#ben solo reader insert

[cowboygenesis]

14: dry down | kylo ren x reader

part 14 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist. | playlist

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: explicit language, smut (cunnilingus, fingering), mild angst word count: 3.8k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: shorter chapter today, y'all. enjoy me being horrible and pulling the rug again, hehe

Now Playing: Girl - Men I Trust

Morning rolls in like a soft, white dove, swirling into your room with a warm wind smelling of pollen.

Your eyes flutter open to your sheer curtains, flailing through the space like a ghost of last night. Light pours in warm, and you wrap the covers tighter as the soreness between your thighs settles in like a small blessing.

And when you spot him there, arms snaked tightly around your nude waist, you think you might have died and gone to a blashpemous heaven.

Kylo’s body is a furnace behind you, arms heavy around your middle, the coarse hair on his forearms brushing your tender skin. He shifts slightly, his nose burying into the crown of your head with a soft, content hum. You sigh with him, lips curling into a wide smile that you hide into the softness of your pillow.

You feel him shift against you, a soft groan fleeting his lips just beyond the shell of your ear. You know he’s awake before he even utters.

“Morning, sunshine,” comes a groggy, barely audible din, shuddering down your spine. You feel his face nuzzle your neck, nose poking against the base of your skull.

“Ugh,” you reply through a bleary-eyed joy, stretching your legs and letting them smooth against his. “I kind of hate that.”

He hums out the shadow of a chuckle, sighing out with sleep as his arms wrap tighter around your waist. Birdsong fills the room in tandem with his sigh. “Morning, asshole.”

You match his amusement with your own laughter, letting it soak into your pillow as he drums a soft, rhythmless beat against your belly. It doesn’t dawn on you like you thought it would, this intimacy. His touches are gentle and kind, and instead of pulling away, you feel sucked in. Worst of all, you don’t even attempt to resist.

“Much better, weirdly.”

He laughs again, this time loud enough for you to hear. His fingers dig into your skin again, soft but demanding, and you catch the hint immediately. With a tired groan you shift your body, rolling in his arms until you catch sight of a dark mess of locks and plush, sleep or kiss-bitten lips. His eyes are closed, dark eyelashes brushing the speckle of his cheeks when a smile erupts on your face unsolicited.

Your silent admiration is promptly interrupted by the rumble of Kylo’s chest, speaking blasphemy through a crackless mein. “You snore, by the way.”

You grin even though he’s not looking. “Liar.”

“Swear on my life,” his eyebrows lift, cheek smushing into the pillow you’ve apparently been sharing all night. “Full-on chainsaw. I actually woke up in a sweat.”

You chuckle, placing your hands against his pecs. The skin is smooth there, lined with those same freckles that start at his temple. “How?”

“From fear, obviously,” he shrugs through the constraint of sheets, popping one eye open just a smidge. “And that’s not all.”

You lift an inquisitive eyebrow, watching him study your face for a beat through that little crack of his eyelid. You press your chest into his on instinct, suddenly aware of the nudity you don.

“You drool.”

Your jaw hangs with shock at the proclamation, but the man’s gaze is nowhere to be found again. He shoves his face into the crook of your arm, yet you feel the curl of a smile as it presses into your skin.

“Excuse me?” you counter through a faux scowl, pushing at his chest. “That’s impossible.”

“You do. Little puddle, right here on my arm,” he elaborates into your elbow before shifting to face you again. You watch patiently as his eyes crack open, both this time, glazed with sleep yet unmistakenly staring through you. He’s still smiling, nearly grinning now. “I’m honestly traumatized.”

You scoff, eyes rolling in attempt to hide the giddiness rising through your chest. “You’re dramatic.”

He arches an eyebrow like a dare, then moves in one fluid motion, all muscle and menace combined. Before you can squeal out a protest of any kind, he rolls, flipping you onto your back and pinning your wrists to the mattress on either side of your head. His weight hovers just enough not to crush you, but certainly enough to make your breath hitch with the dominance.

“Oh my god—get off me!” you wail, squirming just a bit as breathy, giddy laughter fills the air between you.

Kylo’s hair is a mess, black waves cascading over his cheekbones, revealing that pair of dark eyes that glare down at you in full alert now.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“Never!” you spit back, eyes as wide as your smile when you spot how blown-out his pupils are above you.

Kylo clicks his tongue in reply, dipping down just slightly to let a gust of breath graze against your face. “Then I’ll be forced to carry out a punishment.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

His lips twitch like he’s holding back a smirk, but you can see it now—that feral little glitter of his eyes that promies chaos more often than not.

“Yeah?” he murmurs again, voice dropping thick with menace.

Before you can bite back with something familiarly snarky, he moves.

Kylo lets go of your wrists, only to trail one large hand down your arm, your side, until it hooks beneath your knee and hitches your leg up over his hip. The weight of him shifts with it, pressing you down into the mattress with no way to run. Your breath stalls, simmering.

He dips down, brushing the tip of his nose along your jaw, then lower still to the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. His mouth follows promptly, lips warm and lazy as they press into your skin.

“Oh, I dare,” he says, voice muffled by the softness of your skin.

You shiver, and he hums smugly at your willingness. His kisses drift lower down, teeth grazing any skin he can, and just enough to make you jolt in anticipation.

“Kylo—” you half-laugh, half-gasp, letting your fingers threat through the unruly curtain of his hair.

“What?” he says innocently, even as he sucks a mark into your collarbone to dispute his tone in an instant. “This is just part of what I promised. You did slander my good name.”

“You don’t have a good name,” you mutter, but it comes out far too breathy to even remotely land as an insult. You’re barely trying anymore, it’s out of habit more than anything. Kylo laughs low and throaty, vibrating against your chest.

His lips are flushed when he lifts his head, cheeks tinged with a soft pink that mirrors your own distraught state. His gaze flickers over your chest, marvelling at your softness, but ultimately he focuses on your face. Your eyes.

“You’re lucky I’m merciful,” he says.

You raise a brow, raking one hand through his hair absentmindedly. You already feel drunk off his affection, and as much as it should scare you, the feeling is too large to escape as you face it head on. “That’s what you call mercy?”

He leans in again, this time pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “You don’t want to see what unforgiving looks like.”

You shoot him a half-daring look, tilting your head in slight challenge even as something primal tugs at your gut. It’s been minutes since you’ve awoken, and yet that deeply-rooted fire from last night still sparks down your thighs.

“I might.”

Kylo inhales sharply, something untamed flashing through his half-lidded eyes. Immediately, you know you’ve lit a fuse, and now, it was just a matter of fanning the flame into completion.

“Careful,” he warns lowly, holding your gaze as he lowers to plant a slow kiss against your lips. “It’s still early.”

You hum against his mouth, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss, your lips parting in slow invitation. He tastes warm, sleep-sweet, with just the slightest hint of last night. It makes your stomach flutter with anticipation and something else entirely.

Then, with a devil-may-care glint in your eyes, you slide your hand down the plane of his chest. Slow fingers trace every dip and ridge like you’re mapping out a coastline, down hillsides and ravines.

“Early?” you echo, voice dulcet-soft as your palm flattens against his abdomen, just above the waistband of his briefs.

He exhales hard through his nose, muscles going taunt against your palm with a sudden flex. Your free hand rises, cradling the back of his head and dragging him in close. Your fingers thread into the thick mess of his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low in his throat.

He kisses you with his whole body, mouth urgent and chest pressed flush to yours, hips twitching forward like he’s chasing your touch without even meaning to. One of his hands slips under your thigh again, squeezing, while the other roams up your side, dragging the sheet with it and letting the material bunch at your waist.

“You’re not getting what you want,” he mutters between kisses, voice gravel-rough and vibrating against you.

You smile, breathlessly tipping your head back as his lips begin their slow descent down your jaw and across your neck. His teeth graze a particularly sensitive spot just below your pulse, and your hips jolt into his involuntarily.

He chuckles against your skin, teeth flashing into a crooked grin before he kisses his way lower, grazing your collarbone again. “Still not sorry?”

You look down with lust-drunk eyes, matching his smile with your own. “Not even a little bit.”

His grip tightens around your thigh, holding eye-contact as he slides his mouth up the hill of your breast.

“Good.”

He latches on, tongue swirling against the perked peak of your nipple and making you release a deep, suffocated moan into the air between you, smelling of sex and spring. His hand drops from your thigh, urging up your waist and settling atop your other, lonesome breast. He palms the flesh, squeezing and pinching while his teeth graze your areola.

“Ah, shit—” you hiss, bunching your fists into the pillow. Kylo responds promptly, nearly impatiently, releasing the mound with a soft ‘pop’ before beginning his assault on your sternum. The saliva-slick spot cools rapidly in the air as he traces down your midsection, holding his grasp tight while he descends further down your belly. Your head tilts back and you close your eyes, letting his peppering kisses lull you into oblivion.

“Sleepy?” he rumbles against your hipbone, making you groan at your own stupidity. You’ve allowed yourself to succumb to Kylo’s antics, and once again he’d be the one calling the shots while all you could do was squirm and call him names.

On second thought, that didn’t sound so bad.

“Thought this was supposed to be a punishment,” you manage to tease, voice grasping air as he kisses the dip toward your thigh.

“It is,” he growls. “And I’m taking my damn time with it.”

Sunlight streams through the curtains, painting golden stripes over the tangled sheets and limbs as he inches toward your folds. His breath is hot over your clit, a soft, concentrated stream of air making you flinch at the surprising sensitivity that jolts up your spine.

“What are you—”

His mouth sinks against your pussy, warm and hungry. You lift your arm over your face, biting down on your forearm to stifle the sudden outburst of moans that leave you unsolicited.

It’s a repeat of last night in terms of pleasure, yet his pace is anything but. There’s languidity in place of fervor, passion in place of desire—his hands wrapping tightly around your thighs, holding you in place as he licks a slow, wide strip up your slit. The feeling is electric, and makes you whimper softly.

“Oh,” you mewl, arching your back slightly as he catches your clit. His movement is stable and consistent, alternating smoothly between soft licks, then suckling again. “Oh, Ben.”

He squeezes your legs tighter at that, but the ministrations never pick up pace. He lies between your thighs, worshipping your pussy so softly and gracefully, giving you everything just to hear you call his name into the walls of your home.

You’re relaxed and at complete ease. For a second, as he settles into an even rhythm, you think you might fall back asleep.

But then you feel his arm leave your right left thigh. Before you can check understand, something slender smooths down your entrance, and your eyes widen at the newfound sensation. You look down at your dark-haired lover, his half-lidded gaze stuck hard to yours as he prods not one, but two fingers against your pussy.

He searches your face for permission and you nod vehemently, lip caught between your teeth.

“Oh, fuck,” you sigh as he slides in with ease, digits squelching with slick upon entry. A soft, trickling wave of pleasure washes over you like a precursor, making you sink into the mattress with a dazed sigh.

“Feel good?” Kylo questions between the gentle flicks of his tongue, letting his digits curl inside you almost instantly and when you choke out a strained moan in reply, he begins to move. You feel a pressure against the soft ridge of your canal, cascading through your belly and thighs in a wave of deep, pulsating ecstasy as he continues his assault on your clit.

It’s good. It’s painfully, unbearably wonderful, and you’re sure he knows it. It feels like hours when it must’ve been just minutes, yet his slow, slow affections leave you melted into a dopamine-stuffed puddle, body taut with an impending orgasm that never really peaks, keeping you at the delicious precipice until you’re left begging.

“Kylo,” you trail languidly, less like a warning and more like a quiet plea. You look down, the sight of his dark eyelashes as he stays latched onto you making you groan out pathetically. “Kylo, I can’t—”

His gaze finally lifts to meet yours, his half-lidded eyes watching your glowing, sweat-slick face with complete, soft amusement.

“Mhm,” he hums in acknowledgment, the vibration filling your belly with another wave of pulsating pleasure. His fingers keep working, too, pressing against your sensitive spot without missing a single beat even as your hips begin bucking into it.

“Hey,” you mewl again, this time firmly enough to catch his attention. His tongue slows just a bit, licking up your slick folds with a final stripe. You shudder, locking a palm around the arm holding your thigh down. “Come here.”

When you thought he’d acquiesce, you see him hesitate. Something glitters in his eyes, and his lips leave your pussy without as much as a ceremony, the two digits stirring within you coming to a sudden stop. He watches you for a beat, then two, and when you finally moan out in protest of his passiveness, it’s tight and pathetic.

“Ben, please.”

His body rises. Within seconds, he’s got you pressed against the bed again, the weight of his body balanced on one elbow while his other palm holds still against your pussy. Something burns in his eyes, and this time, it stays long enough for your heart to stutter.

Your mouth parts slightly, his hot breath mingling with yours as you exchange wordless, meaningful stares. “I—”

His lips crash against yours before you get to finish, making you whimper. He tastes sweet and lactic, his tongue prodding against yours before you can think anything at all, your breasts pressing into his strong chest.

And then his digits move again, pushing deeper and hitting an angle you never thought possible.

It’s devastating, and you make it known with a guttural groan against his lips. Yet that only urges him to hum, the swirling within you continuing in small, concentrated presses that knock the breath from your lungs. Your hands snake up his back, around his neck, holding him tight and close as if the heat of his body alone was enough to make the rubber band within you snap into bits.

