#‘and a breach in it that couldn’t possibly stand the weight of the water anymore and was about to start filling my ship up with icy water’

[theshadowrealmitself]

Like I always do, I’m still thinking about other planets covered in water containing so many large and frightening looking aquatic creatures that by human definitions are alien marine dinosaurs, both deep sea and deep space creatures

And because I’m always thinking about Humans and Vulcans, I’m currently thinking about a Human who’s a marine biologist who specifically goes to other planets to check out creatures like that but they’re on medical leave because of what happened on the last planet they were on

And I’m imagining them happily explaining their job and the Incident™️ to a Vulcan they met on public transportation while the Vulcan uses every training technique they’ve ever learned to not outwardly show how horrified they are

[gintrinsic-writing]

For @anthemxix, who requested Warriors and arachnophobia. :D

--

“This place is familiar,” Time murmured, touching the end of a low-hanging vine.

Warriors squinted into the darkness. Shadows flickered wildly, given life by the firerod held in Legend’s steady hand. In every direction, Warriors saw only vines and dense wood. “Is this your world?”

“I think so. But…”

Warriors waited a moment, but Time didn’t finish. The air whistled, low and rhythmic, as though the wood around them breathed. He swore he could taste the sweet decay of old leaves.

“Time?” Four asked, seeking guidance in the humid darkness.

“This place shouldn’t exist anymore,” Time said, sounding pained. “But I know it. Goddess, I know it. My f—the Great Deku Tree.”

Warriors looked back sharply, recognizing that name. Recognizing the significance. “How is that possible?” he asked quietly, following the path one cautious step at a time.

“I don’t know,” Time admitted. “Perhaps we—”

There was a rustle, then a hiss. Something heavy crashed into Warriors, and he staggered from the impact. He twisted as he fell, expecting to roll back to his feet.

He didn’t expect to keep falling.

Down, down, down he went, yelling as the darkness swallowed him whole. Warriors was startled when he struck water, and the surface knocked the breath out of him. A cold rush, a dizzying lack of control, then he was kicking and choking, searching for air when all he felt was icy pressure. Somehow, he managed to breach the surface, and he spluttered as he dragged himself toward shallower water. Years of training had him drawing his sword, ignoring the ache in his body and the burn in his lungs as he readied his weapon. He stood still.

Waiting.

But nothing attacked.

“Wars!” he heard dimly. He glanced around, but he couldn’t spot a thing. Instinctively, he looked up; a tiny, tiny light flickered far above.

“I’m okay!” he yelled. For moment, there was no reply, then a distorted echo reached him at last.

“—ay there… —ider… —ook up…”

Warriors frowned, unable to decipher the echoes. Above, the light suddenly vanished. “Time?” he called. “Anyone?”

Silence, and its damp, oppressive weight. Warriors brushed his sodden bangs back from his face, then trudged forward blindly. After a few seconds, he reached dry ground. He thought he heard a rustle, but it faded. The quiet that followed was tense, pregnant.

Warriors cursed under his breath and glanced upward again, but he couldn’t see anything. Almost, he shouted for the others once more, but instinct kept his mouth shut. A sudden foul smell caused his eyes to burn, and the hair on the back of his neck raised.  

He stepped forward, backward, to the side—courting the darkness as he struggled to make sense of where it ended and where he began. Then, there was that same rustle. Warriors held his breath, straining his senses in an effort to track the sound, when at last, with terrible, unbridled certainty, he knew it came from above.

Warriors looked up and met a single, glowing yellow eye. He had a fraction of a second to throw himself backward before something crashed to the ground. There was a screech, and the sound of several scratching limbs, before suddenly the eye glowed so fiercely that it illuminated a black, swollen torso and eight, spindly appendages.

There, in swirling fog, stood a giant spider, though she did not stand still for long; she threw herself at Warriors with an ear-splitting scream, striking with armored claws. Warriors tasted bile in the back of his throat as he rolled to the side. His eyes darted to and from the hulking, bristling curves of her thorax, avoiding the clacking, snapping fangs and the angry glow of that single yellow eye. When he raised his sword to deflect one of her powerful strikes, he felt the reverberations throughout his entire arm.

Move. Move!

But he couldn’t. The longer he faced the spider, the more he struggled to breathe. Fear wormed its way into his core, and its grip was a fervent, sickening thing. It’s just a bug, he thought, crying out as the spider’s armored claw scored a gash across his chest.

He blocked another strike, then another. The fog made it difficult to see, and time seemed to slow. His thoughts grew hazy. Warriors gulped air and wondered if he had been holding his breath. He slashed his sword at the spider’s face, but she reared out of the way. When he stepped forward to pursue, his legs went strangely numb.

The eye seemed to multiply. But—no, that wasn’t right. Warriors blinked, trying to focus on—on—

His sword fell from his fingers, and Gohma hissed in victory.

There was pain, then dizziness, then terror. Warriors felt himself gathered up, felt his limbs constricted by something coarse and sticky. Despite the adrenaline surging through him, he couldn’t make his body move. A gasp left his lips. He trembled, prey to this creature out of time, to this hideous monster in the darkness, and felt fangs pierce his skin.

He hoped the others found him soon. 

Then he had no consciousness to hope at all.

[bluebellhairpin]

All The Things Unsaid

Chuck Hansen x Jaeger Pilot!Reader

A/N: I’m proud of this. Please don’t let it flop. Chuck Hansen and Pacific Rim fans rise! - Nemo

Warning(s): Character death. Kaiju’s. Angst

Summary: You were recruited as a Ranger to fight Kaiju’s - giant monsters from the sea. At your last stand, you join Chuck Hansen - a man you’ve had feelings for for years - to pilot Striker Eureka. 

Masterlist  

In the depths of the pacific ocean lies a portal. We call the portal the Breach. 

From that portal comes creatures from another world. We call them Kaijus. 

Millions were killed before the world banned together to make metal monsters of our own to fight back. We called them Jaegers. 

Due to the mental connection between the Jaeger and human, two had to pilot the Jaegers to share the mental load, meaning the two opened their thoughts and memories with each other. We call that drifting. 

In 2020 when I was Seventeen, a Jaeger by the name of Gipsy Danger was manned solo by a pilot called Raleigh Becket in Alaska after his other pilot - and brother Yancy - was killed. Raleigh has - so far - never stepped foot in a Jaeger again. 

----------

My sister - (s/n) (l/n) - and I pilot a Jaeger called Azurite Victory. Victory is unique, built especially for pilots like me and my sister. The only problem we had with her was exactly that; pilots like me and my sister, not for us. Out of all the Mark-4 Jaegers, she was a ‘special order’, built with speakers, and unique weapons. Her old pilots were Kye and Kade Sallow - twins from Australia - and they’d been killed during one of their first Kaiju attacks.

Even though the Victory was built for them, they weren’t built for the Victory. 

When my sister and I arrived at the Australian Shatterdome in 2021, the Azurite Victory had been rebuilt, and was sitting around waiting for it’s next set of pilots. Sharing a look, my sister and I knew that she was ours. She was our Jaeger, even if we hadn’t been given her yet. 

After a series of tests, the Victory was deemed ours. We were deployed for the first time a week later. Luckily, we survived. Mostly thanks to another Jaeger; Striker Eureka. 

Once we were docked, we met with the pilots; father and son duo Hercules and Chuck Hansen. 

Hercules - or Herc as he said to be called - was definitely the nicer of the two, he even gave us both pats on our shoulders for the job well done. Chuck wasn't so friendly. He didn't do so much more than send me a scowl before walking off with his dog in tow. 

Over time Chuck grew more friendly, but he was hardly nice yet. At least he didn't frown at us when we walked past. 

Then the Jaegers were said to be unnecessary - the governments had built walls around the coasts of the pacific to protect the people from the kaiju. Victory and her pilots were moved to Hong Kong, kept in the Shatterdome there until the Breach was sealed. Not a month passed before a kaiju attacked Sydney bay, crashing through the wall like it was butter. The only reason so many survived was because Striker and Hansen's stayed that little longer than us. 

It became pretty clear that we were still needed. But there was only four working jaegers; Cherno Alpha, Crimson Typhoon, Striker Eureka, and Azurite Victory. 

Gipsy Danger was being rebuilt, and after a talk with Pentecost I found out he was bringing Raleigh Becket back. How, I had no idea, but whatever the Marshall did, it worked. He had soon picked his drifting partner - Mako Mori. 

Raleigh and Mako had capability, that much was seen through the sparring they did, but when it came to drifting for the first time, all hell broke loose. Even with everyone evacuating or trying to turn Gipsy off, it didn't work fast. Not until Herc, Tendo and Chuck were able to power down the drifting. 

Apparently, Chuck wasn't very happy about what happened. Mostly about the almost dying part. He showed his displeasure in one of the worst ways possible. 

I don’t know why I did it, but I went to him after he thrashed Raleigh, and Raleigh thrashed him. I, in all my stupidity, went to help clean him up. When I went back to my dorm, (s/n) said it sounded like I was telling him off more than patching him up, all the while looking at me like I’d done something she was proud of. 

Considering she was in my head a lot, she knew what I really thought about Chuck. Sure, it was annoying, self-absorbed, and seemed to hate everyone, I still liked him. In the way that meant my heart and stomach turned uncomfortably heavy whenever he went out against a kaiju. 

What if he got hurt? 

What if the kaiju was too strong? 

What if the Victory couldn't get to Striker in time? 

What if he didn’t come back this time?

(s/n) said I was whipped. She was right. 

----------

Soon after the Gipsy almost destroyed the Shatterdome, a Kaiju attacked Hong Kong. Alpha and Typhoon were deployed to meet the kaiju and attack, while Striker was to stay back and make sure they didn’t get through. (s/n) and I were in the Shatterdome, waiting in Azurite Victory in case Alpha or Typhoon needed help. 

Raleigh and Mako weren’t supposed to be joining us. They’d only drifited once, and that didn’t end well. Pentecost didn’t want to risk it again, so they stayed with him in the control room with Tendo. 

Even with one Kaiju, it became pretty clear Victory was needed. We were sent out right away, placed in the water in front of Striker, and went straight to work to try and help the others. Despite Victory's light weight, and slim build, we didn’t make it in time. 

Crimson Typhoon and his three pilots were ripped apart between metal and kaiju flesh. 

While we were trying to help Alpha, another Kaiju emerged, jumping on their back. They obviously saw Alpha as more of a threat, aiming their forces at the Russian Jaeger until they couldn’t handle it anymore.

Cherno Alpha and it’s pilots were killed, crushed by the kaiju’s defenses and the water.

“(y/n),” (s/n) started, looking ahead to focus on the kaijus, “There’s two of them, and one of us.” 

“I know, I know. You know I know that.” I said, flexing the clawed fingers of Victory’s left hand. She was getting antsy, and making me like that too from our connection.

“One is leaving! Otachi, towards the city! We can’t go after them both.” she said, then addressed Pentecost. “We need Gipsy Danger. We can’t risk Striker getting destroyed too.” 

“That’s a negative Ranger, you know it’s risky.”

“Deploy Gipsy Danger! Now!” I shouted, grunting after as we moved to fend off Leatherback from going to the city too. 

“Striker engaging Otachi. Victory is free to pursue Leatherback.” Herc said over comms, disobeying Pentacost’s orders to stay where they were without hesitation. 

“Victory engaging Leatherback.” My sister and I said. Even when we weren’t drifting we had an uncanny ability to talk in unison, freaking out others with it was one of our favorite things to do. “Be careful Striker.” I added, (s/n) snickering beside me.

“Copy that, (y/n).” Chuck said, and Striker went off after Otachi. 

We moved fast, (s/n) deploying the bladed whip on Victory's right arm, enabling us to wrap it around the kaiju’s middle, as I extended the claws. It was supposed to be an easy kill. At the same time, Striker was preparing it’s missiles, and Leatherback emitted a wave of electricity, turning our Jaegers off completely. 

Not even our comms worked anymore. 

