#I hope I lived up to your standards bby <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lady-lunaaa · 4 years ago

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Part 1: Easy Way Out

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

Pairing: Porco Galliard x Fem!Reader

Rating: MATURE, minors dni

Warnings: death stranding au, female reader, post-apocalyptic, mention of suicidal thoughts, violence, blood, monsters, reader pisses herself ✌🏻

Word Count: 7.4K

Masterlist🕊️

A/N: I want to say a huge thank you to my wife @dabilove27 for encouraging me to the max and seeing this piece through its many stages, I would have given up by now if it were not for you! I love you forever 💙 also a huge thanks to @gixxie for reading my intro and being a constant pillar of support. And of course, to you my darling @pleasantanathema who told me I was absolutely doing this collab and held my hand throughout, your belief and encouragement means the world to me. I love you bbys 💙 P.S. I know nothing about motorcycles, especially electric ones, and it shows. I’m so sorry 😂 and finally, I hope you enjoy!

🎶

You stand on the mountain's peak, wind whipping around you in a chaotic dance, tugging at your hair and loose fitting bodysuit. You tilt your face to the heavens, lids shut and inhale deeply; cold, delicious oxygen filling your lungs. There is so much air up here it is almost impossible to breathe, the wind stealing the breath right from your chest.

It reaches out to you with a blustery hand and offers you promises of flight and freedom. You teeter on the rocky edge of life itself. You know the second you comply, the short-lived euphoria will be dashed against the rocks below, triggering a devastating Voidout.

How cruel of the universe to set you down in a post-apocalyptic nightmare with no means of escape. You would not take your own life if it meant taking countless others with you.

That was one of the many curses of living in the Death Stranding, the new world. Any human life that ended, resulted in a Voidout, a giant explosion that could wipe out whole cities, leaving nothing but a gargantuan crater in its wake. Of course, those too, disappear eventually; fading away with every drop from the sky. Whatever the rain touches on impact immediately ages, accelerating time itself. Nothing lasts long in the TimeFall.

You open your lids slowly, eyes immediately watering and then going dry at the sudden exposure to the vicious air. Before you is a vast expanse of green landscape surrounded by mountains, spidery blue veins scattered below, feeding water from the mountains out to the sea.

The verdant valley is dotted with greys and browns, rockery extended from the scraggy peaks to the base of the hulking cliff-face and tumbled down the grassy slopes, converging at the water's edge.

The sky is a pale, cold blue, semi hidden from view by fluffy, off-white clouds. They seem to move with speed and purpose in the strong winds, flashes of aquamarine visible as they dance and weave above you. It's fair and clear today, not particularly warm but not cold either.

Except at the summit of this smallish mountain, where the temperature has dipped slightly and the wind adds to the illusion of it being much colder than it is. The sun is high in the sky, obscured mostly by clouds, giving out watery yellow rays.

It isn't the sunniest you have seen it recently but this is optimal weather for on the job. Strong, direct sunlight means you get too hot in your standard issue, full-body Porter suit. It is simple in design, cheap grey material just strong enough to endure several bouts of TimeFall and keep your skin safe from scrapes and cuts while you traverse the rocky wasteland. It doesn't protect you much from the fluctuating temperatures however.

You were a freelance Porter for the expansive company, Bridges. You transport cargo through the barren wasteland and deliver it safe and sound to small pockets, or communities, of survivors, known as Knot Cities. With the dangers of TimeFall and the entities known as Beached Things, essentially dead souls trapped in the land of the living, it's not safe for civilisation to exist above ground. Hence, humankind is connected via Bridges, and Porters, who make communication and trades between cities possible.

You admired the view for a moment longer, the delicate beauty of nature laid bare, before heaving a sigh and hoisting your cargo further up your back. You have a backpack of sorts with a system of straps that secure your packages to the back of your suit. You adjust them, pulling the straps tighter, before finding a suitable place and pulling out the rope kit tied to your left side. You brace yourself and drive the metal stake into the rock-strewn earth as deep as you can.

You throw the attached rope over the edge of the cliff and test it's stability with a harsh tug. Now satisfied it can take both the weight of you and the cargo, you grab it with thick, glove-clad hands and begin to descend, disappearing over the lip of the mountain.

You carefully weave the rope between your hands as you descend, special gloves giving you extra gip, feet planted firmly against the solid, almost black-grey surface in front of you. You go one foot down at a time, the rugged cliff-face providing perfect purchase for your sturdy boots, hands soon following.

Left foot first, right hand follows. You do your best not to look down, eyes trained on the rock in front of you, only wavering to scan for footholds. Right foot down, left hand follows. You repeat this over and over for what feels hours, but can only be minutes, until one of your boots hits solid ground with a dull thud.

You look back over your shoulder to make sure you are able to put full weight onto your legs. You can just stand up here despite the steep slope leading down to the valley. Making sure you are stable on your feet, you drop the rope, roughly memorising this location for future reference when you make the return journey.

Grabbing the straps around your shoulders, you exhale a puff of air. Now time for the slope. You pick your way carefully down the uneven decline, using larger rocks and boulders to steady yourself whenever you teeter or slip on loose rubble.

After ten minutes or so, you make it to the bottom unscathed, now standing in the valley. You are surrounded front and back by dark, rocky borders, dozens of small estuaries winding in front of you. The steady burbling of running water reaches your ears, as it rushes over and around pebbles, in its' great escape to the ocean.

Speaking of, you are thirsty. You have been travelling for a couple of hours and had another hour at least until you reached your destination. Standard emergency rations supply for a neighbouring waystation in the high mountains.

You grab your flask from the utility belt at your hip and twist off the cap, raising the cold metal to your dry, chapped lips and gulping down the cool refreshment. After you've had your fill, you lower your arm and look out towards the sea. You scrunch up your eyes from the bright white overhead, the sun isn't visible from down here, but the sky is bright and harsh.

Well, time to carry on, the cargo won't deliver it yourself, you think as you replace your flask in its holder and continue your hike across the valley, boots kicking loose stones across the ground with a clack, and toes scuffing the grass. You make it across and start your ascent, slow and steady, up the other mountain.

By the time you haul yourself over the last edge, you are covered in a light sheen of sweat and are about ready to sit down for a short rest.

You find a nice flat rock to sit on and haul yourself up onto the surface. Sitting cross legged, you fish a field supply ration out of your pocket and begin munching on the cracker ravenously. Not much taste but it serves its purpose.

The rock you now sit on, is nestled like a jewel in the middle of a large ravine that seems to extend round the mountain. You aren't far from your destination, the Waystation is in these mountains somewhere. Just a little further, you tell yourself.

As you are about to take another bite of your snack, you hear a noise behind you. Something that could have been a footstep, a boot knocking a stone. You tense and spin towards the sound but your new friend is faster and a large, strong fist connects with the side of your head, sending your body flying.

You hit the ground hard, ears ringing and your brain a little foggy. Your vision is blurred with tears as you struggle to roll over and pull yourself up onto your knees. You hastily scrabble at the straps around your back with clumsy fingers, to make sure your cargo hasn't come loose. All good, you note.

As you look up, you come face to face with your assailant. You are met with large and startling green irises, a bright and brilliant emerald that flash dangerously as a hand reaches out to grab the hair at the nape of your neck, yanking your head back hard. You bellow at the pain as your roots threaten to rip from your scalp. Tears stream down your face as you speak your first words of the day "Get your filthy hands off me!" you choke out with confusion, as you glare up at the stranger standing in front of you.

He is decked out in a bright yellow bodysuit, long baton with a glowing electrified tip at his side. A MULE. He isn't wearing a mask though, his hood down and long brown hair tied in a messy bun at the back of his head, baby hairs hanging loose around his face. Shit! He's here for the cargo, a classic hit and run. Typical MULEs.

He has scarily calm eyes that stare back at you, no expression clouds his face, no emotion flickers in those jade orbs. His lids hang heavy making his eyes look smaller than they are, giving him a bored, tired look. He points his electropole at you slowly, expression unwavering and stays silent.

There is a relaxed but dangerous vibe about him that sets your teeth on edge, as if this violence didn't even phase him. He isn't apprehensive or excited about it or crazed even, like most MULEs are, dependent on the courier system and driven mad, obsessed with transporting and delivering cargo. Their only purpose.

No, he isn't anything really. There is nothing you can glean from this man by his appearance or his demeanour, other than he wears the suit of a MULE. He looks young too. Too young to be wearing the empty, hopeless face that stands before you. You feel an immeasurable sadness wash over you as you look into those pretty eyes. Calm, vacant, bottomless. He is attractive, no doubt about that, beautiful tanned skin, as if he spends all his time working in the sun.

You think to yourself that you have never seen someone so alluring who radiates such an aura of despair. Lost in thought you miss his words when he speaks. When you look at him blankly, he shakes your head with his hand that is fisting your hair and repeats himself "I'm sorry it has to be this way, but if it's between you and me, then I choose myself".

Now that was unexpected, most MULEs don't even bother with words, much less apologies. There's something off about this whole interaction…who is this guy?

As your thoughts spiral, he lets go of your hair suddenly, causing you to slump forward in surprise. You stick your hands out to break your fall when you feel him begin to tug at the straps holding your cargo.

Usually you avoid confrontation, MULEs aren't worth the struggle, and it's a guarantee someone will find the cargo eventually and deliver it to its intended target. But something about this man has you angry. He didn't just stun you, rob you and leave. He punched you. In the head. From behind. And judging by how far you went flying and the ringing in your head, he was strong. Why the unnecessary violence?

You wait a few seconds with baited breath as he fumbles with the straps, you hear him curse lightly under his breath, fully engrossed in his task. He is leaning over your frame, legs either side of your head, his boots inches from your fingers that are curled into the earth beneath your palms. Now's your chance.

You throw your head upwards into his crotch as hard as you can. As he lurches away from you, curling around himself in a protective stance, you scurry backwards and haul yourself to your feet. Head still swimming faintly, you sway on your feet slightly as you take off in the opposite direction.

Your legs feel like lead, cargo weighing you down and jostling uncomfortably against your shoulder blades, every step feels like it is in slow motion. You growl in annoyance as you struggle to run. You aren't even sure this route will take you to your destination but you don't care. You just have to put distance between yourself and that psychotic stranger.

As you have that thought, something grabs your hood and yanks you backwards, choking off the shout that had risen in your throat and sending you tumbling to the floor. You groan as your back hits the floor, the impact rattling through your bones. You narrowly avoid whacking your head against the ground, a small blessing, and lay there with your eyes closed as you contemplate why the universe has it out for you.

A low whirring followed by a shout causes you to shoot upright in a sitting position, only to be stopped short by a buzzing electropole, orange light inches from your face, the colour searing into your brain. You blink and hold up your hands slowly in surrender. You follow the tip of the baton all the way up to the person attached and boy, is it a long way up. The woman standing over you is giant and willowy, the definition of statuesque. The whirring grows louder until another MULE riding on a motorbike comes whizzing into view, stopping inches from your outstretched feet.

Their hood is up, mask covering their face. They stop, feet resting either side of the bike, casually perched on the seat. Their gloved hands reach up to pull their hood down and it's a man.

Sandy-coloured, wavy locks fall around his forehead, his eyes a piercing, cool grey, rimmed in thin wire frames that perch on the bridge of his nose. He grabs his black mask and tears it from his face, so that it rests around his neck. He has a full beard, the same sandy blonde as his hair and his features are angular, but heavy. He's handsome. And he looks like trouble.

He leans to one side and jabs the heel of his boot against the kickstand before swinging a long, muscular leg over the bike and walking towards you. He stops right in front of you, your boots toe to toe. You raise your eyes to his, making sure to keep your head still so the pole being held by the woman in front of you doesn't touch your skin and fry your last few remaining brain cells.

He is tall. At least 6ft and he fills his suit nicely. You breathe in deeply and meet his gaze, peering into that cool, grey. Those eyes hold a promise of stability and his aura of authority almost brings you a calm sense of peace in this bizarre situation. It feels weird and wrong. Your instincts tell you not to trust the kind smile he plasters across his face. Those eyes, lacking something, remind you of the other man with the green eyes who attacked you first. But unlike the latter, the former has some unknown fire dancing within. Your anxiety and fear begin to spike, not quite understanding what is going on and how to process it.

Speak of the devil, the pretty man bun slowly approaches the blonde man from behind, a slight uncomfortable shuffle to his step as he walks. You grin in satisfaction, that will teach him to punch people in the fucking head.

If you are to die here, you realise in surprise, you will not die without a fight. You have been through a lot of shit already, and although this life is not exactly ideal, it's the one you have been given.

And now that someone else is threatening your life, you realise you don't want to give it up so easily. Not like you had in that moment on the cliff, peering down into the abyss of peace and freedom. Because that is a selfish choice. The easy way out. Besides, your death will be on your terms only.

You know what you are prepared to do. You are sure this group of misfits won't kill you, MULEs never did. For obvious reasons. These guys seem different but not completely insane….you hope your intuition is correct.

You lift your chin towards the electropole at your throat and glare at the man in front of you with renewed purpose. He chuckles at your open display of defiance and runs a glove through his dishevelled waves before crouching down in front of you, his arms resting across his knees.

"Yelena, lower that thing for christ sakes" he speaks in a low, smooth baritone, words slipping from his tongue in a lazy drawl as he leans in to examine your face. You flinch at his proximity and try to lean your head back away from him but the blonde giant, Yelena you correct yourself, next to you forces your head forwards to meet him head on.

You study the woman above you. She has a rather ridiculous blonde bowl cut and a crazed look in her eyes, smiling down at you sadistically. Great, that face will etched into your nightmares forevermore.

A tap to the side of your face has you turning your gaze back to the man in front of you, jerking away from his touch. This earns you a 'tut tut' from him, and he nods his head at Yelena who moves the pole closer to your throat threateningly, a sick smile twisting her features. This bitch is enjoying this far too much, you grit your teeth and this time when he places a finger under your chin, you do not flinch away.

"Such a pretty little thing. " He comments quietly, almost to himself rather than you, after a long uncomfortable silence of studying your features. He says it with certainty, like your beauty is a well known fact, not subjective. He makes no move to touch you further or say anything else.

You bristle instantly at the comment, not expecting this to be the route he would take.

"I'm not little," you put emphasis on the word, "and did I ask for your opinion on my appearance you bearded fuck? How about you tell your minions to stop threatening me and get the hell out of my face!" You spit out, rage rearing its ugly head. Like hell you are gonna play nice with your attackers.

Yelena does not like this and swiftly pulls a dagger from a concealed slit at her hip and before your eyes even have time to widen, she slashes you across the forehead. You hiss at the new stinging pain and snarl at her savagely "You fucking bitch!"

She raises the knife again but this time Blondie throws out an arm, raising his voice at her "DON'T!"

He speaks with such authority that you both stand down, growls seizing. Yelena reluctantly sheathes her dagger and looks sheepish at being scolded. Still has that damn pole at your throat though, what a nuisance she's turning out to be. Why haven't they stolen your cargo and left already?

Blood is now running down your face in red rivulets, dripping off your brows onto your cheeks and staining your lips rouge. The man turns his gaze to you slowly, eyes softening and crinkling at the corners as he takes in your bruised and now bloody appearance.

You tilt your head down slightly, blinking beads of blood from your lashes and breathing heavily. He takes off a glove and once again reaches out a large hand towards your face. You suck in a breath, heart pounding as he leans in and you anticipate his touch. He gently runs a thumb across your brow, your blood collecting along the rough pad and slowly running down his palm.