“Oh, Ben,” you sigh against his lips, letting him take the lead on your animalistic, saliva-slick kiss when you feel your resolve crumbling with the pulsating pleasure of his palm on your clit. “Ben, baby, I—”

You feel him drop your kiss with a sharp inhale, his fingers picking up pace just as your eyes dart open.

He’s looking at you through a thick band of lashes, lips plush and wet with your slick, eyes darting across your face with something like madness. You realise you could have no other name for the wild, delirious splay of his pupils, the arm holding his balance snaking under your back to press you even closer together.

It’s the proximity of his body that breaks you.

“Fuck,” you whine, your hands sliding to either side of his face. You grasp him tightly, feverishly, holding him close as you feel yourself approaching the precipice, once and for all. “Fuck, fuck—Kylo, Ben, I’m cumming, I’m—”

You see his throat bob tightly, lips pressed into a line as his gaze penetrates your very soul. You hear him mutter something under his breath, something insignificant, probably, but the gust of his breath on your cheek combined with the devilish speed of his digits against your sweet spot makes the bundle in your belly uncoil in a wild, uninhibited burst.

You squeeze your eyes shut and cum hard, his forehead pressed to yours as a stray tear rolls down your climax-heated cheek. The pleasure flows through your muscles, your heart, brain, and when you breathe out a cry, Kylo catches it with a hot kiss that sears your soul.

He lets you ride your high out on his fingers, pressing ever so gently as your breath heaves with his. He withdraws one finger when your eyes open, then another.

The world fitlers back in slowly with distant birdsong and the soft creak of the mattress beneath you as Kylo shifts his weight. His fingers, slick with your unraveling, trail idly along your thigh before he wipes them on the sheet absentmindedly. Something about that gesture stirs your gut.

You’re still catching your breath, lips parted and eyes hazy when he speaks again.

“You alright?” he asks, voice rasped and thick with sleep, or something else. You think it might be the latter with how red his cheeks burn.

“Better,” you hum, nodding lazily, still stuck somewhere between Earth and Cloud 9. A faint smile tugs at your lips, curling on one side. “You’re kind of annoyingly good at that.”

Kylo huffs a low and pleased laugh, yet no smile lines his features. There’s something else there, but it flickers in and out, running out of reach before you can even think to catch it.

“Yeah, well. You’re a really good motivator.”

You both laugh softly, the air warm and sweet between you. He doesn’t move yet, hovering close with his eyes fixed on you with a look that borders on something dangerous. But maybe it’s just softness, and you’re not yet used to it.

You think it might be the afterglow, or the fact you’re sharing this quiet morning together, his thumb tracing circles into your hip like he’s done it dozens times before. Or maybe it’s just your anxiety, rising to your throat unfiltered but undeniably delicate, spilling out before you can think to stop.

“I’ve never felt this way with anyone.”

But you don’t even realise the weight of your confession before the air between you stills.

Kylo blinks. The tenderness in his face doesn’t vanish, but it tightens, freezing before your very eyes like cracked glass. And you get stuck with him, eyes searching for something explanatory that never comes.

He shifts off of you first, face flat but ruminating as the sheet slips from his waist. He sits on the edge of the bed, reaching a hand to rub over his face, dragging his fingers down like he’s trying to scrub something away. Then he exhales through his nose. It’s sharp and quick, and with a growing knot in your chest, you watch as he stands, half-naked in the early light.

“What’s wrong?” you ask quietly as he reacher for the clothes he left in a pile on your bedroom chair. You’re propped on one elbow, sheet wrapped around your body like armor, even though you’re sure you’re already bleeding beneath it.

Kylo steps into his trousers, pulling them back on with his broad back to you. “Nothing. Nothing, I just… forgot I had a meeting.”

You blink as a frown settles on your face. “A meeting?”

He nods once, still not looking at you as he throws his shirt on next. Instinctively, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, checking the time.

5:43 AM.

There’s a handful of missed calls from Rey, timestamped between yesterday evening. Your brow knits, realising most of your night was spent in bed, tangled in a world that was now threatening to collapse in front of your very eyes.

“It’s not even six,” you plead, voice gentler than you’d planned.

Kylo rakes a hand through his already-tousled hair, nodding once again. Your gut suddenly bubbles with a familiar rage, listening to his threadbare excuse without a single instinct to face you head-on. You’ve kept it harbored somewhere deep for the night, blinded by his effortless affections. Briefly, you realise you should have known better.

“Okay,” you muster a brittle little smile, and offer it to no one but yourself. He’s still looking away, after all, stood in the doorway, hand on the frame. You can see his fingers tremble even at a distance.

Still, for a second, hope flares stupidly in your chest. You think he might turn around. All it’d take is a second, a word, a smile, absolutely anything to seize the endless spiral of chaos barging through your brain, harmonizing in a helpless song of: what did I do wrong?

And you hope he might feel your desperation, that strong, pleading pull. Because before he leaves, he looks back over his shoulder, his dark eyes piercing you with that same tenderness you saw as he touched your body and soul.

“Lock the door behind me,” he says.

His footsteps echo down the hallway steadily, and then a bit uneven. You stare at the open door as the silence swells around it like heavy bloating, still holding onto that thread of hope, of the possibility that—

The front door shuts with a click.

Your throat closes in tandem, bleary eyes flooding with wetness. The tears slide down your cheeks before you can think to stop them, slipping hot and quiet in one blink. Then comes the rest. You curl into the mattress and palm at the pillow and sheets where he just lied. You think they might hold some vague shape of his arms or face, but they don’t. Not at all.

You muffle your sobs against the corner, every exhale shaking your ribs like a living, breathing creature clawing at your ribs. There’s no dignity or grace in it, just a raw, fresh grief that blooms too fast and stupid to contain.

You fall back asleep in a pool of your own grief, wild-pine clinging to your skin that bruises with the memory of his lips.

[sweetrevxnge]

Ghosts In The Snow

Chapter Seven

Pairing: Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader AU

Summary: Six long years had passed under the reign of the First Order. The bitter winters grew longer, and as they did, hope faded from the hearts of the citizens of Hosnian Prime. As a lieutenant in the Resistance cavalry, it was your duty to nurture that ember of hope. After a mission takes an unexpected turn, you are taken prisoner by a commander in the First Order, a mysterious man with an insatiable appetite—for violence, power, and you. In the coming days, you must keep the spark of your own hope alive from the dark confines of the Commander's castle.

Warnings: sexual content, violence, blood kink, gore, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Spotify Playlist

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter-specific CW: torture (what fun!), period-typical sexism

A/N: the dead speak! lmao at least that's what it feels like coming back after an entire YEAR??? I kinda got sucked into playing 1,200+ hours of baldur's gate 3, romancing a certain vampiric elf time and time again, which gave me plenty of inspiration to continue this fic. I never meant to be gone for so long, so if you're still interested in this story, please let me know!

───────── ❅ 🦇 ❅ ─────────

What have you done?

To say that you were restless would be an understatement. The first order of business when you returned to your chambers was finding a safe place to store your stolen weapon, and now, hours later, you had yet to succeed. 

You paced the room, wearing holes in the soles of your slippers as you wondered if you had made the right decision. It was unlike you to have sticky fingers, but then again, these were unprecedented times. Boldness meant survival.

Above all, you feared Ren was privy to your thievery, despite his silence on the walk back to your chambers. The prick of blood seemed enough to distract him for a moment, or perhaps he was practiced in hiding his tells. Either way, the consequences of him knowing gnawed at your sanity.

Rey had tended the hearth while you were away, ensuring your chambers were kept warm and filled with the familiar scent of dry wood. Her diligence as a handmaid proved to be an unforeseen complication in hiding your contraband.

Instinct urged you to keep it close to your bed, but reason told you it would be found too easily there. Same with the lounges circling the hearth, whose velour cushions could conceal many things if asked to. Though a dagger lodged in one’s rear would raise many concerns, as well as promise unspeakable punishments to come.

For these reasons, you ultimately settled on the bookcase.

Towering in the corner was a collection of books and texts, dense enough to put even the most curious scholars to sleep. A perfect place to hide a dagger.

Dragging a footstool over as a makeshift ladder, you reached for a leather-bound book embossed with gold letters along its spine. Imperium Nunquam Fuit. Though written in Old Basic, you understood its meaning.

The Empire That Never Was. A phrase coined by Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin to describe the destruction of Alderaan during the Revolution. An unsavory way to speak about a fallen civilization—considering he was the man responsible.

You made quick work of hollowing the historical text, skimming the page you’d turned to before defacing it. This passage detailed the last of the Imperial attacks on Alderaan, near the end of the Rebellion. One of the more infamous sieges of the war, earning its place in history with a tithe of blood and destruction.

The lines of script told the story of how Imperial soldiers salted Alderaan’s lands and butchered the citizens—babes and crones included. The Empire was thorough, wiping out an entire civilization over a mere conspiracy. With few survivors, and even fewer successors, Alderaanian blood was a rarity. You supposed that was one of the many things that set General Organa apart from the rest.

Considering the contents, it was a book of little interest to the First Order—a perfect hiding place.

The point of your blade pierced the parchment with ease, as if slicing through a block of butter rather than a thousand-page text. Tragic as it was to ruin a book like this, what other choice did you have? Hosnian Prime’s Grand Archives likely stored dozens of copies; one locked away in the depths of the First Order’s fortress would not be missed.

The fit was snug, but it would do for now. As for the pages you’d carved out, they laid in a pile at your feet, a messy reminder that your room was not private.

You slammed the book shut and returned it, hurrying to clean the shreds of paper scattered across the red carpets. Despite your efforts, the fragments proved too difficult to clean with just your hands alone, forcing you to sweep them into your skirts.

As you carried the pieces to the hearth, a gentle knock sounded through the oak doors. “Gods,” you muttered as you rushed towards the fire, dumping the pages unceremoniously onto the crackling wood.

Another rap on the door.

“Just a moment, please!” It was impossible to hide the panic in your voice as you prodded at the withering pages with an iron poker. Time seemed to slow as you watched the flames engulf the ink, turning Alderaan’s history to ash once more.

“It’s me, my lady.” Muffled by the wood, Rey’s voice was barely audible over the fire, hissing with fresh fodder. If any good came from her being your visitor, it was her staunch etiquette. She would not barge in uninvited—unlike some of the castle’s residents.

Brushing the slivers of evidence from your gown, you opened the doors, mindful of the lingering ash in the hearth. “My apologies. I was…” You cleared your throat, smoothing out your skirts before finishing your lie. “Indecent.”

Demure as ever, Rey dropped her gaze as she curtseyed before you. “It’s no matter, my lady. I was sent to fetch you; the Supreme Leader requests your presence.”

The moment his name left her lips, cotton filled your mouth, forcing its way down your throat as you swallowed your fear. What reason would the Supreme Leader have to summon you—at this late hour, no less?

Your thoughts immediately turned to Commander Ren. Perhaps he had noticed your theft after all and reported your offence to Snoke. If that were true, you vowed to slice his throat first. 

“Did he give a reason?” you asked, trying to maintain your resolve.

Rey’s throat knocked in her slender neck. “He did not say.”

Part of you wanted to take the damned blade with you, but recklessness wouldn’t serve you. Though you did not recognize him as your ruler, you were not keen on adding treason to your ledger.

You sighed, coming to stand beside Rey at the door, shoulders pressed back and hands folded over your lap. “I’m surprised he didn’t send you with manacles.”

She said nothing, but the trace smile on her lips told you all that you needed to know. You couldn’t blame her for watching her tongue around you. Given what transpired last night, you would do the same in her position.

The two of you walked in near silence to the throne chambers, passing countless tall windows with panes stained a deep red, dark enough to block most light from entering. What little light did manage to seep through painted the halls crimson, giving the appearance of blood spilling over the floor.

The burned pages of text flashed in your mind.

Every step forward was committed to memory, including the number of paces between notable fixtures, as well as where each one stood in relation to your chambers. Still, there was no sign of an access point in this section of the castle. But your resolve did not falter. If there was a means of entry into this accursed fortress, there must also be a means of escape.

As you rounded the corner to another corridor, you glanced at your handmaid, noticing that her usual singular bun had evolved into three smaller ones, meeting the nape of her neck in a uniform line.

“You’ve changed your hair.” The observation came out as more of a question than a comment.

“Yes, my lady,” she said, delicate fingers reaching to touch the one near her collar. “An effort to be closer to the gods.”

You furrowed your brows. “How’s that?”

“As there are three of them, there are three knots. We servants are forbidden to worship openly, so we find other ways.” She closed her eyes for a moment, tilting her chin towards her chest. “Divine strength allows clarity of the mind.”

While you were not necessarily a pious woman, you were familiar enough with the gods from your upbringing to understand what she meant. As a child, you often prayed at your family’s shrine, asking for a bountiful harvest, good health, and, most of all, peace in the realm. For many years, they fulfilled your wishes. Now, your faith provided you with little comfort.

“Certainly,” you said, not wanting to discuss the subject any further. “Are we nearly there?”

“Just down this hall,” she said, her tone clipped. Either she was annoyed with the change of subject, or just as uneasy about seeing the Supreme Leader as you were.