“(y/n), we need to get out of here.” (s/n) said after trying to reboot Victory, letting the straps of her harness go as she stepped free. I could hardly open my mouth to tell her to strap back in before Otachi came back around at us from the city, it’s tail came down on Victory’s head and neck, ripping the right side apart like a kid at it’s presents on Christmas. 

That’s all it took for my sister to get crushed, killed by the same creatures that took our friends and family. That’s all it took for me to be ripped from the Victory’s cockpit and into the crisp dark water below along with masses of Azurite Victory’s metal plating. 

I don't know how I survived the fall, but I did, and managed to stay conscious and above water until the Kaijus went far enough away for the rescue helicopters to get to both Hansen's and me. 

----------

I woke back in the Shatterdome. Sitting up from the stretcher they had me on I was hit with a mass of nausea and memories, so I lay back down. There was stinging from places on my face where my helmet broke, but apart from that, the cold water, and the fact that I lost my sister and Jaeger, I was okay. 

Okay enough. 

“(y/n)!” I sat up again, slower, to see Chuck reach me as I was settled to be looked at by medics near one of the bay doors with Herc. “Jesus, when that kaiju... I thought you’d died.” he said, standing close by. I could tell from the way he was acting he wanted to day more. To do more. But he wasn’t that kind of person. He didn’t do ‘feelings’. 

“Where’s (s/n).” I said, knowing the answer. I wondered if anyone would tell me. 

“Killed in action.” 

“Just like the Wei’s. Sasha and Aleksis. Yancy.” I started, wincing as a medic started patching up a cut near my eye. “We have two Jaegers. We’re losing time -”

“Don’t you start being pessimistic. That’s my job. You’re the nice one.” Chuck mumbled, looking from his father to me. “But, I mean, while we’re listing the bad, Striker only has one pillot now.” 

“No, I could- Ah!” Herc said, yelling out when the medic passively moved his hurt arm. “Mate, that doesn't bend like that.” 

“You’re not fit to pilot.” Herc’s medic said.

----------

Herc wasn’t fit to pilot. Both the medics and Pentecost through that, along with pretty much everyone else. 

Pentecost offered to Pilot with Chuck, knowing he was either going to die in a Jaeger or stuck in a control room. Even I would’ve chosen to pilot a Jaeger instead, but he had Mako to look after. He had an army of people. He was the Marshall. He was needed in the Shatterdome.

So as Pentecost was on his way to suit up, I caught him. I explained, almost begged at one point, and somehow he said yes. 

The next time I saw him, he was talking to Chuck and a confused Herc. I stepped out of the bay door and went towards the small group. 

“Meet your co-pilot, Hansen.” Pentecost said, stepping aside to let me into the circle. Chuck’s mouth dropped open, then his face turned from one of shock to anger.

“Was there no one else! Why her? Why (y/n)?” he said, his hand clutching his helmet harder. 

“It’s not about whether there was no one else or not. (y/n) is the best option, and she’s willing to drift with you.” Pentecost explained,and Herc looked over at me with a slight smile. 

“Drifting with Chuck Hansen isn’t something for the light-hearted.” he said, gripping Ma’s leash much like Chuck did with his helmet. They were more similar than they thought. “I think I’ll owe you one for this.”

“If I come back.” I joked, pushing my own helmet closer to my chest. Maybe we were all similar.

“When you come back.” Herc said, nodding assurance at both Chuck and I. 

-----------

“(s/n) and I were still drifting when she died.” I started, looking ahead, but I knew Chuck was looking at me now. “Like Raleigh with Yancy.” A moment silence passed with nothing but the clank of the elevator. “I thought I should warn you. Just in case.” 

Fingers wrapped around my own, warm and rough but comforting all the same. They were his, and I’d wanted to feel them in mine for so long. He’d know that. In less than a few minutes he’d know that. It was no use hiding it now.

I curled my fingers in his, stepping closer so our arms were flush together.

“We’ll be okay.” he said to me, stiffening, and then leaning over to press a kiss to my head. “We’ll be okay.” he repeated to himself more than me. 

We didn’t know each other well, but the connection was there. The bond was there. Where Herc and Chuck could drift because they were father and son, and where (s/n) and I could because we were sisters, Chuck and I could just because.

No words could describe it. We were made to drift together, and we hadn’t even drifted yet. 

----------

“Preparing for neural handshake, in fifteen.... Fourteen…” Tando started the countdown, and Chuck and I looked at each other. I smiled at him.

“You ready to read my mind Ranger.” 

“You should be worrying about mine,” Chuck started, mirroring my smile, “It gets pretty headstrong sometimes.” I laughed, taking a look at Chuck before closing my eyes and waiting to drift. 

“Neural Handshake engaging now.” 

What I thought, what I felt, made me speechless. Years of emotions, feelings, memories, and sights, all from Chuck’s point of view swept over me in an instant.

The times he wanted to hold me close, when he wanted to pull me onto him, when he wanted to celebrate successful missions with me. 

You always looked so happy, I wanted to be part of that, but no one wants me around. I’m cocky, arrogant, self-assured. We’re like Yin and Yang. But I can’t help but not care what others might think. I’ve needed you near me so many times I’ve lost count. 

The life he wants to live. 

We’ll go somewhere quiet. Live all on our own. Max might stay with Herc, but  if you want we could get another dog. We could have two. Or five. I’d cook for you. Or I’d learn how to cook for you. 

The things he wants to do. 

There’s this canyon in Northern Australia. You’d love it there. The sunsets are amazing. We could watch them together. If you want, I could probably handle going to some beaches. Just for you. 

The things he never said.

I love you. You’re perfect. Beautiful. Kind. Compassionate. Selfless. How can anyone not love you?

I wanted to stop it all, play it back, see it all clearer, but I couldn’t. 

From the look on Chuck’s face, he felt the same. He knew everything I did, and I never had to say a word. Our complete trust was in each other. We waited so long. Too long. 

“Neural handshake holding strong and steady at a hundred percent.” Tendo laughed, and suddenly hope wasn’t something so far fetched anymore.

[mari-onberry]

Glad to be Back

Based on this prompt with a few alterations

***

“I didn’t know where else to go.” Cassandra limped her way into Rapunzel’s arms. They hadn’t seen her in months, not since the wedding. “I know you don’t have healing powers anymore, but you’re the only one who’s ever,” She stumbled, she couldn’t hold her own body weight up anymore. “helped me with something this serious.” Rapunzel held her, and in turn Eugene steadied his wife. 

“Cass, tell us what’s wrong.” 

“A curse--” Cass collapsed in Rapunzel’s arms, and couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Cass?” Rapunzel asked, worried that it was even worse than she had hoped. Unfortunately, she was limp in her arms, and not responding. 

“I’ve got his, Sunshine.” Eugene picked up Cassandra’s limp body as gently as possible and the two raced to the hospital, not knowing if that was what could really help her. It was impossible to find an antidote without knowing exactly how the curse affected Cass, but thaf meant the two of them waited by her bedside for the results.

Rapunzel was on the verge of tears and Eugene hated seeing her like that.

"We finally got her back and she's hurt. We should've invited her back earlier, and maybe--"

Eugene tried his best to ground her. "She'll be fine."

She looked a bit happier, and she tried to stay as happy as possible like usual, but sometimes the fear of loss got a little much for her. Eugene didn't know what to say, and he also knew the best thing was to let her deal with this on her own terms.

That was, until she cracked a smile and said something very unexpected. "You know, I think she loves me."

Eugene smiled back. "It's always been pretty obvious."

Rapunzel got serious again. "I think it's good she went on this journey by herself. But I miss her. I know that's selfish, and she should be able to make her own path in life, but--"

"Rapunzel, you're the queen of Corona. Even if you weren't the most selfless person I've ever met, I think there's some room for you to think for yourself every once in a while."

She knew he was right, and she loved that he always knew the right thing to say, even if he went about it a little unconventionally. "So, I have room to love more than one person?" She looked down at Cass's hand clutched in her own rather than at Eugene. It was a subject they had never quite breached before, despite the many times Rapunzel liked to gush about how much she missed Cassandra. 

Eugene took a deep breath, for once in his life at a loss for words. "Rapunzel," he tried his hardest to meet her gaze, "you're the most important person in the world to me. I just want you to be happy. And as long as that doesn't affect us, I think you do have a right to be a little selfish."

It might not work, she knew it. But she wanted to give it a try. She hoped Cass was willing to do the same, if she ever woke up from the curse. "Thanks, Eugene. I love you." She leaned across Cass to kiss him quickly, solidifying her words, and then leaned back to press a kiss to Cass's forehead.

It was only a matter of seconds before Cassandra woke up, dazed and confused. "Where--" she paused her question as she quickly got her bearings. She whispered, "True love's kiss," under her breath, a little too loud to hide from her friends. "Which one of you kissed me?" She looked from Rapunzel to Eugene and then back again.

Eugene pointed at his wife and Rapunzel blushed. She felt almost like she had just felt the grass underneath her feet for the first time again.

"Raps..." She still looked confused, and a little angry, like she had missed out on something important.

Rapunzel just said, "I missed you," but Cass knew what she meant. They embraced, and then Cass looked at Eugene.

"I missed you, too," she said, feigning reluctance. Then, after a beat of silence as she contemplated whether to ask or not, "And are you okay with this?” She didn't have to speak in specifics for him to understand what she was referencing. 

He didn't answer directly, but instead told her, "If you're coming back permanently, I'm happy to have my friend back. Plus, I have a spot to fill in the Guard." It was a positive response, but Cass knew he was just as unsure about all this as she was. 

She smiled at him, reassuringly so, to try and tell him that she was happy to have him as a friend, even despite being in love with his wife. 

Rapunzel, on the other hand, was in the middle of trying to help Cassandra up and out of bed. 

Cass stumbled as she tried to stand up. "Guess I'm still a little weak."

"Do you need another anti-curse kiss now that you're actually awake?" Rapunzel asked, testing the waters of this new relationship now that she knew Cass loved her. 

Cassandra was shaky on her still-weak legs and her heart felt just as unsteady. She looked at Eugene, but he gave her a look that said ‘go right ahead’. Since she was already leaning on Rapunzel it was easy to lean a little closer until their lips touched, and Rapunzel hummed in surprise even though she was the one who suggested it. Cassandra felt herself feel stronger on her own two legs, enough that she had the strength to move her hand from Rapunzel’s shoulder to her face. When they broke apart, Eugene could see the love on their faces. 

“Don’t I get a turn?” He asked, and Rapunzel shifted towards him and kissed her husband. Cass punched him playfully on the arm. 

“Glad you’re back, Cassandra,” Eugene said once he had finished his kiss with Rapunzel, and although he had pronounced her name wrong again, Cassandra appreciated the sentiment. 

“Glad to be back.”

[mostfacinorous]

GO Whumptober Day 20: Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore... [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19]

They’d been on a stroll, like so many others, around the lake in St. James’, when it happened. 

It wasn’t the first time, exactly; Aziraphale knew of several other accounts, most of them dismissed as fiction or poppycock, but it had never happened to him before, and, judging by Crowley’s alarmed sounding squawk, which he would certainly not admit to emitting, later-- he was surprised as well. 

One moment, they had been in present day, Aziraphale’s hand in a bag of crumbs, on the lookout for any hungry or friendly looking wildlife, the next, they had taken a step forward and found themselves in a populated square, the grounds paved in wood and stone and dirt, the people decidedly confused by their appearances.

“Well!” Aziraphale exclaimed, albeit under his breath. 

Crowley took a step backwards, as though he expected to be able to reverse his way into the future. 

For the place they were was instantly familiar; they’d been here, only not for hundreds of years. Well, they’d been here the entire time, but the when was hundreds of years prior to the moment they’d just been in. 

Aziraphale couldn’t explain how he could tell. It was like a taste, almost. The Earth hadn’t aged yet. He couldn’t pin down the exact year, but the vintage was younger than the one he was used to. 

“It’s so long ago!” Aziraphale said, then clapped delightedly, bouncing on his toes. “Oh, Crowley, our own Moberly-Jourdain incident! Oh, we shall call it the Crowley-Fell Adventure.”

“Aziraphale.” Crowley said, and Aziraphale huffed. 

