#the ky wind storms . sigh

[cptnbeefheart]

haven’t had power in 3 days now

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 07 TAEHYUN FROM 3RD GRADE

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes, some more anti daegal agenda from haechan, jaemin is still a bitch but trust that will change shortly

NOTES | written cut ahead!! also just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's reading and interacting, I love reading all the comments 🫶🏼🫶🏼 +++ just a warning to be careful and stay safe for everyone in the uk with the ongoing violence :( please take care of yourselves!

Jaemin sighs.

Luck hadn't been on his side today, not when he woke up 20 minutes after his alarm, with the worst bedhead of his life and his hungry kittens practically hissing at him to be fed, not when he was late to school and the first class of the day and certainly not now.

Now as campus feels suspiciously empty, almost too empty, considering practise had ended only 5 minutes ago, jaemin stares up at the sky, thunder clashing, grey clouds looming overhead.

It doesn't take much longer for the rain to come, not a light drizzle but a full blown storm, the wind making the rain splash in his face, his pink hair matted to his forehead. A frown lines his lips.

And as if luck hadn't fucked him over enough, the bus service was cancelled all week.

If it wasn't for your slow, cautious footsteps, jaemin would've found himself trudging through the rain for the next half an hour to get back home.

He sighs in relief, convincing himself he'll ask the student approaching for a ride home, and like most students, who he was pretty popular with, he'd get a positive answer.

Jaemin's relief is short lived when he realises, that student is in fact you making your way over.

The way the concern paints your features and you rush over in the rain, not too bothered about getting yourself wet but still offering an umbrella out to him, the way you feign selflessness, the way you seem so innocent, it all convinces jaemin that maybe walking back home in the rain isn't too bad. He's already turned around before you can say anything.

He doesn't know why he stops when he hears your voice call out for him

"Jaemin" he doesn't know even more why he turns around to face you, holding perhaps the most eye contact he has with you in years.

"Do you need a ride home?" you ask, smiling as you wait for him to take the umbrella from you. He only shoves it back into your hands

All jaemin can focus on is that one word, did he need a ride, need?

Jaemin had never and would never need anything from you. He'd like to make that clear, but it's a lot less validating when he knows you won't respond the way he'd like. His bitter remarks were always met with silence on your end.

"I don't need anything from you" he spits the words out anyways.

You nod, but you don't let up, and apparently neither does the rain, it's speed doubling by the second and the size of each falling droplet growing.

"Would you like a ride?" you try again, despite the fact that you could barely make out jaemin in front of you and all you can hope is that he'll say yes.

His facial expressions telling you otherwise.

"Fine" he says, walking past you and towards your car, you can't help but smile, even if you had gotten completely soaked in the process of convincing him.

For a moment, you're close enough to blowing your cover, forgetting to ask for directions, but jaemin seems a step ahead, taking the initiative to put his apartment address into your satnav. Now you couldn't pretend that being next to him was easy, even if you tried to, jaemins presence left you in a constant state of uneasiness, like you were hyper aware of every sound you made, every word you spoke, worried you were breathing too loud or something completely out of your control would tick him off. It wasn't that jaemin was a horrible guy, he wasn't— you knew that better than anyone else, you just never knew why he had decided to be so horrible to you.

You choose to sit in silence, phone connected to the aux but no music playing as you drove. For just a second, you remember how comforting the silence between you both had once been, how there was never an awkward moment or thoughts of self doubt in jaemin's presence. Now it felt heavy, unspoken words and underlying emotions lingering in the space between you.

"Don't think we're friends just because I accepted your ride" he says, his tone sour.

"I know we're not friends jaemin, just doesn't hurt to be cordial"

You're not sure if he even hears what you said, but if he had, jaemin chooses to ignore your words. You don't say anything of it either.

He turns to face you, concentrated on driving through the heavy rain with a heavy grip on the wheel. You seem stiff for some reason, though he can't figure out why.

This is the first time, jaemin realises, that he's let himself look at you completely.

Your hands grip the steering wheel, some fresh red scratches on them, he wonders where they came from but moves on from the thought quickly, supposing you were just as clumsy as you once were. It's the only similarity he can notice, everything else seems painfully different to the old you.

Your hair is tied back in a ponytail and seems longer than he'd last remembered, perhaps a couple shades darker too, your facial features seem more mature and your eyes seem more tired.

For some reason each change, large or small, still manages to suit you well.

"Good game out there" you say and jaemin notices the changes that came to your voice, you've developed some confidence but speak in a softer tone than before, the smile on your face seems permanent, a realisation that makes his eyes roll.

"Can't say the same for you"

You nod, this really hadn't been your best game and the lack of sleep last night really hadn't helped.

"I hope you're not going to continue the rest of the season with the weak shots and shitty playing" he clicks his tongue, "it's not exactly best player of the year material is it?"

Most days you'd let jaemin take these shots at you, the wordless ones, the bold ones, and the quite frankly unnecessary ones, but today something urges you to defend yourself just a little.

"We all have our moments jaemin" you sigh, and despite wanting to say more, you decide against it, besides you were almost home anyway.

"Too many of those moments and we're in the same situation we were last year, wouldn't want to let the team down more than you already do would you?"

You don't respond, the car coming to a stop outside the front entrance to your apartment complex. You're glad it does, tears pricking your eyes as a smug jaemin steps out of the car.

"Thanks"

When the door shuts behind jaemin you can't help but let the tears roll down your face.

You wonder why you even make an effort.

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[irwinkitten]

snowed in | c.h

notes: took a bit of a break from writing bc of life but i’m back on my bullshit and here is some soft cal content for ya’ll warnings: none word count: 1.3k!

-

The snow had been expected, something the weather warnings had been blaring over the past week. There was a snowstorm and a bad one, everyone seemed to say. But both yourself and Calum had decided to shrug it off as you headed out to the grocery store, the small flurries of snow exciting the two of you.

“I know that it’s just snow, but man I feel like a kid all over again.” You didn’t attempt to hide your excited tones as Calum pulled into the parking lot, a grin on his lips as the two of you got out.

The snow was settling on the ground fast, small piles already building up on the floor and on the cars. 

You didn’t see Calum scoop up some snow.

The cold sensation going down your back sent a scream ripping from your throat as you tried to move away from it, Calum’s laughter ringing through the parking lot as you danced on the spot, desperately trying to get the snow out from under your shirt before it melted against you.

It was only when you stopped moving that you glared at Calum, who was still laughing at your reaction.

“You’re an asshole, Hood.” You snapped moodily, stalking towards the store. Calum’s laughter slowly died down as his footsteps grew nearer, throwing his arm over your shoulder as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I’m sorry love. C’mon, I’ll make it up to you whilst we stock up for this storm.” You knew you couldn’t be angry at him, but you kept the pout on your lips before he finally pulled away to get a shopping cart. 

“Plus we can get a toy for Duke whilst we’re at it.” And he knew that the single sentence would work like a charm, your eyes eager as the two of you ventured into the surprisingly empty store.

“I was expecting it to be busier.” You muttered once you moved from the fresh produce to the snacks aisle.

“Maybe people weren’t willing to risk the storm? We’re just idiots by that judgement but we needed food and honestly should we really have gotten out of bed sooner than today?” His voice was a tease, but the warmth filled you regardless, eyes unable to look at him for fear of becoming distracted.

