “I can see it like a physical trait, you carry it around like a scar.”. I felt tears stinging my eyes and looked away. How did he know? Who was this guy? WHAT was he? “Was it worth it? Giving yourself to this man only to have your heart crushed afterwards... human-beings are pathetic with this obsession with carnal pleasure. And the way you think it has something to do with love... It’s pitiful, really.”

 “Why do you talk about human beings like that... like you’re not one?”, what was I thinking? Why was I asking that kind of question to this lunatic? Was I so in shock that I was no longer thinking properly? He merely chuckled. “Because I’m not.”, he turned his face the other way and pulled his hair to the side, to show me this painful looking mark behind his ear, a small 666 in an intricate design that seemed to have been iron branded there. He looked at me again and his face was no longer his face, it was a white mask of evil that made my blood freeze in my veins. Just as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone and he was giving me the most angelic smile. “My name is Michael Langdon, and I am the Antichrist.” I can’t explain why, and it wasn’t just the satisfied tone in which he had said those words, but I knew this wasn’t a trick. He was the real deal, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind. I knew it in my very soul, and fear took hold of my heart like it was grabbed by a cold hand.

 He walked around the table and sat casually next to me, it looked almost like we were school kids, chatting in between classes. It‘s amazing that, with everything that was going on, there was still room left in my brain to think about how nice he smelled. “I know you wanna ask me another question... come on, don’t be shy”, he smirked, he seemed to be having fun. Like a particularly wicked cat playing with a mouse before killing it off. “It’s so annoying how people never seem to be able to be honest with me... they always get all ‘pleases’ and ‘I’m sorrys’, they never answer my questions with the truth, it’s always what they think I wanna hear, you have no idea how frustrating it is!”, I talked before I could stop myself “Well can you blame them?”, I made a sound that was very much like laughter and pressed my lips together to keep myself from talking any longer.

 Shock. Definitely shock. What else but shock could explain the way I was talking to the actual Devil? But he didn’t seem angry, he was more... amused. “What do you mean?”, the smirk was almost a grin now. Well, fuck it. I’m probably not gonna leave this place alive, anyway, why should I worry about what I say to him? “Well...” I continued like I didn’t care at all about my own life “... you’ve got that whole situation going on”, I made a vague hand gesture encompassing his attire, “don’t get me wrong! It’s fantastic! But maybe just a little... intense. You can’t dress like that and then act surprised when people are a little intimidated by you!”

 He was laughing. The Antichrist was laughing at something I had said. Not laughing at me, but sorta with me. Like he was enjoying my company. Like this was... fun? The same man who was casually talking about eating my heart out a few moments before. “I guess you’re right” he was giving me the brightest of smiles now “maybe I am intimidating, as you say. I’ll tell you what: I promise not to hurt you during this entire conversation, if you promise me you’re gonna be a hundred percent honest, deal?”

 In case you haven’t noticed, he never promised he wasn’t going to kill me eventually. And then there was the fact that the actual Devil was offering me an actual deal. I realised I had very little to lose at this point so I shook the hand he offered me. “Good! Now, I’m hungry... are you hungry? We should find something to eat, since you’ve ruined my original dinner plans...” he jumped off the table laughing at his own dark joke “... I can’t cook, tho, can you cook? Nevermind! We’ll have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and call it the night. Do you like peanut butter and jelly?”, “Yes” my reply was barely more than a whisper, and I still couldn’t make myself move as he was already leaving the room. He stopped by the door and looked at me “Come on! I think my Miss Mead left me some chocolate milk in the fridge... it should be a little treat!”, he flashed me another bright smile. Still feeling slightly lightheaded, I followed the Antichrist into his Miss Mead’s kitchen.

 He threw his leather coat on the back of a chair and discarded the red gloves on the counter, he was untying his ascot (an ascot! now that’s something you don’t see everyday...) and unbuttoning the collar of his dress shirt. He was still insanely overdressed for a peanut butter and jelly dinner, but he seemed far more relaxed. I, on the other hand, felt absurdly underdressed in a sleeveless little thing, that looked more like a white nightgown, and absolutely nothing underneath. The sheer fabric made me feel exposed, so I braced myself, rubbing my own arms with my hands. As if the feeling of warmth from the gesture could make me feel less vulnerable. “Are you cold? Here...”, he took off his jacket and placed it over my shoulders, his hands were surprisingly gentle and warm, but the unexpected touch made me shiver, anyway. He didn’t seem to notice and proceeded to folding up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing lightly tanned forearms, with veins that looked like they had been carved in marble.