"Look what they've done to you…still so beautiful." The words tumble from his lips in a sigh, dark pupils blown wide as he gazes at you with an unreadable expression. Is he…getting off on this? You realise in horror, although not without a shameful pang of heat rushing to your core at the praise and attention. Your fear is starting to pick up, clearly he isn't interested in cargo any longer, and you dread to think what he will do if you do not get yourself out of this situation.

"Let me apologise for my companions, they have no manners." He gestures at Yelena with his other hand and she draws a cloth from her breast pocket hastily and hands it to her leader. He slowly wipes the blood from his fingers and looks at you over his glasses expectantly, waiting for a response.

You gather the metallic tang in your mouth and spit at him, a mixture of saliva and blood hitting his cheek with a splat. Yelena sucks air through her teeth and man-bun lets out a bark of laughter, the most emotion that he's outwardly shown since he ambushed you. You glare at the man in front of you, satisfaction flaring in your veins as you look him dead in the eyes and say "I don't need your empty apologies, fuck you."

Blondie looks at you, a feral glint in his eyes and slowly smiles, you suppress a shudder, determined not to show your fear outwardly.

He wipes at his face with the cloth and hands it back to Yelena, the momentary flash of danger gone from his expression. He whistles long and drawn out before standing up again, looking round at green eyes and exclaiming "You caught a feisty one Eren".

Eren stares at you with a new look in his eyes, as if actually seeing you this time, one of mild amusement but with a hint of annoyance in his angled brows.

"Not a minion by the way." He mutters at you and then turns to the blonde man and addresses him, "That's what you get for playing with your prey Zeke, just grab the stuff and let's go." He turns away, shoving his hands into the baggy pockets of his yellow jumpsuit.

"Ignore him, he's just mad you crushed his nuts and demoted him to minion." He grins at you with a warm and too-familiar smile, like he already has the privilege of knowing you. You are sure others are probably charmed by this façade, and under less dire circumstances, you could perhaps see why. He's clearly a master manipulator, used to getting what he wants however he needs to. How are you going to get out of this one? These people are unhinged and you have a strange sense that you recognise those names. You need to find a solution and fast.

"Anyway, how about you come with us?" Zeke asks in a jovial tone, like he thinks you might actually comply based on your interaction thus far.

You scoff and roll your eyes at him before commenting dryly "Sure. That one punches me in the head, and this one," you gesture at Yelena who's face so far has never wavered from that sick grin, "tries to impale me on that glowy stick before cutting me open, if you think I'm coming willingly, you've got a screw loose. Like this giant bitch." You mutter the last part under your breath and flick your eyes towards Yelena with a wicked grin. You realise you must look deranged as well, grinning wildly, face and teeth red with blood as you antagonise your attackers. Not a smart move. But then you've never been particularly smart with your choices, especially when people are pushing you around.

This instantly draws a reaction from Yelena who jerks forward, leaning her insanely long body down to meet your eye level, practically folded in half. Her nose swooping above you, crazed eyes inches from your own.

"How dare you address our leader like this? Do you even know who you are talking to? I've had about enough of your smart mouth." She snarls, spittle flying from her mouth, face beet red.

You reach up a hand to wipe her spit from your forehead but otherwise ignore Yelena, turning your attention to Zeke instead and drawling sarcastically "This your girlfriend, oh great leader? You might want to refrain from flirting with strangers in front of her, scumbag. I don't think she's particularly thrilled about it". Yelena straightens immediately, bowl cut fringe swaying stiffly, almost comically as she does so, cheeks reddening even further in a furious blush.

Zeke laughs again, a deep, rich sound that bounces off the rock surrounding your motley crew and echoes back to you.

"God no, Yelena is just my right hand accomplice. Nothing more, nothing less."

You grunt in response, like you give a fuck, you just need to get out of here. You need to keep him talking, distract him. Eren has come up behind Zeke and is muttering something into his ear, seeming to get angrier with Zeke's responses. While they are busy, you flick your eyes sideways to Yelena, who is pointedly not looking at you, still blushing. Clearly embarrassed, you have called her out on her blindingly obvious crush on her boss.

You formulate a plan in your mind and turn your attention back to the two men, they are still engaging but clearly coming to the end of their discussion. It is now or never. You count to three and then throw yourself towards Yelena, grabbing her hand holding the stick and forcefully swinging it down so the charged end hits her shin.

She releases a guttural grunt, before falling to her knees, whole body spasming. You waste no time in raising the stick high before swinging it above you in a swooping arc and slamming it into her head as hard as you can. It makes a sickening thunk! as it connects with her skull. Yelena slumps forward, face buried in the grass and you spin around to face the men. Heart thumping erratically, body thrumming, liquid adrenaline whizzing through your veins and making you wild.

You swing the stick in front of you and point it at Zeke, "What's it gonna be Yeager? Do I have to castrate you as well or are you gonna be a good boy?" You are breathing hard, eyes wide and unnerving as you look between the brothers. The names are indeed familiar and while you were planning your escape, you remembered exactly why.

Zeke raises his hands slowly in mocking defeat and smiles a slow, devious grin, "So you do know who we are. What gave it away, sweetheart?" He winks at you slyly and you curl your lip at him in disgust.

"You two are hard to miss, stick out like a sore thumb. You're not like the usual MULEs around here. Plus you're kind of famous 'round these parts, sweetheart." You fling the pet name back at him with as much venom as you can muster. "Who hasn't heard of the notorious Yeager brothers?" You look at Zeke pointedly, irritated that he has underestimated you. You aren't an idiot. You have heard the tales of the bandit brothers who travel the land, stealing, ransacking, generally causing nuisance wherever they go.

Eren steps forward so he is beside Zeke and you shift the stick a fraction so it points towards him "One step closer, pretty boy, and you'll end up like you're little groupie here." You nod your head in Yelena's vague direction somewhere behind you.

Eren huffs at your use of "pretty" and speaks low and even, in his husky voice "That your idea of flirting, Porter? Never had someone be so bold before when we've been robbing them, huh Zeke?" He addresses his brother but his eyes never leave yours, boring a hole into your skull with his gaze. His eyes finally show a flicker of emotion, danger and intrigue as he looks you over.

"Yeah, never met one quite as feisty either. See most people that know the name Yeager, also know that we don't go easy on our prey." Zeke's tone is matter of fact as he pulls a zippo and a cigarette from his pocket and proceeds to light it. You have no doubt the words he spoke are true.

However, his eyes bear a spark of mischief, he looks at you as if this is all some inside joke, as if you know he won't really hurt you. Again with that friendly demeanour. You furrow your brows imperceptibly, confused.

You don't have time to decipher this man's cryptic messages. Trust your luck to meet two of the most notorious crooks out here, you just need to make your delivery before nightfall so you can hightail it back to base and rest for a night or two. Damn, have you earned it.

"Well, I wasn't told that the notorious Yeager brothers are so attractive," you start, slowly inching to the side, "under different circumstances maybe we could have had some real fun?" You smirk at the men standing in front of you, tone suggestive. It's a cheap trick, one they will definitely see through, but at this point anything is preferable to doing nothing.

Zeke stands casually, one arm loose at his side, the other holding his cigarette carelessly between two fingers. His stance drips carefree nonchalance but his stormy eyes swim with interest. A little too much interest.

Eren's hands are still shoved deep in his cargo pockets, he's scowling at you, brunette brows furrowing darkly and those pretty eyes carefully blank. As expected, he is not taking the bait like his brother. You continue shuffling around the brothers, making your way towards the abandoned motorbike, stick still outstretched in front of you, glowing in warning.

Zeke licks his lips and takes a long drag from his cigarette, making no move to stop you. He blows a puff of smoke into the atmosphere, watching it curl upwards before turning his head round to you and saying "Well what a shame indeed, that today isn't under different circumstances."

He smiles at you with that knowing look again, eyes crinkling at the corners, bangs blowing in the slight wind rushing through the ravine. He looks almost gentle now, albeit creepy as hell. The end of the world really brought out the nutters. You reach the bike and move to sit astride it.

Eren looks at his brother quickly before he starts forward but Zeke flings a hand out, stopping him. Eren looks at him in confusion and irritation but says nothing. He relaxes his posture and watches as you check the bike over before starting it up. The electric engine whirs to life with barely a whisper and you look Zeke dead in the eyes.

"Yeah, a real shame." You speak loud enough that he can hear you over the hum and jostling of your equipment, before twisting the throttle with a harsh tug and speeding off without a backwards glance.

The bike shoots forward faster than you anticipate and your heart, and just about all your vital organs, fly into your throat as you attempt to relax and remain stable on the vehicle. The scenery passes you in blurs of green and brown, your hair thrown back behind you, whipping the air fiercely. You fly through the ravine in the mountain and think that perhaps you ought to slow down, you're not sure how far you've travelled and although it's fairly flat here, you are up pretty high.

Rocks and stones jab into your side painfully, tearing at your cheeks and forehead. Your mind is a whirlwind, dizzy from the rolling and the previous impact. You can't do anything but feel every poke, every scratch, every smack. You manage to manoeuvre your arms around your head, protecting your skull and squint your eyes tight, weathering the pain as you tumble down and down.

Just as you begin to ease the throttle and start to brake, the front wheel hits a chunk of rock with brutal force. You are flung forward violently, hands ripped from the grips, flipping over yourself in the air before you land with a sickening crunch. All the breath expels your body in a wheeze, but you have little time to react before you carry on rolling, slipping and sliding downhill rapidly.

Finally, you hit an angle in the ground and are thrown forward once more, your body stops when it connects with a mound erupting from the earth. Your back hits the mound with a thump and you lay there crumpled in on yourself, arms around your head, in foetal position.

Your body is singing to you, crying out all its aches and pains, your brain thoroughly rattled in your skull. You stay curled against the ground for several minutes, unmoving.

Your ragged, panicked breathing slowly lessens to whimpering sobs, a hiccup here and there as you come down from the adrenaline high.

It's now that the pain really hits you. Every inch of your skin has been scraped, scratched and bruised and your back aches like a bitch. As you slowly unfurl from your protective ball, it spasms, sharp pain shooting through your lower back. You gasp, sucking in air at the fresh wave of pain. Every time you move, even a twitch, it feels like there is a taut rubber band pulling at your back muscles, threatening to snap and ping around inside you.

You inhale a deep breath and slowly rock yourself over onto your hands and knees. The pain increases sharply, almost unbearably so and you still, gloved fingers curling into the soft earth beneath you. You feel nauseous. You focus on not hurling as you breathe through the pain.

Deep breath in, hold a second. Long breathe out. Deep breath in, hold a second. Long breath out.

You slowly let your body relax, assessing the damage from feeling alone, as you continue to breathe deep and even. Other than your back, the rest of your limbs seem okay. You wiggle your toes in your boots and flex your fingers against the ground. Your arms and legs can hold your weight and other than feeling very bruised and sore, you are okay. Maybe luck is on your side after all. You stretch your back out a little as a tester, it hurts but you think you can move a little now.

You slowly sit back on your legs and raise yourself to an upright kneeling position. You blink at your surroundings. You are sitting in a lush, green forest.

You were stopped by a sizeable, mossy protrusion in the earth. The ground is covered in moss in fact, soft and spongy beneath your knees. Thick, brown trunks raise from the ground all around you and shoot upwards, beautiful green foliage blocking out the sky. Soft light streams through the gaps and hits the mossy earth, lighting the floor in a warm glow. It's so beautiful.

You stare around you in wonder, taking in the scenery. It's windy even here, the soft susurration of leaves in the breeze bringing a sense of calm clarity to this space. You feel grounded, a part of nature, a part of life…for the first time in a long time. And it feels good.

You smile and close your eyes, breathing in the damp, earthy scent around you. Letting it fill up your lungs, a hint of pine teasing your nostrils. You revel in the peace for a few seconds before using the mound next to you as leverage to haul yourself to your feet.

Now standing up, you look behind you, where you fell down the incline into this wooded area. Judging by the wind overhead, you are going in exactly the right direction towards the Waystation which contains a small wind farm onsite. Small blessings. Although you can't help but mourn the loss of the bike, that would have been handy to hold onto.

A thought wanders into your mind and you blink, eyes going wide before you curse aloud and start yanking at the pack on your back, shrugging it off your shoulders and down your arms. Finally freeing the cargo from its very loose straps, you spread the packages out before you to assess the damage.

Fuck. The metal containers are covered almost wholly in scratches, the paint worn away. There are a few noticeable dents, but it doesn't seem as if the contents inside have been compromised. Thank the gods. You smile at your turn of phrase and then you laugh. Laugh at how absurd it is to pray to any deity when this land is ruled by a demonic power. Any higher, benevolent being that possibly exists has given up on Earth, written it off as the devil's domain.

You return the cargo to its rightful place- certainly not in mint condition but safe nonetheless- and loop your arms into the straps, readying yourself for the last stretch of the journey. Soon you can collapse and tend to your wounds.

Just as you begin to walk further into the forest, rubbing the back of your sore head gingerly, a flash of what looks like watery rainbow glints through the gaps in the leaves above you. You stop abruptly and tilt your head to the side, peering through the canopy above to ascertain whether it was simply a trick of the imagination. You take a few steps forward, still staring up suspiciously every now and then, as you navigate your way down the slight mossy decline in front of you.

It's when you reach a patch of trees that aren't as densely packed as the others, providing a clear view of the sky, that you notice the grey clouds rolling overhead angrily. You stop in your tracks and stare at the sky in dawning horror.

"No no no NO!" you trip over your words in panic, the last 'no' tumbling from your lips in a half-shout. Suddenly the clouds decide to part, a full rainbow emerging behind them and winking in the bright light. It is gone in the next instant, obscured by cloud cover. As the first few drops of rain begin to fall, spattering your beaten suit and windswept hair, you hastily pull your hood over your head to protect your skin. It was specially made to stay up when pulled forwards, supported by plastic rods woven into the material.

You curse loud and colourful as tears sting your eyes and your throat closes in a silent sob.

"This can't be happening, this can't be happening, this can't be happening." You babble to yourself under your breath as hot tears cascade down your cheeks.

You whisper angrily, "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" You grit your teeth and curl your hands into fists at your side. Of course, of course, they would show up now of all places. Seems you can't catch a break today.

The pretty refractions of coloured light accompanied by TimeFall always signal the arrival of BTs. The temperature plummets to icy degrees and your breath puffs out in front your face, curling in the cold atmosphere. The sky darkens considerably, washing over the once warm and bright scene in front of you, colouring everything in a despairing, dull haze.

You stand in the TimeFall, staring ahead into the endless array of muddy brown trunks. The rain is a cacophony of sound as it hits the treeline, dripping off the veined leaves above and tapping the material of your suit in greeting. It splashes across the many rocks dotted amongst the forest, droplets splattering the weathered stone and bouncing upwards with the force.

Life is cruel, you think to yourself in resigned dismay, but still so damn beautiful.

You have to keep moving, there is no escaping the spirits now. You stifle a groan as you crouch low to the damp ground, slowly sliding over the moss and grass as you lower yourself down the decline into the small thicket of trees below. The rain increases to deafening proportions, obscuring your view and you know that they are here. Their presence makes your skin crawl, gooseflesh tearing along your arms and the back of your neck in an instant.

You shudder in terror as you turn your head to the right and catch sight of them.