“Well it sounds better in alphabetical order, but if you insist we can call it the Fell-Crowley Incident. It does have a certain ring to it.”

“Aziraphale, one- Crowley-Fell sounds better, yeah. Two, you can’t write about this at all, we’re keeping a low profile, and three, which side do you suppose is responsible for this, and why do they want us now instead of back home?”

That did serve to deflate Aziraphale’s glee a bit. 

“Well.” He said. “I suppose perhaps to make a point. They mightn’t have succeeded in their hopes of killing us or forcing me to fall, but they still have power over our lives.” 

“Right. But why now, of all times? And when is now, anyway?” 

Aziraphale shrugged. “I imagine it was Heaven’s doing. They can’t conceive of a worse time than a dirty one. Let’s just hope we’ve landed between plagues.”

Aziraphale looked around. 

“Pardon me,” He said to the first person he saw who didn’t avert their eyes and hurry past. It was a boy, probably close to being thought of as a man in these days, likely only beginning to breach teen-hood. 

“Milord?” The boy asked, eyeing his clothing uncomfortably and doing a half bob of a bow, clearly unsure what to make of him. 

“Oh none of that,” Aziraphale said, waving off the formality. “My apologies, I think we’ve gotten a little lost. Ah-- our ship, you see, a rough voyage. What year is it? And who is King?” 

The boy looked a good deal more suspicious, of a sudden, and responded with the same incredulous snideness of teenagers everywhere. “It is 1204 in the year of our Lord, and King John rules England.” Aziraphale could almost hear the duh that would not be forthcoming for some time yet. 

“1204, Crowley!” He exclaimed. “We have been away far longer than I thought!” He shook his head. “Thank you, lad, and if you can, start saving grains for your family now. The… uh… church says it is to be an especially cold winter.” 

The boy looked, if anything, even more distrusting, but knuckled his brow and took off, glancing back at them as he went. 

“Come on Angel, let’s go get some clothes that won’t stand out so much. We need to blend in til we can figure out how to get back.”

“You know… it mightn’t be so bad, if we can’t ‘get back’.” Aziraphale said ponderously as they walked.

“What are you talking about?” Crowley sounded disgruntled, to say the least. 

“Well, you see, in all the fictitious accounts of time travel, the people doing the traveling have finite lifespans. They all want to go back for their families, their loved ones, to be with them. We don’t have that problem.” 

Crowley looked askance at him. 

“Sure, but do you really want to live through all this all over again? And isn’t there the fear of running into ourselves? I don’t know about you, but if I ran into me, I wouldn’t wait to ask questions.” 

“Oh!” Aziraphale brightened at that. “I should quite like to have a cup of tea with myself, actually-- what a grand way to catch up on the goings on of the time.” 

“Aziraphale, focus.” Crowley snapped. “There is a reason we have been sent back here and I suspect it’s to do with what’s coming in the future-- near to when we’re from. We need to find a way to get abc and stop whatever it is from happening.” 

“But if we don’t hurry the process, we’ll have an awful lot more time to stop whatever it is,” Aziraphale pointed out, sensibly, he thought. 

Crowley was silent for a long moment. 

“We won’t have your books to reference about it, though.” He said finally. “And no lovely takeout to eat while we work. No private plumbing, or gas lines, no central heating and cooling…” 

Aziraphale felt his face fall. 

“I have grown… accustomed, I suppose, to those little creature comforts.” 

“Like you said, that cold winter’s coming… food shortages and famine to follow. And all the sickness that’s to come-- 1204, we were at war with France, weren’t we? And England will be re-seizing church land soon, when John fights with the pope. You want to go through all of that nonsense again? You remember how conflicted you were about all of it, the first go round.” 

Aziraphale sighed. 

“Yes, of course, you’re right. The romance of it really is all in the nostalgia, isn’t it?” 

“It really is.” Crowley agreed. “Now come on, if I recall there’s a tailor up here somewhere.” 

It was odd, the echoes of familiarity and the utter strangeness existing together in this place. They found the tailor that Crowley remembered-- and he was, as Crowley remembered, really rather good. They left looking much more with the times, though Crowley insisted on keeping their other clothes with them, just in case. 

“So what’s next?” Aziraphale asked, actually privately enjoying letting Crowley be the hero of this little misadventure. 

“Next, we find somewhere to stay; a home base.” Crowley spoke authoritatively, as if he’d had a plan for a while now. And, given how long it’d taken to get hose made for his incredibly long legs, perhaps he’d done his planning then. 

“Did you make enough money for it?” Aziraphale asked, more than willing to pull his own weight, but Crowley reached down and nudged his coin purse, the currency within clinking softly together. 

“We’ll have enough for a while. Don’t want to attract too much attention.”

He’d said that frequently at the tailor’s, even as Aziraphale recalled the fashions of a mere few hundred years into the future with great fondness. 

He’d ended up with a loose fitting long tabard-like-thing over a longer linen robe-- comfortable enough, and stylish enough, though he couldn’t for the life of him recall the actual names of this style. No matter; it did its job well enough. 

They found an inn, fortunately located near several food stalls and a proper bar, insomuch as such a thing existed these days.

But there was wine, and ale, and water that looked mostly clear, and Aziraphale counted himself grateful. 

“So, what is your plan from here?” Aziraphale asked Crowley, once they were settled in their single shared room. Wouldn’t want to attract attention by spending too much, nor risk being separated into different lodgings. And so they had their wine bottle and the honeyed figs Crowley had bought, despite his admonitions of being careful with their coin, for Aziraphale to enjoy. 

“Now… we figure out how we got here, and why, if possible, and most importantly, how to get back.” 

“It’s been a very long time since I was lost.” Aziraphale mused, speaking to the fig he was considering in his hand. “In fact, when I have been, usually I would simply pop up to heaven, and come back down where I intended to be.” 

He bit into the treat, and Crowley stared at him. 

“You mean we’ve spent the entire day in 1204, and we could have just… gone home at any time?” 

Aziraphale shrugged and swallowed his mouthful. 

“Well, I don’t know that it will work, based on your fear that it’s heaven who’s sent us here-- and if it does, then we can do it at any time. Think of it as a… a work sponsored holiday.”

“A work spons-- Aziraphale are you mad? We’re in the medieval times! One look at my eyes, and I’m up on a flaming stake or off with my head, or--”

Aziraphale blotted at his mouth with a napkin. 

“Do you honestly think I’d let them do that to you?” 

“Well you sure didn’t stop Gabriel doing it, did you?” Crowley snapped back, and then his expression shifted, and Aziraphale could tell he regretted it as soon as it was said. Even so, he recoiled. 

“Alright. I’m sorry. Let’s… let’s go home.” He stood and made his way to a clear spot on the floor to begin drawing the correct sigils he’d need for transport. 

“Aziraphale, I’m sorry.” Crowley had stood and followed him, but Aziraphale ignored him in favor of his work. 

“So what, you aren’t talking to me now?” 

“I am trying to concentrate, Crowley. Certainly wouldn’t want to keep you where you don’t feel safe any longer than necessary.” He kept his tone even and his eyes on the symbols on the floor. 

“It’s not that-- I-- I have been so scared, all day, that they did this as a way to try and force us apart, or keep us away, and you… I don’t know how you can be so calm about all of this.” 

At that, Aziraphale did look up at him. “I can be calm because you seemed to have a plan, and I trust you and feel safe around you. I’m sorry that I can’t do the same for you, but I understand.” 

Crowley stared down at him for a moment. “That’s not what you mean to say at all, is it?” He asked. “You sound like them, shifting the blame, making it about-- about loyalty and faith. Why didn’t you tell me about your plan til just now?”

Aziraphale stopped drawing and sat back on his heels, dropping his head til his chin hit his chest. “Ever since the arrangement began…” He started, then paused to lick his lips. “I have been growing more and more afraid to use miracles for the things that matter. Useless miracles, frivolous ones-- making tea and the like? That’s not a problem, but… The important ones. I’m always afraid they’ll find out, about us, about me, and they’ll find a way to cut me off, with or without me falling, and… and so I avoid it.” 

Crowley tilted his head, then looked down at the floor, at Aziraphale’s half finished sigil. 

“But you would, because you realized how scared I am. You care about me more than you care about your own fear.” 

“Well, at least I can do one tiny angelic thing right.” Aziraphale spat back bitterly. “Now please-- let me finish this, and we will be on our way.” 

Crowley opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, and sat back down to wait. 

Aziraphale nodded and got back to work. 

It was several silent minutes later when he heard, faintly, Crowley say, “Thank you.” 

He pretended he hadn’t.

[cherchersketch]

< Day 25: Pacific Rim AU >

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crossposted to AO3

The first time they drifted is still a blur to her. She remembers the initial swell of pride as they successfully connected. The sudden influx of a stranger’s memories mixed with hers was disorienting but nothing too horrible.

It was a moment she’d been waiting years for. The tons of steel surrounding them mimicked their every synchronized movement. It was exhilarating. The hours she’d spent training were finally paying off. And that’s when it all went downhill.

She remembers a faint tug at the back of her consciousness. Then, a rushing sea of faces. Her parents. Oliver. Playing in the garden. Thea’s last moments. Captain Lance appearing from a Jaeger. Darkness.

Now, as they prepare for what will probably be their last Drift ever, she feels a sense of calm washing over her. Captain Lance once said, the essence of heroism is to die so others can live. If all that they do today can help wipe out the kaijuu once and for all, if it can ensure the safety and peace of humanity, she would gladly lay down her life. As she meets Oliver’s gaze across the cockpit, she knows, without having to Drift, that he feels the same way.

As their Synchronicity Arrow flanks Dark Assassin in the murky depths of the ocean, a crackle from the comms breaks the silence. Of course, it could never be so easy as to just drop a giant bomb on top of the monsters’ portal. Now, Dark Assassin has to find a way to plant the bomb into a Kaijuu. Acting as backup, Synchronicity Arrow prepares to help them take down the gigantic Category 5 rising from the breach.

From the left, they are suddenly hit by one of the two Category 4s that were still lurking in the area. Caught off guard, they struggle to wrestle it off. After a brief tussle, they manage to subdue it to the ground. One down, two more to go.

“AARRGHHHH” Oliver screams.

Before they manage to slice the pinned kaijuu, the second Category 4 appears out of nowhere. In the blink of an eye, Synchronicity Arrow is missing its right arm.

There is no time for more thought. With a shout of frustration, they continue wrestling with the second Category 4. Using Synchronicity Arrow’s remaining arm, they pin it to the ground, dragging it to one of the underwater lava vents. It lets out a ear-splitting scream as its face starts to melt. Yet, it still manages to find the strength to pull away. Their jaeger topples over and they scramble to get back on their feet. Any small mistake now and the whole of humanity would be doomed.

“Arrow! Coming up at your 12 o’clock! Full speed!” Tommy’s warning shout blares through the comms.

“Get out of the way!”

At a distance, they see the first Category 4 swimming towards them at full speed.

There is no time to run. Not while grappling with the other Category 4. As one, Oliver and Felicity thrust out their left arm.

The Category 4 spots the attack but it is too late to swerve. Synchronicity Arrow’s blade pierces straight through its face. The two halves of the kaijuu sink to the ocean floor behind them. This time, for real. One down, two to go.

The victory is bittersweet though. Synchronicity Arrow has taken another blow. While they finished off the first Category 4, the second one scrambled out from under them, headed for Dark Assassin. Its tough head shattered Arrow’s right leg.

Still, Oliver and Felicity move forward. The end goal is so close. As fast as they can manage, the crippled jaeger limps towards Dark Assassin.

This time, it is Captain Lance’s voice that shouts through the comms.

“Arrow! Do not come to our aid! Do you copy? Stay as far back as you can!”

“We can still reach you!” Oliver insists. Felicity is unable to even reply. All her concentration is in the movement of their feet. Left. Right. Left. Right. The faster they can get to Dark Assassin, the faster they can end this. There is no need for...for...

“Oliver! Listen to me! You know exactly what you have to do! The release on our bomb is jammed. But Arrow is nuclear. Take it to the Breach! You can still blow it up!”