 He placed a tall glass of chocolate milk on the table and pulled me a chair, turning around to busy himself with cupboard doors, plates and sandwich ingredients. I sat down, looking at the glass and thinking about how surreal this was. I wanted to be afraid of him. I knew I should run away from that kitchen. But he was being so... nice! He was humming tunelessly to himself while preparing sandwiches, it felt like he was genuinely happy to have company for dinner. But I wasn’t imagining things, was I? He had been about to carve my heart out a few moments before, hadn’t he? So how could I feel so warm and cosy in his company now? Is that what Stockholm Syndrome feels like?

 A few minutes later he put a plate in front of me, with a PB&J sandwich in it. I had to smile a little to myself when I noticed that the crust had been neatly cut out. He sat on the chair across from me and took his own sandwich in his large hands. As I saw him take a ravenous bite I couldn’t help thinking about what had been originally on the menu tonight. It was only after he licked strawberry jam off one of his long fingers that he looked at me again. It would be a big fat lie if said I could taste the sandwich at all, but I had been chewing my first bite for a long time before I remembered how swallowing worked.

 “What did you need a virgin’s heart for?”, I asked before I could stop myself. “It was a ritual”, he swallowed the bite he had been chewing, “to bring me closer to my father, to give me power so I could fulfil his purpose. I guess I’m gonna have to make do without it now” he shrugged. “My turn: how come you’re not a virgin, Library-Girl? We’ve been watching you... you’re not seeing anyone, you’ve got very little social life to begin with. It was an honest mistake, if you think about it...”

 Like hell it was! So I was almost murdered over a stereotype? The spinster librarian, who lives alone with a thousand cats... Ridiculous! Except that I really was single. And I did have a cat. Oh, no! My cat! I hoped my next door neighbour would notice I had not come home, and use the spare-key to get into my apartment and feed my Vanilla, when she was feeding her Luna... Do you think Langdon would let me use the phone for a second?

 “You said so yourself, I was in love. And he broke my heart.”, that’s definitely the least comfortable sex-talk in the entire history of conversations. “Ah, but he wasn’t the only one, was he? You also did it with guys you were not in love with... why?”, it wasn’t a rhetorical question, he seemed honestly puzzled. And he was right. Even after having my heart shattered to pieces, I could still take other men into my bed. I hadn’t trusted anyone again, but that doesn’t mean I had chosen celibacy. I had to think for a while before replying this time “Because... it feels good.”, it was my turn to shrug now. He slapped the table, startling me, “I knew it! See, that’s the problem with mankind, that’s why you’re all doomed: you only care about immediate gratification. Sex, drugs... whatever! You’re just walking around the Earth looking for your next high, destroying everything on the way...”

 “You’re telling me that you don’t have this problem?” to be honest, I was beginning to feel a little tired of his air of superiority. “I’m not blinded by instincts, like you people. My actions are not motivated by animalistic impulse, I have a purpose.” He took a deep breath and drank from his glass of chocolate milk “But that’s not the question’s that’s been pulsing in your brain for the last few minutes, is it? Go ahead, ask it.”

 “So you are... a virgin?”

“Naturally.”

“You’ve got a milk moustache.”

 What?! I needed to gain some time! “Naturally” was so not the answer I was expecting! He wiped his lips with a napkin and met my eyes again “Why is that such a foreign concept to you?”

 “Because there’s a crazy little thing called desire... it’s a very powerful force!”

“Distractions.”

“Welcome distractions!”

“Not really.”

“You must have been a very weird teenager...”

“I was never a teenager.”

 The look of confusion on my face probably spoke volumes, for he kept talking “I was born on the 14th of December, 2011. One night, a couple of years ago, I went to bed as a child, and the next morning I woke up... like this.” Flawless, would have been the natural complement to this statement, but for once I managed to stay quiet, I just kept looking at him wide-eyed with my mouth slightly open. “You look cold... are you done eating? Let’s take this conversation to the living room, there’s a nice fireplace there.”, without waiting for a reply, he got up and kept talking as he left the kitchen “I had a reason to grow up so fast, you see, there were things that needed to be done...”, I followed him because he seemed really pleased to have an audience to whom he could talk about his life goals, but also because I didn’t want to be left alone in the kitchen with that strange dark altar behind the table.