Calum laughed at your obvious attempt to keep yourself focused but didn’t comment on it otherwise as you began to throw snacks into the cart.

By the time that you reached the checkout, the two of you fell into an easy rhythm as you began to pack the bags up, sharing soft grins every time your hands brushed. Part of you couldn’t stop the smile and the other part didn’t want to because you knew he loved seeing you smile.

Calum had it paid for before you could even get your card, ignoring your noise of protest as he took the receipt and stuffed it into his back pocket.

“I would’ve put it down my boxers but I doubt the cashier would’ve approved.” He smirked and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“I mean they wouldn’t have approved of my hand going for it regardless.” And Calum laughed as the two of you got the bags into the trunk of the car and raced each other back from putting the trolley away.

The snow was coming down much faster now, Calum deciding to keep it slow on the roads. The last thing either of you wanted was to get into an accident and despite wanting to get home to avoid getting stranded in the snow, you knew he wasn’t about to risk either of your lives by putting his foot down.

“So are we having a snow day together?” The obvious question from Calum was met with a raised eyebrow from you, causing him to merely grin wider at you as he finally pulled into the driveway.

“I mean, talk about stating the damn obvious, Cal.” Came the sarcastic remark as the two of you brought the groceries into the house. Duke greeted you both before returning to his bed, both of you eager to change from the now cold clothes to warm up again.

“Go get changed and I’ll start putting some of the stuff away.” Calum urged when you shivered. Giving him a quick kiss to his cheek, you practically bolted up the stairs, deciding on the fluffier pyjama sets that you owned. Once you were changed and back downstairs, you found your heart swelling at the sight before you.

Calum was putting the groceries away, but whistling a soft tune as he did it, occasionally sliding across the floor in his socks as he did so. Only when your giggle gave you away did he stop and the grin that lit up his face made your own match his.

“My handsome man sliding around in socks and whistling.” You muttered as he pressed a kiss to your cheek before handing you some of the canned goods you’d purchased. 

It didn’t take either of you much longer before the food was packed away and you two retreated to your room Calum getting changed as you wrapped up under the covers.

The heaviness behind your eyes seemed to coax him into bed faster, unable to fight the sudden exhaustion as you curled into Calum’s side and fell asleep.

-

When you woke up, it was dark. It took you a second to realise that what most likely woke you was the howling winds from outside, the noise giving you more reason  to press closer to Calum, the warm body next to you warding off the chill of the room. 

That was when you noticed that the digital clock on his stand was blank and you groaned.

This roused Calum from his sleep, tired eyes peering at you as you rolled to your side, checking to see if your phone was charging. 

It wasn’t.

“Power cut.” You mumbled as you rolled back into his side. Calum made a noise of acknowledgement before the two of you were back out for the count.

It was only later when you both woke up, the only time you noted being on your phones, did you realise the problem of the power cut.

“Cal, we need to get frozen stuff outta the freezer before it defrosts. If we’re lucky enough it’s probably cold enough outside to keep it partially frozen till the power is back on.” You murmured as he shifted, stretching himself out almost cat like.

“Fine, but it means that it’s cold breakfast for us.” He muttered as he got up a tired giggle escaping your lips.

“I wasn’t expecting a full cooked breakfast Cal, even I know that’s more hassle than it’s currently worth. Also get Duke in one of his sweaters. We need to keep him as warm as possible too.”

The first part of the morning was spent trying to coax Duke into the ridiculous sweater that Calum had purchased last year for him before the two of you raided through the freezer to try and save any food that might have defrosted.

This devolved in struggling to open the door for Calum to realise that you were snowed in.

“What about the food?” His question was met with a shrug from you.

“I’m more worried about getting a certain pup out to do his business.” You nodded to Duke before raising an eyebrow at Calum who sighed.

“Bathtub it is, buddy.” He muttered and you laughed as he picked up the small dog and carried him upstairs.

When he returned, he had a disgruntled look on his face, Duke practically sulking back to his bed and you could only grin as you abandoned trying to save the frozen food. You hated wasting it, but even you couldn’t deny that there was no salvaging some of it.

“How about some couch cuddles before we crack out the cards for a few games of poker?” Your question was met with a nod before a small smirk began to form on Calum’s lips.

“Maybe a game of strip poker?” 

-

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[hazel-writes]

Summary: A much-needed moment of calm... Are you ready for the storm?

Word Count: 3,400

Warnings: mentions of violence, injury description

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

I spoke about wings

You just flew

I wondered, I guessed, and I tried

You just knew

I sighed, but you swooned

I saw the crescent

But you saw the whole of the moon

• The Whole of the Moon - The Waterboys •

You sat on top of a small hill that overlooked a valley of swaying grass. There weren’t many trees, just a sea of undulating ferns. You looked to the ground on your left and right, noticing that you had chosen a spot at the center of a patch of green daisies. Of course. You laughed humorlessly, looking up to the sky and shaking your head, as silent tears began to fall.

Daisy.

That was what your father called you, ever since you were little. He would often paint landscapes and was inspired by the entrancing wildlife that was native to Lothal. One of his favorite flowers was the green daisy you were currently surrounded by. You remembered the first time your father showed you them.

“These flowers are special,” he told you one day, pointing out a patch of small green plants while out on a walk.

You squinted at the seemingly-mundane bulbs emerging from the grass.

“They don’t look very special,” you replied skeptically.

He smiled, like he knew something you didn’t. He leaned down to whisper in your ear: “That’s because you aren’t looking hard enough.”

Taking the challenge, you focused on the closest green bulb, following its curved stem down to the fertile dirt it lied in. You traced every line, rip, and crevice in its leaves. Some of the grass around it was crushed into the soil — covered in mud — most likely trampled by wandering loth-cats. But the daisy’s bulb remained a strong, healthy green.

This little plant has survived so much, you thought.

And suddenly, as if it heard you, the daisy bloomed right before your eyes, revealing a magnificent green flower. It was an enchanting emerald hue, like your father’s eyes.

“How-” you began to ask.

Your father chuckled. “The green daisy responds to body heat and breath. When someone gets close enough to truly appreciate its beauty, it blooms. Very few ever stop to notice how special this flower is, but when they do, they are greatly rewarded.”

He paused for a moment, staring directly into your eyes while tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“My little daisy...”

It had been three days since you’d been shot. The team you arrived with on Lothal had to extend their stay on the planet due to a mechanical malfunction on one of the ships. You had almost made it out of the city before the ship’s engines failed and you were forced to turn back.

Your father’s blaster beam had grazed a good part of your arm, with most of the damage being at your shoulder. It had come close to hitting vital organs, but thankfully missed. Finn didn’t get so lucky; he was still in critical condition. You waited by his side for as long as you could until Akilah forced you out of the room so you could get some rest. You knew that wouldn’t be possible until Finn was out of the woods, so you decided to take a walk to clear your head. That’s how you ended up crying on a grassy hill, surrounded by the familiar green daisies.

Attempting to distract yourself from your own feelings, you pulled out your sketchbook. It had been a while since you drew for yourself, but when you were younger it always seemed to ease your anxiety. You shuffled through the bag you brought, finally managing to find a pen. You swapped it into the fingers of your bandaged right arm before attempting to sketch. As soon as you did, pain shot through your tendons. I really didn’t think that through, did I?