Oliver nods. “I hear you sir. Heading for the Breach!”

Felicity knows he can feel what she is thinking, they are still in the Drift after all. But he returns her look of dismay with one of determination. They have to take their shot.

“Now!” She knows he is saying that more to her than to Captain Lance and Tommy in the Dark Assassin.

“Felicity, listen!” She is caught off-guard by Captain Lance’s voice once again tackling over the comms. With a shaking hand, she presses the comms button on their own jaeger. But what could she possibly say in reply.

“You can finish this. I’ll always be here for you. You can always find me in the Drift.”

Another crackle of static signals an end to the comms on Dark Assassin’s side. Still, Felicity cannot summon the strength to reply. She had been willing to lay down her life for humanity. She knew Captain Lance felt the same. But to be faced with the reality of it...

“We’re a walking nuclear reactor.” Oliver’s deep voice at her side snaps her back to reality.

“We can destroy the Breach.”

Felicity returns his nod of determination with her own. She will not let Captain Lance and Tommy’s death be in vain.

The enormous explosion behind them sends a wave of seawater towards them. The jaeger kneels and digs its sword I to the sea floor, bracing for the impact.

[All systems critical]

[Code red]

As the alarms and red lights flash all around the cockpit, Oliver and Felicity look at each other. As one, they nod. It was time to finish this, once and for all.

With its remaining hand and leg, Synchronicity Arrow limps towards the Breach, dragging along the carcass of a Category 4 kaijuu.

As they near the large portal to another dimension, one last obstacle stands in their way.

The Category 5 blocks their path, roaring menacingly. Time for Plan B. With a thump, the Category 4 carcass is discarded and sinks to the murky sea floor.

Using its rear jets, Synchronicity Arrow jumps and propels forward. With one thrust, it stabs the Category 5 from above, piercing its back.

Still struggling, the kaijuu and the jaeger tumble, headfirst, into the Breach.

Everything falls silent.

They entered through a swirling vortex of water and debris.

They emerge in a world of lightning and strangely shaped, luminous rocks.

The weird peace is short-lived, interrupted by the blaring sounds of the jaeger’s AI.

[Oxygen main, left hemisphere, critical levels]

Felicity struggles to catch a breath. In the final tussle with the kaijuu, they had emerged victorious, but not unscathed. The oxygen tank on her side of the jaeger was pierced with its sharp tail. There will not be enough to make it back to the surface.

She can feel the edges of her vision blurring.

[15% oxygen]

Felicity pushes herself to move her limbs but they are slow and sluggish, as if she is wading through mud. Through the breach, she can feel Oliver’s thoughts.

She knows he is about to do something stupid and reckless.

She has to stop him.

[10% oxygen]

She feels his hand on her arm. She has to stop him. The self-sacrificing idiot. Why are none of her limbs cooperating.

She hears the whirr of machinery as she is lifted into the escape pod.

She wants to scream.

[5% oxygen]

Darkness.

The warmth and light of the sun shines on her face. Felicity removes her helmet as she sits up, freeing herself from the claustrophobic confines of the escape pod.

She looks around. The only thing ringing in her head is his last words through the Drift.

“I can finish this alone. All I have to do is fall.”

Idiot.

She stands up and looks around the vast ocean as her little escape pod, now a makeshift raft, bobs up and down. The whoosh of water as another escape pod surfaces sounds behind her. Turning around, she sees it float gently on the water’s surface. But no other movement.

Felicity does not allow herself to think the worst as she dives into the water, swimming desperately towards the pod. Behind the windowed lid, he lies, unmoving.

With shaking hands, she pulls the emergency release lever and the escape pod’s lid jettisons away. Oliver still does not respond.

She tells herself it is just the stuffiness of the helmet enclosed around his head. Surely, if she removes it, and she does, hastily tossing it aside, he will awaken again with the first breath of fresh air.

“Oliver.”

He does not respond.

“Oliver!”

She hugs him close, grunting with the added weight of his armour. Everything goes blurry as tears roll down her cheeks. She had been prepared to sacrifice herself together with him, for the sake of humanity. But to be the only one left standing, it is a burden she did not want to bear.

Why is it always only her left alive?

Why does everybody go where she cannot follow?

Distantly, she hears those still in the control room in headquarters speak her name through the comms in her suit. But she does not care. Her whole life, she had been focused on one goal, to get rid of the kaijuu. Now, floating aimlessly in the middle of the ocean, hugging her dead partner, she does not know what to do anymore. Where does she go from here?

Somewhere in the vicinity of her left ear, she hears a grunt.

A cough.

“You’re squeezing me too tight.”

More coughing.

Oliver shifts away from her arms to look at her, a grin on his face.

“I couldn’t breathe.”

Felicity doesn’t know how else to respond other than laugh. She never thought she would hear his voice again.

Distantly, they hear the sounds of helicopters. Communications from the headquarters crackles through their comms, asking about them. But they are too preoccupied to answer. Drinking in the sight of each other, alive and well.

Together they smile, touching their foreheads to each other.

Together, they breathe in the fresh air of a new world. Free from the terror of kaijuu invasions.

Together, they rest. At last.

Peace.

[chipper9906]

The Best Laid Plans- Chapter 3

Link To Chapter 1

Pairings: Kylo Ren/Rey, Ben Solo/Rey

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 6,192

Status: Multi Chapter Fic- In Progress

Chapter Preview: 

“Maybe if you showed you had a heart, if you had helped me save the fleeing Resistance, showed me some semblance of compassion, of kindness, then maybe… Maybe I would have thought you were trying to change the Galaxy for the better. Maybe I would have taken your hand.”

“Then I guess it’s a shame that man’s not here anymore.” Kylo noted bitterly, turning his gaze back towards the ocean, its surface steadily turning darker with the approaching night.

“If he’s not here anymore, then tell me this-“ Rey got his attention focused back on her, turning his head a small amount to face her. “-Why is he sitting right in front of me?”

Kylo couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, unable to comprehend why someone such as her would be so insistent on trying to save him, whatever that meant. She had no doubt heard of the horrific deeds he had done, having seen some of them with her own eyes. Even worse was the fact that some of them- he had even done to her. In his mind, it simply didn’t make sense.

At the first sign of him falling to the Dark, his parents had shipped him off to Luke Skywalker, hoping the legendary Jedi would be able to push down that side, teach him to harness those powers for the ‘better’. Truthfully, he thought he was too ignorant as a child, had thought that it was possible for his uncle to set him back on ‘the right track.’ All that was shattered the night he awoke to his Uncle stood above him, with lightsaber in hand, and the intent to murder gleaming in his eyes.

She should have given up by now. It was what he was used to.

And yet, here she was.

He didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve her.

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Chapter 3: The Beginning Of A Plan

When she had arrived on this planet, to this island, she had been ready for more. To prove herself to be more.

Her entire life had been spent as a nobody, in a random scrapper’s town situated on a planet that was known as ‘nowhere’. No one knew who she was. Not even she knew who she was. It didn’t matter of what she was capable of, of the skills she had acquired in her many years of fighting for her own survival, no one cared. All anyone on that dusty, sweltering planet cared about was how much scrap parts she could scrounge from fallen ships that had already been picked clean.

Thrust into a world that, not long ago, she hadn’t even thought could be real had been her chance to become more. More than just Rey of Jakku, more than ‘The Scavenger Girl’. This had been what she was waiting for, and to personally be entrusted with the mission of tracking down Luke Skywalker? It was more than she could have ever hoped for.

What she hadn���t realized was just how difficult this path was going to be. Too overwhelmed by possibilities, perhaps. She looked past how much this ability, this connection with the Force would be as much as a burden as it was a gift.

Master Luke knew of this, of course. Which is why, perhaps, he had finally caved in, had decided that the best course of action would be to educate her as much as possible, to see what she was capable of. Except, in doing so, Master Luke had passed on his own fear onto her; The fear of another of his students turning to the Dark.

It was one such thing that she and Ben had in common. The ‘expectations’. While yes, he came from a noble bloodline, the joining of Solo and Skywalker, whereas she came from… Well, she didn’t even know, the thing that connected them was the expectation of who they’re both supposed to be. While Rey didn’t exactly have anyone to ‘live up to’ like Ben did, it felt as if those that cared about her were breathing down her neck, like they were waiting for any sign she may tip towards the Dark, that The Last Jedi will follow down the path of the Dark, just as Ben had.

It hadn’t occurred to her, that it may have been a possibility. Not until she had first truly allowed herself to reach out to the Force. She hadn’t even been aware she was following it until Master Luke had snapped her out of it. It had almost been like greeting an old friend.

‘You went straight to the Dark…’

Master Luke had truly been afraid of her in that moment. Perhaps, at another time, he wouldn’t be. If, instead of comparing her to his nephew, he had seen her as she was; Someone who was inexperienced with the Force, trying to figure things out one step at a time. Instead, in his paranoid state, Master Luke had gone back to shutting her out, keeping her at arms distance and seemingly waiting for the moment she would reveal her true nature.

His fear was now one that resided in her.

Except…things were different now. Or at least, that’s what she wanted to prove to herself.

Stood atop this mountain cliffside, the island never seemed so peaceful. The small enclosed room that sat just beyond the opening was still and silent, the fading sunlight from the day's sunset reflecting off the calm waters surface of the yin-yang that sat in the middle of the room, the rippling water painted across the caverns ceiling.

The island wind was unusually gentle, caressing her sun-kissed skin instead of whipping harshly across her face as it typically did. The air carried the salty scent of the ocean below, its murky gray waves nothing more than mere background noise as they crashed into the cliffside. Beyond the shadow of the island, the ocean had turned into a beautiful canvas of yellows, oranges, and reds, its sight instilling a sense of peace inside her that she needed right about now.

Rey’s gaze lingered over to the chunk of rock that sat upon the cliffs outcropping, feeling a familiar tug pull her towards it. This had been where she had first reached out to the Force, had truly felt the power of it flowing through her, through every single being in the Galaxy. The Force was everything, and somehow nothing, at the same time.

Rey reaches out a hand, letting her palm glide over the rock's rough and worn surface. Its warmth seeped into her skin, having spent the day baking in Ahch-To’s sun. The warmth comforted her, but not as much as what she sensed lingering upon its surface.

It had been here. This is where Master Luke had taken his last stand, had taken up the mantle of The Jedi once more, of the Skywalker Legend. It was here that he not only faced down The First Order, but the person he believed he had failed most. The monster he deemed himself responsible for creating.

Rey pulled herself up on top of the rock, scooting closer to the edge of the outcropping before settling with her legs crossed, staring out to the seemingly never-ending horizon that stretched out before her. Closing her eyes, she could almost pretend that he was still here with her. Stood next to her as he once was, the exhilaration and giddiness she had briefly heard in his voice when she had finally begun to grasp even the concept of the Force, something that he hadn’t been able to share with another in a long, long time.

Now, that was gone. There was no-one here for her to confide in, no one to pass on the knowledge of the Force, of the Light, The Dark, The Jedi, and the Sith, knowledge that she so desperately needed. All she had now was herself, and this island. To somehow figure out all of this on her own. It seemed… Impossible.

“Rey…”

Something was calling out to her. Delving so deep into her meditative state, it felt as if she no longer had control of her entire being. She felt buried in her mind, in the Force, like she was sinking down, down, down into the bottomless ocean. Her limbs felt heavy, surrounded and pinned down by something that was both weight-less yet dense. She was enveloped in it, she was it. And there, somewhere within the endless infinity of darkness, something was shining to her, pleading for her attention, impossible to ignore. It was right there, so close yet so far, and why shouldn’t she reach out and take it? Why shouldn’t she pull that feeling of ‘rightness’ towards her and-

“Rey?”

That… That wasn’t in her mind.

That was right in front of her.

Pulling herself out of that state felt like breaching the surface of a frozen ocean, a shocked gasp pushing from her lungs as her eyes snap open, wincing at the last of the days light. Even through her semi-blinded vision, she could see the silhouette of a figure blocking most of the light. Rey rubbed at her eyes, blinking in attempt to clear her vision, wary of the unknown person that stood before her.