 He sat on the rug in front of the fireplace and took off his weird looking goat shoes “you, humans, let yourselves be distracted by what you believe is a higher purpose... women tell themselves they’re looking for love, men make themselves believe they want power, but in the end you all want one thing: immediate gratification. Usually through carnal pleasure. I cannot let myself be distracted by that...” I sat down on the rug as far from him as I could, still wrapping myself on his jacket “But weren’t you ever curious?”, I knew I was!

 “I’m not curious, I’m on a mission!”

“But it’s not just that! Sure, it is pleasant... but it’s also about connection.”

“Connection? With people? Please... what part of that should I find enticing?”

“I’m serious! It’s not just about having pleasure, it’s about sharing it with someone! Having each other at the most vulnerable and the most powerful, at the same time... we all crave that feeling with every fibre of our beings! Don’t you?”

 He looked at me and I could see blue flames dancing in his eyes, there was nothing of the ice that had been there before. He was all fire, and I felt my own cheeks burning as well. I was panting, and I didn’t know why. I couldn’t hold his gaze much longer, I lowered my eyes to his exposed collarbones. That was worse. Far worse. I felt my entire body burn, now. I bit my lower lip and heard a low chuckle. “If that’s such a magical, intense pleasure... why do people get so mad about rape?”, there was a bitterness to his voice, like this was a very personal subject to him. Clearly he wasn’t speaking from first-hand experience, or he wouldn’t need to ask this question, but he was clearly talking about someone who was close to him. “Because rape isn’t sex, it’s violence. If I hit you on the face with a shovel, you wouldn’t exactly call it gardening, would you?”, it was his turn to bite his lower lip “Fair enough.”, he nodded.

 After a heartbeat he lifted his eyes to me again, they were glowing warm like molten silver, incredibly sweet. His cheeks were flushed, as imagine mine were too, his rosy lips still wet in the firelight, the silvery blue eyes resting on mine for what seemed forever as he took a deep breath. “Would you show me?”, his voice much lower than it had been the entire evening. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close, and covered his lips  with mine.

 He responded with an enthusiasm I could not have anticipated, pulling me impossibly close and kissing me back with a thirst that felt entirely new. His honey lips on mine while his entire body felt made of flames, and I was happy to be consumed by his flames. The moment his delicate tongue found mine, I felt a deep moan vibrating from de back of his throat. I was already aching for him. I straddled his hips, trying to find contact, grinding down for friction. I wanted to feel him with my entire body. I felt like I would never be truly satisfied unless every molecule in my body was touching every molecule in his.

 My fingers were working the buttons of his waistcoat and dress-shirt, removing his leather belt, with feverish desire. His lips and tongue caressing my neck so lightly I almost cried. His upper body seemed carved in marble, perfectly smooth and slightly tanned... so warm to the touch, so inviting. He held me in a sweet embrace for a moment, while we both tried to steady our breathing. His large hands firmly on my back, my fingers running down his while I kissed his shoulder. We remained there for a moment, just breathing together, enjoying each other’s warmth and closeness.

 His kisses started on my neck, moved to my jawline making me grind down on him again, gasping slightly. His hands moved from my back, his touch ghosting over my breasts. He pulled back a little to look me in the eyes, asking for permission. I took his trembling hands on mine and kissed his fingertips lovingly, slowly. Then I placed them on my breasts. He inhaled shakily and closed his eyes, I moved my hips a little and watched, not without a little satisfaction, a small crease forming between his eyebrows as he moaned softly, his lips slightly parted.

 He buried his face on my chest, kissing the tops of my breasts that weren’t covered by the white nightgown, his hands gently kneading me where the skin was not exposed. His thumbs found my nipples through the thin fabric, touching them in circular motions. I steadied the pace of my hips, my whole body shaking, I felt myself clench around nothing, craving to feel him inside me.

 He laid me down on the rug, and removed his trousers and underwear before lying next to me. Holding his head with one hand, supported on his elbow, he ran his fingers up my dress, his fingertips barely touching the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, his gaze never leaving mine. The molten silver in his eyes seemed to come to a boil when he found the wetness between my legs. He slipped one finger inside me and I threw my head back, eyes closed, biting my lip to keep myself from whining. He pulled the finger out and slid it back in, with a another finger this time. He bent both fingers a little, reaching that sweet spot inside me and I arched my back, a loud moan escaped my mouth.

