Mirrors (2P!Axis x Reader x 2P!FACE)

Conflict 10: Dollhouse

The world was blindingly pink. Well, the room certainly made it look that way.

You woke up feeling refreshed for some reason, like you had caffeine before taking a nap. Of course, in this case, you were knocked unconscious.

Your mind instantly went into replay mode.

"'Ello, poppet"

"Kirkland" You whispered in awe and disbelief.

He smiled, "Don't be so stiff. You can call me Oliver"

"Unbelievable" The brunette in the bomber jacket shook his head, "You had us come all the way here for this? What's so special about her? Kinda plain if you ask me"

Normally, you would've thought of some retort about how much a cliché he was with his Bronx accent, Devil-may-care bad-boy getup, but your survival instincts told you to shut it.

"Now, Jason, that's no way to speak to a lady. Besides" Oliver whispered something you could barely hear, "Luciano was interested in her so there must be something"

"Luciano's men will be here at any moment. If you're gonna do something then do it fast" Spoke the blonde in a worn-out, red plaid shirt.

"Of course. Just be patient for a bit, James" Oliver then turned back to face you, "I'd love to chat with you more but we are in a hurry so how about we take this conversation on the road"

He reached for your hand but your reflexes stupidly disagreed.

Jason snorted.

Oliver blinked, and then a sickening smile formed on his thin lips. "Quite the spirited young lady, aren't we?" His half-pink half- blue eyes looked like they were glowing, "Very well. I'll bite"

All your internal alarms went off when he pulled out a velvet pouch from his pocket. He poured some of the content—sparkling purple dust—on his palm, then blew it towards you.

"What are you..." Dust entered your eyes and almost instantly, every muscle felt heavy. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stay awake.

Now here you were, in a rip-off of Barbie's bedroom.

The comforter and the pillow cases of the bed ranged from fuchsia to rose; the rugs were some shade of salmon; the curtains were peach--the white-framed paintings all had pink as its main color. You didn't dislike pink, but didn't the designer of this play knew the phrase: "less is more"?

Doesn't matter, because when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you ended up forgetting how poorly decorated the room was in an instant.

Your hair was separated into two fishtails, resting on either shoulder. You wore a white pinafore over a sunflower yellow dress with puffy sleeves and skirt. A pair of polished black Mary Janes covered your feet, paired with black-striped white socks that reached all the way to your thighs.

You wanted to scream. This getup just forced you to realize just how deep you were in all this craziness. But before tears and panic could come to freeze you into stone, you scanned the room.

Getting off the bed, you approached one of the windows just big enough for to climb through.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment, you clutched the knob. Locked. Of course, because that would have been too easy.

You went to get the pink wooden chair by the fireplace. It was a bit too heavy but you managed to lift it up and throw it against the window.

The chair fell apart as the glass shattered. You dropped the remaining half of the wood and examined the window.