Ghostly, inky black creatures vaguely resembling the shape of a human figure, suspended in mid-air. Three of them. The particles of antimatter that make up their being, drip from their lower halves towards the earth and spiral up from their "heads" towards the stormy sky. They move in a slow, eerie dance across the forest floor, anti-matter continually undulating and rearranging itself as it moves, still keeping that vague humanoid shape.

You are one of the lucky few who can see these lost spirits, afflicted by a higher level of DOOMs, you can see their true shape and appearance unlike lesser sufferers or non-sufferers. You don't know why you are graced with this gift but it does mean you are able to avoid them better than most. A high level of DOOMs means that you are more attuned to the land of the dead, on the same wavelength, or however the fuck it works.

Even though you have seen BTs plenty of times during your travels, they never get any less horrifying, any less unbelievable. The sight before you is otherworldly, unnatural, unsettling. They are almost impossible to describe to someone who hasn't witnessed them.

You slowly creep forwards through the trees, heart drumming against your ribcage in an attempt to break out of your chest, doing your best to stay silent and remain undetected. Your breathing is shallow despite your attempts to remain calm and as you plant a step in front of you, a loud crack rings out. A twig.

You freeze, body clenching in fear, as the shadowy heads of the BTs turn towards you in unison. Terror shoots through your spine, crawling along your arms and legs and brushing the back of your neck with phantom fingers. Your heart stops as you suck in a gasp and hold your breath, stuck in your crouching position on the floor, rigid in fear. But it's too damn late for holding your breath and freezing up, they know you are here, and they are coming for you.

Their heavy footsteps thud against the wet earth as they rush towards you, viscous, black liquid splashing upwards in their wake. The earth turns into a dark, wavering floor of oil-like creatures wherever their presence touches. The ever-growing mass of liquid bodies crawls towards you frighteningly fast and you whimper out a quiet sob as you fall onto your ass and scramble blindly backwards. Panic has set in and fully overtaken your senses.

As you kick out desperately one of the many mutated, blobby hands grabs your ankle in a vice-like grip. You scream in fright and anger, yanking your leg back and forth, bellowing obscenities all the while. Your eyes widen as you struggle in vain, more and more deathly hands gripping at your suit and limbs, antimatter seeping over your entire body as they pull you down into the hellish nightmare below.

You grunt and growl, all you can manage to get out through grit teeth, as you pull against the force with all your might, ripping away from the hands and clawing at the grassy earth to your side. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins like fire, igniting the primal will to survive within your bones, animalistic roars tearing through the thunder-clapped skies.

You cry out in terror babbling nonsensically, whether to yourself or the devil's children on your tail, you are not sure. As the creatures rush you, thundering across the earth and bringing waves of damned souls with them, determined to drag you to hell, you feel a warm sensation slowly seep between your legs, wetting your thighs.

Just as you feel yourself being sucked back into the abyss, you hear a shout, and a series of small bangs go off next to you. You throw your face into the earth and away from the sound, inhuman screeches filling your ears. You feel the hands loosen their grip on you and you take your chance, pulling away from them, fingernails digging into the dirt painfully as you haul yourself back onto solid ground with a huff and a groan.

The forest goes quiet again as you roll onto your back staring up into the leafy, emerald canopy above.

You lie there, coming down from your near-death experience, heart rate slowly returning to normal as you breathe in and out deeply. You hear a grunt not far from you followed by shuffling and clinking. Must be the nutter who decided to help me, you think.

"What do we have here?" a cheerful, mocking voice rings out beside you.

At the top of the cliffs edge, where the woman plummeted off mere moments before, two men stand; staring at the treeline below them.

“You think she survived?” Eren asks, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Probably. It’s not that far down.” Zeke notes, smoke billowing out of his mouth with his words. He scratches the tip of his right ear with a pointer finger absently.

Zeke puffs the last of his cigarette and then flicks the butt over the edge, watching it tumble down after the woman, glowing orange tip still visible. Silence hangs in the air momentarily, the only sound the whistling of the wind, as it blows through his straw-coloured locks.

“So, what’s our plan? You want her, right?” Eren drawls in a tone lacking actual fucks to give. He slides his gaze over to his brother, emerald eyes assessing the older male.

“I’m that obvious, huh?” Zeke chuckles, “Don’t you worry, little brother, we’ll find her again. I’ll make sure of it.”

#porco galliard #porco galliard x reader #porco x reader #porco galliard x you #porco x you #porco fanfiction #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #slight zeke yeager x reader #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: suicidal thoughts #death stranding au #post apocalyptic au #easy way out 🕊️#stranded souls 🕊️

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thosewickedlovelies · 4 years ago

Text

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Banana Bread (part 1)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: probably T for mature themes (implications of sexy times and violence). It will go up later ;)

Summary: You share an apartment wall with Javier Peña, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get to know him. You didn’t think your baking would be the catalyst (read: Javi is jealous that Connie gets all the extras).

Tags: Mention of blood; super vague description of wound care; alcohol; TW for Javi: you have FEELINGS bby

Word count: 2,791

A/N: I guess technically this starts at the beginning of season 1, but I don’t plan on referencing the events of the show, so imagine they’re working on things less intense than trying to catch Escobar. I found Javier really tricky to write for, so I hope this reads okay! I’m so excited about the future chapters I have outlined for this lol pls get hype.

Masterlist

---

You had only been living in your new place for about a month when you got new neighbors. You were glad for the company- the four-apartment building was fairly new, and didn’t feel very lived-in. You did your best to add some personal flair to your apartment, but it still had the effect of reminding you of your own newness to this place, your lack of any deep personal connections.

Your other neighbor didn’t exactly help with that. Javier Peña had lived here for awhile before you moved in, but that was all you knew about him; you didn’t speak much beyond your neighborly greetings and his insinuating smiles. He never hides his lingering glances, but nor does he make any other moves- you sense he’s a safe type, all bark and no bite (without consent). So you always amusedly but politely ignore the invitation implicit in your exchanges. They don’t seem to have a lot of depth anyway, as if he’s just trying for the sake of trying. Granted, he probably never has to do much more than that- you’re very aware of how attractive your neighbor is on the surface. You just prefer to feel a connection slightly deeper than surface level before going home with someone.

You learn more about him from Connie, who tells you that he works at the embassy with her husband, Steve. In “janitorial services.” You raise a bemused eyebrow at that, but respect your neighbors’ privacy and don’t ask further questions. You help Connie get a job at a hospital a few blocks away from the one you’re a nurse at and promise to help her practice Spanish.

The building feels more lively now, and you’re happy to have a confidant upstairs, especially one who’s more privy to the life of your enigmatic hall-mate. You don’t know if it’s the neighborly care you feel for your new friend or if there’s some other unconscious change, but you begin to keep an ear out for Javier. You do share an apartment wall, although you don’t glean much through it. Some standard kitchen rummaging, television noise, the occasional bedroom guest (whose enterprises you try not to listen to, but damn if the man doesn’t have a perfect voice for after-dark activities). The most noticeable thing about him is the odd hours he keeps: sometimes in tandem with Steve’s schedule and sometimes not, you can never predict when he’ll be in or out.

Little do you know, you’re not the only one paying attention. Javier has spent many an evening alone with only whiskey and the television for company, but now there are other things to stimulate his senses. The smell of your baking filtering through the wall, even lingering in the hallway the next morning. The sound of you singing to the radio while clattering about the kitchen. Sometimes he turns the tv down to listen and imagines there being no wall between your two homes. What would his life be like with someone to infuse that kind of sweetness and light into it?

He doesn’t mean you specifically, necessarily. If, once or twice, your face jumps to mind while he’s taking care of himself in bed, he thinks nothing of it. You’re his beautiful neighbor- it’s a fantasy begging to be played out.

But damn if he hasn’t been tempted to make it a reality. He gets to taste your baking sometimes when you leave extras with Connie, and one day she catches his brow creased in a frown, distracted halfway through a slice of walnut banana bread.

“Javi,” Connie repeats, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah.” Javier snaps out of it, looking up.

“You’ve been staring at that piece of banana bread for a full two minutes. Is it gonna do a trick?”

He decides to lean into it, see what Connie’s reaction might be. “Only if the trick is getting me out of my pants. I don’t know a man alive who could resist the shit she makes.” He scoops another forkful into his mouth to prove his point, letting the rich, nutty flavor remind him of other places. Homes. Real homes, made of people, not the solitary kind he lives in now.

She rolls her eyes at his crudeness, but agrees. “You’re right about that. I don’t know where she gets the energy to do this after hospital shifts.”

Javier hides his next thought with another forkful of bread and a noncommittal noise. Wonder if she’d have as much energy for it if she had a man to tire her out. It was automatic, a question he couldn’t help debating with himself. Surely no one who spent that much time in the kitchen could have energy to spare on…other pursuits.

Connie is regarding him shrewdly. He avoids her gaze, focusing on finishing his plate in large mouthfuls to avoid the questions he can feel brewing. But he’s not quick enough. “Has she always brought you extras too?” she asks. Too casually, idling with her fork.

“No,” Javier says dismissively, and it’s not quite a scoff. “She wasn’t here long before you showed up. We’re not as close as you two.” Understatement. Did he sound sour about the fact?

Before Connie can ask any more questions he rises from his seat. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Tell Steve what I said.” With a nod of farewell, he turns and strides out the door.

One night you’re awoken with a start from where you’d fallen asleep on the couch. Heart pounding, you sit up, listening intently. You’d never felt unsafe here, but you’re aware of the potential dangers. What had woken you?

You hear a swear from the hall, and your muscles relax as you recognize Javier’s low voice. There’s a beat of silence, then a scraping, clinking sound. He must have dropped his keys. But then he grunts, and concern sweeps over you. You’re a nurse- you recognize the sound of a man stifling his pain.

There are long delays before each new noise that indicates an action. The doorknob twists as he grunts again, but it’s a moment before the key turns in the lock. It seems to take an age for him to get through the door; his motions sound clumsy before he closes it. Safe in the privacy of his home, so he thinks, he lets out a longer sigh, the pain and exhaustion now obvious in the sound. But you can hear his fumbling through the wall, and you worry your lip between your teeth. It is your place to go see if he’s alright?

Finally you decide that it is. You’re his neighbor and a healthcare professional, and it is your professional opinion that he sounded in-pain enough to warrant a check-up. Plus, you heard him that way before he got inside, you reason. So it’s not as if you were just being snoopy through the wall.

Just in case, though, you grab some muffins you made earlier as a backup excuse (once again mentally thanking whoever left the cookbook in your apartment). 11:30 isn’t too late for a friendly drop-by, right?

You knock softly on his door. “Javier? It’s me.” Nervous energy taps in your fingers. You’re never even been on his side of the hallway before.

There’s a shuffling sound, and the door unlatches. A narrow gap opens, into which Javier plants himself, and you immediately zero in on where he keeps one leg wedged behind the door. He leans into the elbow propped against the doorjamb above his head, while his other hand already holds a glass of what you can smell is whiskey. He looks like he would rather be anywhere but here at this moment. “Neighbor,” he greets dryly, a neutral expression on his face.

“Uhh.” You’ve never been this close to him before, and his appearance catches you off-guard. His usually combed hair is messy, waves tangling over his forehead, and he’s sweaty, the open collar of his shirt damp and the exposed skin gleaming with moisture.

Javier raises an eyebrow expectantly, taking a sip of his drink. His glances down at the plate in your hands, and it prompts you to speak.

“Hi, Javier. Uh, sorry, I know it’s late, but I thought I’d bring you some of these-“ you lift the dish “-before they come with me to work tomorrow. They’re banana bread muffins.” Your voice falters with your confidence. Your eyes can’t help but flicker over his face and chest, taking in the smear of dust on his jaw, the redness of the knuckles wrapped around his glass. Mostly you’re trying not to look at the leg he’s definitely hiding, which you can tell he’s keeping his weight off of.

Javier stares at you, not buying it for a second. His lips purse for lack of a cigarette to wrap around. He shifts the weight he has on his arm- damn, his leg hurts- and wonders what could have possibly prompted you to start bringing him baked goods now of all moments. “Why aren’t you bring those to Connie’s?” Like usual.

“Um, well-“ He sees your gaze finally drop to the leg he’s kept out of view, and too late remembers who got Connie the hospital job.

“I heard you drop your keys, and it sounded like you were in pain,” you confess. “I’m a nurse, Javier. I can help if you need it.” Though apologetic, your tone is firm, face sincere as you offer him aid. Him, your grumpy neighbor who does nothing but leer at you.

Well, he isn’t that proud. Javier sighs, and opens the door further. Your eyes widen as you see the long slice in his pant leg, blood still damp around the wound beneath. “Shit, Javier, what happened? It doesn’t matter, shit, sit down.” You surge forward without waiting for permission, tucking yourself under the arm of his uninjured side and steering him toward a dining room chair. Where he’d been about to sit down down and tend to the cut himself. He supposes your apartments mirror each other, but your familiar reaction to the layout still surprises him.

“Whoa, hey, watch the whiskey,” he exclaims, flailing out the arm holding the glass, taken aback by your sudden manhandling. With one hand still occupied by the muffins, you direct him solely with an around his waist and your shoulder propped under his armpit. He couldn’t have resisted if he tried. If it weren’t for the fiery pain in his leg, your hold would have him feeling a very different kind of heat.

You give him a look that says you won’t be fooled by his blustering as you deposit him onto the chair and the plate on the table. “May I?” you ask, kneeling, hands hovering above his wound.

“Oh, now you’re asking permission?” He scoffs in disbelief but waves a hand in consent, leaning back in the seat.

You scoff right back at him. “Look, I see blood, I make the macho men sit, okay? Why didn’t you go to a hospital with this?”

Javier studies you as you carefully lift the denim to peer at the cut on his thigh. He takes a sip of whiskey to buy time (as well as dull the stinging pain). You’ve put on a robe over what looks like pajamas, but you seem too alert to have just dragged yourself from bed. And yet...was that a pillow mark on your cheek? Just there, arcing from your temple to your jaw…

“Javier?" you're looking up at him, a touch of confusion on your face.

“Did I wake you up?” he hears himself asking.

Her gaze drops again. “No,” you answer. “Well, yes, but I fell asleep on the couch, so it was a good thing.”

Ah, that explained the pillow mark.

Finally you stand. Your hands rest on your hips, heedless of your fingertips smudged red with his blood. “It doesn’t actually look too bad. I have enough supplies here to fix you up. You stay here, take off your pants if you can manage it by yourself, and I’ll be right back.” And with that you whisk away, robe swishing through his front door.

Javier remains where he is, a bit stunned by this turn of events, your sudden insertion into his life. He shakes his head. Maybe whiskey and blood loss shouldn’t go together. He tosses back the rest of his glass anyway in order to wrangle off his jeans.

By the time you return, he feels more composed, if rather uncomfortably vulnerable, sitting in just his boxers with a bloody slice across his thigh. He watches silently as you arrange various medical supplies on the table and pull up a chair across from him. You perch on the edge of it and look at him before doing anything else. “Are you gonna tell me how you got this?”

He’s not about to tell you it was a fluke accident during one of Carillo's interrogations. Somehow, while his back was turned, the guy got free and tried to escape, swinging a knife wildly as he hurled past Javier. The cut was long, ugly, but shallow. He’d live. He couldn’t say the same for the man who delivered it.

Javier considers his answer. “Can’t,” he says. “It’s better if you don’t know.” His gaze skitters away as he speaks.

He works for the government with a poker face like that? “Janitorial work, huh?” you say dryly. Sighing, you reach for the antiseptic. “At least tell me what made it. So I can treat it properly.” You look at him steadily.