Now you weren’t even able to do the one thing that made you happy. You threw your pen backwards over your shoulder, frustrated.

A voice cleared from behind you, making you jump.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You turned to see the Commander, fully robed, behind you. His dark attire stood out against the setting sun behind him, creating a glowing aura around his form. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t realize you were there.”

“So you weren’t throwing projectiles at me on purpose?” he questioned, gesturing to the pen that laid at his feet.

“Kriff, no, sorry.” You shook your head in panic before realising he was messing with you. You chuckled, surprised at his unusual attempt at a joke. “I was just doodling… Or trying to at least.”

He nodded, moving to stand beside you. After a moment of silence, you heard the click of something decompressing as his helmet thudded into the grass. He took in a deep breath of air, his shoulders moving upwards tensely before relaxing again. He tilted his face into the wind, closing his eyes briefly as if taking in the serenity of the moment, before his gaze shifted down towards your bandage. “Your arm…”

You twisted the limb around, testing its range of motion. “It’s fine, I’ll just have to learn to use my left.”

His eyebrows furrowed in response, as if doubting your answer, before speaking again. “Your father-” he started.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you interrupted, a bit harsher than you intended. You sighed, brushing a wisp of hair off of your face. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I just want to forget. For a little while at least.”

He turned to look at you, a slight crease on his forehead. “I understand.” He turned back to the sky. “I’ve had encounters with my kin that I wish to forget as well.”

A surge of sadness ran through your body; conflicting waves of guilt, fear, and helplessness crashing into the corners of your mind. You shook your head, trying to relieve the pressure you knew was emitting from the stoic man standing next to you.

You wanted desperately to ask about his family: who they were, where they were now, why they caused such pain. But just like the Commander had respected your need for privacy, you would respect his.

You were surprised when you saw his black cloak move to sit next to you on the grassy hill. It was strange seeing the Commander in an environment so different from the Finalizer. But something about the way his hands slid so naturally into the grass, or the way his feet stretched out in front of him, or how his hair flowed gently in the breeze, made you think that maybe this wasn’t so unfamiliar to him after all.

The two of you sat like that for a while, taking in the day around you. The sky was a brilliant blue with the beginnings of a deep purple at the horizon, something you didn’t see too often on Lothal. Usually the color of the sky melted into that of the fields, mirroring the landscape’s golden curves. But today was different. Birds chirped and flew overhead, a gentle breeze blew, and the air smelled of flowers and fresh soil.

Succumbing to the beauty of your surroundings, you laid back in the soft grass. You watched as a single bird dipped in the air high above you, circling the clouds in a soaring dance.

“I wish I could do that.”

The Commander turned to look at you, confused.

“I wish I could fly.”

He chuckled in response, a toothy smile gracing your presence briefly before quickly concealing itself with a squint towards the sky. You were pleased to see the ghost of a smirk remain and you couldn’t help it as the corners of your own mouth twisted upwards. You brought yourself onto your elbows, looking at him expectantly.

Seeing your questioning look, he shook his head. “No, it’s nothing… It’s just — I remember saying something similar as a boy.”

You smiled, laying back in the grass and returning your eyes to the sky. You stayed like this for a moment, carefully forming a question.

“Where would you go? If you could fly, I mean,” you clarified.

He shrugged and responded simply. “I have all the ships I could ask for. I could fly anywhere.”

You tried to imagine him leaving the Finalizer, taking off in a ship, flying to some distant planet with no people, no politics, no wars: just peace. Hux would never allow it, and you guessed that whoever the Commander answered to wouldn’t either.

“But you wouldn’t,” you replied out loud, a twinge of sadness in your voice.

“No,” he said, his voice lowering. “I wouldn’t.”

You hummed to yourself, thinking deeply. “I guess that’s the difference between birds and ships. Birds are born free. Their wings aren’t man made; it’s simply in their nature to fly. But when you put humans in the sky, they tear it apart. We fill it with blaster fire and explosions. We destroy the lands that we never should’ve left in the first place.” You sighed. “Even the birds won’t be free for much longer…”

The Commander turned towards you again. You expected him to tell you that you were wrong — that the wars were necessary, inevitable even — but he didn’t. Instead he blinked once before pointing up at the bird you referenced earlier.

“It’s a convor,” he said quietly.

“W-what?” Now it was your turn to be confused.

“I’m surprised to see one here — they’re not native to this planet.”

“Oh,” you replied, the light returning to your eyes. This was a new side of the Commander, one that you had only seen glimpses of in the past; one that was patient, vulnerable, and had an unusual, yet endearing, knowledge of birds.

“They are known for their strong connections to the Force,” he continued. “Can you feel it?”

You looked back up at the bird. Its golden brown feathers soared elegantly in the wind. Its dramatic tail rippled like an unfurling ribbon, slicing through the air. A familiar tingle made itself known at the back of your neck, spreading down your spine all the way to your toes.

“Yeah, I can,” you said, breathless. You didn’t know that so many species could have connections to the Force. “It’s amazing.”

“Yes,” he responded, eyes trained directly on you. “It is.”

You didn’t notice his head jerk away when you turned your body towards his.

Taking advantage of the lull in the conversation, you decided to ask him something that had been on your mind since the shootout with your father.

“Ky-” you started, before correcting yourself. “Commander. What happens when we get back to the Finalizer?”

He tilted his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

You were suddenly nervous and began to twirl a piece of grass between your fingers. You thought about what Finn had told you when you first arrived on Lothal: how you always seemed to be at the center of trouble. A pang of guilt ran through your body. “I mean… What do I say about my arm, or Finn? Won’t they be suspicious?”

The muscles of the Commander’s face tightened. “Won’t who be suspicious?”

“I dunno…” you trailed off, but could tell that he was waiting for a more specific answer. “Hux?”

He scoffed, clenching his fingers into a gloved fist. “You don’t have to worry about Hux. He is under my command, and I’ll make sure he remembers that.”

“But what about the person you’re under command? Will he be able to… sense that something happened here?” The questions spilled out before you could stop them.

He paused, longer than you would’ve liked, before looking at you as if he was about to tell you something of the utmost importance. “He won’t hurt you.”

The Commander’s strange tone did little to ease your anxiety; it was evasive, yet stern enough that you believed him.

You shifted to a sitting position, legs crossed under you. You fiddled with your fingers in your lap. “That’s- that’s not what I’m worried about.”

He tipped his head slightly. “So what are you worried about?”

“Well…” you paused, almost reconsidering what you were about to say. “You.”

It was true. As strange as it sounded coming out of your mouth, you were worried what others would think if they knew the Commander abandoned his duties to help some artist with her family drama. What would they do if they knew he had shown mercy to a man who tried to kill him? What if they found out that he had been training you in secret, or that he let you see his face: the one that now searched yours curiously.

It looked like the Commander wanted to say something, but instead his mouth moved to form a thin line. He stood up suddenly, forcing you to angle your head in order to meet his eyes.

“We should get back to the ships,” he said monotonously.

You cleared your throat, finally finding your voice. “Yeah, right. Y-you go first. Probably shouldn’t be seen together.”