“How did you do that?”

Kylo Ren stood in front of her, eyes wide with the most stunned look she thinks she’s ever seen from him, perhaps since the first time the Force had connected them.

“How did I do what?” Rey asked, still taken aback by their sudden connection.

“You forced the connection to open.” Kylo reveals, his eyes darting around his surroundings before settling on her. “I could feel you, calling out to me. I was never able to feel you through the Force like that, not unless I was focusing all my energy into it. This time, it was…It was impossible to ignore. I reached out for it and then, I was here.”

“Wait-“ Rey stops him, holding out her hand as she scrambled to her feet. “-What do you mean here? You’re not- You’re not really here, are you?”

“Maybe not. Truthfully, I do not know.” Kylo said, turning from her to gaze out at the view behind him. “But… There’s no limits to what I can see now. I can see everything. Not just you and what you interact with.”

“You can see the island?” Rey whispered, horrified.

“Island?” Kylo asked, turning back to face her with an eyebrow raised in questioning. “You’re on an island?”

“Stop trying to get information out of me.” Rey reprimanded him, more irritated at herself for giving away more than she should have.

Kylo raised his hands to her in an apparent sign of surrender, turning back around to face Ahch-To’s ocean.

“This is a beautiful place…” Kylo wondered out loud as Rey stepped beside him, joining him in his view gazing. “I can see why you came here.”

“It's very peaceful.” Rey agreed, a small smile etched on her face at the sight of a flock of Porgs flying by. “It’s a nice place to just…exist. Be by myself, for a while.”

“And here I am ruining it.” Kylo stated, his tone the closest thing to joking she thinks she’s ever heard from him. “Though, in my defense, you were the one that brought me here.”

“And in my defense, I didn’t know what I was doing.” Rey countered, crossing her arms both against his words, and to defend herself from the chill of the wind, notably colder now the sinking sun was sucking away the warmth the day brings.

“That’s quite apparent.” Kylo stated bluntly and, before Rey could object to his insult, he continued. “I can’t see any reason why you would want to see me. At least, not by your choice.”

Oh. That was… Not what she had been expecting from him.

“You make my days more interesting, that’s for sure.” Rey kept up the jokes, hoping it would keep away the inevitable bouts of bickering that came with this connection, at least for a few minutes. “Besides, now I know how to cope with being kept on edge all day.”

“Then I suppose you’re welcome for that.”

Kylo took a few steps away from her, heading over to the rock she was sat upon a few seconds ago. His feet come to a halt just before it, his gaze lingering there for a few odd moments. Just like she had before, he stretches out a hand, holding it a few centimeters above its surface.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Kylo asks her, finally tearing his eyes away from the rock to look up at her whilst he asks for her permission.

Rey can’t help but raise her eyebrows in disbelief at the fact that he was actually asking her for permission before doing so. For as long as she’s known him, which admittedly hasn’t been that long in the grand scheme of things, Kylo had always seemed like the more ‘Takes what he wants, does what he wants’ kind of person. Despite the positiveness of it, seeing him act like a polite, decent human being left an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Nevertheless, she still nods him to take a seat.

Kylo nods his thanks, lowering himself down onto the rock. It doesn’t escape her notice the way his line of sight would frequently shift from the view ahead of him to her for the briefest of moments, nor the fact that he’s sitting so far to the side that he’s practically falling off, leaving ample room for her to take a seat if she wished to.

‘I probably shouldn’t. It would be a bad idea.’

Is what flashes through her mind as she takes a seat next to him anyway.

“So… what happens to you when we do this?” Rey breaks the (astonishingly) comfortable silence they found themselves in. Kylo turns his head to the side to face her as she speaks, a small frown on his face as she does so.

“What do you mean?”

“Well this is… It’s different than the other times, isn’t it? We were just seeing each other wherever it was we were before, but not it seems like you’re actually here.”

“We don’t know that yet.”

“No, but… It is different, you have to admit that. Where were you before, uh…”

“Before you pulled me by your side to an unknown island?” Kylo finished for her. “If you won’t tell me where you are, I don’t think it’s fair that I should have to reveal my location.”

“What am I even going to do with that information? Fly all the way to you and take on the First Order all by myself?”

“I don’t see why not.” Kylo replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Isn’t that what was asked of the Last Jedi before you? Remind me what happened to him again?”

“Don’t you dare-“

“Oh, right.” Kylo interrupted. “He died right where we’re sitting.”

Rey could feel herself bristling up at his downright disrespectful comments towards their old master, not willing to let him get away with it, not without a few choice words of her own.

“Not before utterly humiliating you, though.” Rey retorted, satisfied at the way she could see his posture tensing up, undoubtedly due to his growing irritation.  “You had the chance to wipe out the entire Resistance, including me, but you let yourself get distracted by old grudges.”

“You’re starting to sound like Hux.” Kylo grumbled under his breath. “I got what I wanted in the end, didn’t I? Luke Skywalker is dead.”

“By his choice. Not by your hands.”

Kylo turned his seething glare to her.

“And I don’t believe that’s what you wanted. Not really.” Rey continued, matching his glare instead of backing down like she probably should do.

“And why’s that?”

“Because here you are, moping around and talking about it to me. You got what you thought you wanted, but it didn’t make you happy, did it? Now, you don’t know what you want - and I think that scares you.”

“You say that like you know me.” Kylo says bitterly, the first to break the intense glaring match they had going on. “Who are you to tell me what I do and don’t want?”

“Prove me wrong then.” Rey contended. “What is it that you wanted? You claim you got what you wanted, for Luke Skywalker to be struck down, so now what? You achieved your goal. What else could you possibly want-“

“I wanted you to take my hand!” Kylo snapped, one of the rare times he raises his voice at her. It made Rey flinch slightly away from him, part of her expecting for him to completely lose his temper, possibly even strike out at her.

Kylo’s face softened in the realization that he had frightened her, an uncharacteristic look of shame crossing his features as his anger began to ebb away. He sighed at this, leaning forward and looking down at his hands that hung together between his knees.

“I thought it was something you wanted, too.” Kylo continued, his tone much softer than it was before. “Or would have wanted, if I was to offer it. I had hoped that, even if it wasn’t something you had thought of wanting, you might change your mind once I asked you to join me. Obviously, we saw what that resulted in.”

“Yeah…” Rey said, somewhat awkwardly. “And as much as I hate to say it…I did want to take your hand-”

Kylo’s head snapped to her, a look of disbelief and, if she looked hard enough, a little bit of hope on his face at her words.

“-Bens hand.” Rey finished, just two words enough to crush Kylo’s spirits. “Maybe if you showed you had a heart, if you had helped me save the fleeing Resistance, showed me some semblance of compassion, of kindness, then maybe… Maybe I would have thought you were trying to change the Galaxy for the better. Maybe I would have taken your hand.”

“Then I guess it’s a shame that man’s not here anymore.” Kylo noted bitterly, turning his gaze back towards the ocean, its surface steadily turning darker with the approaching night.

“If he’s not here anymore, then tell me this-“ Rey got his attention focused back on her, turning his head a small amount to face her. “-Why is he sitting right in front of me?”

Kylo couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, unable to comprehend why someone such as her would be so insistent on trying to save him, whatever that meant. She had no doubt heard of the horrific deeds he had done, having seen some of them with her own eyes. Even worse was the fact that some of them- he had even done to her. In his mind, it simply didn’t make sense.

At the first sign of him falling to the Dark, his parents had shipped him off to Luke Skywalker, hoping the legendary Jedi would be able to push down that side, teach him to harness those powers for the ‘better’. Truthfully, he thought he was too ignorant as a child, had thought that it was possible for his uncle to set him back on ‘the right track.’ All that was shattered the night he awoke to his Uncle stood above him, with lightsaber in hand, and the intent to murder gleaming in his eyes.

She should have given up by now. It was what he was used to.

And yet, here she was.

He didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve her.

“Your weapon-“ Kylo blurted, the sudden change in topic making Rey raise her eyebrow at him. “-The staff.”

Rey turned to where Kylo was gesturing, seeing where she had placed her staff when she climbed up to this place, leaving it leaning by the wall of the entrance leading to the inside of the yin-yang room.

“What about it?” Rey asked, somewhat confused as to where this discussion was going.

“You had it on you when we spoke a few days ago. And you have it now.”

“Your point being…?”

“Why are you back to using your staff? Why aren’t you using your- my grandfathers- saber?”

“Did you get a concussion after the blast knocked you out?” Rey asked, her response making Kylo frown at her. “It split in half, remember? It doesn’t work anymore.”

Kylo’s frown stayed glued on his face.

“You haven’t fixed it yet?”

Now it was Rey’s turn to frown.

“You can fix it?”

Kylo’s first instinct was to respond with ‘Of course it can be fixed’, but had to remind himself that Rey was very, very new to all of this, and still had so much more to learn. Except, who would she learn it from now? While, regretfully, Skywalker had been teaching her, he was one of the only ones left, besides him, that had such knowledge of the Force to pass on. Now that he was gone, who did she have left to learn from?

The answer was obvious: him. Except, there was one problem to this; Rey would never accept his help, even if she needed it. She was very stubborn like that.

It was strangely endearing.

“Luke didn’t teach you about that?” Kylo asked in surprise. “Its one of the most important paths to becoming a Jedi; learning how to construct your own saber, knowing how to keep it functioning.”

“We didn’t really have much time.” Rey pointed out. “But… I can fix Luke’s saber? Really?”

“So long as the crystal isn’t damaged too much, but…Do you really want to use my grandfather's saber as your own?”

“Are you just saying that because you want it?” Rey said with just a hint of a smirk on her face.

“Partly,” Kylo admitted. “But also because it's almost like a rite of passage; Constructing your own saber is one of the most enthralling parts of being a Force User. It can be frustrating and time-consuming, yes, but nothing compares to when you ignite your own saber for the first time. Knowing its truly yours.”

“Did you make one then?” Rey asked him. “Back when you were Master Luke’s student?”

Kylo answered by unclipping his saber from his belt, holding it in his hands for a moment before holding it out for her to take. Rey did so somewhat hesitantly, taken aback by the fact that this was the second time he had willingly handed over his saber to her.

“The saber I use now? It was modified. This is the saber I made under Skywalkers' teachings.”

All of a sudden, the saber in her hands seemed to hold a completely different meaning. It wasn’t just the saber of Kylo Ren.

It was also once the saber of Ben Solo.

The weight of the saber always surprised her, but served as a better explanation for his fighting style. When she had seen Luke’s form in training, he was agile, moving with grace, fast and accurate. Kylo’s style was one of a brute; heavy movements laced with power, used to overwhelm and overpower his foes with one solid strike. With a hefty saber like this, there was no way he could be as light and fluid as Luke was.

The saber was sleek and black, though clearly well used judging by the scuff marks and overall weathered appearance. The bottom of the saber, where she assumed the Kyber crystal was contained, had been painted red, whilst the main chamber was a brilliant silver, perhaps a hint of the saber it once was. A section of the saber attached to the side was most likely once a shining gold, but was now scuffed to the point it had begun to fade. A crimson red wire ran from the bottom interior of the saber, running up the side of its body, held close by silver clips, leading to an exposed interior near the top of the hilt from which it disappeared from sight. From the top of the saber came two ports, once likely the same matte black of the saber had now turned into a ring of colors, its metal oxidized from the intense heat of the blades.

“The body was mostly the same, except for the color of course; that was much lighter.” Kylo tells her, confirming her suspicions as to the color of his original saber.

“What color was the blade?” Rey asked him, keeping her eyes on the saber as she turned it around in her hands.

“The same as the crystal.” Kylo answered her. “It was blue.”

“But your blade’s red.” Rey points out. “Did you get a different crystal?”

“No, same crystal. I used a method most Dark users use; I bled the crystal.”

“You…Made it bleed?”

“I bled my emotions into the crystal.” Kylo answered. “All the hate, anger, my fear and my pain, I forced that into my Kyber crystal. The process is…It’s unpleasant.”

“As in it hurt?”