Javier looks back for a long moment. “A knife,” he says at last.

You nod, and rip open a packet of gauze. He sucks air through his teeth as the antiseptic sears the wound clean, but otherwise doesn’t speak while you work. Which is fine. You notice he’s drained his glass, and you empathize. Frankly you wish you had a drink yourself right now.

Once you’ve cleaned the cut it’s easier to see the damage. Which is minimal, thankfully. Most of the blood was probably from him moving around when it happened. You explain what you’re doing as you seal the wound closed. Only when you’re almost finished does he speak.

“Why don’t you ever bake me anything?”

It’s so unexpected that your hands still. You stare at him in astonishment, waiting for him to elaborate.

“What I mean is…christ,” Javier mutters. The unflattering fluorescent light overhead highlights the dark circles under his eyes as he scrubs a hand over his face. “You always leave extras of stuff at Steve and Connie’s. Never here.” With me.

You resume your work on his thigh, surprised to feel a tinge of guilt. “You didn’t seem like a baked goods kind of guy,” you reply, hoping you don’t sound too defensive. It was true, after all. Though you never got a sense of threat from Javier, neither did he seem the type who would appreciate domestic gestures of friendship.

He didn’t look offended, however. I’ll try anything once,” he says, the ghost of a familiar smirk suggesting he’s feeling better. But then he leans forward, all traces of smirk vanishing. “And your lemon drizzle cake was incredible.” Javier looks at you seriously. His face is too close for your level of acquaintanceship, but you don’t move away.

Surprised, you assess him anew, wondering if you’re catching a glimpse of the man beneath all the masculine posturing. He’s nicer-looking this way, you muse. His face softer, brown eyes wide and sincere. You hide just how pleased you are at this insight (which you’re sure he has no idea he’s giving you) beyond allowing yourself a small smile.

“Well, maybe next time I’ll bring you some.”

Javier can’t quite find another quippy response, so he just gives a small nod, finding it hard to draw back even after you break his gaze. He tries not to fidget as you place a final strip of tape over the gauze bandage.

“There,” you declare, your work complete. “That should hold you for tonight.” You stand and gather up your supplies, giving him care instructions as you go. “Got it?” You seem much more relaxed than when you first arrived, confidence in your work squaring your shoulders. It’s…compelling, much more so than your usual reserved smiles in the hall.

“Yes ma’am.” Javier nods, not having heard a word. “…Thank you,” he adds, begrudgingly grateful.

You smile wryly at him. “Goodnight, Javier.”

You’ve nearly reached the door when he speaks again. “Javi.”

“Hm?” Pausing, you turn back to him.

He clears his throat. “You…you can call me Javi.”

Your smile is much warmer this time, brightening your eyes, and Javier feels his heart pound. “Goodnight, Javi.”

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos fic #narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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jamaiskookie · 4 years ago

Note

can i request a soft fluffy little drabble of fanboy yoongi and idol reader?

soundcloud rapper meets professional idol- myg

it’s #starrieselcaday !! where everyone posts their selfie in the hopes of their bias replying to them! alternatively, yoongi is a shy fanboy and you’re an idol with an undercover account where you stalk your fans.

masterlist

listen

min yoongi is not a liar

HOWEVER, if you happen to ask him what kind of music he likes to listen to..... that’s a rare exception.

he’ll probably reply by rattling off some of his favourite hip-hop rappers etc etc (emInEM!!! KANYE!! THE CLASSICS!!!!! beyonce)

which,, is not entirely a lie, okay?? he DOES listen to those artists! but his greatest guilty pleasure is this ... idolgirlgroup UGH he feels lame just thinking about it.

not that it’s a pathetic thing, ya know? it’s just that he’s ~min yoongi~ jin literally told him once that he would be re-born as a rock and he AGREES WITH THAT.

it’s not like he’s ashamed of saying he’s a fan of your group, it’s just that it’s not expected of the stone-cold soundcloud-rapper yoongi.

but secretly, he winds down by watching your fancams, mass streaming your albums, screaming about your debut anniversary, the list goes on... the day in a stans life never ENDS GOD.

he literally screamed at his laptop and bursted into tears for a good 4 hours your last comeback.

he even got jimin and namjoon to end up liking his ult group!!!

seokjin refuses to ‘lower himself’ to their standards but everyone knows he secretly has all of your albums downloaded

the group (lomls) called dreamcloud consists of five members- yoona, jisoo, lia, chae, and y/n. the fandom name is called starrie, even though nobody knows how that came about??

(his favourite single is their newest song called cloud 9)

three guesses to who’s his bias gO!!

if you guessed y/n congrats you’re CORRECT. other stans say that the bias they started with is NEVER the bias they have no but you’ve been yoongle’s ult bias since debut and it’ll forever be that way!!!

he’s been bias wrecked approx. 30 times but we don’t talk about that.

like lia is THIS close to stealing the bias spot but you’ll always have such a special place in his heart :,-)

which is why when he sees the hashtag #starrieselcaday which was trended by you when you tweeted out a selca he POUNCES ON THE CHANCE TO POST A SELCA

on his secret fan account of course.

oh boy he really hopes nobody from uni is going to see this..,,, he’ll deal with it if the time comes.

he definitely spends 30 minutes with jimin trying to figure out where the best lighting in the dorm is and then an additional 30 minutes just taking the damn picture.

he ends up taking the photo in his black bucket hat (the e-boy one) with this slightly awkward half smile plastered on his face.

he kinda hates it but it was also the best shot out of the 2000 he just took so that one it is!! (he’s also pretty tired of jimin telling him to ‘pOSE’)

he just posts it on his twitter with nothing but the #starrieselcaday hashtag. it’s the first time he’s participated in these so he’s kinda ~nervous~ but whaddya know!!

other starries are already hyping him up in his mentions!! [proud tears] gosh he loves this fandom so freaking much. he links jimin’s selca below his, telling his followers to go hype jimin’s picture too.

it’s slightly concerning how big of a following yoongi has on his stan account.

#STARRIESELCADAY! ✨@/liabby

replying to @/ynssuga

you look so cute suga!!!! ur bucket hat omg where did you get it send LINKS!!!

dreamcloud D-14!!! 🍬@/starriejoonn

replying to @/ynssuga

so THIS is what you spent an hour doing with jimin. owo looking good my friend! 😎

jade 💜ot5 @/vitaminchae

replying to @/ynssuga

omg you did #starrieselcaday !!! congrats on 50k by the way!! we’re all anticipating your album review (keysmashes) <3

awhhhh

how cute!

see? best fandom.

honestly he wasn’t even aware that he hit 50 thousand on his stan account what the FRICK that’s insane!!

the only thing he does on this stupid account is give album reviews (which are quite useless at this point it’s always a 10/10) and scream about the comeback stages.

occasionally he’ll go on to remind his fellow starries to drink water and take breaks from streaming- because contrary to popular belief he can be soft.

☁️STREAM #CLOUD9 ☁️@/yoonsoohearteu

replying to @/ynssuga

hOOOOOOOTTTT!! woohoo!! why didn’t you tell us you were attractive irl?? 👀 ru single bby? 👉👈

yoongi snorts reading that comment, replying to tell @/yoonsoohearteu that he’s far from attractive and is unfortunately, single. it’s all y/n’s fault, he jokes in his reply. dreamcloud has raised his standards too much.

y/n ✅@/dreamcloudy/n_official

replying to @/ynssuga

💞💞💞

[blink]

[bliiiink]

[?????????]

wut.

are his eyes deceiving him? WHAT?

yoongi checks again, and sure enough, the little checkmark verifying your OFFICIAL twitter account lays next to your handle,.,, WHICH IS BELOW HIS POST.

he takes a deep breath, trying to recall whatever breathing exercise his therapist taught him just last week.

it doesn’t work.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- “

💤☁️.

“y/n!“ yoona calls from the kitchen. in your large XL hoodie, you step in, humming a ‘hmm?’ to your leader. all the other girls are camped out in their rooms, preparing for the comeback coming soon.

yoona’s scrolling on her phone with a confused look on her face.

“why is hashtag starrie-selca-day trending? did you tweet something or was it chae?“ she asks, and you hide a slight smile.

“oh yeah,“ you reply. “i tweeted my selca this morning. you guys can tweet out yours too.“

yoona raises her eyebrow. “okay,” she asks. “just be careful.” you blink.

“be careful... of?“

“make sure the agency doesn’t find out about your secret account you use to stalk the starries.“ you sputter, spitting out a random excuse.

“you’re too obvious these days, y/n,“ yoona says, not unkindly. “i figured that your comment wasn’t intentional... was it on that guy suga’s page? anyways, your official account didn’t reply to any other fan’s selcas, so maybe you should comment on some other fans twitter accounts too.“

huh?

what on earth is she talking about- OH NO.

you scramble to take your phone out, immediately clicking into your twitter notifications.

you groan when you see ‘y/nsuga’ is already trending. you should’ve double checked which account you were on before commenting, for god’s sakes!

this is amateur stuff, you scold yourself. how could you forget?

like yoona said, you begin commenting on other selcas, so it doesn’t look like you’re singling just one fan out.

(except you kind of already did that.)

yoona stifles a laugh. “so,” she says. “we’re not going to talk about how you commented three heart emojis on this guy’s selca on your secret account... right?”

your cheeks heat up. “please don’t tell the other girls.” you plead. jisoo unnie would never let you live this down.

it’s not your fault some of your fans are. like, really cute, okay?

this guy- ‘suga’. well, that’s the name you’ve been calling him in your head- since it’s the alias he goes by on twitter.

he was one of the first fan accounts opened on twitter- just when you debuted! he posts these detailed and insightful reviews every time you have new music, and he’s always been such a loyal fan!

(plus, it’s super fun seeing him shut down your haters!! he always comes up with the most awesome comebacks)

((your personal favourite is ‘y/n could single handedly step on you with the heel of her five inch stilettos while she continues to do the choreography perfectly. shut your bitchass mouth up’))

so is it a crime to check up on a devoted fan’s twitter page every once in a while... on your secret twitter account??

he still hasn’t replied to your comment, which you’re slightly down about. he’s just busy, you reason with yourself. it’s not like you can expect his world to revolve around you, you scold.

yoona nonchalantly waves her hand. “i already screenshotted the evidence though, so that’s going in my y/n blackmail folder.”

you let out a multitude of complaints, noises that mostly consist of various versions of ‘fuck you uwu’

at least it was yoona who found out first. she’s the most gentle in the group... even though she has blackmail folders for each of the members.

you reassure yourself by telling yourself that she’d never actually use the folders for real blackmail purposes.... probably.

looking down at your phone, you frown.

cute boy suga still hasn’t replied.

you don’t know it, but the only reason why is because he’s still screaming.

“AHHHHLHFH*HDFGLHHHHH?&$5FLIQJARSODFILJQWOI?!!!?!?!!”

#bts fanfiction #bts suga #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #bts scenario #bts au #idol! reader #idol! au #bts imagine #bts fic recs #bts edits #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi crack #yoongi fanfiction #btsgif #yoongi fic

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fbfh · 5 years ago

Text

“forever” paxton hall-yoshida x reader

genre: fluffy romance + mutual pining (not too slowburn tho lol)

word count: 3.4k

au: none?? jock x theatre nerd ig

pairing: Paxton x broadway baby!reader

requested: yes !! i hope u like it uwu

warnings: one hell one motherfucking and i think that’s it for swearing?? um brief self deprecating/talking bad abt urself from paxton (bby boy needs a self love boost), reader and paxton are home alone together for a little while but nothing bad happens, uh,,, i think that’s it

summary: when Eleanor can’t run lines with you, she sends over a very attractive, mutually pining substitute.

reccomended songs: “Seventeen” - Tuck everlasting OBC, “The Kiss” -The Princess Diaries score

a/n: i’m p sure i kept the reader p gender neutral but there’s implied slightly long hair, and you play the lead (a girl named winnie) in ur schools production of tuck everlasting but like it’s theatre so anyone can play anyone lol,, this took so got dam long bc i’m fucking s o f t for jock x artist and it just sorta happened lol aLsO,, not super thoroughly edited so there might be a typo or two?? im tired lol

requests r open <3

You had only ever seen two athletes present during rehearsals. Once when Madeline (who at the time was playing Penny in your production of Hairspray) was dating a guy from the soccer team. The other was when the star of the basketball team had come in to give your choreographer pointers for the basketball scenes during High School Musical.

Until now.

You had run onstage part of the way through “Live Like This”, which wasn’t out of the ordinary since so much progress had been made on the costumes. You were still tying the ribbon on your pinafore as you jumped into the song, but when your eyes met a face in the usually empty auditorium, you faltered. You almost sang the wrong verse, but recovered quickly, continuing with the blocking. What felt like a moment later, the number was almost done and you were nearing the end of your counterpoint with Mae Tuck - played by Eleanor, of course. Who could be better for the part? You held out the last note, trying to stay in character despite all the distractions in the back of your mind. You had to talk to Eleanor when the director called for 10; she’d started telling you how Devi was being weird recently. Also, what the Hadestown was Paxton Hall-Yoshida doing chilling in the auditorium? You shoved all that away, focusing on staying in character until the director called for a break.

‘I want to go to the fair. I want to go so badly! I just need a change, need to get out of this house for a little while. I never do anything, so this can’t be asking for too much, right?’

You projected all that into your everything - face, voice, mannerisms, energy.

“Hold!”

Everyone froze.

The director wrote a few things on his paper, sighed, and underlined something several times.

“Okay, good job! I need to revise some of the blocking, then we’ll do notes, so take ten.” Your sudden nerves had definitely made you pitchy, you knew that would be one of your notes for sure.

A chorus of “Thank you ten”s erupted, and you immediately ran to Eleanor, telling the others good job as you passed.

You leaned in and started speaking to her, quietly.

“Okay you need to finish telling me about Devi, and that other news you’re being so cryptic about! Also, what’s up with Fierro over there?” you nodded towards Paxton hoping he wouldn’t see, and you noticed Fab is sitting near him. You realized they’re probably waiting for Eleanor and/or Devi. That must be it, he’s been hanging out with them lately, right? Eleanor gasped.

“You’re right! Paxton is such a Fierro!”

You cringed inwardly a little bit as her voice carried through the auditorium, mixing with the others. Your eyes darted over to him for a fraction of a second. Oh god. He was looking at you. Or in your general direction at least. Lena, the costumer, walked around the set gingerly, following you around and getting you out of your dress incredibly carefully as you and Eleanor walked off stage.

“No! Well, yes- but no. What’s he doing here? Jocks never come here during rehearsals. I saw Fab too, are you guys and Devi getting dinner or something?” You said, entering the auditorium, and stepping out of the dress. You grabbed sweatpants and a silky, floral kimono jacket from your bag to throw over your leotard and tights. She waved back at Fab before sitting down in the front. You both grabbed your fans and dramatically flicked them open in sync. Your wrists fluttered, cooling both of you off. A knowing, and slightly mischievous, look came on her face.

“Devi and Fab and I are. Paxton must be here for something… else.” she shrugged, nodding towards Paxton. You looked over again. He was staring at you. You did a double take and tried to hold back your smile.

“Wh- I do not know to what you are referring.”

“To what I am referring is the blush on his cheeks.”

You barely held back a nervous, bubbling laugh.

“He is not blushing! Why would he be blushing!”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, “Just like how I don’t know that he’s been loitering in the halls outside the music room during your last three solo music rehearsals.”