He nodded, staring at you a moment longer before turning to pick up his helmet. Just as you thought he was about to leave, you watched out of the corner of your eye as he bent over, picking something up off of the ground. He reached out and you realised he had your pen in his hand, the one you had tossed at him earlier.

You reached forward to grab the pen with your bandaged hand, but before you were able to, he gently grasped your arm instead.

“What are you-” you started, before you felt it: a warmth spreading up your arm, wrapping its tendrils around your injured muscle and bone, filling each wounded crevice of your previously painful limb until it was restored to its normal state.

“What did you do?” you barely whispered, staring at your upper arm in shock. His hand slid off your skin, leaving a cold tingling in its wake.

He rose back to his commanding stature nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened. However as he responded, you didn’t miss the slight falter in his voice. “I- I’ll see you back on board.”

And with that, he put on his helmet and began the trek back down the hill.

——————————————

After waiting fifteen minutes, it was your turn to head back down the hill. You walked back through the city one last time, retracing the steps you took earlier when putting up the posters with Koda and Rilea. You tried to take everything in as you made your way to the ship — who knows when you’d be back on Lothal again. But with each forward step, you began to realize that the busy streets, rolling fields, and the childhood house you used to call home now felt so distant, so foreign. You didn’t belong here anymore.

The hushed chattering of a small group of villagers, almost invisible in the shadow of a nearby building, interrupted you from your thoughts. It wasn’t until you moved closer that you realized they were huddled around one of the posters you had put up earlier. One of them held a light up to it, inspecting something on the bottom right-hand corner of the paper.

A couple of other passerbys curiously lingered, trying to figure out what the group was so intrigued by.

You suddenly felt a presence at your side and you turned to see an older man who was attempting to peak over the shoulders of the group in front of him. “What’s going on?” he asked you.

“I…” You paused for a moment, thinking. “I have no idea,” you replied as confidently as you could.

But that was a lie.

You knew exactly why the small group of Lothalians were crowded around the poster.

The poster that you designed. The poster that Soren let you put finishing touches on before it was sent off for approval. The poster that you were intent on distributing yesterday, even after everyone else had gone back to the ship. The poster that wasn’t just a poster: It was a message.

And it was one that you wrote.

———————————————

Six months previously…

“Mom, I can’t.”

You stood at the kitchen window, looking out at the houses beyond — the ones you had grown up seeing every day, the ones you didn’t want to leave behind.

An apprehensive hand rested on your shoulder. “Sweetheart, you’re the only one I can trust.”

You spun around, indignant tears at the corners of your eyes. “So what, you’re sending me off so I can end up just like Benji, dead in a ditch somewhere?”

She sighed, shaking her head dismissively. “Honey, you know that was a freak accident. There was a-”

“Malfunction with the engines, I know.” A single tear fell. You wiped it away briskly while turning back to the window.

She waited a moment, letting your bout of anger simmer, before speaking again — softer this time. “I know you could do it. You could save us all.”

Sighing, you decided to indulge her pleas. If there was one thing you and you mother shared, it was stubbornness. “What would I have to do?”

“Only exactly what you’re good at: art.” You rolled your eyes after hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Yeah, right,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s the catch?”

She paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to explain what she was going to tell you next. “You would need to hide things in your work.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of things?”

“Messages.”

This caught your attention; now you were genuinely intrigued.

“Messages?” you questioned. “To who?”

“To me and the rest of the Resistance.”

You ran a frustrated hand through your hair. Your mom had always wanted you to work alongside her with the Resistance, but until now, you had managed to evade the subject whenever it came up. What you really wanted was to do what your dad did: travel the galaxy, paint what you saw, and die a lonely, but happy hermit in a small cottage by the sea. But as you got older, with the rising of the First Order, you began to realize that there may not be a galaxy left by the time you were old enough to settle down somewhere. Maybe this was something that you needed to do.

“How?”

Your mom nodded, a proud smile emerging on her face. “I’ve talked to Leia Organa. She had one of her men get your name on the Order’s recruits list. The position is within the Office of Imperial Promotion, Galactic Truth, and Fact Correction. They’re looking for someone to aid in the creation and distribution of First Order propaganda posters. You would simply have to listen — walk the hallways, gain others’ trust, find information about the Order — and then put what you learn into the posters. Once they’re distributed, Resistance members will scope ‘em out and report back to us.”

The whole plan sounded ridiculous. “Mom, you can’t honestly think they’d fall for that. Hidden messages? It’s something a kid would think of.”

She shook her head knowingly. “That’s what makes it so genius. Everyone expects a spy to try and wiggle their way into the top ranks of the Order. But no one will suspect an artist. Plus, you would be using this.” She handed you a pen. “Anything you write with this will only be visible under a certain light frequency. The Order won’t see a thing.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “So that’s what I am now, a spy?”

“No,” she responded sternly. “You’re an artist; you always have been. An artist who can save the Resistance with her work.” She paused, looking at you with a glint in her eye that you knew meant she was serious. “Kriff, you could save the whole galaxy with just a few strokes of a pen.”

You felt yourself conceding, even though you knew you had lost the argument the moment it had started. “You really think this could make any kind of difference?”

She took both of your hands in hers. “I know it could.”

Wordlessly, you shot her a final look that warned: whatever happens, it’s on you. She seemed to understand the meaning behind your stare and gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

“Then I’ll do it.”

———————————

Previous || Masterlist || Next

[vintagehellfire]

It Hoths my Dreams

Pairing: Kylo/Reader, Ben/Reader

Word Count: 2126

Warnings: Profanity?

Tags: @rosalynbair

PART 1 | PART 2

“Please, (y/n), please don’t do this!” The broken voice called after you, faded, worn, whipped away by the white blizzard that ransacked the lands. The cold eating away at the two of you, the wind cutting into both your faces. “Please listen to me. Please, I-” The choked sobs escaped the person behind you causing you to bite your lip with such force that it bled. With a cold tone, one colder than Hoth, you slowly spoke.

“Why are you still following me?” Venom laced into your words with a sharp tang that stung the heart of the one pursuing you. “You don’t deserve anything. Do me a favour and throw yourself into the Sarlacc pit.” You spat the last words and started to march off into the cold once again.

He twisted and turned, eyes brimming with tears, clenched shut, and a cold sweat dripping down his body.

“Please, you don’t understand!” He called out to you, trying to sprint through the snow and catch up but to no avail. You pressed on, scarf billowing in the wind, whipping in every which direction. You didn’t spare a single glance in his direction even though your heart called out to you to do so.

“I damn well understand. Go get bent!” You gritted your teeth and continued on. You had no set goal, maybe find a ship, and maybe die out here. You didn’t really know, you just knew you wanted to stay away from him.

He started panting, sheets twisting around him, whimpers slipping past his soft plump lips. He couldn’t shake the cold in more than one sense and he desperately wished he could. This nightmare haunted him day and night. He never got a break from them or the mistakes he made. This mistake; however, was one he carried with him like a heavy burden on his back. No amount of drink or counselling could pull him from this.

“You won’t even let me explain!” He pushed forward, his elegance diminishing as he tumbled forward to grab a hold of your hand. “You’re no better than I if you leave us on this note!” The touch of his hand was enough to shoot a spark up your arm and make its way to sting your heart with immense brutality. It caused you to stop in your tracks and whip around towards the man – tears frozen to his soft face.