True to her word, Rey came to a stop near the end of the corridor, leaving a short distance between you and the two looming oak doors, with iron enforcements woven into the grain and a guard posted on either side. Their faces were concealed by crimson veils, the signature regalia of the Praetorian Guard. Those tasked with protecting the ruler of these lands, whether they carried the title of Chancellor, Emperor, or Supreme Leader.

The warmth drained from your face at the sight.

“This is where I leave you, my lady.” Her face lacked its usual peachy hue, her freckles washed away by the candlelight. “The Supreme Leader does not allow us to enter these chambers, save for when he is passing judgment upon us.”

Standing before the faceless guards, you understood her unease.

“Will you be here to escort me back?” you asked, palms growing damp as you clutched the fabric of your gown.

“It is late. I must turn in for the evening.” She shifted her weight, eyes darting between you and the guards, whose presence seemed to loom over you from meters away. “Besides, I should think you do not require my assistance from this point.”

With that, she turned on her heels and retreated, her steps muted as she faded into the stretching darkness of the hallway. Turning to face the guards, dread settled in your stomach. Surely these warriors would not accompany you back to your chambers.

You studied them for a moment, the strategist in your mind seeking to understand what threat they posed. Both were tall and well-fed, given the size of their uniforms. The one to your left carried a bisento, while the other held a tall voulge, both equally unnerving. Their blades were pristine, foreign to combat. You wondered if the same could be said for those wielding them, too.

As if seeking to test your theory, they readied their weapons as you approached, each blade humming as it sliced through the air.

You came to a halt, the hair on the back of your neck now stiff. “I’ve been summoned by the Supreme Leader.”

The two remained poised to strike for a long moment before returning to their sentry state, offering one another a brisk nod as they pushed the heavy doors open, revealing the grand throne room. With tentative steps, you approached, pausing at the threshold.

Black marble columns lined the walkway to the throne, each manned by a knight of the Praetorian Guard, their crimson armor matching the First Order banners draped along the cobbled walls. Above the throne was the room’s sole window, with red stained panels filling the space between the spokes of the First Order insignia. Six steps carved of the same dark mineral as the columns led to the throne, lined with black velvet upholstery and a towering slate backing. Perched comfortably in the seat was Supreme Leader Snoke, draped in golden robes that flowed over his limbs like smelted ore, barely concealing the matching jewelry wrapped snugly around his fingers.

The paragon of humility.

He was joined by another: the fire-haired General Hux. His gaze snapped to you as the doors creaked open, beady eyes piercing you like darts from across the chamber.

“Ah, my guest of honor,” Snoke crooned, clasping his hands before his chest in delight. His tone fell icy as he turned to address the General. “Leave us.”

Confusion spread across his pale features as he turned to face Snoke once more. “But, Supreme Leader, there is still much to be discussed.”

“Perhaps I did not make myself clear. You are to leave these chambers at once, General Hux, or you will be removed.” Snoke’s gravelly voice rumbled through the hall with the force of a thousand footsteps, and reluctantly, Hux obeyed.

You watched the scene play out before you from the safety of the doorway, your feet rooted to the floor.

Snoke relaxed in his chair once more, beckoning you in with a hand gesture. “Please, come in, darling.”

Willing your feet to move, you did as he asked, eyes flitting between the Praetorian guard and the approaching General Hux, whose expression could only be described as irate as he brushed past you, black coat fluttering behind him.

Your heart was lodged in your throat as you neared the throne, feeling like a lamb being shepherded towards the maw of a lion. You stopped in line with the last of the guards before the Supreme Leader, leaving some distance still.

Snoke watched you with keen eyes, a stark contrast to his stoic front. “I do hope you are well, my dear. I can only imagine the days spent in anticipation of your wedding are agonizing.”

You frowned. “Is that why you summoned me? To ask me about my wedding?”

“Of course not. But pleasantries are the foundation of any proper conversation.” The humor fell from his voice. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” The words left a sour taste in your mouth, like wine crafted from grapes plucked too early.

Satisfied, he settled back into his throne, resting his hands over the ornate armrests. “See? Deference needn’t be cumbersome.”

His mocking tone made your vision red, but you held your tongue. Invisible threads tied you to him and his guards, each one pulled taught in the silence. It would take nothing more than a misstep to cause one of them to snap.

He spoke again, this time with authority. “It has come to my attention that you are unaware of what is expected of you as a noblewoman.”

You let out a terse exhale. “I suppose I am. Perhaps that is because of the conditions under which I am becoming one.”

A thin smile curled on the Supreme Leader’s lips. “These are unprecedented times, lieutenant.”

The emphasis on your title made your skin crawl. Snoke was calculated, sadistic. With his power, he was untouchable. The red veils surrounding you served as a constant reminder of his invulnerability.

“Now, I am curious. How did you manage that?” he added, tilting his head in intrigue. “A commoner like yourself rising to the rank of a commanding officer is no easy feat—even more so for a woman.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I hardly see how this is relevant to my new status as a noblewoman.”

Despite your outward naivety, you knew too well what being a noblewoman would entail. You’d known from the moment your betrothal was announced. You were to be the docile wife of a commander, providing him an heir, a spare, and a warm bed whenever he pleased. Your military career would be swept away by the title of Lady Ren, all traces of your independence lost to time. You couldn’t think of anything less appealing.

“As a Lady of the First Order, you will be granted privileges seldom given to others, such as this.” Snoke motioned to the surrounding space, and you found yourself unable to decipher his meaning.

He isn’t referring to having an audience with the ruler of the realm as a privilege, is he?

He continued, “The safety of the castle. Our stronghold. You will be protected within its walls.”

Oh. Of course.

You suppressed a scoff. “I find that hard to believe, considering Commander Ren has attempted to strangle me twice over since my arrival.”

“I see,” he mused, pressing an index finger to his lips in thought. “My mercurial underling. If only his mind were half as quick as his temper.”

Somehow, your first instinct was to defend Commander Ren from his inflaming remark. While the Supreme Leader was correct about Ren’s temperament, he didn’t see the side of him that you saw—however infrequently it may have showed itself. There was a tenderness to him, fleeting in nature, like a luminescent star ripping through the night sky. You saw it in his eyes as he sat before your hearth, again when he laced your bodice.

Or perhaps what you felt was just the lingering effects of his charm.

Snoke’s rough voice broke your reverie. “Nevertheless, I’m sure Commander Ren had his reasons. Just as I’m sure whatever actions may have led to these outbursts will cease henceforth, won’t they?”

Before you could answer, a searing pain sliced through your skull, its barbed tendrils reaching into the deepest part of your consciousness. Every muscle in your body became succinctly rigid, frozen in place as an invisible force suspended you midair. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to call out; for the gods, for your mother—even for Commander Ren.

“You will behave yourself, insolent girl, or you will be disposed of.”

Despite your efforts, no sound would come from your throat. An eternity seemed to pass as the Supreme Leader kept you trapped, holding your feet to the fire of his anger. Mustering every ounce of strength, you forced your chin down in agreement, hot tears distorting your vision.

Without moving a muscle, he relinquished his hold on you, your knees cracking against the marble floor in an instant. The violet fabric of your gown pooled around you like the blood of a slain enemy, collecting the tears that fell from your chin.

Before you could find your voice, the creak of wood and subsequent rustling of armor behind you swiped your attention. The guards had readied their weapons, aiming at something other than you.

You flinched as the doors slammed shut, followed by a heavy—yet quick—footfall.

“What is the meaning of this?” Commander Ren’s voice was biting, filled with untamed fury as he entered the grand hall. His cloak rippled behind him like the night sea, silver sword in hand as he marched forward.

You scurried backwards on your tender palms, caught between his rage and the throne. He drew closer, only stopping at the intersection of two of the guards’ blades.

“Commander Ren, what a welcome surprise,” Snoke crooned. “Your bride was just leaving.”

His eyes found yours in an instant—wild and dark. Silently, you pleaded for his cooperation. If he were to strike at the guard, your life would be forfeit.

Outnumbered by eight blades, he stowed his own. “What have you done?” he demanded.

Though he was looking at you, his question was directed at the man atop the throne, whose enthusiasm at his subordinate’s display was palpable.

“Nothing you have not already done yourself,” Snoke growled. With that, he stood to his feet and stepped down from his throne, closing the gap you’d deliberately left and standing over you. “See her back to her chambers, Commander.”

A snarl flashed across Ren’s face as he pushed past the guards and kneeled before you, extending a gloved hand for you. Though he was quiet, his eyes were heavy with guilt.

With legs like a new foal, you accepted his help, gripping his hand like a lifeline as you stood. “Thank you.” The words floated from your mouth, burning your throat as they passed through.

He only nodded in return, guiding you away from the chamber. Because of his intrusion, the outer guards were now sealed inside, allowing some privacy in the dimly lit hall.

Ren came to a halt, moving both of his cool hands to rest on your shoulders, inspecting you. “Are you hurt?”

Averting your eyes, you shook your head dismissively, ignoring how your knees seemed to rattle with every step.

He let out an amused hum. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you will, Commander,” you managed to say through your dry mouth. “I’m fine.”

At that, the two of you carried on in silence, meandering through the castle, passing knights and servants alike down each corridor. Ren’s emotion rolled off of him like heat from a flame, slowly dwindling the further you were from the throne room.

As your legs regained their strength, so did your voice. “How did you know I was in there?”

“Does that really matter?”

“I’d say so. For all I know, you’re the reason he summoned me in the first place,” you argued, head spinning as you tried to recognize your surroundings. Only when you realized these walls were unfamiliar did your pace falter. “Stop!”

He obeyed, meeting you where you stood. “What?”

“Answer me.”

He let out a terse breath. “No, I am not the reason he summoned you. Come, we can discuss this later.”

At that, he began his stride again, but you didn’t follow. “No. I will not take one more step. Not before I know where you are taking me, as it is clearly not my chambers.”

“I’m bringing you somewhere private,” he finally answered.

“Are my chambers not private enough?”

“By the gods,” he hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “As I’m sure you’re well aware, it is unbecoming of me to be seen entering your chambers before we are wed.”

You scoffed. “How pragmatic of you.”

Ignoring your comment, he continued, “After your encounter with the Supreme Leader, I think it’s best if we avoid unnecessary speculation—for your sake.”

You couldn’t argue with him. If Snoke was inclined to submit you to the rawest agony over the slightest display of defiance, you could only imagine what else he was capable of.

“Fine,” you conceded, seeing reason in his words. “But let it be known that my cooperation does not reflect my satisfaction with this decision.”

A smile ghosted over his lips. “I know.”

[pastelghoul]

Somebody Else - Ben Solo x Reader

Imagine seeing Ben immediately following the aftermath of the burning of Luke's temple Inspired by You're Somebody Else by flora cash

Around you lay the tattered remains and burnt rubble of what was once Master Luke's temple. Now in its place stood smouldering stone collapsing in on itself.

The remaining crackles of the fierce lightning storm faded out, now replaced by the soft pattering of rain. Scattered around you lay the charred remains of your fellow peers, the stench of burnt flesh thick in the air.

In the distance, you saw him; Ben stood at the foot of what was once the great temple, his robes shredded and burnt. His raven locks were tangled together, sweat and ash clumping together forming knots in his hair.

"Ben!" you called out, watching as he swiftly whipped around to face you, some of the tension leaving his body as he saw you approach.

"Are you ok?" he asked once you were near, his hands cupping your face as he inspected you for injuries. You felt a slight tremble in his actions, as though he were overwhelmed with shock.

"I'm fine," you leaned into his touch, taking his hand in yours and pressing it gently to your chest, your strong heart pumping beneath his touch. "but are you ok?" Ben looked away, blinking away tears so you wouldn't see him in this moment of weakness.

"Luke, he tried to-" Ben held back a sob, betrayed by a stray tear tumbling down his cheek. "I woke up to him standing above me, lightsabre ignited. He tried to kill me."

"No, Luke would never..." you shook your head in disbelief. "Luke did all this?" you gestured to the giant burning heap of atone and wood, bodies surely buried beneath the chaos.

"No, I did." Ben corrected, clenching his sabre tighter. "All he saw in me was darkness, he was convinced I had chosen my side - so I showed him darkness.

"Ben, I-" you spoke softly, retracting your hand. "I saw the part of you that nobody else saw. There is good in you, Ben. We can fight the darkness together, I-"

"No. It doesn't matter what I do, they'll always see Vader in me. I'm not him though; I'm stronger than Vader was, I'll finish what he started."

You looked at him as though he were delusional - He had to be to say such outlandish things. Surely he wasn't being serious, how could you miss something like that?

"I could read you, this isn't you, Ben. You are nothing like Vader, you're good and kind and-"

"This is me, don't you recognise me? Come with me, please." Ben pleaded, holding your hands in his. His eyes were full of hope as he stared longingly into your gaze.

"Well, you look like yourself, but you're somebody else." you spoke, taking in his messy appearance, from his torn robes to his matted hair, that hopeless look plastered to his features. You took a step back, letting his hands fall to his side, empty. "Only it ain't on the surface."

"How can you say that? This is me, it always has been. I'm Ben Solo, the boy you grew up with, trained with, fell in love with... I know you still love me, I want you by my side when I conquer the galaxy!" Ben cried, holding out a hand towards you, desperate for you to take it.