You struggled for an answer. Before you could form one, you were interrupted.

“Okay, okay what is the best Lin Manuel Miranda musical? Because Kathryn thinks it’s Hamilton-”

“Duh!”

“-But I think it’s In the Heights! It’s an underrated jewel!” Jonah interjected, still wearing his Jesse Tuck hat.

You considered for a moment.

“I mean, they’re too different to compare. In the Heights has the same energy as Rent - showcasing what goes on in ordinary people’s lives, and how love ties us all together,” he nodded in agreement, “But Hamilton is on a way larger scale, almost Les Mis meets Fun Home vibes. But in terms of personal preference…” Eleanor scoffed at your answer, and Jonah went back to debate further with Kathryn.

“Anyway,” you turned back to Eleanor to ask her what the hell she meant by Paxton Hall-Yoshida was blushing. But before you could-

“Eleanor, we need you to try on your blue dress again,” Lena was already pulling her away, “I had the empire waist in the right place but half the pins fell out, and it’s just...” And she was whisked away before you could finish the thought. You just had time to help Holly get out her wig pins and drink some lemon water before notes. Eleanor still wasn’t back, so you made sure to write down hers for her. It was pretty standard; be quiet backstage, go over your lines, don’t touch props that aren’t yours, don’t eat in costume, and a couple blocking changes you made note of. After your end of rehearsal warm downs and huddle, everyone left relatively quickly. You ducked into the bathroom to freshen up a little. Sometimes it was hard coming down from such intense energy after rehearsal. You mentally ran through your to do list. You needed to get some more tea, write that essay when you got home, go over your notes- You gasped, cutting off your own train of thought. You ran out of the bathroom to look for Eleanor, still clutching her notes in hand.

Your voice still echoed in Paxton’s ears. He wished he had a whole album of you singing. Your voice made him want to ruin his spotify algorithm by listening to nothing else. You had looked at him a couple times, and his heart had almost stopped. He didn’t know eye contact could be so intense. It’s probably just cause you’re like, the only person in the audience. Where else is she supposed to look? He deflated a little. He heard his name and looked over to you and Eleanor talking together. Hopefully it was about him. Hopefully it was good. He checked his phone, trying to look busy. When he glanced up to see if you were looking, you were gone. He started to look around for you when he saw Eleanor waving at Fab, and sure enough, you were next to her. What he didn’t expect was you dropping your dress to the ground. Time slowed down (and his heart sped up) as you stretched a little, and pulled out sweatpants from your bag.

Wow.

You had on what looked like a bathing suit on underneath, and a few other people had done the same, but he knew that image would be in his memory, probably forever. His heart was beating in his ears and he knew he must be blushing.

“You okay, Paxton?” Fab asked, a seat or two away. Oh god, he didn’t want people asking why he blushed every time he looked at you! He muttered something about needing to make a call and headed for the doors. Don’t look back at her, don’t look back at her… His eyes involuntarily darted in your direction right before he left. You had on a flowy translucent jacket, your hair thrown back supermodel style as you fanned yourself to cool down. He needed to cool down too. Maybe a cold shower, a really cold shower.

You managed to find Eleanor just before she left. Two girls were with her, you had seen Fab once, and you’d heard a lot about Devi, but had never been introduced.

You gave Eleanor her notes, and she hugged you.

“You’re a lifesaver!”

“Of course, I-”

“Uh, who’s this?” you looked over, and the shorter girl - Devi, based on what you’d heard about her - was giving you a weird look. You introduced yourself.

“Nice to meet you. How do you know Eleanor?” said the taller girl - definitely Fab.

“Oh,” you smiled, “she’s my almost mother in law. And my arch rival,” you counted on your fingers, “my sister, my niece, my lover, my husband, and…” you trailed off, trying to think of the other dynamics your characters had had in past shows.

“Your co-conspirator.”

“Right,” you laughed. Devi and Fab looked at you two.

“We’re in the musical together.” you clarified. You were about to part ways when you called to Eleanor, “Hey, we’re still on for running lines tomorrow night?”

“Uh… Sounds good!” she walked away quickly, speaking to Devi and Fab in hushed tones. Something was definitely up. That was typical Eleanor Scheming behavior.

That night, you almost couldn’t sleep. This wasn’t the normal post rehearsal can’t sleep. In fact, Tuck Everlasting was the last thing on your mind as you readjusted your pillows and snuggled into your duvet. You stared at the neon blue stars projected and swirling on your ceiling. You sighed. Again. Your brain was a 24/7 livestream of Paxton Hall-Yoshida to relax/study to. You saw him again, his face in the dimly lit auditorium, Adonis in a sea of faded seats. If you hadn’t been sure before, you knew now that red was definitely his color. You rolled onto your side. Your heart picked up speed as a thought crossed your mind. You could almost see Paxton now, kneeling next to you, his fingertips brushing your cheek. The piano underscore to “Seventeen” ran through your mind. You could imagine him saying “Wait with me, we could share the world…” so vividly it almost hurt. He leaned in, and…

You let out a loud sigh and rolled over again. Your heart was fully saturated. That’s more than enough pining for tonight.

“Paxton!”

He was a little surprised when Eleanor just walked up to him at lunch the next day. Most people were too intimidated to approach him out of the blue.

“I have a plan.”

“Uh, I don’t know what you-”

“Cut the crap, I know you like her.”

His face blanched. Well, yeah of course he did. Who wouldn’t? He was going to ask Eleanor if there was something he could do to win you over, just not here, not now. Not where everyone could watch and jeer and rib him for it. Just like they were doing now.

“Woah, dude, who is it?” Trent asked. He fumbled for words. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He hadn’t kept his crush a secret because he was embarrased of you, he’d kept it a secret because his dumbass friends wouldn’t get you. Hell, he barely got you. You were so deep, and emotive, and artistic...

“Bro, if you like her as much as it seems like you do,” Trent continued, “you gotta win her over.” He was a little shocked at the agreement murmuring through his group of friends. He didn’t know how to respond. Trent turned to Eleanor.

“What’s the plan, drama mama?”

“First of all,” she said, an almost humorously dangerous look on her face, “never call me that again. Second,” she shoved some papers into Paxton’s hands, “meet me in the music room immediately after school.” She started back for her table. Trent looked back over to Paxton.

“You gotta do it, dude. We’ll cover for you at swim.”

The rest of his friends agreed. He was pleasantly surprised at how supportive they were being.

“Yeah, I guess... we’ve got a plan.”

The next day went by pretty smoothly. No rehearsal was scheduled since they were finishing construction for some of the sets, but everyone was instructed to do a couple read throughs of the script, focusing on scenes they’re still forgetting, to make sure everyone’s off book. You stopped by 7 Eleven to get a blue slurpee (for homework) and a couple coconut waters (for run throughs). You texted Eleanor on your way to the slurpee machine.

okay so do you like the mango coconut water or the pineapple one?? It’s the mango one right?? i always forget lmao

sent at 4:16 pm

btw I don’t have that much homework so you can probs come by around 5:30 if you’re ready by then

sent at 4:16 pm

Bae Tuck

OMFG!! I totally forgot about running lines tonight, I can’t make it! :( but I’ll send someone over to help you out. :)

sent at 4:17 pm

You squinted at your screen. That was weird. Eleanor never used colon parentheses smilies. Like, ever. She always used emojis, and usually way more than two per text.

yeah np, are u good? ♡

sent at 4:17 pm

Bae Tuck

Yes :)

sent at 4:18 pm

Bae Tuck

Also get the passionfruit one 🥥🍠 👀

sent at 4:18

that’s,,, el that’s a sweet potato,,

sent at 4:19 pm

Bae Tuck

Close enough 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

sent at 4:19pm

...Okay? That was definitely weird. You shook it off and headed for the counter to pay. You stopped half way there, and turned back to swap the mango for passionfruit.

Not long after you had finished your homework and tidied up your room a little, the doorbell rang. You exited the kitchen, drinks in hand, and opened the door. Your heart caught in your throat. Paxton Hall-Yoshida was standing outside. And you were pretty sure he looked nervous. You both just stood there for a second. No one breathed, no one spoke.

“Uh, hi, do you want to…” you backed up, motioning for him to come inside.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, entering the doorway. Paxton motherfucking Hall-Yoshida was in your living room. You held out a hand to him.

“Coconut water?” he took the box, looked at the label, and smiled.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said again, this time a faint, yet unmistakable note of joy in his voice. He took a sip. He smiled.

“Passionfruit’s my favorite.” You silently thanked Eleanor, who you knew must have planned all this. Most of the evening was a blur, and you thanked god your family wasn’t home right now. You went upstairs, texted Eleanor asking what the actual fuck, made some surprisingly comfortable small talk, then filled him in on how to run lines.

“Do you think playing the soundtrack would help you… get into character?” he asked.

“I would probably just end up singing the whole thing,” You laughed and tried to ignore the butterflies in your chest. The main scene you struggled with was before “Seventeen”. It was harder to get into Winnie’s head because you had no romantic feelings for Jonah, and you always just made each other laugh. You had started with a few easier scenes of Winnie and Jesse, like the fair, and the dialogue before “Top of the World”.

“That was really good,” he said, and you felt the sincerity of his words.

“Thanks…” you smiled and took a sip of coconut water, hoping you weren’t blushing too hard.

“So what next?” he asked.

“Probably the scene before ‘Seventeen’,” you said, giving him the page and scene number, “it’s one of the hardest ones for me. I guess I just can’t connect to Jonah the way Winnie does.”

“Huh,” he said, skimming the page. When you looked up at him, he had something between a smile and a smirk playing at his lips. You made yourself look away before you got too distracted. You refused to think about the fact that you were sitting across from Paxton Hall-Yoshida on your bed, in your room, like you were… close with each other. His eyes skimmed the script, finding the dialogue. He glanced up at you and nodded, indicating he found his place. You began.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t get away,” you said, jumping into character.

“I may be 102, but I can still outrun anyone,” a smile played at his lips. You smiled, then let your face fall.

“I’m so sorry, I-I tried to warn you-”

“No, no,” he interjected almost seamlessly, “It’s okay, it’s… refreshing having someone look after me who isn’t my mom.” His eyes flickered between your face and the page. You smiled with him for a second, then let distress cloud your face.

“Jesse… that man came by my house today. He heard the music box, he knows about you-”

“I know he knows…”

You continued on with the scene and he trailed off when he came to the sheet music for the song Seventeen. You took in a breath to start the dialogue in the middle of the song, but before you could…

“Six years from now you will turn seventeen,

Turn seventeen,

The same age as me,

Six years from now,

Go to the spring,

Go to the spring and drink…”

He was singing to you. He was looking at you and singing to you. His eyes only flickered down to the page to confirm the lyrics. He was nervous, you could tell. But through his hesitance, the emotion in his voice was sincere. Your heart was beating faster. You didn’t even notice your pulse was ringing in your ears, you were too focused on Paxton.

“I'll wait for you till you turn seventeen,

Turn seventeen,

The same age as me,

Six years from now,

Go to the spring,

Go to the spring and drink…” Your hand rose to cover your mouth. He hesitated, and you remembered your dialogue.

“Uh, wh-what if I… forget where the spring is?” He reached out and took your free hand in his. Your pulse was off the charts. “I’ll go get you some water. Just… remember to keep it somewhere safe. Somewhere no one will find it.” You got the feeling he wasn’t just talking about the water. You knew he had never really been in a serious relationship before, and it clicked suddenly - if he learned an entire song to duet with you, just how much he must like you. You exhaled a breathy laugh, unsure how to process the sudden euphoria you felt.

“You make the world sound so… exciting. I just want to drink the water right now!”

“Uh, no. You have to wait.” you both smiled, anticipating the upcoming joke.

“Why?” you ask, “What’s the difference?” You held your breath as he tried not to laugh through the delivery of the punchline.

“Believe me,” he rubbed his thumb over your hand, “there’s a difference.” You both chuckled, and he continued singing. You were so focused on him, so… touched that he would do all this for you.

“Winnie, wait with me,

And we could be married,

Winnie, wait with me,

And we'll share the world,

Winnie, you can stop time,

And live like this,

Forever…”

“I could live like this forever,” you echoed.

“Live like this...” you sang in tandem.

“What do you say, Winnie? Do you want to…” he broke character suddenly, and asked, his eyes boring into yours, “Do you want to go out some time?”

He could see the adorable smile blooming on your face, even from behind your hand. You nodded.

“Yes, I-I would love that,” and you began to sing the last line in the song, “Forever-”

But before you finished holding out the note, his lips were on yours. His mouth moved slowly, intentionally, against yours. You followed his lead, flustered. He leaned further forward, his palm caressing your cheek. It was everything you imagined it would be, and you had quite the imagination. Your head was angled up and your hands rested themselves on his back, one tracing little shapes. Your shoulders were pressed against each other and neither of you could think. He was so warm. He tasted like coconut and passion fruit, and a distant part of your mind silently thanked Eleanor again.

You really could live like this forever.

#paxton hall yoshida x reader #paxton hall yoshida #never have i ever #nhie #nhie x reader #never have i ever x reader

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capricornus-rex · 4 years ago

Text

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (11)

Chapter 11: Set in Motion | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

A/N: Hi guys, I’m slowly getting back on my feet mentally. I hope I didn’t disinterest you guys with how long I’ve taken to write stories. If you still stayed to tune in to the story despite the dramatic change in my posting schedule, A BIG THANK YOU TO YOU GUYS!! I’ll keep writing to make this story interesting.

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 | Previous: Part 10 | Next: Part 12 | Masterlist

12 of ?

17 BBY

A day after her full medical examination, the Anathema charted a course to the western arm of the Mustafar system.

For the first time in a near-month, Irele officially can wander around the ship. The first thing she did with the privilege was to find her way to the bridge, with HY-L33 by her side. Despite her plain-looking clothes, she stuck out like a sore thumb.

She approaches the viewing pane of the bridge, a spot that most officers were accustomed to seeing Vader instead, and watches the bluish-gray moon come into size as they pass through the Imperial blockade. She didn’t listen to the standard exchange between officers from each end, her gaze remained on the moon. She allowed herself to close her eyes to get a feel of the planet—she felt it cold and brooding, and yet it was brimming with life. She started to guess what kind of terrain it had too, probably volcanic rock, she thought; but the closer the ship got, she realizes that it was mostly water.

Unaware that she’s connecting with the planet’s essence through the Force, to her, it felt like frolicking around someplace new and unexplored; for this particular moon, she could feel the cold water seawater freeze the nerves under her skin, she could the faint light of the bioluminescent creatures thriving in the depth as if like starlight, and the strong current that nearly swept her off of her feet. Her eyelids shot up.

“What is this place?” she asked no one in particular.

“We are approaching the moon, Nur, Lady Irele.”

Irele turned her head to the side to see who answered: a young uniformed officer with black hair neatly cropped at the sides. He donned the exact same garbs as his colleagues, the only thing that differed was the badges pinned on his left chest—which was relatively fewer than the seasoned admiral.

The same officer didn’t go far from her; as the Anathema got into the moon’s exosphere, he escorted her—along with HY-L33, whom she insisted to be allowed to follow her—to the hangar where the shuttle Zenith awaits its passenger. Irele made herself comfortable in the main cabin, furnished with only a small round table surrounded by a booth, across it is a slab meant as a bench for other passengers.