Tears kept rolling down his cheeks, slipping onto his lips, a saltiness would occasionally touch his tongue which only made his heart clench more and tears fall more violently.

“I-” Your voice cracked before you composed yourself, your mind screaming at you to rip your arm from the hold his hand had on yours yet, your body refused to move. The storm was getting worse and worse, ice picking up and coming down onto both your faces. “I can’t do this.” You looked to the ground and attempted to turn away but the man tugged on your hand and gently spun you into his chest.

“Let me explain, let me fix this.” He leaned down, your faces only inches apart from one another.

He shook uncontrollably, nobody’s comfort there to help him cope with these feelings of his. He never had anyone to help him cope, not after everything that had happened between the two of you.

“You can’t fix this, can’t you see?” You sounded pathetic, defeated almost, the cold edge to your voice nearly slipping away from you. “You can’t. And for the record, I will never be like you. I will never sink as low as you have.” The venom returned and you ripped yourself away from the hold the person before you had on you. He is nothing to you now. The words you hissed at him held a harsher edge than any wind or storm Hoth could bring on.

He panted and whimpered, violent quakes ripping through his entire body, diminishing him to nothing. That’s what he was to you anyway: nothing. The dreams haunted him, at first they were dreams that made his heart clench and his heartbreak hammer into his chest but soon the dreams of your smile twisted into toxic prose that you spat at him on the very last day he had seen you.

“I love you.” His deep voice broke, filled with the anguish of the thousands of men that had crossed his path and have been unable to tell the tale. You heard his guilt, his sorrow, his pain, and his love but chose to take the knife and plunge it into his chest anyway.

“You don’t love anyone.” Anger flooded your body, though it wasn’t directed towards him, it was directed towards yourself. The man you loved deeply, the man who went above and beyond for you, the man incapable of love loved you and you were willing – no not willing – attempting to throw that love away. It’s not the love you wanted. Your words came through gritted teeth, volatile and toxic as Lexonite. “When you learn what love is, I dare you to try to find me.” You shoved the man before you and stormed off into the blizzard. Frantically, he attempted to follow you but the white curtain of snow and ice had swallowed you up completely. He tried to feel you out but your anger masked you too well and so the man you had loved fell to his knees and let every emotion he’d suppressed over the year fill him all at once. Despite how much you wanted to, not even his screams of agony and sheer blinding pain made you turn around.

He shot up quickly, hair in knots as he tried to run a hand through it, chest heaving, and sweat dripping down his forehead. Some hair stuck to his face and curled around his jawline, a cold shiver wracking his body. He tasted the salty tears that caught in his mouth and felt something lodge in his throat. It’s possible that it was another sob but he didn’t want to find out. Pushing himself up properly, he ran his hands over his face and sighed out. He didn’t want these feelings to burden him any longer but he knew that they were the only feelings he had left- all that he had left of you. The last words of yours echoed in his mind. I dare you to try to find me. He groaned but decided to scoot to the edge of his bed. He could get in so much shit for this.

               Wordlessly, he got up and made his way over to the window, it spanned across the entire wall, the whole universe right before him. He slowly lowered himself to the ground and sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes. It took much time to get his breathing to even out but once it did he shifted his focus to one thing and one thing only, you. He called out to whatever was out there to show you to him. The white noise around him faded out completely and he felt a tug.

“What the hell?” He heard, eyes shooting open. He knew that voice well, the one that haunted his dreams.

“(Y/n),” your name fell from his lips in a dreamy breath. You whipped your head around and saw the man you left of Hoth many years ago. Your lips parted and your breathing was uneven. When was the last time you’d seen him? Tears started to bring your eyes as you looked over the man before you. A scar travelled from his shoulder up to his eyebrow and yet when you had left him his face had been bare… Well, except for the pain, “it’s you.” A shaky breath took over his words and tears were welling up in his eyes.

“Kylo?” Your shaky whisper of disbelief cut through the air as you hesitantly stepped closer to him, deciding it was only fair to mirror how he was sitting. You wanted to reach out but stopped yourself. How was this real?

“No, no... Uh… Ben.” He bashfully admit. He went back to using his old name and your heart swelled. Had he really changed or was it an act? You fidgeted as you sat, unsure of how to react. “I- I don’t know where to begin…” He admit, trying to peel his eyes from you but he couldn’t. Everything he had known and memorised was before him but it wasn’t. Your hair was a different colour now and your eyes looked old, eras older than you were; however, his hadn’t changed since the day you had left him. The same sorrow filled eyes gazed upon you, eyebrows knit together with sadness and grief.

“You don’t need to.” You swallowed and tried to memorise the man before you in case he disappeared again. You knew you were to blame but you couldn’t help but miss him all these years. Your heart ached and now it felt as if it would rip itself from your chest for Ben. You tilted your head to the side and leaned in. “Ky- Ben, were you crying?” Genuine concern flooded you. After all these years you still found yourself loving him despite his appearance seeming sicklier than when you abandoned him on Hoth, than when he commit the supposed unforgivable act.

“N-no!” He tried to defend but you saw through it immediately. With a sigh, he shook his head and gave you another heartbroken look. “Yes.” He dared bow his head, but his eyes would flick up to you, insecurity blowing a hole through the walls he built up. He dreaded the idea of looking up and no longer seeing you there. “I- I don’t sleep… I can’t sleep. The dreams – nightmares – they haunt me. I can’t shake them.” He clenched his eyes shut tight before reopening them to meet your (y/e/c) ones. “It was heartbreak at its finest, your smile, your eyes, the summer wind in your hair,” you listened tentatively, heart aching. You dared inch a tad closer and it didn’t go unnoticed, “it quickly turned into a nightmare. It haunts me every night, (y/n). Your smile turned malicious and that day on Hoth is what I dream of each night. Shit, why am I telling you this?” Tears made trails down his face and that’s when you reached out, touching your fingers to his cheek.

“You get them too…” You breathed and shut your eyes tight. “I shouldn’t have left you there. It was the worst thing I’ve done. I hear your screams each night. I wake up hoping to turn around and pull you to me each night but I’m met with nothing.” You bit your lip. It was true that you were met with nothing but not in the same sense as Ben. You had someone but were you in love with them? Of course not. Your heart ached for Ben each and every waking moment of the day and in your dreams at night.

“Please, (y/n), please let me come find you.”

“Haven’t you?” You shake your head, not understanding what your former lover meant, lips parted and heavy breaths escaping your lips in choppy patterns.

“If I had, I’d never let you go, I’d whisk you off your feet and we’d, we’d go elsewhere. I wouldn’t be in my room and you wouldn’t be in,” you cut Ben off by jumping back quickly.

“I have to go.” Your voice now frantic. “Ben, I have to go.” Panic struck you with intensity. 

“No! You can’t leave me like this- I need to- ” You cut him off with a chaste kiss and pushed yourself away quickly watching a tear streak down Ben’s face, eyes shooting open after the brief kiss.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Find the Resistance, Ben, and you’ll find me. Please don’t- don’t hurt anyone.” Ben stood quickly and took a step towards you, placing a hand on your cheek, searching your face for any reason you were distressed and then he felt it and with what he felt, his heart plummeted into his stomach. “Goodbye, Ben… I love you.” The last three words whispered like a secret. The last thing he noticed before you faded was that you mouthed the words Find me, please.