"So you talk like yourself, I hear someone else though." You retorted, holding back tears. Whoever this was, as much as they may have resembled Ben, it wasn't your Ben in there anymore. It was somebody else.

Ben stood frozen, eyes searching your own for a spark of hope that you'd join him; his features darkened when he realised you were serious about not following him.

"Fine, if you're not with me, then you're against me." the aggressive hum of his sabre echoed through the darkness as it whirred to life, the blue hue flickering gently against the dying flames.

"Now you're making me nervous..." your voice trembled, backing away as Ben twirled his lightsabre at you, prompting you to ignite your own; you didn't want to fight Ben, but it seemed he was leaving you no choice.

Ben lunged at you, skidding along loose gravel and mud as you dodged his attack. His swings were angry and uncoordinated, slashing sloppily at your nimble form as you blocked each one after the other.

"Please Ben, stop! I don't want to do this!" you cried in desperation, continuing to fight defensively; you didn't want to hurt Ben, but soon you'd have no choice but to fight back.

"I loved you!" he choked out like venom; the words seemed to shock Ben, cutting his concentration short. You took your chance. It was just long enough for you to land a strong kick against his chest and send him flying backwards.

Your lightsabre spat inches away from his throat, pinning him to the ground where he lay defeated. Ben looked up at you with a hateful glare, his dark locks sticking to his face as he fought back tears.

"You were the better half of my beating heart, Ben. You meant everything to me." You spoke through tears, unable to look at him any longer. You didn't recognise the person beneath you, trapped at the mercy of your blade.

Ben's features softened, his glare turning into a look of regret. He reached a hand out, flinching as you jabbed your blade at him threateningly.

Against your better judgment, you leant a hand to help him up, only to find yourself crashing to the ground moments later as he hooked his legs around your own and pulled you down.

Pushing himself up, Ben made a hasty getaway in the wake of your confusion, leaving you in the dust and dirt of the shattered remains of the temple.

By the time you'd brushed yourself off, Ben was gone. You watched hopelessly as he took off in his starship, finally allowing your tears to fall freely.

"You've left me to stand alone, we were meant to become Jedi together... Now I'm surrounded by pitch black flesh and bone." You gazed up amongst the stars, watching a final flash of light before he escaped into hyperspace.

"I can't believe you're gone."

Want more? Check out my Masterlist <3

[ghulehthezombiequeen]

lost in yesterday - kylo ren x male reader

yeehaw gays in space 🤠 happy pride month folks

warnings/things to note: suggestive but no smut, male reader, hints of reader's unstable mental health, uhh not really canon timeline but it's fineee

this is also part one of 2 ( call out my name )

reqs open (link goes to req boundaries)

masterlist.

word count: 1,831

After bullshitting your way through life, you finally managed to get caught in the crossfire between the First Order and the Resistance, which was definitely not good as you've been in some pretty hot water with both sides.

Currently, you found yourself strapped to an interrogation bed in the Supreme Leader Kylo Ren's ship. He stood menacingly above you, wanting to instill fear into your defiant being.

"I won't ask again," his deep voice pulls you back to the present. "Are you a member of the Resistance?"

In actuality you weren't, you were just another smuggler following the footsteps of the great ones before you. But you knew you'd probably be sent to death row within the hour if you said that. So, you did what you did best.

"Does a Wookie shit in the woods?" You grunted in reply, earning an ice-cold glare from Kylo. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back as he pulled on it roughly.

"I suggest you cooperate, unless you want things to get more painful than necessary," he warned over your groan of pain. Your head was already throbbing from the stormtroopers' beatings and lack of hydration, and it only grew the tighter he held your hair. You licked your lips and panted heavily.

"Mmh, don't tug any harder or I might just come."

Kylo rolled his eyes at your cheeky response.

"Quite the smart mouth you have there," he replied, gripping your hair even tighter. He leaned down slightly, his face inches away from yours.

"Are you trying to provoke me?"

You whimpered, your mouth turning agape and almost twisting in a half-smirk. "A-Ahh, I wasn't kidding..."

Kylo's expression darkened almost instantly as he pulled your hair even tighter, your back arching as you let out a pained gasp. He leaned in closer, his mouth just millimeters away from your ear.

"Watch yourself," he whispered, his voice a low, intimidating growl. "I could easily break you if I wanted to."

"Kinky!~" You grunted, your shit-eating grin never leaving even though your heart was pounding.

Kylo's eyes narrowed as a flicker of irritation flashed across his face. He released your hair and stepped away from you, his arms crossing over his broad chest as your head slumped.

"You really don't know when to shut up, do you?" he asked, annoyance dripping from his voice. "I could have you tortured for days for your smart mouth."

You took this short moment of respite to catch your breath before giggling softly. Maybe you were losing your mind, but he just looked too funny in that last moment.

His eyebrow raised in curiosity as he heard your soft giggles. He stepped forward again, his hand reaching out to tuck your bangs behind your ear.

"What's so funny?" he asked, his tone still edged with irritation.

"You're- you're trying so hard to get me all scared for my life and whatnot," you paused to chuckle some more, your head lowering again to hide your manic smile. "When really, I don't give two shits about it! I have nothing to give you and nothing to lose!"

Kylo's eyes widened in surprise at your boldness. He wasn't used to someone being so unflinchingly fearless in his presence, especially someone who was strapped down like a prisoner.

"You think you're invincible, do you?" he questioned, his tone now holding a hint of fascination. "You don't care if I hurt you? You don't care if I break you?"

"Nah," you shook your head, lifting it to show him just how unafraid you were. His forehead wrinkled as he observed it. He just couldn't fathom how someone could be so carefree in such a dire situation. He walked around the bed, stopping next to you and looking down at your bound form.

"You're either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish," he stated, his eyes studying your face intently as you shrugged.

"I get that exact statement more than I do credits," you chuckled under your breath.

Kylo scoffed in disbelief. He ran a hand through his dark raven hair, shaking his head slightly. "You're unlike anyone I've ever interrogated before," he admitted.

"The others all break eventually, begging for mercy. But you…" he trailed off, his gaze roaming over your face again.

You shook your head, your smile never leaving your face as you held his gaze. "I exist out of spite. And let me tell you, it is glorious."

Kylo chuckled darkly at your snarky comment. He placed a hand on the bed next to your hip, leaning down to get closer to your face. "Spite, huh?" he repeated, his gaze locked with yours.

"You're a walking contradiction, you know that? Defiant and yet… somewhat amusing."

"That's what gives me so much power, darling," you winked.

"Oh, but... not physical, of course," you added, tugging at the restraints with a soft chuckle. "No, I'm talking mental power. You see, I just so happened to have found the cheat codes to the entire kriffing galaxy, and I am winning."

His eyes widened in amusement at your words. He chuckled again, shaking his head in disbelief. "So, you think you've found the secret to life, huh?" he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "You're tied down to my interrogation slab and have literally no power, but somehow, you're winning?"

Your eyebrow raised, "well, you haven't exactly broken me yet now, have you?"

Kylo's jaw clenched as your smirk hit a nerve. He couldn't deny that you were right, but he wasn't about to admit it out loud.

"I'll break you, eventually," he warned, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I've broken countless others before. You're no different."

"Mhm," you replied sarcastically. "Just don't go crying back to Daddy when we don't work out, okay?"

His eyes widened in shock, his irritation growing by the second as he clenched his fists to control it from flying right into your face. He stepped closer, towering over you as he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Don't push your luck, smart mouth," he practically growled. "I have ways to make you regret ever being born."

"Oh, honey," you laughed, shaking your head. "You're going to have to try much harder, I already regret it every waking day!"

Kylo's patience reached its breaking point. He grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look up at him.

"You really have no sense of self-preservation, do you?" he demanded, anger lacing his words. "You think this is all a game, don't you? You think you can just taunt and tease me, and I'll just let you go?"

"Oh, no- I don't plan on leaving. No, no, you're really a great host," you answered, your tone laced with sarcasm and a smirk.

His cold eyes darkened with anger, his grip on your jaw becoming tighter. He gritted his teeth, struggling to keep his temper in check.

"Oh, you think you're real cute, don't you?" he snarled. "You think your sarcastic comments and smirks are going to save you, but let me tell you something..."

He leaned in closer, his face inches away from yours.

"I can make your life a living hell if I want to. I can make you beg for death, and I won't hesitate to do it. So watch yourself, smartass."

You leaned your head closer as well, your lips barely hovering each other's. "I already beg the Maker for my death, and every day I wake is a living hell," you whispered into his mouth. "So you're going to have to try so much harder if you want to break me."

The Supreme Leader's breath caught in his throat as you leaned closer, your lips dangerously close to touching his. He could feel your hot breath on his face, sending a strange wave of feelings through him. He hadn't been this close to someone, let alone a prisoner, in a very long time.

He swallowed hard, his expression faltering for just a moment before he regained his composure. He released your jaw, backing away slightly as he composed himself.

"You're nothing but a walking contradiction," he grumbled, his voice now tinged with something other than irritation.

"Like I said," you shrugged while returning to your resting position. "I exist out of spite."

Kylo rubbed a hand over his face, his frustration slowly turning into fascination. You were unlike anyone he had ever met before. Most prisoners would be quivering in fear, doing everything they could to please him in hopes of being spared. But you were different. You were fearless, taunting and teasing him, seemingly unintimidated by his presence or power.

He couldn't understand it. Why weren't you afraid? Why weren't you begging for mercy? Instead, you were… smiling?

he scoffed and leaned against a nearby wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he observed you. His mind raced with questions and curiosity.

"Why aren't you afraid?" he finally spoke up, his voice calmer now but still laced with intrigue. "Most prisoners beg and plea for mercy, but you… you act like this is all some kind of game. Like you're enjoying this."

You leaned towards him as close as you could within your restraints, remaining firm eye contact.

"I'm proving that you're not as powerful as you promote yourself to be," you stated simply, your voice low and finally serious.

This earned another raised eyebrow at your response, leaving him somewhat impressed by your unwavering confidence.

"And you think this is the way to prove it?" he questioned, a hint of amusement in his voice. "By being snarky and defiant? Good luck with that. I've dealt with plenty like you before."

"But no one is just like me, now are they?" you smiled, leaning back again.

Kylo studied you closely, his gaze roaming over your calm, confident form. He couldn't deny that there was something different about you. You seemed untouchable, almost completely unbothered by the dangerous situation you were in.

He pushed himself off the wall, his footsteps echoing through the room as he walked over to the edge of the bed. He leaned down, his face now just inches away from yours.

"You're either recklessly brave, or incredibly stupid," he stated, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You already said that, but thank you, sweetheart," you teased, giggling again as you watched him suddenly turn to leave in fury. "Hey. Same time next week?"

This caused him to freeze in his tracks, his eyebrow twitching in irritation. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he shot you a glare.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" he snapped, his voice a mix of annoyance and something else. Without another word, he pushed past the doors and made his way down the corridor, his mind replaying the interaction again and again.

Your giggles died down, and you had to bite your lip to hide your pained sobs slipping through them. No, you had to be strong. You had to live, to spite the galaxy.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Kylo Ren x plus size reader

The Supreme Leader had granted his padawan one vice, one thing he could take pleasure from, one thing that was only his. He could have picked spice or hooch, but the troubled Sith chose her.

Series Warnings: reader was kidnapped and manipulated into being a pleasure slave, tagged dub con to be safe, little bit of non con, smut, d/s dynamics, angst, fluff, blood, each chapter has their own warnings as well

WC: 13k

Minors DNI

‧₊˚His Pick‧₊˚

‧₊˚His First Hit‧₊˚

‧₊˚His High‧₊˚

‧₊˚His Addiction‧₊˚

‧₊˚His Weakness‧₊˚

‧₊˚His Greatest Strength‧₊˚

[forcesensitiveflower]

S T A R D U S T

chapter i.

Ignite the Spark.

“Oh, and butterflies. He loved the glowing butterflies,” she laughed.

Leia was so happy when she talked about him. Her eyes light up, and I see her smile—a smile that she hasn’t shown much these days.

“Glowing butterflies?” I laugh, too. She nods and takes a sip of her tea.

“Yes, there are a lot of them where we lived. They come out mostly at night and like to fly around the forests. Do you have anything like that back home?” she asks, smiling softly at me.

I hold my cup up to my lips and think for a moment. Batuu was more than a smuggler’s hideout full of crime, though the galaxy thought differently. When someone on base would ask me where I was from, I would tell them. They would look at me with…pity? Judgement? I’m not sure. Leia never did, though.

I take a sip of my tea and place it down. “Mmm.. no, I don’t think so. None that I’ve come across. But we did have these fuzzy spiders, they're poisonous, but really cute. My mom once yelled at me for even getting close to one. I just wanted to pet it!”

She softly laughs, nods, and takes a deep breath, tapping her fist on the table in front of us. Her face falls. She’s quiet for a minute.“He was such a happy little boy, Odette. I'm sure he would've wanted to pet the fuzzball spiders, too. Such a little troublemaker at times.”