 He kissed my shoulder that was nearest him, while he pleasured me with his fingers. “Can I...” his voice was slightly raspy, so he cleared his throat “May I... taste you?”, I nodded looking in his eyes. I don’t think I could speak to save my life at that moment. Without looking away he pulled his fingers from inside me and took them to his own mouth, sucking them clean. His eyes still intently on mine he leaned over and kissed me slow and deep. I could taste myself on his tongue, and that only made me want him more.

 He moved on top of me, his legs between mine, his hands pulling the white dress up above my head. At that moment I felt something I had never felt before. Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Lying under his body, no fabric between us, just skin on skin. His eyes on mine. It just felt right, somehow. Like this was the only reason I was put on this world: to feel him, to look at him. But I needed more. I reached for him with one hand and slowly guided him inside me. It was only when he filled me up that I felt truly complete.

 His eyes were closed, his exhaling almost a sob. He lost himself to the sensation. I was trying to get used to his size, it was more than I had ever felt, he was stretching me out in a way that wasn’t at all unpleasant. He pulled out a little and pushed himself in again, whimpering lightly. He looked so young, so helpless, without thinking I placed my hand on his cheek and he opened his eyes looking almost surprised to find me there, his face lit up with a smile when his eyes found mine and he kissed me, moving his hips away, never leaving me entirely, before sliding back in harshly, making us both break the kiss gasping.

 “I’m sorry... did I hurt you?”, his hand on my hair, his eyes on mine again. “Quite the opposite!”, I giggled and he did the same, relaxing a little. “You don’t need to hold back, Michael. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

 Now, why would I say something stupid like that? No matter how big a girl I was, this man was still a little more than human. I’m pretty sure he could tear me apart if he wanted to. But now my words made him relaxed enough to pound into me without mercy. He would at times pull himself entirely out and slam back in with a loud groan, his forehead resting on mine, tears stinging my eyes. He was going so deep, so hard, I knew I was gonna be sore in the morning, but it really didn’t matter then. Pleasure and pain. It’s amazing how often those two can go side by side.

 At other times he would take himself out and slide back in agonisingly slow. As much as I craved to have him filling me up again, his moaning during those times was music to my ears. And when I felt him back inside me to the brim, I could cry in ecstasy, my fingernails on the smooth skin pf his back. His face showed nothing but wonder when he would look at me while burying himself deeper between my legs. Sometimes he would just close his eyes in abandon, and I felt tears leaving my eyes. I had never seen anything so beautiful.

 His thrusts grew sloppier, he was losing himself to the feeling again. Panting heavily against my face, whimpering bellow his breath. I dug my fingernails on his back when my orgasm washed over me, making me clench around him, milking him for his. Throwing his head back, he came undone, throbbing inside me. Tears spilling from his closed eyes, a soft moan escaping his parted lips. He looked so much like an innocent boy as he looked like a mighty god. As the wave of pleasure washed away, he touched my forehead with his again. Both of our sweaty bodies shaking, while we did our best to breath normally again.

 “Thank you.”, his voice was very low, almost shy. And I giggled, surprised, at his unusual post-coital remark, “Sure, any time!”. “What? People don’t usually say that?”, he was chuckling a little himself as he looked at me. “They really don’t!”, we were both laughing now. He brushed his nose on mine “But I really do... thank you, I mean.” he looked very serious now, and I kissed him as tenderly as I knew how. Trying to tell him with my lips and my tongue what I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud: that I was thankful, too. It had been an honour and a privilege... and a pleasure. So much pleasure, it didn’t seem to belong in this world.

 He fell asleep with his head on my chest. I ended up dozing off myself, while running my fingers through his hair. Just savouring the perfectly blissful moment, the weight of his body, the scent of his hair, the peaceful sound of his breathing lulling me to sleep.

 I woke up on the sofa, apparently someone had carefully placed my sleeping body there and covered me up with a blanket. This someone was sitting on the rug now, wearing nothing but his boxers and black dress-shirt, with the sleeves still rolled up. He had all his attention focused on the binders before him, that he was leafing through by the firelight. The white dress I had bieen wearing was very tidily folded over the cushion by my head. I grabbed it and put it on, standing up.

