It starts with silence, and we see 4 girls in identical long black coats. It’s raining heavily, but none of them have umbrellas, and seem unaffected by it. They turn away from each other and head off in opposite directions.
The music starts. We see Patrick, Pete, Joe, and Andy standing and talking. They break off and get into four identical black cars. Each car heads in a different direction, reminiscent of the girls.
The cameras switch between the four cars. In one, Patrick is driving normally, while singing Jet Pack Blues. The next has Pete humming along, driving with one hand, and scratching music notes onto a paper with the other. His bass guitar is buckled into the passenger seat. Andy is driving, but drumming in the steering wheel while doing it. Finally, Joe is driving with his feet, playing guitar with his hands (because, it’s not the happiest song, but every Fall Out Boy song needs some element of nonsense).
All the boys are intently focused on driving. The windshield wipers are going on constantly, due to the heavy rain.
The four girls continue to weave through the city. Occasionally one of the boys’ cars will come into the frame with her, but she will avoid it.
Then it comes from the boys point of view. Through the pouring rain, there is a sign of the girl. A flash of hair, or the tail of the coat, anything. But just as soon as it’s there, she disappears.
Finally, at the end of the song, the rain starts to let up. Not completely, but enough that it’s just a drizzle. Each of the boys gets one of the girls in their sights. As they come closer so they can see them clearly, the music stops. And the screen fades to black.
Reader Gender: Female, again, it it mostly neutral through the whole thing tbh
Summary: Some have said that the definition of a soulmate is someone who can push ALL of your buttons, the good and the bad. Well, let’s just say the bad buttons are smashed first for both you and Kylo. That is, until a couple of good buttons get hit in the process.
I’ve made the reader a bit of a sarcastic asshat, but then again, how many of us aren’t?
Warnings: None that I can think of? Some mild language, but if someone notices something please message me and I’ll put it in.
(Also, I would recommend listening to Control by Puddle of Mudd while listening to this, kinda goes along with the plot line, minus the sex. That’ll probably come later ;).)
The next few weeks aboard the First Order’s colossal ship felt like years to you. You had been moved to a stronger holding cell once Kylo and yourself discovered your abilities, one where Klyo Ren could keep you pressed under his observational thumb at nearly all times. Each day began with your waking to his cloaked figure leaning against the steel wall, glaring at you beneath his mask. Each day you greeted him with another smart-assy remark that got under his skin. Your favorites were “Dark Prince of Gloominess”, “Sir Scowls-a-Lot”, and the ever sarcastic “Master Solo”. To be honest, you enjoyed pressing all of his buttons until he exploded in a temper tantrum. Granted, a few of those bursts of anger nearly left you without an arm, but they were never close enough that you couldn’t get out of the way.
This fact always seemed to baffle you. Why keep you alive like some sort of circus animal? You knew he wanted an apprentice desperately, as if it was some sort of stepping stone to prove how much of a Sith he truly was, but why go through this much trouble? You guessed it was the occasional reward he got when he could set your teeth on edge instead of vice versa.
Every time you would act your usual defiant self and refuse to listen to his vigorous teachings, he would pry another painful memory from the recesses of your mind; the emotions and imagery feeling exactly the same as when you first witnessed it. He would grin mischievously as he forced you to relive the heartbreaking moments again and again until so much anger welled up inside of you that you managed to throw him backwards like you did the first time you were interrogated. Each time you did so he would laugh haughtily, knowing that your doing so was stepping you closer and closer to the Dark Side.
“Good, Y/N, use your anger. Use your hate. Let it be the fire that drives you forward into victory,” he had smirked.
“Go to hell,” you had spat.
Soon enough, a whole month passed by and you were getting stronger. Now you could move things without being heavily provoked by Kylo Ren, and you only listened when he told you to call a glass of water or a fork to you because you hoped it would mean you would be left alone. It didn’t.
The old wounds from your initial interrogation had become scars that only reminded you of what got you here in the first place. Damn General Organa. Couldn’t she see that her son was long gone from the light? And why had nobody been sent to rescue you? These questions only made you angrier, which fueled both your control of the force, and your sarcastic tongue.