The girl’s curiosity grew at the same time the moon scaled in size as they descended into the atmosphere. At first glance, she’d think the gray and black surface would be high cliffs; the Zenith cut through the clouds, revealing much of the land mass, she leaned in by the window to find that there was none. All of it was water. The only other terrain that existed there was the fortress that sat in the middle of the ocean, it was practically an artificial island in its own right.

“What is that?”

“That is Fortress Inquisitorius, Lady Irele.”

“What’s in there?”

“This is the standard lodge and training grounds for Inquisitors.”

It’s the first time she’s heard the word, though she’s absolutely sure that she is none of that.

“Why am I being brought here?”

A pause came upon the droid, HY-L33’s neck whirred as to bow her head.

“My apologies, neither captain nor crew have uploaded their ship manifest into my database.”

Irele made a mental note to request for HY-L33 to have special privileges if it involved her. That is, if she can even make one.

The fortress’s peak pierced through the sky like a spear, standing tall and as deep as the ocean floor. The pilot gently curbed around, allowing Irele a closer look and all of a sudden she felt weary.

–

Irele exited the Zenith and was then passed over to another officer, though much older and appearing to be perpetually vexed by this fool’s errand. Nevertheless, the escort officer walked Irele and HY-L33 through the fortress. It was a metal maze underwater.

The vibrant blue of the underwater life reflected a sheen over Irele’s widened eyes. Mouth agape, she had forgotten that she was in such a foreboding, ominous place. Never has she ever dreamed in her entire life that she’d see a place this blue, after living of seeing nothing but golden-brown sand that stretched up to the ridges where the twin suns hid.

The escort officer kept on blathering about where was what, schedules—her schedules, specifically—of her routines and training sessions. Irele was having none of it, she walked by the glass wall staring at the shoals that swam past her. Her distracted giggling caught the attention of the officer and he snapped.

“Lady Irele, did you hear what I just said?!”

The poor, startled girl’s shoulders jumped and her heels sprang. She froze in place.

“S-Sorry, I was looking at the water…”

The officer sighed and switched his tone, “Would you want me to arrange a tour in your own personal pod, young lady?”

It didn’t take a genius to see that the officer’s words were drawling with a harsh breed of sarcasm. Irele’s fists balled so tightly that her fingernails dug curves on the skin of her palms. She glowers at him, refusing to speak. The escort rolled his eyes and sighed, further irritated by this mundane task given to him.

“Puh! Children!” he scoffed under his breath as soon as he turned away from Irele and continued.

Eventually, they arrive to a viewing room with a wide window that spanned from left to right. Irele was reluctant to stand beside the escort, the latter thought likewise so he stepped back himself. Below the viewing deck, Irele witnessed something intense, brutal, and oddly fascinating.

Two individuals, armored head to foot in sleek black, both wielding weapons but each a different kind. One held a pair of rods, and the other a weapon in the same fashion as a hammer. Violet electricity crackling along the ends of the weapons sparked at every collision and strike each fighter made.

Irele pressed herself against the glass when the fight was getting good. She didn’t place her bet on anyone, she had never seen a graceful, calculated fight such as this—even though this is a normal sparring session, to keep these fighters’ wits and skills sharp. The dual wielder eventually wins after staggering his opponent with a flurry of attacks.

“Come now, young lady, it’s time I bring you to your quarters.”

She looks away from the viewing pane and then to the escort, her expression served enough as a question asking for elaboration, though he didn’t humor her with an answer—even if she actually asked.

Her room in Fortress Inquisitor was a bigger version of the one she had in the command ship; and so she had to adjust all over again, but seeing that it was no different either way, getting used to the room was somehow easy.

“Well, HY-L33, I guess we’ll be staying here for a while.”

“Indeed, Lady Irele. I will be here to assess you medically if you are fit for your regular training sessions assigned in your schedule.”

“Why am I going to be trained? Are they gonna make me an Inquisitor?”

“In a way, Lady Irele, yes. But you will not be named an Inquisitor.”

“Then what’s the point of training me? I get that I will need to learn how to fight but for what?”

HY-L33 stood silent and incapable of answering her master’s questions. Irele apologized for barraging the droid with questions that may not have been—as she now mockingly calls it—“not uploaded into her database.”

Irele took rest for the day, not knowing what’s in store for her in the coming days.

The pawn now moves.

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poisonepel · 5 years ago

Note

I would like to request headcanons of the 3 Octavinelle boys falling in love with a girl. Pretty please. :3

delivery !! I shall now return to my hole of self-doubt over my portrayal of the octavinelle fish babies 💦 I hope I’m living up to u fish stans’ standards 🐙

※these hcs imply that this is the first time they’re experiencing true love for someone. so, maybe when they’re first-years ?? very new and very bby

Azul

He’s not in love. He probably just wants something from you …is what he tells himself at first.

At night, he finds himself thinking about you constantly; how much he’d love to be there for you whenever you’re going through something, how much he’d love to sit down with you, pour two cups of tea and just listen to your voice for hours.

He’s a little taken aback by himself. Since when does Azul care about other people?? He’s normally just interested in the profits he’ll gain out of his services—never the person’s well-being. Now he has a problem, and he’s not sure how to fix it.

Azul has imagined falling in love before, but never did he expect it to feel like this. He does extensive research on you while he figures out how to deal with this; what your current interests are, your transcript/best courses, your resume, your magic class, which careers you plan on pursuing/which careers your current skill-set would be a good fit for, etc. His top priority is knowing how much income you’d bring into the household should this relationship end up progressing beyond college (Granted, it hasn’t even begun yet. But he isn’t concerned about that.)

…Even if he ends up disappointed by the data he finds, he quickly realizes that knowing you have no idea what you’re going to do with your life still doesn’t stop his heart from fluttering at the thought of you.

This is even more of a problem.

No matter what he does, though, he can’t ignore you—so, he’ll invite you to tea at the Lounge, he’ll invite you over to his dorm room; he decides he’ll figure out his own feelings while in communication with you.

Jade

When he realizes he’s in love with you, Jade’s first fear is… Azul.

As his assistant, Jade worries Azul might view feelings like love as “getting in the way.” After all, Jade is obligated to dedicate himself to Azul and Azul alone. Plus, he knows first-hand how Azul notoriously will twist up a person’s relationships and thoughts to use those against them.

He doesn’t want to put you in danger’s way, which Azul could easily bring should he decide to intervene in your relationship. But, Jade can’t pretend he doesn’t love you either. So everything is in secret. He pays many visits to your dorm room late into the night, while oftentimes ignoring you in the day, ensuring that you stay out of Azul’s area of interest during work hours. If you ever have a problem? Jade will fix it himself. Azul will never hear anything regarding you.

It’s painful for Jade on days when he knows you’re stressed, or on days when he’s not feeling totally up to speed; he hates that he can’t act like a normal boyfriend at school. But, his fears overpower his desires.

Floyd helps out with keeping you two a secret as well. As his twin brother, Jade will always be the one person his loyalty is strongest for; even if Floyd doesn’t particularly like you, he makes sure Azul never finds out about Jade’s love, nor let anything happen to you.

In the case that Azul finds out, and actually doesn’t mind the relationship, Jade is noticeably much happier. Being able to smile at you in public and kiss your forehead without worrying about any threats from his own boss is a huge relief.

Floyd

Make it stop. Floyd hates this feeling. He doesn’t understand what’s going on with himself; he just knows he’s constantly uncomfortable in the chest and wants it to stop.

And since this only ever happens when he’s around you, or when he’s thinking about you, he figures you must’ve done something to him. Cast a curse? Cast a love spell? He corners you one day and flat-out demands that you “change him back.”

Naturally, you have no idea what he’s talking about. Floyd is immensely frustrated, even moreso by the fact that you’re insisting you haven’t done anything. When you finally figure out that he’s accusing you of giving him a love potion, you remind him that magic like that doesn’t work if the person is self-aware. That calms him a little from his explosive fit, and he asks, a bit despairingly, how to make it stop.

“W-well….”

Depending on your answer, and your own feelings towards him, you might explore a whole new world with Floyd ;D

#bittersweet-faerietale #twisted wonderland #twst hcs #azul #jade #floyd #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #headcanons #sorry hdhhdh they just kept getting shorter and shorter #floyd is hard man #how do u write someone whose only canon description is 'moody and hard to tell what hes thinking'#I CANT TELL WHAT HES THINKING

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renegade-skywalker · 4 years ago

Text

Out of the Abyss, Chapter 20

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20: Sole Survivor

After years in exile, ex-Jedi General, Eden Valen (now going by Vale) continues to clean up after Revan and Malak’s mess of a war, only to find herself forever cursed with their unfinished business. As an ill-fated lead brings her to Tatooine, Eden finds that Revan’s mysterious plans go beyond the Republic, beyond the Outer Rim, and into the utter unknown. (A novelization of The Sith Lords and beyond)

Chapter Summary: Atton returns to a changed Peragus, fearing now for his life as well as his record, and Brianna catches Atris up to the Exile's whereabouts.

Also found on AO3 | fanfiction.net

3951, Peragus Mining Facility Atton

"Anything you'd like to report?"

"Um, excuse me - what?"

"Anything you'd like to report, sir? In your luggage?"

Atton was good at smuggling, or at least he had been, given his current performance. Not used to being flustered, Atton mustered as charming of a laugh as he could and considered even winking at the Peragus intake officer looking him deadpan in the face.

"Ah yeah, actually," he answered finally, desperately trying to sound casual but failing miserably, "Got a new jacket, some boots, and-"

"Alright then, just log them in here, here and here," the woman cut him off as she thrust a datapad at his chest, before he could flourish his half-lie with something even stupider than what he'd already said. The new jacket wasn't a lie, nor were the boots… but what was inside the boots, well, that was another story.

Atton restrained himself, careful to keep his dumb mouth shut, and took the datapad from the officer's impatient hands. Doing as she asked, he logged the new duds and… nothing else. Smiling still, he handed the pad back to her, her expression unchanged.

"Okay, now I just need you to sign this waiver-"

"Waiver?" Atton held up a hand to stop her, "I signed a waiver when I signed on with this outfit, why do I need to do it again?"

"New company policy," she shrugged, seeming more annoyed than anything. Atton watched her for further reaction, but after finding none snatched the datapad back from her and scanned the waiver now displayed on its screen. "Says here the hazard pay's gone up. What's that about?"

Atton's heart skipped a beat once his brain processed the technical salary increase but knew better than to get his hopes up.

"Haven't you heard?" the officer said, rolling her eyes, "Whole outfit could blow any minute now, what with the up in mining accidents."

"But there are always mining accidents," Atton answered, "Isn't that the whole point this job is what it is?"

"Not like this," she replied, sighing and raising her brows as she glanced at his file open on another datapad at her fingertips, "We lost ten miners since you set off, it looks like."

"Lost? As in… died?"

The woman nodded, solemn despite the clear annoyance still painted on her face.

"Damn. Does anyone know why? I mean, accidents happen, but any idea why there are so many?"

The woman shrugged again.

"Management won't tell us anything, just that it's under control. Whatever that means."

Atton huffed in snark agreement, "Of course."

Signing the waiver finally, wondering just how harrowing his next four years here might be, he was suddenly feeling better about the contraband hiding in near-plain sight in his carry-on, almost forgetting the deal with the Exchange lackey that forced him into this mess.

One down, four to go. Though if everything went as planned, he'd be off this rock in no time.

-------------------------------

3951 BBY, The Polar Regions of Telos The Last Handmaiden

"And that was the last you saw of the Exile?"

"Yes, Mistress," Brianna's voice echoed through Atris' chambers, even the quickness of her breath reverberating off the stark walls that surrounded them. "Is there any more you wish from me?"

Atris remained silent, her fingers steepled in thought as they cradled her porcelain chin upon her desk, considering Brianna's words. Atris betrayed no emotion as she considered the Last Handmaiden's account, though she already knew what happened from the reports Brianna had sent. After a few agonizing minutes, the woman shook her head. "I believe that will be all for now. Good work."

Good work?

Brianna would hardly call it good work, and though she was glad for her sisters' unusual accolades, nothing of what had transpired over the last standard week felt good to her.

"I sense some uncertainty," Atris said, a wan smile crossing her pale features as her gaze lifted to meet Brianna's inquisitive stare. "If you have any grievances, please share them."

Brianna was unsure if this was a request made in earnest curiosity or one meant to draw out her ire.

"Perhaps I misinterpreted your instructions, Mistress. I was under the impression that I was to continue to pursue the Exile, even after she left Nespis."

"Ah," Atris said, her voice soft and soothing. Mistress uncoupled her hands and pressed them to the desk as she stood, her white robes billowing as she swept across the room to Brianna's side. "That was the intention, yes, but the Force has since shown me another path."

Brianna stiffened as Atris placed a hand on her shoulder, both afraid there was some unseen reprimand yet to come though inwardly pleased at the closeness, her Mistress' smile an almost motherly welcome.

"As their only other living witness, you have further confirmed my fears that the Sith have returned. It is only a matter of time before they reveal themselves in true and wage war on the Republic as we know it. But for now we must rest and await their arrival."

Brianna nodded, tempted to mirror Atris' serene smile though finding she couldn't at the thought of the man with the violet saber back at Anchorhead, perturbed that Atris seemed so sure that the Sith would continue to emerge from anonymity, finally making themselves known.

"Tell me what to do next, Mistress," Brianna bowed her head, reverent, awaiting her Mistress' next command, unsure of what else to do.

"I have something for you," Atris answered after a moment, her voice soft but aloof now. "See that plasteel container by the door?"

Atris removed her hand from Brianna's shoulder, the Echani's arm suddenly cold at the absence of her Mistress' touch. Brianna glanced back in the direction Atris indicated, finding a demure box waiting by the exit to the study, hardly distinguishable from the other packages piled up along the walls - undoubtedly housing artifacts yet to be examined, items yet to be logged into Atris' never-ending inventory.

"I would like for you to take it with you when you return to your quarters. Think of it more as a test than a gift."

"Yes, Mistress."

"You would do well to consider your Echani oath," Atris continued, hooking her hand beneath Brianna's chin and guiding it so that she looked at Atris again. Mistress' angelic smile remained, her eyes warm despite their iciness. It was a wonder Atris was not Echani herself, given her appearance, though it was clear she revered the race highly for their discipline as well as for how well their faith coincided with that of the Jedi. "I will need all the protection I can get."

"Y-yes, Mistress."

Atris removed her hand from Brianna's chin and Brianna bowed her head again, wanting anything but to look Mistress in the eye.

She knows.

"Speak with Orenna about blocking," Atris said, returning to her desk and immediately busying herself with a datapad, as if Brianna had only just interrupted her and had not been speaking for the last hour, detailing every leg of her journey. "And try not to take it personally, or anything your sisters say for that matter. I believe it was sentimentality that ultimately led your father to his unfortunate demise."

Atris was not even looking at Brianna as she said this, her voice almost casual and nonchalant as she continued. Her father was murdered by the traitor Revan, Brianna and everyone else knew that. But she knew what Atris spoke of, if not indirectly - the thing that haunted her every waking moment, the mistake Brianna never made but was born with the burden to bear. Brianna the Bastard. The Last of the Handmaidens.

"You would do well with some guidance," Atris said with some finality, an edge to her voice as her eyes rose to meet Brianna's - briefly - before smiling softly and returning to her work without another glance. This was meant to signal Brianna's dismissal and mark her uncouth exit from Atris' chambers to again consider the sins of her father, ad nauseum.

Brianna waited for a moment, almost hopeful that Atris was not yet finished, but when her Mistress continued to read her datapad without so much as another upward glance, Brianna nodded, bowed, and retreated, picking up the plasteel container as she went.