 He looked up and gave me one of the bright smiles that I was beginning to grow fond of. (Who am I kidding? By now my heart was already doing somersaults whenever he would so much as glance in my general direction...) “I didn’t mean to wake you up... you were sleeping so peacefully!”, he held out a hand, inviting me join him by the fire. “How long was I out?”, again. I was beginning to wonder if I was keeping track of time AT ALL, at this point. “Less then an hour, don’t worry...”, cupping my face in one hand he kissed me slow and tenderly. He ended the kiss in a grin of contentment, touching my forehead with his and gently brushing his thumb on my cheek.

 “What are these?”, I pointed at the binders with my chin. “Cooperative papers, plans for the safety bunkers, boring but necessary stuff... I was trying to find a way to place you in one of the Outposts”, as usual most of what he was saying made no sense to me, and also as usual it probably showed on my face. He took a deep breath, and lowered his eyes, he seemed to be making an effort to speak now “Listen, you don’t need to panic, I’ve got it all figured out, I had a meeting last week, with some people... big... important people... you may call them World Leaders”, he did quotation marks with his fingers at these two words, “we’re working on building strategically placed Outposts, to protect those who can make an intellectual or cultural, or even biological, contribution to the world we’ll be creating.”

 “I’m sorry?”

“I told you I was on a mission... humanity is doomed, there’s going to be... an incident. Involving nuclear bombs. A few months from now. After the Nuclear Winter, we’ll have a chance to start over, make everything new, from scratch. Make it... better.”

 I got up on reflex, getting away from him in horror. How could he be so calm when he was talking about the death of billions of people? And then I remembered: he was the Antichrist after all. What was I thinking? That he was just the sweet boy I made love with? How could I forget this not so small detail about him? “You don’t need to be scared... it’s alright” he was getting himself up too “Trust me. I can keep you safe.”

 “I don’t wanna be safe! This is insane... you can’t be serious!”, I felt more naked now then I did when he took my dress off. “I will rebuild the world in my father’s image, it will be a better world!”, he took my hand “And you’ll be there to see it! No more lies, no more hypocrisy... imagine that! The end of treason and ignorance,  only the truth and knowledge will be allowed to exist in this new world. But we can’t achieve that with humanity as it is...”

 I pulled my hand from his grasp, but I couldn’t speak. I just stood there shaking my head in disbelief, looking at him through the tears in my eyes. He grabbed one of the binders that were resting on the rug “I found the perfect spot for you actually, the newly-elected president of a South-American country is pure scum! A very unpleasant little man... just the sound of his voice is enough to set my teeth on edge! I never wanted him taking someone’s place in the Outposts, anyway...”

 “Stop it, Michael! Stop this nonsense! I don’t wanna take anybody’s place in the Outposts... scum, or not!”

“You don’t know what you’re saying...”

“I do! I don’t wanna be some privileged asshole safely hidden in a bunker somewhere while the rest of the world bursts in flames!”

 “You won’t be thinking that when you feel your flesh burning from your bones and you’re reduced to nothing but ashes!”, he nearly shouted the words at me, and I was downright terrified. In that moment I realised that I had never seen him angry, and the idea of it was scarier than the Armageddon itself. He took a few deep breaths, I saw he was trying to calm himself down. He took me in his arms, one hand on my waist the other on my hair, his forehead on mine again “please, please... I don’t wanna lose you... you gave me something I never knew was even possible... please let me save you... stay with me...”, I could tell by his voice that he was on the verge of tears himself.

 “Michael, listen to me. I don’t care about surviving if everyone else is going to die. When the world is consumed in flames, I want to be with my family. Surrounded by the people I love the most. With music, laughter and good food. I want to be in my Grandma’s backyard. Eating one more of the delicious meals prepared by my aunt. While my brother plays our favourite songs on the guitar. I wanna be holding my mother’s hand. My little niece sitting on my knee, telling me a funny story. THAT’s how I’d want to go. That’s the kind of person I am!”

 He looked at me through teary eyes “Is that your final word?”, I put my hand on his face and kissed his lips very softly “Yes.”, silent tears were streaming down his cheeks now “You don’t need to save me. The privilege of dying happy is all the salvation I need... Just give me a heads up, if you can. So I can go back home to my family in time, will you?”. He swallowed hard, and his expression became even harder. His eyes went cold all at once, with that familiar icy glint, and the remaining tears running down his cheeks looked completely out of place on a face devoid of emotion. “I will not let you down”, his voice hard and cold as steel. With both hands, surprisingly warm and gentle, on my shoulders he kissed me very softly between the eyebrows.