“Not in the way you might think. You see, a Kyber Crystal is naturally aligned to the light side of the Force. To change it like this is, in a way, against the natural order. It resisted the process. But, eventually, with persistence, the crystal will bend to your will. As did mine. As did my grandfathers.”

“But I have your grandfather saber, don’t I?”

“That you do. That is the saber of Anakin Skywalker. The saber of Darth Vader was one he took from a Jedi Master, which he bled to make his own.”

Kylo leaned closer to her, tapping on the ports of his saber that stuck out of the side.

“These ports here turn the saber into a Crossguard saber. As you’ve seen, the energy from the crystal gets dispersed into three different ports, so that way you get the main blade and the side blades.”

“Your blades are different from ones I’ve seen.” Rey said. “Yours look…Crackly?”

“That was…an unintentional design to my saber.” Kylo admitted. “It was a combination of a few things. I’ll admit that my saber construction skills were… flawed. When I bled my Kyber crystal, the crystal cracked. This made the energy that came from the crystal unstable and volatile-“

“Kind of like its owner…” Rey muttered under her breath, loud enough for Kylo to hear.

“-And” Kylo continued, pretending he hadn’t heard that comment. “-That meant the crystal gave off a lot of heat. Too much for my saber. If I didn’t want my saber to blow up in my hands every time I turned it on, I was going to have to make some modifications.”

“These vents help to get some air into the saber, as well as letting some of the excess heat to escape.” Kylo continued as he pointed to the vents that ran along the side of his saber, running his finger along its side.

“And what about this?” Rey asks, running her finger along the deep red wire that ran alongside the external of the saber. “Why is this here? Aren’t the wires supposed to be on the inside?”

“The wire helps to provide the side blades with extra power. Most of my saber is exposed because it helps keep the temperature down, and it’s easier for me to modify my saber, or repair it, if need be.”

“Have you ever needed to repair it?”

“Yes – After a certain scavenger girl damaged it with a strike from my Grandfather’s saber.”

“Oh…”

“Oh indeed. I had to replace the casing with a new one.”

“What about the rest of the saber? Can’t you repair that? If it’s unstable as you say, wouldn’t that make it dangerous to you?”

“It hasn’t let me down so far.” Kylo replied nonchalantly. “I prefer it this way, if I’m being honest with you. It fits me.”

‘A broken toy for a broken man’, Rey thinks to herself.

“Do you really think I can make my own?” Rey asks rather sheepishly, annoyed by the fact that she was doubting her own abilities, as so many have in the past.

Kylo didn’t answer at first, taking some time to mull over his response. He stretched out his hand to her, gesturing for his lightsaber to be returned to its rightful owner. Rey places it gently back in his hands, missing the times she was able to use her own.

“With your abilities in the Force? I have no doubt.” Kylo finally answered. “So long as you have someone with the knowledge there to guide you.”

It didn’t take long for Rey to realize what he was hinting at.

“You want to help me?” Rey asked, astounded. “Why would you want to put a weapon like that back in my hands?”

“Because if you’re so certain you must head down this path, I’d rather you didn’t throw yourself into reckless situations without one.”

“Wouldn’t that be better for you?”

“No.” Kylo replied simply. “This may come as a surprise to you Rey, but I do care about you. I probably shouldn’t, but… it is what it is.”

“Ben…” “And besides-“ Kylo interrupted what he was sure would be a speech he isn’t prepared to handle, at least not right now. “If we’re to have this ‘fair fight’ at some point, it wouldn’t be very fair if you didn’t have a lightsaber, now would it?”

As annoyed as she was at him for cutting her off, he did raise a good point.

Rey turned away from him, reaching for the sand scratched bag that sat by her waist. Flipping open its top, she reaches her hands in and pulls out a bundle of cloth, closing the bag back up as she places the lump of fabric between them. Kylo looks between the bundle and her in questioning, before Rey gestures a hand at it. With her permission, Kylo opens the corners of the cloth, revealing the two halves of Anakin’s saber. The edges were cracked and sharp, an unclean cut formed from the explosion of their combined powers within the Force.

But that wasn’t what he was focused on.

Because inside of the saber, within its main chamber, Kylo could already see it was a lost cause. Gently prying what little of it left he could out from its holder, Kylo revealed to Rey the shattered remains of the Kyber crystal that had once served its original owner, his son, and then her.

“I’m afraid this will be unusable.” Kylo informs her, a pang of sadness in his chest for the loss of a weapon infused with such history. “Sometimes, a damaged crystal can still be used, but in this condition? There’s nothing to salvage from it.”

Kylo held out the weapon to her, allowing her to take them from his hands, for her to mourn the weapon she once used, despite it being used against him. Even if it wasn’t her saber, it was still the first she wielded. She had a connection with that weapon and, as such, is a painful loss to bear.

“I’ll have to find my own crystal then, won't I?” Rey asked him, mournfully tucking the saber back into it’s resting place within her bag. “Master Luke, he left some books behind. I can’t make sense of most of them, but some were written by him, from his days as a Jedi Master. He talked about how there was a planet he would take his padawans to, for them to select their crystal?”

“I went there myself.” Kylo confirmed with a nod of his head. “It’s a rite of passage, among the Jedi Order. It’s a tradition that’s lasted for thousands of years, in which Padawans must find and harvest their Kyber Crystal, to use in their sabers. They call it ‘The Gathering’.”

“Do you just pick them at random? The crystals?”

“No. It’s…You’re called to your crystal. The Force guides you to it, and when you find it? You know it’s the one. It just feels…Right.”

“That’s where I need to go, then. To Illum.”

“It would have been, yes. If you and your friends hadn’t destroyed it.”

“Destroyed it? When did we-“

“Do you not remember Star-Killer base? The Empire had occupied that planet with decades, using it a mining planet, gathering Kyber Crystals that were essential in the construction of the Death Stars. When the First Order rose to power, we used the trench within the planet to construct our own base. Unfortunately, the Resistance chose to destroy such a valuable planet.”

“You were destroying planets! “We were wiping out those that threatened to defy us. It’s a necessary evil to stabilizing this Galaxy.”

Sometimes, she thinks she’s close to getting to him, to finding the man she knows is buried deep down within the puppet that is Kylo Ren. Then, when she’s so tantalizingly close, Kylo Ren buries him further down, insistent on keeping him from seeing the light of day.

“What happened, happened.” Kylo did his best to wipe away the brewing argument. “The point of the matter is, Illum is no more. Just another star within the Galaxy.”

“That’s it then?” Rey asked, feeling her hope deflate. “I can’t get a Kyber crystal? There will be no more lightsabers?”

“Just because the Jedi were so focused on Illum does not mean it’s the only source of Kyber Crystals.” Kylo states, only partly able to hold back the resentment in his tone at the name of the Jedi. “It's rare, yes, but there are other planets within the system where Kyber Crystals naturally form. One of these, the First Order knows the location of. And, by extension, me.”

“How do I get there?”

“By yourself? You couldn’t.”

“And why not?”

“The planet is occupied by the First Order. Being that Kyber Crystals are such a valuable resource, it is heavily guarded. No one even travels near the planet without the First Order knowing about it. If an unknown ship was to breach its atmosphere, it would be shot down within seconds, and the wreckage would be investigated for the unlikely case of survivors.”

“So, what’s the point of telling me about this planet if I can't go there?” Rey asked, feeling mildly frustrated by all this.

“You can go there.” Kylo asserted. “But you’d have to be escorted in by a member of the First Order. Preferably by someone in a high position of power; and I don’t think it gets any higher than Supreme Leader.”

“Ben, I swear, if you’re trying to make a deal with me where you’ll only help me if I agree to join you-

“That’s not what this is.” Kylo quickly cut her off, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. “There’s no conditions to this offering, I only want to help you in finding your way within the Force. There must be some reason the Force has connected us, and I can’t believe it for us to kill one another. So, I’ll make use of the connection it gives us, these small moments we have to speak, and I’ll offer you my guidance within the Force whenever I can. You have so much potential within you Rey, and as much as I want you by my side in this, I know it’s not something I can force you to do. Forced loyalties are ones that are doomed to end in betrayal, and I don’t want that. Not for us. Whether you choose to be by my side is a choice you must come to on your own.”

“I want to believe you,” Rey whispered to him. “But it would be foolish of me to.”

“You trusted me once, when you came to me on the Supremacy. You helped awaken me to the way Snoke was manipulating me. He gave me the order to execute you, and I couldn’t do it. What makes you think I could do it now?”

“Things change.” Rey uttered, shaking her head sombrely at him. “Besides, I’m not willing to risk my location. I can’t let this place fall into the hands of the First Order.”

“Then how about a compromise?” Kylo offered, scheming a plan in his mind. “I won’t meet you here, wherever this is, but on a different planet. Away from any settlements, to ensure no one spots us. From there, I can transport you to where you need to go and sneak you in.”

“This seems dangerous, Ben.”

“It is. But there’s no reward without risk.”

“Okay… Okay, say I go along with this plan of yours. Where do you propose we meet?”

“I’m assuming you haven’t traveled much?”

“Not really.”

“Then I think there’s a planet that’s perfect for our needs; fairly isolated, out in the middle of nowhere, and you’re quite familiar with it…”

Of course.

“You asshole.”

And then, she hears a wonderful sound, one that she never would have expected she’d be able to experience in her entire life:

Kylo Ren laughed.

Truthfully, it was more of a snort than anything, and it seemed to take him by surprise more than it did her, but oh, how it was such a joy to hear. There were times where she was sure Ben Solo had been replaced by a tyrannical droid that only gained joy from murder, so moments like these when she felt she was seeing the true him leaking through were ones she would hold onto. Pieces of evidence that there was still a chance that, one day, she may get to see the real Ben Solo be reborn.

“You’re seriously asking me to return to Jakku? Really?” She asked, fighting down her own bouts of laughter at how distraught he looked for allowing himself to laugh. “That was kind of the one place I never wanted to return to.”

“If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.” Kylo retorted and, to her delight, she could see a faint blush appearing on his face.

“Fine.” Rey gave in, standing from the rock they were sat upon. “There’s a ship graveyard called Niima outpost. Few miles west of there, you’ll spot a fallen Star Destroyer and, not too far from there, a collapsed AT-AT. Give me a few days to prepare and then… You can come find me there.”

Rey walked over to the entrance of the yin-yang room, collecting her staff from the wall and holding it close. She turned to face Ben, who had turned from his seated position facing the ocean to instead face her, and sighed at his inquisitive gaze.

“I still think this is a stupid decision on my part.” She tells him. “Please, don’t make me regret it.”

“You won’t.” Kylo vows.

“Then, in that case… I suppose I’ll see you in a few days.”

And then, just before his figure fades from view, she hears him speak in a voice so timid and gentle, she isn’t entirely sure he had meant for her to hear it.

“I look forward to it.”

Link To Chapter 4

[hongbab]

Wait for me - He was selfish, he knew that much. He watched Hakyeon wilt by his side, his liveliness decreasing with each week they spent together, but he couldn't let go of him, not when Hakyeon was the best thing in his life, not when he wanted to do this whole Life Thing together with Hakyeon. (Ravi/N, r, 3569 w)

a/n: written for this prompt. i’m sorry for not making it smutty, i just wanted to make it as sweet as possible :( i hope you’ll still like it this way, anonnie!!

recommended songs: your favourite sad but lovey-dovey songs

p.s. sorry for taking so long, if there’s a parallel between this story and my life, it’s the graduation thing, only it’s in 2 weeks for me not 3 haha i had to prepare for and then take my state exam, i’m sorry >< (but this means no more uni ⇒ much more time to write! (when i’m not at work, at least))

Even though the old, rusty air conditioner was whirring steadily overhead, the air inside the office was unbearably hot. Wonshik felt tiny beads of sweat trickle down his temples to get lost in his hair as he was lying on the sofa, legs and head propped up on the two armrests.

“Can we just go home?” he moaned, blindly stretching out his arm to the right.

A warm and dry hand wrapped around his fingers, squeezing them lightly.

“You can go home, if you want, I told you,” Hakyeon murmured.