My eyes meet hers and soften. There’s so much pain in her eyes, though she always tries to mask it. I put my hand over hers, still nervously tapping the table. Her hand stills and she sighs. I’m not sure what to say to her. What do you even say? “Sorry your son was manipulated by the dark side and has done unspeakable acts under the guise of a made-up name, all to try to live up to your father’s infamous legacy…”

That’s what I’ve heard around base. What I’ve heard back on Batuu.

Then there is what I know about him. Ben. Not this "Kylo Ren". It's hard to believe that someone who sounds so kind, so good, so much like Leia…could go down such a dark path.

Leia says it's not him. She has hope. So much hope. She is someone I want to be like. She has just as much fear and doubt as the rest of us…but that never stops her from believing…that her husband is still alive, that we will win the war, that her son will come back. I feel guilty sometimes. Why are we here, spending fifteen minutes gabbing about our lives when there is so much to be done out there? I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m grateful for these fifteen minutes. I’m sitting here with Leia Organa, who, for some reason, trusts me with stories of her life. Some small sliver of normalcy. She needs it. And we have these conversations often, we try to make time for tea once a week. And sometimes, when we don’t know what to say—or how to say it, the conversations are silent, only with our eyes.

A nonemergency alarm goes off on her comm. She smiles at me, sadly, takes my hand in hers, and squeezes it. “Duty calls, my dear. I’ll see you at supper.” Leia rushes off. I stand, put my cup in her kitchenette sink, and exit her quarters. I slip my basket under my arm and stare down at the gray metal walkway of the Tantive as I head to see what’s going on.

What would happen if he did come back? Does Leia expect everyone to greet him with open arms? No, of course not. I’ve only been on base for a short while, if six months is what you can call short. It's felt like a lifetime. People took their time to warm up to me. How would they react to Kylo Ren? But it wouldn’t be Kylo Ren if he returned, it would be…*him*. I walk down the ramp and into Main Base. My eyes take a second to adjust to the bright sunlight. I breathe in the sticky, humid air of Ajan Kloss. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how thick the air is here. I turn and see a crowd gathering around the Falcon in the distance. Finn and Poe are back, thank the stars! I run over to see if I can help. I see Poe and Finn talking to Rey. Oh, she’s pissed. The air between Rey and Poe is giving Ajan Kloss a run for its credits. I see that the Falcon is smoking and engineers running to repair. It seems like Poe and Finn are just fine. Maybe I’ll make myself useful and head back out to the gardens. I know there is intelligence that they’ve brought back, and something is off. I glance back at Rey, she’s running inside the Cavern. My heartbeat picks up, and I take a few deep breaths. I should get to the gardens.

The walk to the gardens from Main Base is about five minutes. I hum as I walk down the trail, a soft song my mom used to sing to me when I was very young. The song tells a story about two lovers who are tied to each other with a silver string of stardust, searching the galaxy to find one another, though they may not even know it. I think of Rey and how she shares this strange connection with Leia’s son. There must be stardust connecting them. If Leia can’t bring him back, maybe she can.

I place my basket down as I enter the gardens. I smile at my hard work. Six months and I have turned the Resistance’s sad little vegetable patch into a full garden of fresh produce. I guess I can thank my dad for one thing—my green thumb. I didn’t know how receptive Leia would be to having a random girl from Batuu attempt to grow crops for the base with Ajan Kloss’s highly acidic soil, but I’m glad she was. I’m happy I can be of use to the Resistance, without having to fight. I could never be like the soldiers we have on base. The pilots who nosedive straight into battle. The spies who risk their lives for one page of the First Order’s plans and strategies. I may not be brave like them, but I can make sure they are healthy and well fed. I grab my mom’s old small radio from my basket and click it on. Though I only have about twenty songs on the infochips I could carry from Batuu, it's better than nothing. I slip on my green work gloves and continue my daily upkeep of the gardens. I take notes, assessing what each plant needs. I sit back on my feet and sigh, wiping the sweat from my forehead. I pull my hair up to let the small breeze hit my neck. I hear the soft song from the radio mix with the soft songs of the birds in the trees surrounding the gardens. Ajan Kloss is so green. The jungles are dangerous, but I’ve discovered such interesting flora here. This is the first world I've been on besides Batuu. Another reason people here tend to pity me. My ears perk up, and not a second later, a short alarm sounds. I jump up, grab my basket, and run to the cavern.

Most of the base is gathered near the Tantive. Poe’s arms are crossed, and his face is pale. I look over to Rey. She looks calm and focused. But I can tell something is brewing inside her. Poe sighs. “We’ve decoded the intel from the First Order spy.” The crowd is silent.

“Palpatine. He’s back.”

Murmurs and scoffs erupt from the crowd. I feel my heart beating in my throat. I walk over to stand next to Rose. “We can’t believe this. That can’t be true,” she says. She looks at me and we share a look of concern. I look at Leia. There it is, the silent conversation.

Poe keeps talking, but I find myself slipping in and out of my head. "He calls it the Final Order." My hands ball up into fists. Breathe, Odette, breathe. "In sixteen hours, attacks on all free worlds begin."

I feel like I can’t hear a thing. I watch Rey run up to the consoles, but I still can’t focus. That is, until Maz speaks. "If we want to stop him, we must find him. We must find Exegol." I take my deep breaths, and I feel Leia’s eyes on me. “General, can I speak with you?” Leia turns to Rey, and they head back to the consoles. I look back at Maz, who is already looking at me. I push my lips together and look down at the grass in front of me.

I jump as Rose touches my arm. “Hey, you okay?” She asks quietly. I look at her, “Yes, I just…” I see the dark circles under her eyes. “When was the last time you ate? Let’s go to supper.” I say, weakly smiling at her. “How are we supposed to eat at a time like this?” She says quietly. I look back at Maz, who gives me a small nod. I keep eye contact with her for a moment before turning and following Rose back to the Tantive.

The rest of the night, the base is solemn. Usually, the mess hall on the Tantive is loud and lively. Not tonight. There are quiet, tense conversations. Some silently eat. Others have returned to their tents for the evening. After I finish my meal, I softly bid Rose and Kaydel goodnight. I walk back to my tent with a strange feeling in my core. The same feeling that pulled me to the Resistance. I know it’s the something big is coming feeling. The “Odette, you are going to have to be brave” feeling. I’ve ignored most of them in my life.

Something tells me this one cannot be ignored.

[cas-backwards-tie]

⟡ kylo ren masterlist ⟡

--oneshots--

call me kylo it's the small things the meaning of care

--drabbles--

• correspondence

--headcanons--

breakups

--series--

nothing but a monster | Vampire! AU ↠ Forced to accept help from a mysterious stranger, you find yourself in a predicament of sorts.

[hayleesoph]

im gonna start writing fanfiction for my own personal enjoyment and no one is gonna stop me!! eddie munson, colin bridgerton, and jason voorhees better watch out because here i come!!

[xinfinitegalaxiesx]

top bunk 

by infinitegalaxies for NobodyBreaksMyHeart, MizKittyMystic, DhampirsDrinkEspresso, feralsandgremlin, DyadSqueal 

[kylosbreedingkink]

Those reader/kylo fics are missing a trick by not having the reader suck on his great big massive tits

[cowboygenesis]

13: animalica | kylo ren x reader

part 13 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist. | playlist

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: explicit language and smut (hickeys, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, kinda hate sex but then it gets fluffy) word count: 7.7k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: *hands you chapter 13* this is filthy and NOT proofread. *crashes tf out*

Now Playing: A New Life - Zeke Bleu

The long trek through the Upper West Side proved the toughest. The city blurred past in a kaleidoscope of headlights and neon, the rush of bodies shoving against you as you weaved through the crowded sidewalks.

Thick beads of sweat slick your skin, sticking to your tank top. Your thighs and calves burn. Someone shouted obscenities when you elbowed your way out of the subway car earlier.

As you book it through your neighborhood, your heaving draws the attention of a few pacing kids and their parents out on an afternoon stroll. Some of them, you recognize. They issue you worried glances and awkward stares that you quickly wave away with a wild smile.

When you finally reach your building, your hands tremble as you fumble with the gate. A soft tremor settles into your palm as you sort through your collection of decorative keychains, searching for the right key. Your eyes skim over the time.

Then, bingo.

Your pulse is a wild drumbeat in your ears, breath ragged as you try and shove the keys in. It takes you exactly three tries and four breathy curses to finally unlock it. You take a few long paces toward the entrance, quickly inputting the 4-digit code you know by heart. Once the heavy door clicks open, you push onto it with your whole weight, hopping the steps two at a time once you reach the staircase.

The adrenaline drumming through your body makes the three floors feel like a brisk walk. Your bated breath echoes through the dim hallway as you finally approach your apartment, leaning against the doorway and beginning to knock fervently.

“Kylo!” you gasp, voice cracking from exertion as the sound of pounded wood booms through the space around you.

Silence.

Your stomach knots painfully as you check the time again.

You fish your keys out once more, quickly finding the largest and shoving it in one try. The lock clicks open, urging you to barge inside. You hope your poor neighbors aren’t suspecting a break-in with all the commotion you’re making, but regardless, it’s something you’d have to deal with later.

You march inside, chest still heaving as you drop your belongings onto the couch; Kylo’s bed. It sits there serenely, stagnant in the silence of the apartment as you haphazardly kick your shoes off.

“Kylo?” You call out again, leaning your weight against the headrest. With your muscles stagnant again, the adrenaline coursing your veins drops dramatically. Your diaphragm contracts, making you gasp and sigh in over-exertion.

The kitchen is in mild disarray, piled with a few mugs and glasses. Something in the air smells vaguely of coffee, meaning he must have been here recently.

“Damn it,” you huff, the sweat on your back beginning to cool uncomfortably. With a swift, albeit awkward move, you hitch your hoodie off your head with a loud, carrying yell.

“Fucking—Ben Solo!”

Then, from the hallway, you hear a doorway click closed. You throw your discarded clothing on the couch alongside your bag, biting your lip as you listen in. Your ears ring.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Your head snaps toward the baritone, sweat-slick hair whipping wildly as you face the hallway.

And there he is.

Fresh out of the shower, damp curls falling in thick waves over his forehead and a towel slung around his neck. His charcoal-grey shirt clings to his chest in places, damp in others, as evidence that he barely finished toweling off before you came crashing through the door like a fucking lunatic.

His brows furrow as he steps closer. You freeze.

You knew you had to see him, and that notion alone has fuelled you thus far. Except now, the sight of him makes you realize you didn’t account for the remorse that begins to creep up your spine.

Kylo’s gaze quickly flits over your blush-stricken face, lowering toward your dampened tank top. You cross your arms, protecting the thin material from the peering.

When his eyes meet yours again, you’re astonished to spot a glint of amusement.

“Did you—” he croaks, flattening his lips to stop a smirk from emerging, “did you run here?”

You blink, still gulping for air, hands flexing at your sides as you gauge his physique. Even in a crisis, you find yourself struggling to look away from his strong arms and star-speckled nose.

“I—”

The sight of him is too much.

Your body is still alight with adrenaline, mind reeling with every revelation from the balcony, the cafe, and Sienna’s words. The boy he was, the man he became; standing in front of you now, looking at you like you never meant him any harm.

“I thought you had a meeting,” you manage, voice softer now, like you’re suddenly aware of how desperate you sound.

His expression shifts, confusion knitting his brow. “They canceled it.” His eyes sweep over you. “Why are you—?”

But you don’t let him finish. Because in this moment, nothing else matters: not the kiss, not the argument, and not even Rey.

You just needed him to know.

“I know about your mom,” you breathe.

The words leave your lips before you can stop them, and for a moment, time slows around you.

Kylo’s expression shifts. It’s quick, like the smallest flicker vulnerability, before his face settles into a blank, characteristic mask of the man he forced himself to be for years before you even knew his name.

You watch the way his throat bobs, fingers twitching where they clutch the towel.

Silence stretches between you like a taut, suffocating thread.

He clears his throat, whipping the cotton fabric off his neck. He walks back, hitching the towel against the headrest of a chair. “What did you just say?”

The heat in your limbs hasn’t dissipated, but a different kind of tension creeps in now. The sharp, dagger-like sensation flows through your bones, urging you a step forward.

You square your shoulders, refusing to shrink beneath the weight of his stare when he finally looks.

“Sienna told me.”

That flicker returns, like a crack in his armor.

“You—” he trails lowly, eyes flickering with confusion while yours widen. “You talked to her?”

To pick up the pieces, you quickly shake your head, your arms flailing wildly in denial. You’re afraid that even context won’t save your dignity in this situation, but it’ll have to do for now. After all, words are all you have now.

“No! No, no—” you object, rubbing at your face with both hands to calm the redness threatening to rise. Then, with a short exhale, you face him with a pointed glare. “I was around the block getting coffee, and she just… I don’t know, she just happened to be there. I didn’t even recognize her at first until she…”

The memory of her saccharine laugh carries through your skull, making you wince. You take a short, ragged breath before continuing.

“I know it sounds bat-shit insane and you can kick my ass for this later, but—” you swallow thickly, facing him with guilt in your eyes. “We spoke.”

The hum he emits is rough, edged with something like impatience. You catch his body turn slightly like he’s about to walk away, but you step forward before he has the chance.