 After that I remember being back at the library. With no idea how I had gotten there. In fact I had no idea I had ever left. I worked there for the next months as if that night had never happened. Like I had never been kidnapped by someone’s Miss Mead, or met the boy-Devil with the face of an angel. I didn’t even remember I had loved that boy for eternity in one night. And I definitely had no clue of the nuclear holocaust to come. In fact, it was just another day’s work at the library when the Cooperative officers arrived, less than an year later, to take me to the Outpost.

 To bring me here.

 It was bad enough living in Outpost 3 all this time, with all their rules and the fear, knowing everyone I had ever loved, everyone I knew, had died a most horrible death. But knowing that I was standing face to face with the man responsible for ending the world was a horror beyond comprehension. And we had been so... intimate. Our encounters had not been numerous, neither had they lasted for more than one night at a time. But those had probably been the most intense nights of my life. I knew I loved that man. Damn my soul, I loved him with everything I was. But I also hated him. For everything he’d done I hated him. For destroying my world and killing everyone I knew... TWICE.

 I heard sounds from downstairs, one of the heavy isolation doors opening and closing again. Someone was inside the outpost. Before I could say anything, before I even had a chance to react to my newly recovered memories, Michael pulled me to himself and kissed me with a burning passion that I couldn’t help responding to. “Go to your room.”, he was speaking through gritted teeth, “Stay there. Whatever you hear, don’t come out. Wait for me.”

 “Michael, you don’t really think...”

“For once in your life, do as I say!” and then much softer “Please.”

 The desperation on his face was more than enough to silence my protests. Without another word I turned around and left for my room. As I was closing the door, I looked at him one last time, his silvery-blue eyes were on me, and those beautiful lips formed the word “go” in silence. I heard footsteps, apparently entering the great hall, and Mead came to his side in the balcony looking worried. They exchanged a glance and Michael’s face was transformed by rage, for a split second I thought I saw a flash of the white faced demon again. The last thing I heard before the door clicked shut were the sweet tones of a woman’s voice coming from downstairs. She spoke very softly, but I could hear her clear as day:

 “Find our sisters.”

#Michael Langdon #American Horror Story #AHS Apocalypse #AHS fandom #Michael Langdon fanfic #Michael LangdonXFemale Reader #Cody Fern

[demigodofhoolemere]

Had a very... interesting dream? One of those dreams that feels like you’re watching an incredibly detailed movie that actually has a semi-cohesive plot to it.

Scott Lang somehow ended up in space (I think John Crichton style through a wormhole?) and got stuck on this planet where people trapped living on a space station (not floating in space, mind you - there was a planet outside, but no one lived out there) are forced to gamble with powerful crystals, and they’re playing it at the top of this incredibly high up shaft (picture what Luke falls down in Empire Strikes Back, just much much worse) and the seats and game board are alarmingly close to the edge, and if their randomly chosen opponent has the more powerful crystal, they get thrown down this shaft and I assume killed. The people who made it this far in the "game" (apparently you have to "play" other levels to get here) consider each other to be brothers and sisters, since they’re all stuck in the same horrific boat. Even though they were terrified, whoever had the power to make them do this had somehow drilled it into the whole station's heads that this was an honorable way to live and die and that they should be grateful. One of the players was Jaimie Alexander's character in Blindspot even though I don’t watch that show, and she was apparently the champion who had been here the longest and the only one who didn’t look properly afraid.

Scott was somehow trapped into playing this final round with the competition, even though he’d never been here before and had no idea how to play. He realized that some of the crystals were actually Infinity Stones and was shocked that people were simply using them like poker chips. By sheer luck he made it quite far, outliving a few people who plummeted down the drop, which rightly horrified him both from the barbarism and the height. I think my fear of heights was given to him, because my unconscious felt extremely dizzy and sick looking down through Scott's eyes, which made him almost throw up and eventually he outright had to leave the table because he felt sick from watching people fall down that and he was afraid he would be next. Apparently it's a serious crime to interrupt this "game", and Scott had just committed a horrible offense by leaving the table to stand farther from the edge to breathe, and security was called to take him away and kill him, so he was forced to run all through the station looking for an escape. I think since he had interrupted the "game", they had to stop playing, so everyone else got to quickly return to their assigned living quarters and survive another day (I got the impression they were too afraid to attempt escape).