               Heart in his stomach, sobs lodged in his throat, eyes burning, Ben had a mission. Not as Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, not as a First Order mission, no. Ben Solo had a mission and he would not stop until he found you, hope flickering in his chest as he kept your face in mind.

               That night he took a TIE fighter, ensuring nobody questioned him, and blasted off in order to find the love that never died.

A/N: I may possibly do a second part to this or make it into a potential mini-series? This idea came from the fact that it’s -40C where I am and honestly, just angst. Hope you enjoyed. 

[stardatewiththedevil]

This boys club will kill us all

Now that the crew has dropped off that injured Klingon with only a few deaths, Starfleet is like, “you didn’t cause too much of an interstellar incident you so now you can just do whatever you want now!!! Make good choices!!!”

Rather than pop back to HQ to install seatbelts or whatever, they just keep on forging ahead. There’s no time!!!!!

(There are seriously no seatbelts! One of the crewmembers is like, “we should ask Starfleet to install seatbelts when we get back!” How was this ship docked for 50 years without someone thinking, probably not every landing will go smoothly, seatbelts might be nice”? It’s like if the Titanic had an extra 50 years to think about adding more lifeboats!)

Honestly, I didn’t take a ton of notes on the second episode. My tender queen Hoshi Sato adopts a small slug. Dr. Not-A-Cardassian shows off his twisted menagerie of exotic lab animals. An alien race tries to harvest the crew for vaccines. They don’t end up becoming vaccines. Sato returns the slug to a suitable habitat. It’s fine.

But jesus, Episode 3.

This unknown planet seems fine, right?

The Enterprise is hovering over a planet that seems totally capable of supporting humanoid life, and like 30 seconds of scans show nothing amiss. Five seconds of scans performed from my couch, however, show that the episode opens with two brand-new random crew members enjoying what appears to be Vulcan Tasty Wheat. It doesn’t look good!!!!!

T’Pol, who for some reason stuck around even though she didn’t have to, makes helpful suggestions like, “maybe probe the planet before just landing on it” and he just says “ugh DAD, that sounds BORING.” Trip literally says “you expect us to sit up here for a week while PROBES have all the fun?”

Archer essentially calls her a square and then orders her to assemble the away team. I hate him. If there weren’t a few more seasons of this show left I would be convinced Archer was gonna get everybody killed. This seems like the most stressful ship to be on. Did nobody bring a deck of cards or anything?

I thought, okay, I guess they at least have space suits, which they will most assuredly wear on this away mission until they are 100% sure everything is chill, right? WRONG. Archer swaggers right out of that shuttle wearing a baseball hat with his OFF-LEASH DOG, then chides T’Pol, the only female senior officer on this away mission, for running any scans at all. This is a ship that requires people to suggestively rub KY on each other every time there’s a hint of microbial trouble outside! What are you doing?!

I’m reporting this to intergalactic Nextdoor!!!!!

Despite T’Pol being the only one with experience exploring planets like this, she is repeatedly dismissed by the other senior officers. Archer, a career militaryman, chides T’Pol when she calls him out for being 15 minutes late for a rendezvous. Who put him in charge???

They all decide to camp overnight, and maybe they should’ve scanned first, it turns out! Maybe scanned a part of the planet where it was still nighttime! If they had waited the seven days like T’Pol wanted to, maybe they would have SEEN THE STORM COMING, or observed the weather patterns on this planet at all? Like just because Earth supports life doesn’t mean you can plop a tent down in the Everglades during hurricane season! But what do I know, I’m not a man!!!!

I’m sorry, are you ordering your chief science officer to NOT scan things? Is this a “we only look bad because we’re just doing so much testing” thing???

Archer takes the shuttle back to the ship, so when the storm hits, they have to take shelter in a cave. Cool situation!


And despite T’Pol’s repeated warnings that literally everything is a bad idea, when everything goes south, Trip blames her. As he’s screaming in her face claiming he’s not irrational, another crewman brings up that they’re low on water (something that also probably could have been avoided!). She says she’s going to find water, he yells at her some more. She starts evaluating scans, he just paces around yelling and holding a phaser, accusing her of luring them down there to die, despite her suggestions that they wait a week and probe the place. How did humans “solve” hunger again???

Anyway, it turns out there’s a convenient scapegoat: SPACE MADNESS. The wind kicked up a spore that causes severe psychosis.

A personal aside: I never took hallucinogens in college because I was having near-daily panic attacks as it was, but a lot of my friends did. I was the only sober witness to some bonkers stuff, but it pretty much topped out at “won’t stop hugging a nursing log” or “watched the wrong music video and now there is no way to escape eternal torment.” The only time anybody had a weapon it was a cap gun, and he was in a good mood so he just used it to punctuate a song he made up while sitting with a Rainier box on his head.

Someone get this man a coloring book and an orange juice

Trip’s problem is that he’s the same guy, he’s just in Bat Country! The others are mostly just sitting around having a very bad time, like my morose buddy that couldn’t get “The Funeral” out of his head. I can only imagine T’Pol’s impatience trying to calm this armed and dangerous asshole down while trying to fight off psychosis herself, speaking Vulcan through her communicator to keep Trip out of the loop. (Translated by Sato, who, again, reacts to things in a normal way.)

Meanwhile, on Enterprise, they’re learning an important lesson on the value of thorough scans. One of the redshirts had run out of the cave and got a megadose of the spores, and critically ill in sickbay, partially because the doctor didn’t run a molecular scan on the guy with a completely unknown space affliction. The saddest part is he was the most cautious of the bunch—didn’t want to stay overnight and knew something was amiss as soon as the wind started.

The madness isn’t quite as strong in the cave, so they have T’Pol stun or nerve pinch everyone (including herself!) so they can sleep it off. The next day, Trip reverts to some mild microagressions by telling T’Pol about his Vulcan 10th-grade biology teacher.

Anyway: The redshirts actually survive! Everything is fine! It was just the psycho pollen! Trip apologizes to T’Pol for saying mean things, but nobody apologizes to her for not listening to her in the first place. Sigh.

Also, apparently human photographic technology has still not surpassed an Elph at this point.

[carasstarwarsmusings]

Me- Hey brain think about Bonded we need to write the next chapter.

Brain- Yeah, sure, um... hey, did you ever think about the idea of Rey and Kylo running off together and then five or six years later they get dragged back into the fray? Me- Dude, Bonded...

Brain-- oh! They could have kids too!

Me- God damn it.

Anyway, little start to save for when I have a few less WIPs going at once.

The spring rains had come early this year, alternating between gentle tapping on the metal roof and near violent waves of vibrations as the wind whipped the downpour against the roof and walls in sheets. Despite the climate control module, the dwelling still seemed to grow damp and hold the chill this time of year. The chill and cold she despised, but the rain she loved. Even the storms, which during the changing seasons could sometimes be frightening, she couldn't help but find fascinating. She would stand under the overhang of the roof, watching the dark clouds swirl on the horizon, lightning dancing between them and the ground. Stand and watch as the violent clouds moved closer and the wind picked up, rattling the tall grasses that surrounded their tiny home. Stand and watch as the moisture saturated the air and the rain began to rattle against the roof. Until Kylo would come, rolling his eyes and insisting she come indoors.