He pulled back his hand and Wonshik let his own drop to the floor, opening his eyes to blearily blink at Hakyeon. He had been correcting the Music Theory exam papers of his second year students for over two hours and Wonshik had already scrolled down several months’ worth of posts both on his FaceBook and Twitter feeds, deciding to take a nap instead—if only he’d been able to sleep while burning in the hellfire of the early July weather.

“I want you to come home with me,” Wonshik mumbled. “You haven’t come over in five days.”

Hakyeon let out a sigh. “That’s because I’ve been making exam papers.”

“So you should relax already.”

“Wonshik-ah,” Hakyeon said, finally looking at Wonshik. He looked exhausted; there were dark shadows under his eyes, his lovely skin looked sickly pale, and the 11’s between his eyebrows looked deeper than usual. “Please, let me correct these and I’ll go home with you, I promise, I just—”

Hakyeon's words got cut off by the rattling of the doorknob and Wonshik immediately jumped from the sofa, scrambling on the floor to crawl over to Hakyeon's desk, pushing his chair away to hide. Hakyeon yelped, but then the door opened and he quickly rolled his chair back behind the desk, almost running over Wonshik's fingers.

“You can come out of there, Wonshik,” a tired voice said, “it’s just me.”

“It’s Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon announced, gently nudging Wonshik's bottom with his foot.

Wonshik let out the breath he had been holding, supporting himself on Hakyeon's desktop as he stood up, facing Sanghyuk, Hakyeon's TA.

“I could see your shoes anyway,” Sanghyuk said, dropping his bag on his desk. “I was just hoping you guys weren’t… you know.”

“What the hell, we—”

“Oh my God, I told you we—”

"I know, I know," Sanghyuk swatted away their excuses like a couple of annoying flies, "No sex until he's 18 or something."

"I'm 24," Wonshik grumbled. "And you're younger than me, so stop being condescending."

"I'm still a TA and I can still tell the dean about your little... romance."

"You're my TA," Hakyeon said authoritatively and for some reason, Wonshik's heart skipped a beat at the commanding tone with which Hakyeon was trying to save both of their dignity. "I can tell the dean about your unhelpfulness."

"I'm helpful!" Sanghyuk exclaimed. "I'm helpful and you know that and it’s still very bizarre that you guys, like, hook up and stuff."

"We don't—" Wonshik started, but then Hakyeon took his hand momentarily, nonverbally telling him to let Sanghyuk think whatever he wants.

It was irritating, how Sanghyuk thought their relationship was based on some sort of sick teacher-student kink, just like how most of their close friends thought the same. It was nothing like that and Wonshik once had been desperate to make Sanghyuk understand it; he had tried to explain it for several months after Sanghyuk had caught them cuddling in Hakyeon's office, but Sanghyuk never listened. No one ever listened and while Wonshik was extremely stressed about it, Hakyeon seemingly accepted that people would never believe them.

Seemingly.

But it was Wonshik who rubbed Hakyeon's back when he seemed too troubled by the weight of this all, he was the one who offered to make Hakyeon some tea when he was bursting with suppressed misery, and Wonshik was the one who held Hakyeon through the crying when he wanted to give up on the two of them but felt too attached to Wonshik to do so.

They had talked about it more than Wonshik dared to count, about breaking up, about stopping the torturing of each other and finally being able to take a deep breath without being afraid of anybody kicking them out of the university, Wonshik losing his student status and Hakyeon, his job as a professor, and, on top of it, being condemned by society. 'It's not like... there's much between you two, right? I mean, you haven't even kissed or anything,' Jaehwan had told Wonshik once, chuckling awkwardly afterwards, slowly screwing the imaginary knife already in Wonshik's heart further in.

There were nights when Wonshik wanted nothing more than to kiss Hakyeon, he wanted it more than he wanted to breathe, needed it like plants need water to stay alive. But Hakyeon was stronger, he never let Wonshik kiss him, 'not until you graduate', he said, and Wonshik always felt tears prickling the corners of his eyes when Hakyeon rejected his attempts. They had a bond no one should ever have questioned, and Wonshik clearly knew it was love, no matter how Hakyeon never let him say it out loud—he was protecting both of them, from breaching this stupid convention, this make-believe rule they had set up, the one that said their relationship was only real crime if their lips touched. Wonshik didn't want the two of them to be a crime.

He thought about this as he sat on the couch in his living room that evening, Hakyeon resting his head on Wonshik's shoulder, snuffling quietly in his sleep, his hair silky but slightly tangled under Wonshik's fingers as he caressed it. He wished he could have kissed Hakyeon on the forehead, but that was forbidden, too, at least on Hakyeon's part, and he would have woken up and freaked out if Wonshik did that. So Wonshik only tipped his head to the side, the top of Hakyeon's head touching his cheek.

He was so happy but so incredibly, so inconceivably sad, and all that managed to keep him from screaming from the top of his lungs was the small red circle around the number 17 on the July page of the ugly wall calendar he had hammered up in his living room. Three more weeks and he wouldn't be a student anymore. Three more weeks and he would be able to kiss Hakyeon, to hold him in his arms and press his mouth to his temple and hear him laugh in the most carefree way he had ever done. It would ring through the room and Wonshik's heart and he would be the happiest man on earth. Three weeks.

*

The day they first met was a lazy Wednesday, one littered with classes with too long breaks between them, and that was why Wonshik hated Wednesdays the most—the temptation to go home between classes and never return to campus was extremely strong.

He stood in line in front of the counter of the coffee shop opposite campus, pulling one of his hands out of his jeans’ pocket to rub at his eyes, trying not to fall asleep while standing.

He was halfway through a yawn when the wind of a storm ruffled his hair, loud steps making him regain consciousness as someone rushed past him, pushing away the guy next in line to bend over the counter, panting wildly.

“Hey,” the boy heaved at the barista in front of him, the strap of his messenger bag slipping off his shoulder, “do you know where… where the entrance to the main building is… at that university?”

The barista, a blond girl, blushed to the roots of her hair and mumbled something unintelligible, the boy looking more and more desperate by the second. Someone tried to explain to him how he was supposed to take the path on the right of the entrance, turn to the left, go up the stairs, look for the second door, enter it, and then walk up another flight of stairs to find the reception hall, but the guy only made a wailing noise, his otherwise tan face suddenly turning grey.

“I can help you,” Wonshik said without thinking twice, surprised by his own eagerness to help. He was probably just bored. “I study there.”

“Would you?” the boy asked, stepping away from the counter, looking like he might hug Wonshik and cry on his shoulder. “Oh my God, thank you, I need to get there in five minutes, I have a job interview at half past one, you see…”

“Okay, uh,” Wonshik nodded, glancing sadly at the coffee machine behind the counter. “Let’s go.”

The guy stormed out of the coffee shop the way he entered, waiting for Wonshik to catch up outside. He seemed extremely nervous with his eyebrows knit and his lips tightly pressed together, but Wonshik still thought he looked kind of cute, especially because of his jitteriness—Wonshik felt himself blush and had to bite his lower lip to hide a smile.

“Are you applying to be a teacher or something?” Wonshik asked as they crossed the road with fast steps.

“Yeah,” the guy said with a finger in his mouth, chewing on his skin. “I heard they’re looking for a Music Theory teacher and I just finished my Music Master’s a year ago, so I thought I’d try.”

“I’m sure you’ll do well,” Wonshik replied with an encouraging smile, and suddenly he was walking alone in the grass. When he looked back, the guy was standing a few feet away, looking utterly baffled. “What’s that?” Wonshik inquired.

“You don’t even know me,” Mr. Soon-To-Be-Prof mumbled. “How can you be sure I’ll do well?”

Wonshik blinked.

“I just… this is just… well,” Wonshik scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I can imagine you in front of a whiteboard and all, so I just… look, we’re going to be late.”

“Ah,” the boy nodded, light pink dusting the tops of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose as he looked down at his shoes, shiny dark hair hanging in front of his forehead, his eyelashes like tiny fans spreading above his waterlines. Wonshik's heart skipped a beat and his legs suddenly felt like jelly, his palms becoming clammy as the boy looked up with a gentle smile. “Right, let’s go.”

They took a shortcut through a bunch of bushes, stopping in front of the door to the main building, Wonshik holding it open.

“How do I look?” the teacher candidate asked, brushing his fingers lightly over his bangs.

Lovely, Wonshik thought but caught himself before he could have said it out loud, swallowing thickly.

“You look like our new Music Theory prof,” he said, grinning, for which he earned a radiant smile, one that made his stomach turn into knots. “But, before you go inside,” Wonshik took his phone from his pocket, checking the time. It was 1.28pm. “Can I ask your name?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, Cha Hakyeon,” he said, reaching out to shake Wonshik's hand. “Sorry, I’m kind of nervous right now.”

“Didn’t even notice,” Wonshik smirked, tightening his fingers around Hakyeon's hand. “Kim Wonshik, by the way. I’m graduating this semester, so we probably won’t meet in class, but… I hope I’ll get to see you around.”

“Thank you, and I’m sorry for taking your time,” Hakyeon replied, entering the building. “I’ll buy you coffee if I get the job.” Hakyeon smiled again and Wonshik was positively swaying in the doorway now, grinning like an idiot.

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed, then.”

Hakyeon turned away with a small, breathy laugh, jogging towards the small booth in the reception hall, and Wonshik let go of the door, skipping back all the way to the parking lot where he stopped to remember which building his next class would be held in.

Hakyeon got accepted and he bought Wonshik a caramel macchiato, sipping it together with him in a faraway corner of the coffee shop, talking animatedly about his interview. Wonshik watched him in awe with his chin held in his palm, smiling when Hakyeon got carried away so much he could barely breathe between sentences. He was beautiful and lively and funny and Wonshik felt so smitten after their third coffee date he thought he might die if he didn't ask Hakyeon out for dinner.

It was a long process from then on: Wonshik obviously didn’t care about getting kicked out of university as much as Hakyeon worried for both of them, every little touch feeling like another step towards their mutual death sentence. The first time Wonshik held Hakyeon's hand in the darkness of the near empty cinema auditorium sent shivers down Hakyeon's body, making him tremble with nervousness till the end of the awful action film they were watching.

"I want to kiss you," Wonshik blurted out once, three beers into the night at Hakyeon's place, their fingers intertwined on the floor.

"We can't," Hakyeon shook his head, looking down at their hands with a small pout, and when he looked back up, his eyes were shining strangely—not from the alcohol he had consumed. He scooted closer to Wonshik and rested his head on Wonshik's shoulder tentatively, flinching when Wonshik caressed his back.

"I should let you go," Hakyeon said a few hours later, when he was already sitting on the mattress of his own bed, his fingers still laced with Wonshik's. "I'm killing you."

"You're making me feel alive," Wonshik said and pulled Hakyeon down to where he was sprawled out on the bed, and Hakyeon came a little unwillingly, laying his head on Wonshik's chest so hesitatingly it felt like he was trying to make it feel less heavy. Wonshik cradled the back of his neck then, scratching under Hakyeon's hair.

He was selfish, he knew that much. He watched Hakyeon wilt by his side, his liveliness decreasing with each week they spent together, but he couldn't let go of him, not when Hakyeon was the best thing in his life, not when he wanted to do this whole Life Thing together with Hakyeon. He didn't let Hakyeon break up with him. Instead, he kept vigil with Hakyeon, mourning their unborn relationship on some nights when all he wanted to do was sleep, watched Hakyeon crumble and grow tired, tormented, broken by his side.

*

Wonshik couldn't pay attention to the ceremony.

He was sitting in his robe with that silly hat on, staring ahead and picturing Hakyeon's face, thinking of how his lips would taste a few hours later, how he'd have to hold back his tears when he could finally free Hakyeon from the weight of this all.

When a classmate on his right elbowed him in the side to indicate he was next, Wonshik stood up in a mechanical way, much like a robot programmed to walk to the front to take his stupid paper and shake some hands. Afterwards, he missed the moment he was supposed to throw his hat in the air, and later, he forgot to smile in the picture a random stranger took of him with his family. He couldn't hear the questions and congratulatory words aimed at him when they were already at home, drinking for his health with relatives he barely knew, and he excused himself as soon as the last guest left.