“She told me about the way you grew up.” You press on, voice steadier and stronger now that your anxiety has settled. “About your father. About Rey.”

That stops him. Something shifts in his mein, tightening his jaw as he turns toward you. His back is tense, heaving with the weight of his steady breath as you step even closer.

Kylo scoffs quietly, running a hand through his damp curls as he watches the floor with a sudden, keen interest. “Of course she did.”

“I— Kylo, I had no idea,” you say softly, being severely mindful of your tone. It carries through the air uninterrupted, reaching him in a flinch. “You should’ve told me.”

He exhales slowly, eyes flicking away from you. His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring, and you recognize the battle playing out inside him like clockwork. He towers in front of you like a wild beast waiting to be tamed. A man wanting to be broken-in by a soft, guiding hand.

A hand you desperately want to offer.

“Why would I?” he finally says, voice edged with little venom. You’re not sure if he’s tired or if the aftermath of your kiss has finally shoved him into an unfortunate, fatal resignation. “What difference would it make?”

You swallow hard, fingers flexing at your sides.

You knew his reasoning. You knew he held things in until they festered into pain and morphed into something impossible to unweave. And you knew that, at the end of the day, it wasn’t his fault.

“Because I wouldn’t have left.”

His gaze snaps back to you, a fleeting twilight flashing behind his eyes. His lips part, and for a second, you think he might say something true. Something fundamentally life-changing to you both.

But then, despite your deepest hopes, the mask drops back down.

“I didn’t need you to stay,” he huffs lowly, facing you with a certain flicker of sorrow in his eyes. “You made your choice.”

A muscle in your jaw jumps, but your heart beats steadily.

After your winded conversation with Sienna, something about Kylo clicked to you. It’s like the veil slipped and allowed you to see his wrangle for what it truly was, and that alone has melted all semblance of rage brewing in your body.

You knew he was shutting down and deflecting, pretending it doesn’t matter and, more significantly, pretending you don’t matter. Acting like you haven’t spent every night in this damned apartment orbiting each other like you were bound to collide.

Your fingers twitch at your sides. "Bullshit."

Kylo scoffs, rubbing his face with both hands. His damp curls fall even messier over his forehead, clinging to his skin like wild tendrils.

“You don’t get to say that,” he mutters, voice low and sharp.

But you’re exhausted, too. And more than that, you’re fucking frantic.

“Why?” you snap, stepping closer. “Because it makes you uncomfortable? Because you don’t want to talk about it?” you trail, arms flailing in the small space between you. “Because you think that if you just sit in your own misery long enough, no one will even dare to try and understand you?”

Kylo’s brows furrow, and something in his expression once again cracks just a fraction.

‘Good,’ you think through a stubborn scowl. ‘Let it fall apart.’

“Just say it,” you push, stepping even closer now, toe to toe with your sorrowful giant. “Tell me this means nothing.”

His lips part, but nothing comes out. Because you know that, in good faith, he can’t speak a lie this large and significant.

His hands flex at his sides, chest rising and falling fast, and fuck, you’re close enough to see the way his pupils swallow up those dark, glassy eyes of his like thundering seas.

"I—I know this has been difficult, but… but I just feel like I finally get you, okay? And, despite your shitty witticisms and… and your general… disdain for my existance," You laugh bitterly, shaking your head to steady your quivering voice before you finally face him. "I know that… that at the end of the day, you’re more than that. I know you don’t want to be alone."

Your voice wavers on the last word, heart splintering with an ache though you know it should be angry instead. Every step forward felt like two steps backward, even after you’ve pushed every threshold there was to push. You knew that now, it was all up to him to decide your fate.

You swallow, eyes flitting over his tensed-up facade and taking in the sheer, resonant ache in those dark eyes of his. The eyes you’ve taken in with frustration, when you should have noticed the shame. The same ones that now flit with something that makes your chest rumble.

“Ben,” you begin again, breaking the taut silence with your soft lilt. He darts over your features in microscopic movements, lips tight when he swallows at your proximity.

The air between you is razor-thin, weighted with a suffocating, agonizing vehemence.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Kylo doesn’t move. He blinks once, painstakingly slow. Then, his jaw tightens.

His breath is measured when he finally exhales, long and slow as it darts across your cheeks.

“You already know why,” he says lowly, and the softness that lines his lilt makes you want to come undone where you stand.

“No,” you shake your head, stepping close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off his body and catch the damp scent of his shampoo in the stagnant air between you. “I don’t.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. He looks away for a fraction of a second before his gaze is on you again, burning into your soul like little embers. You see them in his eyes, exploding with pure, uninhibited fervor. It’s as passionate as he’ll let himself be, yet you want to press for more.

“You—” He huffs in exasperation, fingers twitching at his sides. “You’re—”

“I’m what?” you force ahead, urging him into a corner. His back collides with the hallway wall, emitting a soft, dull thud.

Kylo’s nostrils flare. His hands finally move, pushing through the damp curls at his temples with a slight, barely-there tremor.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he grits out, but you’re already beyond his excuses to let it slide.

“Try me.”

His eyes flicker over your face, searching for something you so desperately want to offer.

“You think I push you away on purpose?” he suddenly murmurs, his voice edged with a strange ascerbity that you greedily welcome.

You flatten your lips, licking the bottom half as you still in place.

“I think you—”

“No.” He counters with a bite, lifting his gaze to meet yours. When your lips part, you struggle to emit more than a quiet stutter. Kylo, on the other hand, picks up where you left off, straightening his posture to successfully dwarf you. “Listen to me.”

His breath is unsteady. His eyes are sharp, burning through you like you love it most.

“You think I don’t want this?” Kylo asks low and rough, the result of it pressing hard against your ribs. “You think I don’t want you?”

You swallow hard with a quiet tick, watching him ascribe like he’s the only one you’d ever allow. His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, head shaking in short, staggering motions.

“That’s not it,” he says, voice softer now but still tight, like admitting it cost him a piece of his heart. “That’s never been it.”

You bite your bottom lip, worrying it there til it draws a trickle of blood. Your stomach clenches at the silent furrow of his eyebrows, like he’s at war with no one but himself.

And then it dawns on you.

He wants you, too.

The realization hits you like a thunderclap, spinning the air around you like a powerful current.

“Then what is it?” you ask quietly.

Kylo exhales sharply, his jaw tightening as he sizes you up. The sheer feeling of his eyes penetrating you urges a quiet, fleeting gasp from your lips, spreading into the dormant air between you like a guilty prayer.

“I…” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes flit across your face, down to your reddened cheeks and bitten lips. “I don’t know how.” He trails off, jaw clenched tight. And when his eyes shut, you think they might just stay that way.

His nose flares with a deep inhale, letting the breath settle into his lungs slowly, almost tenaciously. You watch in silent awe, taking in the marvelous sight of his plush lips silently testing the words before he even utters.

When his eyes flutter open again, your breath catches.

“I don’t know how to let you in without ruining it.”

There it is. The real reason. The thing he’s been too fearful to say was finally seeing the dim light of day. The dawn of your judgment.

Kylo Ren, for all his intensity, coldness, and strength, was afraid of this tether between you and what it would mean if he let himself succumb to it.

And it’s that culmination, that vulnerable truth, that finally lets you advance.

Your hands lift before you can think better of it, fingers grazing his jaw, thumbs pressing into the heat of his cheekbones. Kylo stills instantly, dark eyes flickering, his entire frame tense as if waiting for the inevitable impact that is you.

“Ben,” you whisper, and you feel the way he exhales, the name alone knocking the breath from his lungs. You know it does.

And so, with all the certainty you can muster, you lean into his shoulder and take cover in the safety of it. The familiar, all-encompassing scent of pine envelops you like holy fire, your hand tracing the lobe of his reddened ear.

Your breath falls hot on his neck.

“Let me try.”

And when his chest shudders, you know you’ve signed your demise.

His hands surge forward, grasping your face haphazardly and enveloping you in a tight, devoted warmth that reels your body inward. Your chests collide.

When his lips meet yours, it’s not careful or slow.

It’s painfully, disastrously anguished.

You crash together in a symphony of gasps, his teeth grazing your lip and making you mewl at the nipping pain it exudes.

Kylo reacts accordingly, his mouth curling against yours with a sharp, humorous exhale. His fingers dig into the sides of your face, keeping you close as he swallows your breath like it belongs to him and no one else.

And this time?

You let it happen.

His hands slide down, anchoring at your hips for a beat only to pull you flush against him. Your chest squishes against muscle, urging a quiet moan from your throat.

Fuck, you feel filthy.

Your teeth clack a little with the next kiss. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his uninhibited craving, yet the notion surges a wave of heat through your thighs.

You tug at his shirt with clumsy hands, half-blind with want, and he groans when your fingers accidentally scratch down his stomach. He’s laughing breathlessly now, dragging you backwards down the hallway in short stumbles.

You barely make it through the frame before he’s got you pressed against the wall, your back colliding with a dull thud.

“You better not bruise,” he whispers into your mouth.

You snort, your lips brushing his again with a matching smile. "You worried about me?"

"I’m not," he lies, biting at your bottom lip with a strained smirk. "I just don’t want you whining later."

You gasp dramatically and swat his shoulder. He catches your wrist in mid-air and pins it to the wall with a wicked grin, chasing your gaze like a madman.

"You’re such an asshole," you breathe, but you're already tilting your head to kiss him again.

Kylo leans back, keeping a safe distance as you mewl for contact. "You like me that way."

He looks down at you through dark lashes, his starved gaze raking down your sweat-slick body like he plans on devouring you whole. You pray he will.

You scoff through bitten lips, licking off the rawness he left behind. You can’t help but size him up, taking in the soft, cruel need painting his gaze as you stand beneath him with little agency.

"I tolerate you."

He grins, wanton and boyish. The sight knocks a shiver straight down your core, making your thighs clench with a pleasant itch.

"Liar."

He lifts you like it’s second nature, stumbling the two of you into your room and kicking the door shut behind him with a sharp clunk.

As you move forward, Kylo stumbles over something on the floor with a quiet hiss. He catches his balance just in time, grasping you tightly to prevent you from slipping off.

“Your room’s fucking filthy,” Kylo mutters as he deposits you unceremoniously on the bed, crawling over you in one swift motion.

“You’ll survive,” you pant quietly, writhing under him as he drags his mouth down your throat, nipping until he feels you shudder.

“Barely.”

Your laugh turns into a gasp as he drags your shirt up over your ribs and dips his head, teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of your throat. He shifts back for a moment, breaking the kiss.

“Fuck—Oh, c’mon,” you sigh dramatically, frustrated with the sudden lack of contact as he surveys your exposed upper-half.

You watch his eyes glaze over with craving, flitting over your bra-clad chest and glowing skin.

His mouth parts like he’s trying to say something, but no sound comes out besides a quiet, ragged exhale. He runs a hand through his curls, then plants his palm flat beside your head, staring down at you with a tensed jaw.

You take this time to exhale slowly, shifting your shoulders against the pillow below. When your gaze connects with his, a wanton, teasing smirk creeps to your face like the ghost of your anticipation.

“What?” you challenge, breathless and sweat-slick from your earlier marathon. “Never seen a girl before?”

He huffs with a halfhearted scoff, his hand reaching for the strap of your bra. You watch with bated breath as he snaps it lightly before dragging one knuckle along the curve of your clothed breast.

“Not one like you,” he mutters, and you think you might jump him right here and now.

But he doesn’t give you time to answer or do anything for that matter as his mouth presses hot kisses down your collarbone, sucking gently yet not enough to leave a mark.

You arch into him, and he chuckles darkly against your skin.

“God, you’re obsessed with me,” you hiss through a grin, holding onto any semblance of control you have left, though you know your resources are steadily depleting with every kiss and nip.

He lifts his head, eyes blazing into your skin.

“Yeah?” he says, breath hitching as he unclasps your bra with a single, practiced flick that sends goosebumps down your arms. You barely stop yourself from gasping. "Don't flatter yourself."

You toy your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him with a lazy, licentious smile. “Too late.”

His mouth twitches, eyes dragging down your body with shameless hunger.

In a snap, he shoves the bra down your arms with all the reverence. His palms curve beneath your breasts, rough thumbs grazing across your nipples as soon as they come into view.

You jolt under him, trying hard not to moan at the ridiculous display of experience.

“What?” he murmurs, leaning in close and letting his lips ghost against your jaw. “You were begging for this five minutes ago.”

“I was yelling at you five minutes ago,” you snap, heat flaring through your core despite yourself.

Kylo whistles with a haphazard shrug, leaning his weight onto one elbow as he rakes over your body again.

“Same thing,” he mutters, before dipping his head and sucking a mark into the skin just above your heart. Your back arches involuntarily, head dipping back to grant him easier access even if you know you’ll spend an hour in the bathroom later trying to cover the indecency up.

His voice is gravel when he speaks again, still pressed against your skin.

“You gonna keep talking?”

He bites again, lower this time, and your hands shoot to his hair, clawing at his curls like you can’t decide whether to shove him off or pull him closer: your endless predicament.

“C’mon,” he looks up at you with a wild gleam in his eyes, “say something.”

You pant, drunk on the closeness and the vicious burn in your blood, but there’s little you can say without making a mess of yourself, so you opt for a tense silence instead.