After four years, Rey would have expected the novelty to have worn off. Just as she would have expected to have gotten used to the green of the summers and the cold of the winters. The moon’s seasons were distinct and a contrast to the never changing sands of Jakku.

She sat up in bed, her hand reaching to the empty spot next to her and finding it cold. Sighing, she got up, listening to the rain pattering on the roof as she slipped through the bedroom door, pausing for a minute to peer at the two small figures sleeping soundly in the other bedroom before heading got the dwelling’s main room.

“Ky?” She called, voice quiet, finding him sitting shadowed in a chair in the corner of the room. The glow from one of the consoles lit his brooding profile as he lifted his dark eyes to meet hers, the green light reflecting off his irises. He said nothing, just shifted back in his chair and moving his arms to make room for her. Without any more prompting, she walked over and sat on his lap, letting him pull her close to his chest, tucking her head under his chin.

“Did I wake you?” his chest rumbled under her ear as he spoke.

She shook her head, “The rain did, and I noticed you were gone. Did you have a nightmare?”

The nightmares were a regular enough occurrence that it had become something the both just dealt with and shrugged off. Or at least tried to… some nights were harder than others. She had her guilt riddled dreams, he had his terror filled ones. Remnants of a life they had run away from which refused to fully let them go.

Kylo didn't answer. She pulled her head back to look at him, reaching up to catch his chin as he tried to turn his gaze away. Even in the darkness she could recognize the fear in them. Her breath caught in her chest, “It was just a nightmare, right, Kylo?” He averted his eyes and it took all her willpower not to raise her voice, to keep her hushed tones and not wake up the kids sleeping in the next room. “Kylo.”

He shook his head, swallowing nervously, “It was him, he's looking again. After four years I'd hoped he had given me up for dead.”

She held herself still, forcing air into her lungs, “I… how much was he…” her voice trailed off. Just the fact that Snoke hadn’t given up on finding his wayward apprentice was terrifying. But the idea that he might have spied on some of their secrets…

“He felt me, nothing else. And that on its own is plenty bad enough.”

That was true enough, she shivered and he pulled her close again, “What are we going to do?”

“We don't need to worry yet. He doesn't know where we are… nobody knows where we are.” He planted a kiss on top of her head.

It was true enough, they were on an uninhabited moon in uncharted wild space. At some point someone had been here, a small abandoned base was here, rich with scrap. They'd put her skills, acquired from her years scavenging the wrecks of Jakku, to use, collecting parts to either use in the homestead they had built or to save to trade during one of their twice a year runs to a port for any supplies they might need that they couldn’t scavenge, make, build, or grow at their home. There wasn’t much they needed, it still surprised her how self sufficient they’d become.

Still, just because no one knew where they were now didn’t mean it would always be that way.

“Maybe we should come up with a plan though… Skye and Sol, they’re old enough now that we should probably make sure they know where to run or where to hide if something happens.”

He tensed slightly before he sighed and let out the tension, “You just have to be the pragmatic one, don’t you?”

She pulled back again, studying his face. It had been nearly six years since they ran, and the absurdity of it hadn’t faded. Of all the people she could have fallen in love with, he had to have been the least likely. The enemy, a dark and cold murderer, a monster then and still now, if the circumstances go wrong. She didn’t fool herself that he wasn’t still capable of terrible things.

But for her, with her, he was different, there was a gentleness that somehow she had tapped into, a part of his soul that was only for her and the kids.

“It’s better to be prepared than to be caught by surprise,” she said simply, and he sighed again, pulling her close, her ear against his chest. The sound of his heart merging with the sound of the rain falling on the roof.

“You’re right,” he said. “You’re right.”

[ruleofexception]

Before You, Ch. 1: Fix

Steam rises from the asphalt as cold summer rain continues to fall from the heavens in heavy sheets. It really shouldn't surprise him that this would go down on a shit night like tonight. It's almost fitting in a way; washed-out night for a poor washed-out fuck like him.

A lone figure emerges from an alleyway across the street, wiggling between cut fence wires to step out into the storm. At least Ky is here – he'd recognize that hideous jacket and green hair anywhere.

Looking up from under the awning at the lightning streaked sky above, he sighs. Now's as good a time as any.

Fighting back a shiver and flicking his cigarette to the curb, he kicks off the wall before ducking into the rain. His hoodie is soaked in a matter of seconds, sending cold, wet tendrils to crawl down his back. This shit had better be worth it.

Crossing the street quickly and falling into step beside the other man, he shoves his shaking hands deep into drenched pockets and gives a small nod of acknowledgement, "Kyrillos."  

"Ezumike." Grunting, the shorter man tries to skirt a growing puddle around the clogged gutter, but misses; one shoe landing firmly in the clouded water. "Ah, fuck me... You seen Akakios yet?"

"Naw. You?" He almost has to yell to be heard over the sound of the rain thundering around them.  

"Negative." Ky's voice trembles; he must be hurting more than he's letting on.  

That fucking asshole had better show; there's no way he dragged his ass out here, in the middle of a goddamn monsoon, to be jerked around and leave empty handed.

Rounding the corner, he clenches his teeth as a chilling wind rips through the wide service alley and tears through his soaked clothes. Squinting through the rain, he eyes the abandoned church wedged in between the warehouses and looks for a sign that someone's home. The crumbling spires of the bell tower disappear between each fresh wave of stinging rain, but judging from the dark and shattered windows that gape and howl in the storm, he'd say the lot is vacant.  

Jogging into the wind, eager to get out of the storm, they make their way to the rotting cellar doors of St. Malverde. The planks come away easily, groaning in unison with the thunder cracking overhead, and water gushes in over the sides of the concrete stairs, trickling into the abyss. Before crossing the threshold into the moldy basement below, he sends up a silent prayer to the patron saint of thieves and fuck-ups.

He might be better at hiding it than Ky, but he's definitely itching for a fix.

"Ky, shut the fuck up, will you?" Throwing an arm across his eyes, he attempts to tune out the bitching sophomore pacing up the isle; not even the hum of the generator or the roaring thunder outside can drown him out. But really, the storm doesn’t need to get worse, Ky just needs to chill the fuck out.  

"Naw man, somethin' don't feel right." The older boy makes a strange sort of clicking sound, like he's chomping on his fingernails, before he's back to rambling nonsense about Akakios.  

"Yeah, something doesn't feel right – I'm soaked, laying half-naked on an alter and you're burning holes in the goddamn floor." He'd been right – Ky was hurting, and bad. Fuck, Akakios needs to get here. "Pacing like that is only going to make you more anxious. Just pull up a fuckin' pew and take a breather, 'aight?"

"No, Ezu!" The shout echoes off the domed ceiling and fills the shell of the building with frightened anger. "We're gonna get fucked over – I can feel it. I can't take that shit again, man... I need it. I ran out two days ago and I can't... I can't do shit."

Tilting his head to the side, he watches as Ky grabs large fistfuls of his bright green faux-hawk in frustration. He should be worried. Or at least show some concern for his friend currently losing his shit in the middle of the church aisle. But there's nothing he can do except hope Akakios doesn't bail.