It was well after 9pm when he finally reached Hakyeon's apartment building, sticky with sweat and his heart going into overdrive. He let himself into the building and ran up the stairs, stumbling at one point but catching the railing, arriving in front of Hakyeon's front door heaving loudly, knocking weakly on the wood. His knuckles barely left the surface when the door already swung open, Hakyeon standing there in a pair of sweatpants and a crisp white button-up, his hair soft and messy like he had just blow-dried it.

"Wonshik," he said in a shaky voice, "I didn't think you'd be here so fast, I was going to dress up nicely and—"

But Wonshik was already inside the flat, holding Hakyeon's cheeks between his hands and kissing him, his lips quivering against Hakyeon's, his throat tight with unshed tears as he listened to Hakyeon's tiny, muffled sobs, his hands grabbing Wonshik's wrists and his thumbs caressing the insides of them. Hakyeon's arms then wrapped around Wonshik's shoulders and Wonshik pulled him close, holding him tight.

"I'm so proud of you," Hakyeon whispered, the lock clicking as he kicked the door shut.

Wonshik only pressed his face further into the crook of Hakyeon's neck, trying to will away the crying.

When Hakyeon pulled back to look into Wonshik's eyes, his face was decorated with delicate streaks of tears, sparkling there like microscopic gemstones and Wonshik hadn’t seen all seven billion inhabitants of the planet, but he was convinced Hakyeon was the most gorgeous of them all.

Hakyeon pulled him into his bedroom and sat him down on the mattress, climbing into his lap with still too much wariness in his moves, like he couldn't quite believe he was finally allowed to do such things. His fingers crawled under Wonshik's hair as he pressed his forehead against Wonshik's, breathing heavily.

"I love you," Wonshik said and it sounded bubbly like he had blood in his lungs. He held Hakyeon by the waist, his grip firm on his lithe body. "I love you, Hakyeon, I'm so sorry, I'm so— I'm so sorry for being selfish."

"I love you," Hakyeon replied and pecked Wonshik's lips. "I love you more than anything and I'm so happy you never let me— I'm so happy you're here."

Wonshik laughed in a high-pitched voice and let go of Hakyeon's waist to undo the buttons on his shirt, fumbling with each, but Hakyeon didn't rush him, he waited patiently until Wonshik made his way through all the buttons, occasionally kissing Hakyeon like they had all the time in the world.

He had seen Hakyeon shirtless before, when he'd spent the night and Hakyeon had forgotten to take his shirt with him to the bathroom in the morning, but he had never been able to touch him before. Hakyeon's skin was smooth and beautiful, like the finest silk, the warmth of him making Wonshik feel dizzy as he pressed his mouth against Hakyeon's collarbone. His fingertips were tingling as he dragged them over Hakyeon's abdomen, and, in turn, sparks surged under his skin as Hakyeon took Wonshik’s T-shirt off, doing the same to him—just touching, enjoying how it was possible now.

Hakyeon's skin tasted like the sweetest honey mixing with the saltiness of the ocean, and Wonshik couldn't get enough of it as he nipped lightly on Hakyeon's hip bone before he planted small kisses to Hakyeon's firm inner thighs, aching to mark every patch of skin with his mouth.

Wonshik had always loved Hakyeon's melodic voice—it was so different from his own low and deep baritone, the soft-flowing tone filling his heart every time Hakyeon hummed along to the radio or sang quietly in the kitchen while preparing breakfast. His lovely voice cracked now in the nicest way possible, his breathing picking up as Wonshik took him into his mouth, Wonshik's name spilling from his mouth in airy chants like it was a spell ought to be whispered into the night to bear results. His fingers were carding through Wonshik's hair shakily, his body twitching with every move of Wonshik's tongue. His cheeks were flushed and his lips bitten red when Wonshik finally emerged from between his legs, kissing his forehead and earning a happy smile before Hakyeon reached over to the nightstand to take the lube from it.

His lips brushed Hakyeon's eyelids in a soothing manner when he slipped a finger in, and then two, Hakyeon mewling and squirming in his arms when Wonshik finally thrust forward, his legs almost giving in under him—it was too much and too good all at once.

"You mean the world to me," he murmured into Hakyeon's neck as Hakyeon pulled him close, two arms around Wonshik's shoulder and two strong legs around his hips, his small cries trickling down Wonshik's skin like the sweat on his back.

"I love you," he heard Hakyeon's jumbled words before he struggled to press his mouth against Wonshik's, kissing him deep while Wonshik jerked him slowly, swallowing Hakyeon's moans.

Hakyeon came with a choking sound and a desperate inhale, kissing Wonshik until Wonshik came as well, collapsing on top of Hakyeon. He wanted to cry so badly, but Hakyeon was already crying; his blunt nails were scraping Wonshik's scalp as Wonshik lay half on top of him, listening to the steady, way too fast rhythm of Hakyeon's heart.

"Thank you," Wonshik said; his voice was hoarse and his words barely decipherable from the emotions swarming inside him. "I love you, thank you for being here, for waiting for me, I love you so much, Hakyeon, I'm so sorry..." He was rambling, he knew he was, but he needed to talk, he needed to make Hakyeon understand that no man had ever been as happy to be alive as he was in that moment.

Hakyeon laughed, his laughter ringing inside Wonshik's ears and his heart the way he had imagined it would, and when he kissed Hakyeon's temple, Hakyeon only hugged him tighter.

[letsplayscrabble-blog]

reality -part 4- [linstead fic.]

- I know I should probably hold off on posting this but I was just too excited. Thank you SO much for all of the kind words on this you guys. It pushes me to keep writing and I haven’t been feeling good about writing for awhile now. So THANK YOU and please enjoy. I’m trying to keep this as realistic as possible so any advice/knowledge (delivered kindly) will be taken into consideration. <3

[tw: mention of child abuse, neglect, etc.]

-------

When she was little, she’d used to have dreams of living up in a tower. A tower much like the story of Rapunzel that she’d once read during story-time when her mother still cared enough to send her to school, with her long golden hair and her perfect, handsome prince who came to save the day and whisk her off to a happily ever after. 

She used to squeeze her eyes shut and clench her hands into tiny little fists and thought maybe if she wished hard enough, if she believed hard enough, she’d wake up the next morning away from the punches her father delivered to her gut whenever she didn’t bring him another bottle of beer fast enough, or the burns from his cigarette butts all the way up and down her arms she’d earn whenever she complained about being hungry. And maybe, if she was really lucky a fairy godmother would replace her real one, who spent more time in a drugged up daze lying on the tile of the bathroom floor than signing up for parent teacher conferences or packing a sack lunch or kissing her daughter’s cheek goodbye before she stumbled over her shoes that were far too big for her feet to get to the bus on time before it left her and her raggedy clothes, and her ripped-up plastic sack of a backpack in the dust.

 But looking out over the New York skyline from her shiny and sleek twenty-third floor office, she realized she had gotten her tower. A room in the tower of the FBI field office in Manhattan to be exact, with a sleek job as a special agent in counterterrorism and plenty of cases to choose from at her fingertips as to what bad guy she wanted to see burn first- but her tower wasn’t all that she had thought it would be. Perhaps the appeal of it was lessened by the uniform of a scratchy pinstriped pantsuit, or her own personal quality coffeemaker perched on the corner of her desk that didn’t brew quite the same as the fussy one back in Chicago, where if she bumped it just right she could get the thing to dribble out a few ounces more, or maybe it was the way no one really raised their heads out of their computers to say ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’ or to even answer her question as to where to find the damn restroom.

 She felt like a fish out of water, like she was already drowning and it was only her first day and four hours in and normally she would’ve dialed up her favorite blue-eyed ex-Army Ranger for a pep talk and a few reassuring words and maybe even an ‘I love you’ but they were nowhere near that anymore and hadn’t been since he shoved a handful of t-shirts into a duffel bag and ignored her pleas of ‘I can handle it’ and so she tossed her phone into the back of a desk drawer with perhaps a bit too hard of a thud, because she was really and truly on her own and her fingers kept hovering over his name as if she’d somehow work up the nerve to call him and to hear his voice on the other end. But she knew somewhere in the back of her head that she wouldn't, that she couldn't- because she'd left without a goodbye on purpose, because one word out of his mouth or one glance into his sky blue orbs would've kept her there with him and without a job and standing right there on the sidelines because the board’s decision more than likely hadn't gone in her favor as much as she had hoped and prayed for otherwise.

 “Lindsay.”

 She averted her steady gaze from the window, from the bustling city going about its business far below her feet to the woman standing in her doorway, Agent Jennifer Spencer- the woman who had flown all the way to Chicago to recruit her and though she had her sneaking suspicions that she hadn't bothered to voice yet, hadn't bothered to inquire why Spencer had appeared at just the right moment when she was floundering and needed help and needed out. Besides, it wasn't as if she had anything left to fall back on. Her life in Chicago was in shambles.

 “You're needed in the boardroom. Time to hit the ground running.” The woman flashed a wink and what was more than likely supposed to be a comforting smile but it just made Erin’s insides twist. Here a case meant controlling WMDs and stopping a sick soul from blowing up an entire city and though her hands shook with anticipation the weight of it all hadn't quite hit her until this very moment, standing two steps away from the wooden oak door that would open to reveal a room of uniformed agents trained and lethal and far more intense than anything she'd ever experienced before. And she would do anything right then and there to hear Hank’s gravelly murmurs of assurance or the squeeze of Jay’s hand wrapped in her jittery fingers but she'd broken at least one of those bridges and she’d been the one who shoved the gun into the bastard’s mouth and standing here with no one lean on wasn't anyone's fault except her own.

 --------

 They busted the home of Marcus Hemmings by lunchtime, a hacker becoming well known in the city for continuous breaches of the security of major banks and businesses, slowly working his way up to the government buildings as they’d found blueprints and a list of top secret codes for the state capitol building. The FBI had been monitoring his contacts and had tailed him to an undercover meeting in some alleyway with a man from overseas though Erin hadn’t learned exactly from where- though by the way Agent Spencer’s jaw remained tight even after the hacker was hauled away in an armored vehicle she figured there was more to the story than anyone was letting on.

 “I can handle it-”

 “That’s not the issue here, Erin. Drop it.” She cast a pointed look into the rearview mirror and Erin began to nibble on her bottom lip because maybe she’d gotten in over her head and maybe she suddenly missed hearing his mumbled complaints from the passenger seat because she’d almost always insisted sitting behind the wheel instead of being shoved to the back like a scolded child like she was in this very moment and she knew that is was only her first day and perhaps she was being unreasonable and irritable because homesickness had eaten away at her all night long instead of the sweet escape of unconsciousness but she was also under the impression she’d been brought here for a reason and this felt nothing like any sort of inclusion. She caught the man in the passenger seat trying and failing to hide his smirk and it took everything in her not to blow it, not to lose her cool and rip him a new one because if there was one thing she hated about working on this side of the law and this high up on the totem pole it would be the constant belief that men were better equipped to handle it than females, as if she wasn’t competent or qualified enough to be carrying the badge. Damn did he have another thing coming. She made a mental note to stop in and introduce herself later in the day, to find his office and to look him in the eye and put a name to that atrociously smug expression and wipe it right off of his features.

 But when they returned to the field office, he went one way and Agent Spencer dragged her another, her brisk pace never faltering and her mouth not moving once in any sort of an explanation and so Erin did her best to follow, weaving in and out of the crowd milling in the opposite direction until they finally came to rest at the elevator, the light above the door signaling they had quite a few floors left to wait.

 “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on, Spencer,” Erin hissed through her teeth, realizing blowing her top wouldn’t be the best first impression on her superiors but she was through with taking a literal back seat on this case. It just wasn’t how she had been taught to operate.

 “There’s been a bigger breach in national security than we had anticipated,” Agent Spencer murmured, her eyes remaining trained on the descending light and her voice remaining barely above a whisper and Erin had to lean in close to catch the strain of words falling past her lips. And though they sent her reeling, she kept her features collected, realizing they were out in the open and that this may have been the FBI building but suddenly she was questioning if even that was keeping them protected.