Once out of sight of Atris' chambers and clear of the long, somber causeway that separated their Mistress' quarters from her Echani advance guard, Brianna stopped mid-stride and leaned against the wall, letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

Her fingers prickled, cold almost, as if she had been out on the mountainside. Brianna's knuckles were white against the plasteel container still in her hands, and with a trembling grip, she opened the box to see what was inside.

At first, she saw nothing, just the black nothingness of an open box. But as the light adjusted, she saw it - grey fabric on grey fabric, shades upon shades of grey. The box nearly clattered to the floor as Brianna extracted the cloth in its entirety from the container, what little color she had drained from her face at the sight. Jedi robes.

Oh, she knows.

--------------------------------

3951, Peragus Mining Facility Atton

"So, do anything interesting off-world?" the new-hire beside him asked, but Atton only shrugged, trying his best to keep his mind focused on the data running across the screen in front of him. The mining droid on his other side twitched as it idled, as if awaiting Atton's command with impatience - which only made Atton want to punch the thing square in the module that looked most like a face.

"Really, nothing?"

The young humanoid was eager for Atton's opinion on all things Peragus, including the quality of the food, the linens the bunks were outfitted with (Atton couldn't help but snort when he said the word 'linens'), and of course, what their once-a-year leave would consist of once he qualified for it.

"Played some cards, ate some take out. Stuff we can't get around here, that sort of thing. Enjoyed the peace and quiet," Atton answered reluctantly after a moment, doing what he could to be as vague as possible while still giving a meaty enough answer in hopes of shutting the kid up.

The new recruit was fresh-faced and new to the job - quite literally. Having only just arrived that morning, Atton's shift manager thought it best to have him shadow Atton first thing once his paperwork was signed and ready to process. Fresh from the dire warnings that management bombarded the poor kid with during orientation, he was likely looking for a ray of hope, hungry for any indication that this outfit wasn't so bad. Atton didn't want to outright depress the guy but he also didn't want to lie, though ultimately Atton preferred not to have to talk to him at all.

"Aw, really? Didn't meet up with friends or family or anything?" he asked.

Atton almost laughed.

"Don't have either, though plenty of the others do. The company can arrange for family visits if that's what you were trying to get at."

"Ah, yeah, I was wondering," the new recruit said, shifting now as he watched Atton work from over his shoulder, completely oblivious to how uncomfortable it made him, "Trying to help my family win back their estate on Coruscant. Since we couldn't afford to send any of my siblings to school, we sort of ended up finding odd jobs around the galaxy."

"And you got sent all the way out here?" Atton asked, trying to mask the agitation in his voice as he tried to ignore the kid at his back the droid beside him, still twitching.

"Tough breaks, right?"

"Eh, it's not so bad once you get used to it. There are worse things you could be doing."

'Worse things' is putting it lightly. Atton eyed the corner of their work station, nestled into a bit of rock at the base of the current excavation site, at the satchel he left unattended by the entrance. All workers carried their equipment to and from their work sites, but they also carried a satchel with any nonessential gear like water or other provisions they might need for their shift. Atton's satchel had been equipped with only one nutrient bar and a water canister that was now attached to his hip. The rest of the satchel's contents would hopefully only be discovered by the man intended to pick it up, per the Exchange's orders, during the next shift change. The drop-off would be seamless, if all went as planned. And no one would be the wiser.

"I'm only here for a year, so it shouldn't be so bad."

If he was lucky.

"So, how long have you been here?"

Atton gritted his teeth, doing his best to ensure his work was accurate while he fished for unimportant answers and the droid continued to hum beside him uncertainly.

"A while," he answered absently, punching in a code that should keep the droid happy for a while. After hitting the execute button, the droid began mining as directed, and Atton sighed as the kid beside him laughed, clapping on needless congratulations.

"Whoa, that was awesome!"

"Uh, yeah sure," Atton said, checking his chronowatch. Only twenty minutes and he would be in the clear. His immediate future was already so clear in his mind - lunch scarfed down in a minute flat followed by a much-needed nap in his bunk. Once the drop off happened, he'd feel a lot better. And he could finally get back to paying off his debts, worry free.

"So you're good with numbers, huh?" the kid asked, returning to Atton's shoulder, scrutinizing the program he just entered into the datapad. Atton could only roll his eyes.

"Sort of, it's just a basic equation. Once you learn the ropes here, you'll see, it's just a programming spec meant to-"

"Hey, is your datapad working?" A voice interrupted from Atton's other side. He spun around to meet the sound, his eyes falling on a short red-haired woman running up beside him and his undesired intern.

"Uh, yeah why?" Atton answered, instantly forgetting the woman's name despite having been assigned to the same shift as her for the last six months.

"I dunno, mine's acting kind of funny. Won't take any commands. Do you mind taking a look?"

Atton minded, but didn't want to voice as much. After quickly eyeing the unattended satchel in the corner again, he nodded, knowing it would be best if he acted as normal and unassuming as possible - even if normal for him meant avoiding everyone at all costs. And to his dismay, his little sidekick fell into stride once he agreed to follow along and see what the problem was.

"I'm no expert or anything," Atton warned them both, putting up his hands as if in surrender, "But let's see here-"

The woman's station was on the adjacent wall, her datapad propped up against a jut in the metal paneled wall. After punching in a few codes, it was clear his co-worker's data was sound, her programming even more polished than his if anything.

"Huh, that's weird," he muttered, punching in the sequence to run diagnostics. "Everything seems clean. Perfect, even."

The woman beamed at his side but bit her lip once she caught sight of her droid again, clearly malfunctioning beside them.

"You don't think-?" she started, but she trailed off. Atton side-eyed her, her brown eyes meeting his for an instant before she shook her head. "No, nevermind. I'll figure it out next shift."

She powered down the droid and nodded at Atton in thanks before taking her datapad back and submitting a Help Desk ticket.

"That happen often?" the new kid asked as they walked back to Atton's station. Atton couldn't help but eye his own assigned mining droid with suspicion, content it was doing as it was told but uncomfortable with how it had been acting earlier - not to mention the rumors running around the station since he'd returned from Citadel Station.

"No, not really."

"Weird."

They worked in silence until the end of the shift, to Atton's relief, the new recruit only asking him about trivial things like how many suits they were issued and if they were allowed seconds at meal times. He kept glancing back at the woman from before, her droid thankfully slumped and still powered down since she willed it to be so, unmoving.

"So, are there designated 'lights out' times or-?" the new kid asked just before the shift change was signaled. "Oh, what's that?"

"Shift's over," Atton said, packing his datapad away and making a point to not look at his abandoned satchel. As they approached the elevators, Atton watched as the next shift filtered past them.

Once inside the lift, he couldn't help but look back, knowing that his gaze would be indistinguishable among the rest of the group waiting for the elevator up. Watching as the new shift took their stations, Atton saw a man kneel down and snatch up his abandoned satchel, slinging it over his back as if it were nothing. With close cropped hair and sharp blue eyes, Atton didn't recognize the man - only knowing that he fit the sorry excuse for a description the Exchange provided. And for now, that would have to be enough.

-----------------------------

"Did you hear about the explosion down in Sector Two?" a Twi'lek muttered, idly moving the food around her plate with a fork.

"I thought it was in Sector Eight? Sector Two is way too close to the administration level," her companion said.

Atton did his best to keep his head down and eat as fast as he could, still eager to nap before scheduled rec time and making the most of his sentence on this rock, but he couldn't help but get sucked into the gossip already on fire at the table he was unfortunately sitting at.

"No, I'm serious. Sector Two! And management isn't doing anything about it!"

"How do you know about it, then?"

Atton's eyes volleyed between the two women, the second one a humanoid with blue markings dotting her gold face. The Twi'lek sighed and glanced about the dining hall again, apparently uninterested in Atton, who was hopefully doing a decent enough job of pretending to be equally uninterested.

"My bunkmate is stationed there, said she was lucky to make it out alive."

"You should file a formal complaint. The least they could do is ignore it, right?"

"I think it was fake," the Twi'lek said instead

"Fake?"

Her companion nodded, grave as her eyes scanned the room to spot any eavesdroppers, lowering her voice and leaning forward as she continued.

"It was planted, for sure. You heard about the ship they found last week, right?"

The other woman shook her head.

"I hear they found some people on it, salvaging the rest, I guess. Not sure who though, but they must be important because there've been a ton of inquiries."

"Inquiries?"

The Twi'lek shrugged. "Why else would people care?"

"What do you mean by inquiries, though? Like, is it someone we know? Or-?"

"Not sure, but I have a feeling it has something to do with money."

The other woman chewed as she considered the Twi'lek's words, narrowing her eyes as she mulled it all over. "You don't think it's a Jedi do you? I heard there was a bounty out for any found alive."

"Psht, they don't even exist anymore, Mara. I doubt it's a Jedi."

"I dunno. I mean, the bounty's pretty high. And you heard about someone trying to smuggle frag grenades onto the station, right?"

"What?!" the Twi'lek exclaimed, though managed to keep her voice somewhere in the range of an urgent whisper. "No way. That's the dumbest thing someone could do."

"Yeah! Or, I don't know, might have been a blaster rifle or something or other, but either way, I hear that's why they've ramped up security since yesterday."

"Ugh, they just want to make it look like they have the situation under control when they really don't. Why would these explosions keep happening, anyway?"

Atton wanted to hear more, suddenly nervous about whatever the hell he just smuggled onto this Maker forsaken rock, but instead reluctantly relinquished his seat for the next hungry worker, getting up swiftly as if he hadn't been listening and deposited his lunch tray at the end of the hall. Glancing back, he found the two women conversing still, heads bowed together now, eyes darting about the room. But they weren't the only ones, he noticed. Nearly the entire hall was flush with the sound of hushed whispers, charged with an unseen energy that Atton felt without question. He was anxious when he returned from Telos for the unchecked cargo he brought with him, partially against his own will, and while that anxiety never faded it quickly fell in line with the anxiety already running rampant throughout the station, though for reasons that were still mysterious to him. And everyone else for that matter…

"Hey! What's all this talk about accidents?"

The new kid from before sidled up alongside Atton as soon as he entered the hallway, bustling with other workers as they changed shifts, each sector switching over according to a staggered schedule. Atton rolled his eyes, his irises glimpsing so far as the contents of his brain. Atton had originally planned his quick lunch and equally swift exit ahead of time, though not for the express purpose of running into his incidental-protege. Instead, the idea had been to beat the lunch crowd back to the dorms so he could sneak in a nap while he remained the bunks' only occupant. Only now his chances of success were diminishing.

"Remember the hazard pay they had you sign off on?" Atton said, sighing. The kid nodded, though he still appeared confused.

"Why do you think that number's so high? Because it's boring here? You do know what 'hazard' means, right?"

"Of course I do, but-" the new kid paused, looking about the hall for another sympathetic face and finding none that could read his mind, "I dunno, it all seems wrong though, doesn't it? Hazard pay or no?"

Atton wanted to agree but he also wanted to be alone in his bed with only imaginary Pazaak cards for company.

"Just- don't worry about it, okay?" Atton conceded, "Everything'll be-"

But before he could finish his sentence, he felt it. It. That tingling sensation at the base of his neck that always managed to tell him when everything was about to go sideways.

"Shit."

Before the thought could properly register, Atton's senses exploded, suddenly hyperaware of everything around him - the new kid turning at his side, the bustle of people walking in the opposite direction, a deactivated mining droid ahead of him and a shipment of food being delivered to the dining hall behind him as it swerved to avoid passersby - and just as time sped up to meet his senses, an arm reaching out to cover his face of its own accord, a very real explosion blew Atton off his feet, sending him straight into the wall at his left.

Skull, shoulder, and hips collided with tempersteel as all thought rushed out of Atton's head, his limbs acting out of instinct to protect himself on impact. Several bodies crashed into his other side as the air in the hall exploded and then compressed, a dull, faraway ringing replacing all sound.

Atton collapsed, his senses on fire, his muscles jelly, when his mind suddenly reached out, all objects in the hall somehow visible in his mind's eye: every person, every machine, every piece of debris as it swirled through the air around them as if in slow motion. And that's when he sensed it – the second explosion.

Without thinking, and still unable to feel his extremities, Atton scrambled into a blown open service closet just ahead of him, ducking inside the moment the second explosion hit.

Everything went black.

Silent.

And then… ringing, low murmurs. Energy swarmed around him. Time passed, though he knew not how much.

It was almost like waking, treading the space between dreams as they bled into the real world, only prolonged, as if Atton were half-awake and hardly aware of everything around him but only marginally so, half of his brain straining to sleep and the other half urging him desperately to get up - GET UP.

"I think this one's stabilizing, finally," a voice came into focus from the void.

Atton's entire world was still a swirling blackness, but the voice grew clearer, closer.

"Can't say the same for the rest of them."

"Damn it, really?"

A low beeping resonated through the space around him, Atton's senses slowly returning, everything hurting and dialed to eleven.

"Lost this one."

"This one, too."

"Shit, why does this keep happening?"

"Has management said anything? Are they launching an investigation? Or-?"

"Management doesn't give a shit about us," another voice huffed, Atton's vision now surging with light, the waking world still a blur, "I think this one's waking up. Hey? Hey! Can you hear me?"

"Hm?" Atton's lips were numb, tingling if anything, but he could feel them, or at least sense the lack of feeling in them, which was better than nothing.

"Good, good, now just keep talking, stay with me here."

"What happened?" Atton heard himself say, his voice about as dumb as it was hoarse.

"You were hurt pretty bad, there was an explosion down by the cafeteria a few hours ago. Do you remember anything?"

A few hours ago?

"I remember…"

It had happened so suddenly, yet Atton could dissect his every second as if he were watching a play-by-play, each frame pausing long enough for him to register all present information, and it still only felt like moments ago, his brief coma lasting longer than it seemed.

"It's okay, take your time," the medic slowly swam into Atton's sight, kaleidoscope vision slowly merging into one as Atton continued to take deep breaths, his mind still reeling with what just happened. A woman stood over him, a wan smile on her face as she observed Atton - the rest of the medbay slowly coming into focus behind her and her halo of honey brown hair. "Just keep talking to me, keep talking."

"Uh," Atton muttered, his lips still unfeeling, his entire body a senseless mass, both amorphous but painful all at once, "There were two explosions, I think."

"Two?" the medic pressed, this time jabbing an intravenous needle into Atton's forearm, a warm hand briefly checking his forehead for a temperature, "Are you sure?"

Atton nodded, finding that his head pounded with the action.

"Take it easy, easy now," the medic steadied him, a gentle hand on his strapped-in arm, the IV draped over his wrist and already pumping strong with a hell of a painkiller, Atton's limbs suddenly euphoric as his mind cleared.

The medbay was full. And Atton was the only one conscious, save for the medics.

Beyond the medic at his side, several charred bodies lay on slabs beside him, white cloth barely covering their corpses. Other medics rushed about the room, medical droids buzzing at their sides.

"Two explosions," Atton repeated, unable to say more as if his mouth were suddenly full of cotton.

"No idea?"

Atton shook his head. The play-by-play was clear, but his brain couldn't yet decode the images, his mouth nowhere near as caught up to speed as his memory.

"We're losing them-" a voice said from the other side of the room, panic rising in their throat. The medic at Atton's side turned to look, and upon looking at Atton again began wheeling him out of the room, the stretcher beneath him lurching as they went.