“Want me to stop?” he growls against the valley of your breasts, breath warm and moist as it hovers over your nipples.

“Kylo,” you finally croak.

He looks up at you with dark, expectant eyes, and how could he not? You’re so soft under him. So vulnerable and easy to mould.

You swallow thickly, panting into the hot air between you. When his hand gives your hip a tight, reassuring squeeze, you feel the remnants of your willpower shatter into unconsolable pieces.

“More.”

And just like that, the space between you is obliterated.

He hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and sweatpants, dragging them both down with a single, brutal pull that leaves you bare and panting. He watches you, mouth parted like a starving dog as your thighs squeeze together in a sudden burst of embarrassment.

When your hands reach to cover your nudity, Kylo catches them in mid-air with a loud scoff.

“Don’t you dare,” he mutters low and sharp, his fingers wrapping tight around your wrists. “You think I dragged you all the way here just to let you hide all this?”

Your breath stutters, your spine arching against the bed. His grip tightens for just a second, not to restrain you, but to ground you in place.

You finally acquiesce, letting him move your hands away in a slow, controlled movement. A warm breeze suddenly swirls into your bedroom, rolling down your body and causing your nipples to go taut with the temperature change.

“Look at you,” he breathes, almost to himself. His eyes drag down the line of your body, delirious and worshipful at your softness. “Fuck, I’ll never get over this.”

You squirm, thighs trying to press shut again, but he shuffles down between them with a predatory patience. Then, with a low, throaty growl, he spreads you open and drags his mouth down your stomach, teeth grazing at your hipbone before he licks a slow, calculated stripe up your heated skin.

Every muscle in your body tenses, a pathetic sound catching in your throat.

His broad shoulders settle between your legs, glancing up through thick lashes, eyes blown wide and glittering in the soft, evening light pouring in through your parted window.

When you feel the heat of his breath against your clit, you choke out a weak warning.

“Ben—”

His hands grip your hips, dragging you flush against his mouth before you can protest.

You gasp loudly into the air, your head whipping back in a sudden barrage of ecstasy as his hot tongue presses up against your pussy. Your hand flies down the next beat, nestling into his thick, dark locks, still moist from his earlier shower.

“Say that again,” he growls against your clit, sending ripples of pleasure through your core, “and I’ll keep you here all damn night.”

Kylo eats you like his life depends on it. He groans against your slick pussy, shameless, his fingers bruising into the skin of your thighs as he pulls you deeper. The rhythm is torturous, perfect, and when your hips buck, he pins them down hard.

You’re shaking, chest heaving, just barely able to utter your mewls of pleasure. You try for wit or something equally flippant to his efforts, but it all ends in vain as he continues his fingerless ministrations.

You’re already a mess, clinging to his hair with trembling fingers, his name pouring from your lips like damnation. Something red-hot curls in your belly, spreading through your core and thighs, prefacing the steady approach of something much larger than you can handle.

“K-Kylo—fuck, please—”

He hums against you almost purposefully, the vibration making you cry out into the flesh of your folded arm. Feeling like you’re already on the precipice of a climax, you tug at his locks in short, staggering motions. This urges him to halt his torture for a second, pulling back just long enough to meet your eyes. His chin glistens with your wetness, smirk downright cruel in its mockery.

“Please what?” He murmurs, and your breath catches for a beat. You’re thoroughly speechless, staring down at him with a creased forehead and parted lips that he mercilessly rejects with a soft shrug.

He begins to lower again, unaffected by your fervent mewls of protest. When his tongue twirls against your entrance, you tug at his hair again, hard.

“Use your words,” he only growls, never leaving your pussy as his eyes burn into yours. The sight is dirty enough to make you toss your head back with a ragged moan, cheeks flushed with the ache of an impending orgasm.

“Don’t be a dick—”

“Say it.” His voice is deeper now, ragged and close to breaking before he licks a long, languid strip up your entire core. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck—” you gasp, body jerking when he flicks his nose against your clit. “I don’t— I don’t wanna cum yet.”

He relaxes slightly, letting you shift your leg out of the confines of his grip and bend it at the knee.

Kylo moves away from you painstakingly slow, letting his breath hover over your mound for a beat longer before he settles his cheek against your thigh. You watch as he kisses a stripe down your leg, holding you close with a balanced grip.

“Tell me,” he whispers again, eyes flitting across your face impatiently. “Just tell me what you need.”

You withdraw your hand from his hair, watching his lips twitch at the loss of contact. But you’re already one step ahead, needy fingers trailing down his cheekbone and planting against the softness of his speckled cheek.

“Ben,” you sigh softly, urging the man’s breath to catch. He looks at you needily, pressing a final kiss to your thigh before you’re gasping your desires.

“I need you inside me.”

And that seems to wreck whatever control he had left.

Kylo growls your name, and the next thing you know, he’s moving up your body, mouth crashing against yours like he can’t stand another second without it. You taste yourself on his lips, sweet and animalic, and whimper into the kiss, fingers dragging down his back in white lines.

“Fuck,” you breathe between kisses, your legs wrapping around his hips like a woman gone mad. “Stop teasing.”

His mouth ghosts against your jaw and down the column of your throat. Once he locates the thick muscle, he bites down with a ragged groan.

You yelp, half-laughing as you slap at his shoulder in shock of the savage display of his affections.

“Ouch—you asshole!”

“Mm.” He doesn’t sound sorry, and naturally, you doubt he is. His voice dips, low and warm against your skin as he kisses the bite mark with pertinent accuracy. “Don’t you like it when I’m mean?”

“No,” you lie, tilting your head back as he sucks another bruise into your neck. This one feels softer, yet the adrenaline pumping your veins makes it sizzle with heat. “I like it when you shut up and—”

“Say please.” He grins against your throat, boyish, wolfish, and entirely maddening to witness.

“Please,” you whisper, too breathless to sound smug about it or even try to deny him the satisfaction like you usually would. It’s unlike you, but agreeing to fuck him in general was starting to feel quite uncouth for your situation.

Hence, as you stumble along the precipice of your morals, you suddenly figure that you might as well just leap in.

“God, Ben, please—”

The second you say his name again, it’s like a fuse gets lit.

He shifts away from you, sitting on his knees. His eyes rake over your face, and he grins wildly, keeping furious eye contact as his fingers trace over the hem of his t-shirt. He takes it off in a swift, practiced motion, shooting you a sly wink once he spots you watching.

“Slut,” you force through a tight grin, making him snort humorously.

“Careful,” he warns as the top gets tossed on a pile with yours, his gaze half-lidded when he begins toying with the hem of his sweatpants. “You’ll wanna be nice to me going forward.”

His fingers twirl around the knotted thread, loosening it with a pull. Immediately, the melange fabric slides down his hipbone, revealing a neat line of dark hair leading to a cloth-obscured mound.

You look up at him with bated breath, his gaze searing into yours like fire.

His jaw tightens at the sight of your fluster, hooking a thumb into the waistband. Slowly, tentatively, he forces it down his hips, revealing the base of his length.

You chew your lip with a soft mewl, propping your body on your elbows to get closer. The sweatpants ride down his thighs, and finally, the whole girth of his cock springs free.

You can’t help the lewd moan that escapes your lips at the sight, gaze flitting over the thick head and slick pre-cum.

Kylo wastes no time, wrapping his fist tight and giving the breadth an experimental pump.

You hear him hiss something insignificant under his breath as the stickiness coats his knuckles, making your mouth inexplicably water. And, naturally, he notices.

“Keep looking.”

You scoff at his half-hearted mockery, shoving his thigh with the ball of your foot.

But instead of arguing, he swiftly mounts you again with a growl of your name. The sound reverberates through your pleasure-deprived body like thunder, his mouth finding yours within seconds of the assault.

You whimper into the kiss, pushed back into the pillow as he works at his cock. His tongue slips past your lips, wrestling with your own in a battle never fit in your favor.

You hear the soft pumps grow increasingly slicker, and suddenly, something grazes the inner flesh of your thigh. You don’t need to break the kiss and look down to realize just how hard he’s gotten, the fact alone sending a crisp jolt down your spine.

“You’re shivering,” he mutters against your skin, tracing his tongue down the thin veil of goosebumps emerging on your shoulder. “You excited?”

You try to scoff, but it comes out breathless. His cock smooths along the skin of your thigh, inching closer toward your impatient folds.

“You were practically drooling.” He counters smoothly, his hand slipping under your knee almost inconspicuously. “Might start charging you for the view.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Yeah?” he drawls, voice dark and low. His hand wraps around your thigh, dragging it higher. “What’s this all about, then?”

He takes a firm hold of your knees, spreading you wide and open before planting the length of his cock between your slick folds. You choke out a sharp, tight gasp when he begins to move, thick shaft inching against the entire height of your needy pussy.

Your lips part to answer, but all that comes out is a strained, suffocated moan.

He chuckles lowly at your torture, hastily gripping the base of his cock and letting it slap against your clit in quick succession. The reverberating pleasure hits you like a rolling tide, urging you to hiss a staggered profanity and inch your hand toward his abs.

His hand moves down in response, guiding himself against your entrance with a shaky breath.

“That’s what I thought.”

He slides in devastatingly slow, pulling a guttural sound straight from your lungs as your channel pulls to accommodate him.

As he slowly bottoms out, the engorged head of his cock presses against your cervix, urging you to gasp raggedly. Your back arches instinctively, eyes rolling shut with the stretch of him. He’s thick and hot and throbbing inside you, and the way your body flutters helplessly around him draws a guttural curse from his chest.

“Oh, fuck—” Kylo lets his head drop to your shoulder, whispering your name into the dew-covered skin like a prayer. “Shit—you're tight—” he pants, voice cracking as he slowly pulls out, then bangs back in. Your cry echoes against the walls, strained against his neck.

“Oh my God,” you choke out, clawing at his shoulder blades with trembling hands as he presses his body against you.

He wastes no time setting a punishing pace, snapping his hips into yours with bruising thrusts that make your toes curl and your brain short-circuit in their intensity.

“You feel that?” he grits through clenched teeth, driving into you harder each time your moans turn into strained mewls. “That’s what happens when you tease me.”

You can barely speak, voice caught somewhere between a sob and a moan as your muscles tighten with the delicious intrusion. “I—I didn’t even—”

His hand catches the back of your thigh, hiking your leg up further around his waist, getting impossibly deeper.

Your hands fumble at his shoulders, nails dragging across sweat-slick skin as his hips settle between yours. You’re flushed, throbbing, and trembling, but it’s the hungry look in his eyes that really undoes you in the end.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you whisper, voice wrecked and shaky as he plows into you. “You’re such a— f-fucking asshole.”

His breath hitches in something close to a laugh, but it’s not amused or mocking anymore.

“Yeah? You think I haven’t imagined it?” he growls, cock twitching inside you with every motion. “You—shit—under me. Moaning m-my name while you swear you fuckin’ hate me.”

You swallow hard. Your body’s trembling under his, nerves buzzing with adrenaline and something white-hot bubbling in your tummy.

“I still— I still h-hate you,” you breathe raggedly, words slurring into nothing as Kylo leans in.

He grins, lowering his lips just inches from yours but denying you closure.

“Liar.”

His pace picks up into a ragged pounding, stretching you inch by inch and watching your mouth fall open in a silent gasp. You claw at his back, mumbling quiet obscenities into the crook of his neck.

“I-I think I’ll—”

“I know, baby. I know.” He groans low, forehead pressed to yours. “God, you feel better than I dreamt—”

You gasp, hands raking through his dark locks as you let out a short, disbelieving laugh into the tantric air between you.

“You’ve dreamt about this, you sick fuck?”

His pace stills just long enough for him to breathe, lips curled into a wolfish smirk when his dark eyes meet yours in a moment of pure rapture.

“Every goddamn night.”

And then his lips are on yours again. He captures you in a sloppy, needy kiss, your whole body seizing at his filthy confession, cunt clenching tight around his cock with a sudden, aching spasm.

Kylo lets out a strained cry into your mouth, parting just enough to husk out a quiet praise.

“That’s it.” His hand slithers between your bodies, inching down your belly with a torturous gait. “Just like that.”

His thumb meets your clit, circling firmly around the precipice and sending a surge of warmth through your entire body. The combined sensation of his ministrations and the steady pumping of his cock makes you wail, loud and pathetic.

He chuckles haphazardly, catching a steady rhythm with his digit. The space between you fills with loud, filthy slaps as he bottoms out with every pump.

“Good girl.”

Your breath catches with a broken moan.

“Say it again,” you whisper, dazed and confused and so painfully close to cumming you think you might pass out before you part the threshold.

“My good girl,” he repeats, shamelessly biting down on your shoulder and urging your walls to contract once more.

He responds accordingly, bucking hard into you with a strained laugh. “Fuck, you are, aren’t you?”

You nod, barely. Your mind’s already floating, the pain and pleasure mixing too sweetly to try and separate.

“You gonna cum for me?” he pants, voice dipping with a sudden stutter of his hips.

You’re shaking, crying out, clinging to him like your life depends on it while he watches you with bated breath.