Scott ended up running into Hope, who apparently had gone missing quite some time ago and it turned out she’d been stuck here the whole time and she’d gotten very far in this horrible "game". She was so stuck in the mindset of surviving this lifestyle that she wasn't so sure she wanted to try to escape, but Scott could see what had happened to her and refused to let her stay here where she’d only get messed up even worse over time and eventually killed in a death match, so he kept dragging her along with him, and she protested a little but never tried to fight him or really stop him.

It was easy to get lost in the halls because they all looked basically the same. Sometimes they’d have to run through a crowd, and once they went past a celebrity couple who were being surrounded by reporters (I think they were endorsing this place for some reason). After a lot of running, they were being caught up to, so they just opened a random door and hid inside. Weirdly enough, Tara Lewis from Criminal Minds was there, with a white woman that she said was her mother (though I'm not sure she was even older than Tara so who knows how that’s possible even through adoption). For some reason Scott and Hope already knew Tara from Earth and were surprised to see their friend, and for some reason that made sense to me at the time (like 'oh yeah of course they know Tara', as if they’re on CM or something). Tara was uncharacteristically nonchalant about the whole thing, and gave them directions for escaping but didn’t seem to care at all about leaving herself. Hope was worried about security being in the halls and finding them as soon as they left the room, but Scott had a plan: dress up like that celebrity couple, so even if they get mobbed by reporters or fans, they’d go unnoticed by the people chasing them. So very convenient that they had similar hair and looks, and even more incredibly convenient that Tara somehow had the same exact sparkly red hats, red feather boas, and dark sunglasses on hand to help them do this. They did have to wade through crowds, but they evaded detection by security, so somehow this plan actually worked.

Scott and Hope found some shuttlecrafts and were able to fly out to the planet, and Scott put the ship on autopilot to ask Hope some questions about what had happened to her and why she seemed reluctant to leave and go home. Didn’t she miss Earth, didn’t she miss her father? She said she missed her sister. Scott was confused because she doesn’t have a sister, but he realized she meant one of the other women forced to play the "game", and that she felt bad about leaving her.

The ship stopped outside of a glittery cave of purple crystals, and there was a giant screen mounted into the rock, now playing a video of Yondu spouting some propaganda about the crystals (I assume he got paid to do that). Apparently this was an old training ground, even though the rules weren’t even remotely the same as those that I saw before, and now that Scott and Hope were here they had no choice but to play (luckily there was no chasm to be thrown into and they weren’t pitted against each other, it was some sort of team-building thing). They had a certain amount of time to get as many crystals out of the rock as they could, but there were only certain ones that they COULD get out, others were either decoys or you had to twist them a particular way in a particular sequence in order to get another crystal to be released.

They took turns twisting the crystals, and were able to get maybe 4 out of the rock before time was running out and some sort of dangerous robotic arm started to come after them. Conveniently there was a door in the side of the cave that they could hide in, and inconveniently that door somehow led them right back to the center of the space station where they were faced with that chasm. There must have been some old alarm that they’d set off, because lights were flashing and people were able to exit their rooms in a panic and crystals were flying everywhere. Security was coming straight for them, and the only option was to jump. Scott was completely mortified but Hope had noticed that there were crystals literally hovering in the air, meaning that the gravity controls had malfunctioned and they could jump without falling to their deaths. They leapt off of the platform and into the air among the levitating crystals, one of which Scott took note of as being an Infinity Stone but he wasn't able to grab it. They floated to the other side of the shaft and reached another door to escape. By dream logic, another shuttlecraft was waiting for them and made it easy for them to get away again.

Hope flew the craft while Scott found a space equivalent of an iPad sitting around so he picked it up and started looking through it, but only found commercials that Peter Quill had apparently done in the past (first Yondu, now him, I’m beginning to think the Ravagers just had a TV deal at some point in time), though he looked more like Chris Pratt as Andy in Parks and Rec than as Peter. I saw something with him trying to take care of a baby, there was some sort of hand commercial (not modeling, they were trying to advertise hands, and not even artificial ones - what kind of business was this?!) and I specifically remember Peter singing the jingle, "Hands! That’s what I’m talking 'bout! Hands!", and then it’s like my brain was giving me a commercial for what was gonna happen next in the dream because there was a short snippet of Peter talking to Scott and saying he hopes Earth doesn’t get destroyed because we have paper and Josh Hutcherson. That’s the last thing I remember.

#brains are interesting... #dreams #marvel #scott lang #hope van dyne #peter quill #yondu #criminal minds #tara lewis