Today, Kylo stood in a corner with his arms crossed over his chest, his mask set neatly on the bolted down, metal table in the center of the room. He seemed mildly bored with your progress, wanting to push you further and perhaps get you to lash out. To be brutally honest, he didn’t understand his fascination with you. He played it off as wanting you as an apprentice, but there was something deeper than that. Yeah, you annoyed the living hell out of him, and you made him want to burn down a thousand villages, but part of it was kind of an itch he couldn’t scratch on his own. You did it perfectly, and he didn’t know if he liked it or not.
“You can stop now. It’s time for your dueling practice,” he said, interrupting your concentration on the three steel balls you were rotating in circles around each other midair, causing them to hit the floor with a ‘Cra-cra-craashh’.
You felt your blood start to boil already. Everything was fine between you two as long as he kept his pouty mouth shut.
“You know what, Benji?” you asked rhetorically, turning to him sharply. “You can suck my-” you didn’t get to finish your remark before he sent you flying into the opposite wall, leaving a person-sized dent in the middle of it. You gasped for the air that was knocked out of you as you fell onto your knees. Well, that was at least one rib either broken or dislocated.
“Shut up. Stand up. Grab your saber,” he said monotonously, unsheathing his with the all too familiar whirring sound.
You glared at him as you held your side and got to your feet once again, unhooking your saber from its place on your belt and it thrumming to life in your hand. The red glow from his saber lit his half of the room in a scarlet lambency, while your f/c saber tried as it might to compete with the intensity, only to be swallowed up inside it.
“You know, your mother and I were close when I was with the Resistance. She told me stories about when you were young,” you started as the two of you circled each other like wildcats, knowing a mind game would easily give you the upper hand. “How you boasted about how you would be the greatest Jedi ever born.”
Kylo wasn’t going to have any of that and quickly struck, an advance you anticipated and promptly blocked with your saber.
“If she told you anything, then you should know that I already have achieved my goal. I am the greatest Jedi in the galaxy. And yet you speak to me without fear, how is that?” he asked, though he shoved you backward with his blade.
“Simple, my dear Solo. You’re not fearsome in my eyes,” you replied, lunging in at him. “You’re a boy playing at being a monster.”
Kylo redirected your saber into the floor, his earthy brown eyes staring into your e/c ones with a ferocious intensity and a light smirk “That’s because you haven’t seen the monster yet, my dear,” he said menacingly, sending a chill down your spine. He flicked his wrist quickly and began laying down a barrage of strikes at you, each swing a struggle for you to deflect. Scrambling to keep pace with each timed attack, you backed into the wall behind you while trying to gain some distance to attack back. He grinned as you looked for an exit, but he had you right where he wanted you. With a heavy strike, he knocked your saber out of your hand and to the floor where it retracted with the familiar ‘zzwwoop’. You had watched it, and your chances of winning the duel, plummet with a heavy heart. When you looked back at Kylo, he had his saber risen up to your throat, both of your chests heaving laboriously.
“Fearsome enough for you?” he asked cockily with a quirk of his eyebrow.
Even in times like this, it seemed the smart ass answer was the only one that could come to your mind. “Still no, but bravo.” A growl was your reply.
“What is it with you?! Everything you do makes me furious!” he shouted at you.
“Oh good, the feeling’s mutual,” you said, rolling your eyes but being careful not to move too much as to avoid massive burns.
A low, irritated, rumble could be heard from the back of his throat. However, neither of you expected what would come next.
In what seemed like a blur of motion, Kylo sheathed his lightsaber and let it drop to the floor, freeing both hands so he could cup both sides of your face in his palms.
“What’re you doi-” your protests were cut off by his lips on yours forcefully, the heat of anger radiating off of them like sun rays off of a sheet of metal. Your first instinct was to push him away, but he seemed to predict your actions and let one hand fall to your waist, where he held you tightly against him, leaving your hands balled up against his chest with no room to push back with. Why was he kissing you?! There was no- oh god, his lips were a lot softer than they look.
No! Damnit Y/N, You can’t let this happen!! Your brain shouted at you, but you soon melded into the kiss, and into him; a reaction that Kylo did not anticipate, but reciprocated with a loosened grip.
He did, however, pull away after a moment enough to say something. “I hate you,” he said, his chocolate orbs staring unwavering into yours.
Dally is deathly afraid of spiders. Like. Absolutely terrified.
Just imagine it: a spider crawls on him while the guys are in the lot or something, and he flips shit.
“Oh, fuck! Get it offa me, man! GET IT OFF!”
And Darry just comes over and brushes it off of him like it’s nothing while the guys laugh.
“Man, fuck you guys…”