Another shout rips its way from somewhere deep in his friend. "You hear me, you sick little fre-"

"Yeah, yeah I hear yah – tone it down yah nervous bastard!" Akakios' voice shouts up impatiently from the basement and the crash of the closing cellar doors can be heard rumbling in the floorboards.

Crunching to raise himself up on his elbows and grimacing as his bare back sticks to the marble surface, he waits for the final member of their fucked-up little party to come around the corner.  

Relief courses through him and his veins hum with anticipation when the backpack full of promises swings out from the door-frame, held by a slender middle finger. Rivulets of water drip from the straps to land on the floor in satisfying splats.

A soft giggle flows out of the hallway before Akakios' pale face pokes around the corner; black hair hangs in wet dreadlocks and sharp, ice-blue eyes burn into him. With a wink, she steps free of the shadows and skips down the side aisle, swinging the bag happily in her hand. "Miss me, boys?"

"Fuck, it's about time." Ky's scrambling up the aisle, filling the church with a string of curses each time he trips. It's almost pathetic, how desperate he is to get his hands on a hit. Poor bastard.

Sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees, he grins, "Look what washed in with the rain."

"Oh, ha ha. You're one to talk. Yah don't look much better than a drowned dog." Her teasing laugh fills the space once more as she plops to the ground, gracefully folding her legs beneath her. The sound of the backpack zipper being undone makes his skin itch and heart race.  

Ky's finally made it to the front, sliding to a stop excitedly beside her while wrestling with his coat to expose his arm to her. The grin that fills her face at his eagerness is almost as chilling as the heavy rain outside.  

Pulling baggies and fresh needles from the depths of her bag, Akakios turns to stare at him; beneath her gaze he's a mouse trapped under a hungry cat's paw. "And what about you, mutt? Going to come play?"

She's quick; already done prepping the first hit, filling the small cylinder with murky euphoria. Ky whimpers and starts slapping his arm in preparation. Seeing it makes the craving so much worse.

Hopping from the alter, he saunters down the aisle until he towers above them. Flashing a twisted smile and sinking down to the floor, he holds out his arm. "Depends – you going to play nice?"

Ky has already slipped off into bliss, groaning in pleasure as he falls backwards on to the stained floor of the church.

Cold fingers wrap around his wrist and slide the tie-off up his arm, securing it in place above his elbow, pinching the skin. Leaning forward, she gives a few light taps; a devilish grin pulls at her lips. "Do I ever?"

She doesn't break eye contact as the sharp bite of metal glides into the soft, inner skin of his elbow and euphoria fills his veins.  

A siren wails over the intercom and harsh lights flood the store.  

"Ky, yah dumb fuck!" Akakios shrieks over the noise and whips a speaker at him in anger. "Yah had one fucking job! Just one!"

"Don't pin this on me! I cut the power, bitch! It must be a back-up!" Both Ky and Akakios continue to shout at one another from the centre aisle, making him shake his head in disbelief. They don't have time for this shit.  

Smashing a fist through the glass countertop, he blindly grabs whatever he can; necklaces, earrings, rings and foam display-holders make their way into his backpack.  

Shaking his haul and zipping his bag shut, he notices with some surprise that there's a large glass shard stuck between his knuckles; blood wells up and drips down his fingers, splattering to the floor in thick red dots. Probably needs stitches, but it'll have to be dealt with later. Good thing he's still numb from the high or this would hurt like a bitch.

Slinging the pack across his shoulders, his adrenaline kicks in when tires squeal outside and red and blue lights flash dangerously through the store windows. Starting to jog backwards, towards the back of the store, he calls to the two idiots still arguing in plain sight. "I don't know about you two, but I think that's my cue to leave."  

No sooner had the words left his mouth, that a booming voice screeches through a megaphone, demanding they come out with their hands up.  

The next thing he knows, the front doors explode in a rain of glass and gunfire. Ducking down, but continuing to hightail it down the aisle, he watches in a state of stupefied awe as Ky unloads a clip into the night and the swarm of cops vanish behind their cruisers.

Fuck. How long had the stupid bastard been packing? What the fuck is he thinking?

Return fire and shouts over the competing sirens blaring through the store, snaps him out of it and he bolts, not bothering to turn and watch the events in the centre aisle unfold.

Sliding around a corner and barreling into the warehouse at the back, the hinged doors flap loudly behind him. Shots continue to echo through the store and he can only hope Ky and Akakois somehow manage to dodge being cuffed or shot; though, with Ky unloading into a parking lot full of cops, he doubts the dumb fuck will be at St. Malverde anytime soon. If ever.

He doesn't slow as he careens into a stack of skids, sending the tower toppling to the concrete with a horrible crash. Cursing under his breath, he throws himself out the backdoor and into the dark service alley, his feet slapping against the pavement with the steady rhythm of his sprint.

The screams of sirens fall into the distance with each passing second and he slows his pace, pulling his hood up to hide his face. His chest puffs out from exertion and his knees feel as though they’re made of rubber. Running conveys guilt. He should be far enough away that if anyone sees him, they'll just mistake him for a normal teenage bum, strolling down the sidewalk.

Fishing in his pockets for a cigarette, he pops one between his lips and lights up. His anxiety is kicking in again; the situation he's found himself in, finally sinking in. Holding out his throbbing hand, he studies the glass still lodged between his middle and ring fingers; blood continues to pour from the wound and drip down his fingers to the cement below. It'll be a bitch to stitch up.

This is not how tonight was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a quick job. In and out. Ky had been watching the place for a week. It was supposed to be easy.

Hand shaking, he holds the smoke as steadily as he can and exhales a large cloud before looking over his shoulder.  

Terror floods him.

A dark car crawls up the street. Searching. The large light-bar at the top is off, but he's not dumb. They're clearly looking for him. It doesn't matter if he looks like a bum to a normal person, the cops are looking for him and they're getting closer. As soon as they spot him that blasted bar will drown the neighbourhood in red and blue.  

Taking another pull from the smoke in his hand, he's debating the likelihood of being able to lose them if he starts running when the headlights spring to life and illuminate him. "Oh, fuck me."

Looks like the choice is made for him.  

Flicking the butt to the sidewalk, he takes off. Red and blue paints the block around him, making his sprinting shadow dance before him in an unsteady pattern. The engine revs menacingly behind him, growing closer. If they shoot him, he's going to be pissed – as long as they don't kill him in the process. Which is entirely possible.  

Maybe it'd be better if he bled out on the street. Maybe it would be like the ultimate high. Sweet, sweet release.

He's lost feeling in his hand and the muscles in his leg spasm painfully with each stride.

What had he done, to lead him to this fucked up life? At what point in time did he lose himself to the shit-hole of St. Malverde's? When had he become a junkie and a shitty thief?

His lungs scream in protest, demanding more air than what he can provide, and his heart rages against his ribs, determined to break him.  

Daring a glance over his shoulder, he grins with some relief to see that he had, miraculously, put some distance between himself and the cruiser still pursuing him. Maybe he could lose them. Rendezvous at St. Malverde's with Ky and Akakois. They could laugh about it over a hit and lose themselves to the pleasure coursing through their veins.

Laughing, he spins back around as he steps off the sidewalk.  

The world explodes into blaring horns and furious pain shatters the left side of his body.  

Gasping and confused, he tries to move. Everything hurts. 

The stars wink down at him, impossibly bright, before everything fades to black.