"What happened before the explosion? Can you tell me that?" the medic asked, clearly trying to keep Atton's attention away from the room they just exited, strong with the smell of burnt human flesh. "Do you remember anything, no matter how small?"

Atton tried to nod, but his head only swayed, heavier than he anticipated. It lunged to his left, and as they barreled down the hallway Atton glimpsed into another room full of kolto tanks alight with an ethereal blue-white light, like hyperspace. Each one housed a body, floating ominously in the viscous cerulean fluid, each tank's vital bars flashing orange with urgency. Atton tried nodding again as the door closed, his body still not entirely his own, only managing to shake his shoulders as the medic wheeled him into the auxiliary holding room usually reserved for workers awaiting blood tests.

"Take it easy," the medic said again, her brown eyes coming into focus as Atton finally stilled. "Don't wear yourself out, you've been through a lot."

"What happened to the others?"

"The others?"

"Yeah, there were a bunch of people in that hallway. I-"

"Hard to say," the medic responded, almost too quickly. "Can you tell me anything else?"

Atton's mouth slowly regained feeling - his lips were chapped, and he tasted blood.

"I-"

She had been like this just before she died, right before Atton killed her. The Jedi. Her lips parched, dry except for the blood bubbling from her throat, still smiling despite everything.

You can feel it, I know it, she'd said. You are a survivor, through and through. Your allegiances tell as much. But it is your connection to the Force you must thank, for it is the reason you yet live.

She was trying to teach him a lesson, his third eye finally opened, only Atton wasn't interested in seeing what was on the other side.

"No-not sure," Atton choked, the metallic taste of blood slithering down his throat as his senses continued to return.

"It's okay, it's okay. It's over now," the medic soothed, though the panic was clear in her voice. They were now in a silent room, but Atton still remembered the room they'd left and the one they passed along the way. The Twi'lek from earlier had mentioned an explosion in Sector Two, maybe the bodies were from that accident? But if the station's kolto tanks were already full, then where did that leave everyone else?

"You don't remember anything suspicious, do you?" the medic pressed again, "Was it a mining droid again?"

"Hard to say, I think the explosion came from right next to me. A cart was being pushed. Food, I think. For the dining hall."

The medic considered him, her expression growing graver by the second as she checked his vitals.

"You're one lucky bastard," she laughed, though the seriousness was clear in her voice, "You were the least injured of everyone we managed to pull out of there."

"Managed?"

"Half the hallway collapsed, there are still miners trying to get the rest of the survivors out, or at least recover any bodies- er, I mean, anyone else that might be stuck under the debris."

A survivor through and through.

Atton's chest lurched, launching his torso forward as he began to retch.

"Oh frack, here-" the medic balked, swallowing her surprise quickly enough to shift back into doctor mode and bring Atton an empty canister to shove his face in. "The meds might make you sick, forgot to mention that. It doesn't usually affect humans this strongly, but-"

Atton knew it wasn't the meds, though he thanked whatever nonexistent gods might be listening for their existence as the medicine coursed his veins, numbing the rest of his body from whatever hell he managed to avoid for the time being.

"Is this the only one?" Another medic approached them while Atton's head was still extended into the empty canister, his lunch thankfully remaining in his stomach despite the nausea that now roiled through him. "Just got the word from the infirmary."

"What word?!" Atton's attendant pulled away, her voice growing softer as she assumed an urgent whisper in response, "I just came from the infirmary."

The adjoining medic only shook his head. "The others are gone. None of them made it."

Gone. In minutes.

Atton retched again.

It is your connection to the Force you must thank, for it is the reason you yet live.

"What?!"

The other medic only nodded in response as shock painted both of their faces. Atton's attendant buried her face in her hands before raking her fingers through her hair, taking a sharp intake of breath. "Call the security officer. Now."

"What? Why?"

"They need to launch an investigation. This is getting ridiculous. No, we're well past that-"

"Yara? Yara!" Another medic came rushing into the room at a light jog, pausing only before she was close to her colleagues, glancing at Atton cursorily before continuing, still out of breath. "Did you order another round of medication to be distributed to the kolto tanks?"

"What? No, I've been in the infirmary, and now here. Why?"

"Then you need to come see this," the woman said, now nodding at the second attendant. "You, too."

All three medics looked at Atton apologetically, as if they owed him anything, the drugs now in full force as he felt both heavy and weightless at once.

"Someone will be back to check on you shortly," the second medic assured him as the three clinicians rushed out of the room.

And just like that, Atton was alone again.

#kotor 2 #atton rand #brianna the handmaiden #star wars #my writing #fan fiction #I posted this to ff and ao3 at least a week ago I've just been lazy #also not sure if anyone is reading this monster of a fic anyway but I want it done/posted for posterity's sake #and my own peace of mind for having finished it/having it up-to-date everywhere I guess?

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occasionalfics · 5 years ago

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hi so i haven’t made any real posts in a while bc i haven’t really been writing that much but i wanted to just post SOMETHING for y’all to interact with

anyway, if you don’t know, i have a youtube channel and i’ve been watching (almost) every movie that chris evans is in because i love him and reviewing them for my channel and i thought i’d give a rundown of the movies i’ve seen so far (including ones i haven’t rewatched for the channel yet because i’m not gonna link to the videos - if you really want to watch, message me) so maybe you could decide which ones are worth your time and/or money 😂

for this, i’ll give a brief description, my general thoughts, and a score from 1-10 (1 being unwatchable and 10 being PEAK cinema)

i’m keeping things very light on spoilers, meaning there might be one or two overall but not for every movie.

so here we go:

The Newcomers (2000) - some indie movie with no theatrical release about a family that moves from boston to vermont because of money troubles. chris is in it for like 5 minutes and he’s honestly the second best part (second to a dog only). 3/10, mostly boring but not offensive.

Not Another Teen Movie (2001) - i feel like everyone has seen this. it’s a spoof of 80′s and 90′s teen movies (namely she’s all that and cruel intentions). chris plays the main love interest and he’s definitely funny enough to pull off the part but it’s not really my thing. 4/10.

The Perfect Score (2004) - this is the first time chris and sc*rj* worked together. 6 high school kids fail the SATs so instead of retaking them, they sneak into a government building and steal the answers. it’s an mtv movie and it’s...fine? not great, not special, but...very early aughts mtv for sure. 4/10

Cellular (2004) - an action flick where chris plays a regular dude who gets a call from a woman who’s been kidnapped, and then has to keep communications up with her in order to save her and take down some corrupt cops. surprisingly funny, i had a great time watching, would recommend! 7/10

Fierce People (2005) - i think this was another indie movie without a theatrical release. based on a book that, from the reviews of both, is identical, i think because the author of the book was also the screenplay writer. and that’s probably why this movie sucked. bby anton yelchin (rip) gets caught scoring drugs for his mom, and because she has connections to this super rich dude, they end up going to live in new jersey with his weirdass family instead of bby anton going to jail. chris’s character is not who you think he is. content warnings for drugs, rape, and murder. overall boring, not what it thinks it is, 4/10

Fantastic Four (2005) - okay everyone’s seen these. i actually hate both of these FF movies, but chris as johnny storm is the only shinning light in either. reed is the WORST and sue is treated like eye candy. 4/10 for johnny storm alone.

London (2005) - literally the worst movie i have ever seen. i hate london. also an indie movie, very misogynistic, very pretentious and self-important. lonely emo boy does drugs with random people in a bathroom at a party he was not invited to INTENTIONALLY, in the hopes that he will win over his ex girlfriend, who he repeatedly emotionally abused while they were together, even though the party is literally in honor of her moving across the country. and she didn’t want him there. please never, ever bother watching london and talking about it online - fuckbois will attempt to tell you that you know nothing repeatedly. 1/10, worst film ever made.

TMNT (2007) - does this need an introduction? chris plays casey, but the movie’s really about the turtles. honestly the writing kind of relies on you knowing a lot about the turtle lore and overall it’s a boring but ultimately harmless film. it’s just really not worth your time. 2/10

Sunshine (2007) - ONE OF THE BEST MOVIES I HAVE EVER SEEN, I HAVE NOT STOPPED THINKING ABOUT SUNSHINE IN OVER A YEAR. 8 astronauts are on a mission to ignite a nuclear bomb into the dying heart of our sun. but it’s a space film so shit goes wrong and, one by one, they start dying. very tense, very sad. the biggest complaint all around is that the first 2/3s of the movie are one genre and the last 3rd is a completely different movie, and yet it’s STILL amazing. please watch (if you can handle a space thriller)! 8/10

Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer (2007) - a very bad follow up to a very bad origin movie. not even andre braugher could save this one. reed is really mean to johnny for no reason and i hate his guts. 3/10

The Nanny Diaries (2007) - second time appearing alongside sc*rj*. she’s the main character. an anthropology student takes on a nannying job for an upperclass family in new york, but the job ends up being more than she bargained for. chris plays harvard hottie, her upstairs neighbor who is THE BEST BOY. i loved this movie. 8/10

Battle for Terra (2007) - a very weird but very good animated movie about humans attempting to colonize an alien planet because we were stupid enough to destroy earth, venus, and mars. lots of big names on the cast list for a movie that not many people saw, but it goes ham in the “fuck colonizers” theme. overall, a surprising joy. 6.5/10

Street Kings (2008) - well this was directed by david ayer so my friend and i went into this with very low expectations and it didn’t even meet that bar. keanu reeves plays a sad and angry corrupt cop who almost kind of gets framed for killing another cop, and then spends a good chunk of the runtime just hunting down other corrupt cops without doing anything about his own corruption. it’s copaganda, but very bad copaganda. also chris dies. fuck this movie, don’t waste your time. this is another one where the fanboys will come for you if you say a bad thing about it on the internet, 2/10

The Loss of a Teardrop Diamond (2008) - another indie that apparently caught the eye of kevin fiege? i don’t really know why because chris’s character is very bland and the movie overall is nothing special. tennessee williams wrote the screenplay before he died in the 80′s and then this was made and nothing about it was changed. it’s basically straight people in the 20′s in the south being weird and rude. a rich girl pays a hot poor boy to escort her to parties after a huge scandal was caused by her father. she loves the poor boy but he doesn’t return the feelings and everyone’s sad, dying, or mean. skip it, honestly. 4/10

Push (2009) - honestly, an underrated movie that so often gets shit on because of x-men. push is so good! a telekinetic man meets a young girl who can see the future, who tells him that if he helps her find her mom, they’ll also come into $6 million. they run into his ex and the government department trying to control people with powers, and shit ensues. chris’s chemistry with dakota fanning as big brother/little sister is adorable and i need more people to talk about it. 8/10, very worth your time.

The Losers (2010) - apparently went up against some other star-studded action flick with a similar plot at the time of release and suffered for it, but other than that, this is a fun romp with lots of character. a team of militiamen are framed for an international scandal and forced to go underground until a mysterious woman helps them exact revenge on the billionaire who framed them so they can go back to their families. chris plays one of the secondary characters and he’s PERFECT. best character in the whole movie! you’ve probably seen the “don’t stop believing”/”lethal killing machine” scene around tumblr before - that’s just how his character is the whole movie and it’s great. definitely recommend! 7/10

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (2010) - we’ve all seen it. lucas lee is the best. there are lots of problems in the word choice and some of the moral quandaries but overall, an enjoyable ode to videogames and comic books. 6.5/10

Puncture (2011) - once again, an indie film with very little theatrical release. WHOOOH though. this movie. SO GOOD! two personal injury lawyers take on a case when a nurse is accidentally pricked on the job and contracts AIDS. they take on a huge pharmaceutical supply company in the hopes of manufacturing and creating a legal standard for using safety needles to protect frontline medical workers, all while chris’s character is dealing with being an addict. based on a true story, honestly one of chris’s best performances (and that’s across the board). you can rent it cheap from youtube and it’s totally worth it. 7.5/10

Captain America: The First Avenger (2011) - i mean. it’s cap. honestly this movie feels a little long even though it’s not. overall it’s a good, enjoyable movie and watching it all the way through reminded me of why bucky was so important. 7/10

What's Your Number? (2011) - okay honestly i love this movie? a woman is slutshamed by her sister’s friends and then embarks on a journey through her past relationships to find her soulmate, only to realize that it doesn’t matter how many men she’s slept with because the right one really won’t give a damn and neither should she. everyone’s seen naked collin around tumblr. he’s a good boy. mostly. 7/10

The Avengers (2012) - so i can appreciate that this was like THE event movie of the summer of 2012 but it is LONG and there’s still so much spy shit i don’t understand. my friends and i also think that j*ss wh*d*n oversimplifies most of the characters, and ultimately the writing isn’t super strong. the performances are, for sure, but it’s still not as great of a movie as i thought it was when i was a senior in high school. 7/10

The Iceman (2012) - also an indie? based on a true story. a man (played by michael shannon) is recruited by the mob to be a hitman, and then something happens where they don’t want to pay him or something, so he starts doing a shady job with another hitman (played by chris) to support his family. overall it’s a boring film but michael and chris were both really good! watch it if you like dark mob movies, michael shannon, or winona ryder. 3/10

Snowpiercer (2013) - this movie, no pun intended, is a RIDE. poor people at the back of a train containing the last living human beings revolt against the bourgeoise. everyone’s dirty and tired and hungry. weird shit happens, but ultimately, this was SO worth the watch (and the money i spent on the blu-ray)! 7/10

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) - still my favorite cap movie. excellent characterization, maybe the only time i cared about natasha. the plot should be an avengers movie given that shield is a team concern, but i will stand by the winter soldier aspect of this movie til i die. 8/10

Before We Go (2014) - an indie movie that chris directed (his directorial debut)! it’s...cute, i guess. it’s not harmful in any way, but also not special in any way. flustered woman misses her train, cute musician in the station offers to help her navigate NYC. they talk about feelings and their pasts and what they’re running from and toward. it’s fine. 6/10

Playing It Cool (2014) - indie? i don’t know?? screenplay writer (chris) wants to write action films but keeps getting hired to write romcoms, then he finds himself IN a romcom. it’s okay. some people think it’s terribly misogynistic which i didn’t find it to be, but it’s also just...kinda bland. 4/10

Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015) - my least favorite avengers movie. i genuinely hate how ultron was handled and this movie has never once made me sympathize with the maximoffs. except for when steve defends their choice to allow experimentation to be done so they could defend their country. uh the party at the beginning is the best part, full stop. 3/10

Captain America: Civil War (2016) - this isn’t a cap film. he has no character growth. this is an avengers film at best. i also take issue with how much of this movie is really just two movies forced into one. bucky gets the short end of the deal in the overall mcu and this is really where that starts. 5/10

Gifted (2017) - PLEASE. WATCH. GIFTED. a former philosophy professor gives up his career to raise his niece, but when his mother attempts to gain custody, he has to fight for the person he loves most in the world. one of the most heartfelt, genuine movies ever. chris and mckenna grace have SUCH good chemistry. bonus octavia spencer (also in snowpiercer). 10/10

Avengers: Infinity War (2018) - probably my favorite avengers movie. great stakes. amazing acting. THE BEARD!!! 8/10

Knives Out (2019) - WHOOO BITCH. TOP TIER. ransom drysdale could do whatever he wants to me and normally, i don’t “date” villains. 9/10

Endgame (2019) - the lesser infinity war. i’m not a fan of time jumps and also hate fatphobia. thor was mistreated and i can’t forgive that.

#chris evans #chris evans ranking #i don't talk about my fanfic on my youtube channel which is why i don't post links to it openly here

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