“Kylo—fuck, Ben—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” he laughs saccharinely, drawing his thumb away from your clit. The loss of pressure, however devastating, is quickly replaced by something much warmer and more welcome: his palm against your cheek, holding you close as you steadily approach your expiration. “C’mon. Wanna feel you ‘round me.”

“Shit,” you breathe, the thread of your impending pleasure threatening to break with every thrust. You’re soaked now, the excess of slick letting him slide into you with agonizing ease. “F-Fuck—fuck!”

You writhe under him, gasping into the crook of his neck as he curses under his breath, burying himself to the very hilt. You feel him grow tired now, each movement less regular than the last, while all you can do is call his name.

“God, I’m so fuckin’ close—” he hisses against you, bringing his face back to let your gazes fall in tandem. The wicked, lust-filled swirl of his eyes makes your lips twitch with a smile, looking into him like a fearing reverend. “I’m—I’m gonna cum. Jesus Christ—”

And amidst your unholy duet, you don’t believe the words that flee your mouth next.

“I—I’m safe—just—”

“Fuck—shit,” he moans, face morphing into pure, uninhibited perversion at your words, his thrusts slowing now as he knocks close to completion. “Are you serious?”

“Yes!” you wail in response, heart fluttering at his wolfish grin once he hears your explicit permission to do what you felt was unthinkable. “Yes, just— I’m fuckin’ yours, just—”

“God.” Kylo’s forehead connects with yours, voice low and delirious as his pace picks up again. When you cry out, he swallows it with a kiss, hips rolling into you in short, punishing strokes that leave you little time to think. “I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

Your release slams into you like a devastating collision, blooming in your belly and legs. You arch beneath him with a cry, shaking and coming undone in his strong arms as your cunt pulses steadily around his thick length.

With a string of half-formed curses, he buries himself deep with a stab of his hips against yours. The impact of his cock against your womb accelerates your orgasm into pure ecstasy, making you cling onto him for dear life.

With a guttural call of your name, Kylo spills into you, his hips stuttering to deliver a series of conclusive, powerful thrusts that your spent pussy welcomes greedily.

Amidst a symphony of cries and moans, you both lie there in complete bliss, chests heaving as he collapses onto you with a ragged breath. He’s heavy but warm, so solid and real you snake your arms around his neck to keep the feelings close to your heart.

Minutes pass before his hand eventually drags up your side with surprising gentleness, trailing lazy circles along your ribs and waist.

You exhale shakily, staring at the ceiling with a half-smile.

“I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Kylo snorts softly against your shoulder, nuzzling into your sweat-slick skin. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“Letting you fuck me,” you elaborate half-heartedly, unsure how authentic your words are anymore as your fingers graze the hair on the nape of his neck. “You’re insatiable.”

He hums, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and rolling you both to the side, making sure his cock never slips out of you even now as it’s softened. You mewl at the sensation, looking up at him with tired eyes.

“Mm,” he mutters, dark gaze flicking over your face with residual hunger. “Didn’t hear any complaints until now.”

“Uh-huh,” you scoff softly, nestling your hands against his chest. “If I can’t walk tomorrow morning, I’m suing.”

He smirks, leaning in to string soft kisses against your hairline. “Except you’re not walking anywhere. This is a hostage situation.”

You close your eyes and let out a long, defeated sigh, tangling your sore legs with his. “You’re actually the worst person I’ve ever met.”

He looks at you again, quirking an eyebrow in near-authentic offense.

“Yeah,” he agrees haphazardly, brushing your nose with his. “But you let this horrible guy hit raw, so what does that say about you, then?”

You feel uncharacteristically stumped, unable to muster a witty retort as you spot his plush, bitten lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. You return it absentmindedly, letting the rare, sweet moment linger as long as it wants to.

For a moment, the air between you stills.

There’s no heat or panting desperation, just the quiet weight of his body and the subtle warmth of his fingers ghosting lazy lines along your waist. You let your face fall into the crook of his neck, quietly breathing his scent in.

“You okay?” he asks softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The affection makes your eyes inexplicably glaze over.

You let a soft sigh of affirmation escape your lips as your eyes start to flutter closed.

“Yeah,” you murmur into his skin, holding there to escape his gaze. Somehow, you don’t think you’d be able to face him right now without shedding tears. “Just tired.”

He hums, tilting his head so that his temple rests against yours, breath warm where it hits your heated, oversensitive skin.

“Sleep. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

You exhale a chuckle, turning your face into the crook of his neck, lulled by the steady beat of his breathing beneath your cheek. As the aftermath of your wild deed lowers to a simmer, something much more visceral slithers between your lungs.

Your lashes brush his neck, lips parted with a soft exhale of your anxiety.

“Will you stay?”

There’s a pause. You can’t see his face, but you feel him stiffen slightly. His fingers curl a little tighter around your hip, anchoring himself to you while you wonder if it hurts him to answer.

When he does, you hear the haphazard humor lacing his tone like an escape from the pains of reality.

“Maybe.”

It’s not a promise, and though you yearned for something genuine, you don’t ask again. You know he wouldn’t be able to answer you in earnest, even if you pleaded on your knees.

And though your body still sings his praises as he curls a protective arm around your waist, your mind’s already running with a million questions: wondering what version of him you’ll wake up to tomorrow and whether anything that felt this good could ever survive the fallout.

Your breathing slows, limbs going soft beneath his as you fall asleep to the steady rhythm of your hearts intertwined, if only for one night.

[sweetrevxnge]

Like Phantoms, Forever

Chapter Twenty | Across the Stars

Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader

Summary: Your destiny had never been clear to you, only becoming so when it led you to leaving behind the life you knew to train with the galaxy's sole Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker. His Jedi Academy became your new home, bringing with it the promise of someday becoming a Jedi Knight. While navigating the ways of the Force, an inexplicable connection forms between you and a fellow student—the heir to the legendary Skywalker bloodline, Ben Solo. Together, the two of you must face your destinies and forge the path to your true selves.

What to expect: fluff, violence, sexual content, general angst, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

Additional info: this story is set in 28 ABY, six years prior to the events of TFA

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

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Word count: 6.4k

Chapter-specific CW: NSFW, descriptions of drowning

A/N: yes, I took 6 months to update this. no, I don't have any good excuses. but if you're still here reading along, know that I appreciate you so, so much and am trying my best to write more often :') ALSO... since starting this story, Lucasfilm has officially stated that Luke's academy is located on Ossus, so I'm going to edit the story to match that!

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“Geegee, set course for Ilum.”

Ben’s voice echoed through the steel ship as you watched the Academy fade into the distance, lost in the green expanse of Ossus. You stood at the back of the ship’s hull, choosing to watch your departure from a narrow viewport rather than the cockpit.

“Right away, Master Solo,” said the droid, joints squeaking as it tottered to the cockpit.

As the roar of the ship’s engines lowered to a hum, unease crept in. While the thought of venturing into the galaxy to find a kyber crystal once filled you with excitement, it now made your stomach churn. It’s going to be okay, you told yourself, trying to make it true.

Leaving the safety of the New Republic’s surveillance was hard enough on its own, let alone voyaging to a foreign ice planet in the Unknown Regions. It wasn’t all bad, though. Knowing that Geegee automatically transmitted a signal back to the Academy provided you some comfort.

Behind you, you could hear the clicks and whirs of the control panel as Ben prepared the hyperdrive. You turned around, finding him hunched over the panel, muttering something about the motivator. Despite his frustration, he carried an air of confidence as he worked. Shoulders relaxed, hair pushed back from his eyes. It was a stark contrast to the first time you had flown with him in the Grimtaash.

The memory flashed in your mind when your eyes landed on the co-pilot’s seat—the same seat that cradled your bruised, bleeding body the night you escaped Zeffo. Just the thought of it was enough to make you doubt this entire journey.

Ben sat down in his chair, letting out an accomplished sigh as he rested his hands on his knees. With the coordinates entered and the drone of the engines steadily growing louder, you knew what was coming next.

“Everything alright over there?”

Ben’s voice snapped you from your trance. You let out a sharp breath, unaware that you had been holding it for the duration of your reverie.

“Princess?” he said louder this time, craning his neck to meet your gaze.

Whether it was your unconvincing nod or your failure to meet his gaze after his question that gave your apprehension away, you weren’t sure. Regardless, in a matter of seconds, he had jumped out of his chair and come to stand in front of you, hands clasped over yours in a firm—yet comforting—grip.

“Talk to me, princess.”

It came in pieces. The pounding in your temples, followed by the pungent taste of blood coating your tongue. But the memories weren’t strictly physical. Defeat and desperation replaced your climbing anxiety, polluting your senses with the stench of utter fear. All from just looking at a piece of furniture.

Just before you could unravel, Ben’s grip on you tightened, pulling you from your thoughts. It wasn’t until your name spilled over his lips, drenched with concern, that you pulled your gaze away from the co-pilot’s seat. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t–”

“Stop it.”

You stiffened. “Stop what?”

“Saying sorry all the time,” he said with a tsk. “I’m going to start charging you five credits every time you do it.”

“Well, the joke’s on you then. I don’t have any credits,” you said dryly.

Ben cocked an eyebrow at you and, without him saying a single word, you gave in. Exhaling a long breath, your nerves settled.

“It’s just hard being in here again, even under the best circumstances.” Without realizing it, you found yourself squeezing his hands in return, holding onto him like a lifeline. “Not to mention what would happen if I were unable to find a kyber crystal. Master Skywalker would send me into exile and I would be forced to live a life veiled in shame and failure–”

“Okay, I get it,” he said, fighting back a laugh. “But that’s not going to happen. It’s going to be okay, I promise,” he said, releasing your hands as he sat down again. “Now, we need to make the jump to hyperspace, which is unfortunately something you need to be sitting for. It’ll just be a moment, okay?”

You nodded in understanding, moving to sit in the co-pilot’s chair. But before you could lower yourself into the seat, Ben’s hands locked onto your waist, spinning you around and pulling you to sit on his lap.

A gasp escaped your mouth, earning a deep, amused laugh from the pilot. You whipped your head around, shooting him a disapproving look.

“What? I didn’t specify where you had to sit,” he said, squeezing your hips lightly. His gentle touch eased your nerves, calming you in a matter of seconds.

“You’re an infuriating man, you know that?” you said with mock ridicule.

“So I’m told.” Dimples framed his smile, melting away any remaining concern. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost believe that his charm was more effective than any sedative a medical droid could offer. Almost.

Ben leaned forward, toggling a few more switches on the control panel. The feeling of his lips grazing the shell of your ear pulled you from your thoughts.

“Will you do me the honor?” he asked, weaving his fingers with yours as he guided your hand to the slender chrome lever in the center of the dashboard. The hyperdrive.

“Are you sure I’m qualified?” you asked.

With a peck on the cheek, he replied, “Absolutely.”

Your heart slammed into your ribs, causing your hands to tremble as you grabbed the rod. It was natural to be nervous about flying—especially when you were in the pilot’s seat. But the big arms wrapped around your torso assured you that you were safe.

As you pulled back on the lever, the engines roared in crescendo, launching the ship into hyperspace. The momentum pinned you against Ben, forcing you to grab onto the armrests for support. In the blink of an eye, the stars surrounding you transformed into blinding streaks of light before morphing into the swirling blue blur of deep space. To say it was exhilarating would be an understatement.

“Look at you,” Ben cooed, planting another kiss on your shoulder. “Before you know it, you’ll be piloting this thing all by yourself.”

You scoffed. “I seriously doubt that. I can barely operate a landspeeder without endangering myself and others.”

“Well, there’s only one way to get better, and I assure you, I’m a much better teacher than my uncle is.” Ben lowered his seat to a more comfortable position, pulling you back with him until you were resting against his chest.

“Is that so?” You couldn’t control your wandering hands as they crawled up the pleats of his robes, peeling back the fabric along his chest and neck.

He clasped your hands in his, holding them in place. “I mean it. After everything that happened, I want you to be comfortable piloting if you need to.”

There it was again, that horrible cloud that hung over your head at the mere mention of Zeffo. As if sensing this, Ben sighed and brought your fingers to his lips.

His warm breath spreading over your skin and his big, brown eyes peering up at you softened your resolve, leaving you no choice but to agree. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“I think you’ll find that I can be quite persuasive,” he said as he kissed the tender pads of your fingers, slowly working his way from pinky to thumb. He lingered on the last digit, dragging it over his plush lips. “Want me to show you?”

You nodded, mind turning hazy as you watched his lips, keenly aware of his other hand creeping under your tunic.

“Ben, we really shouldn’t,” you said halfheartedly, trying and failing to pull your hands free.

“Why not?”

“Because…” You drew the word out, motioning with your eyes to the empty hull of the ship. “This ship isn’t exactly private.”

He followed your gaze. “I see. Here, allow me to fix that.”

Without taking his attention off you, Ben flicked a switch on the control panel, causing the sliding door of the cockpit to close, hissing as it sealed you in.

“Better?” he asked, slipping his other hand under your robes, leaving a trail of gooseflesh behind as he inched towards your bra.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you rolled your hips forward, pressing down on his growing desire. “Much.”

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Now, we need to address a different issue. You’re wearing too many clothes.” His wandering hands stopped at the clasp of your bra, undoing it in one swift motion. “Let’s fix that.”

Raising your arms over your head, you let him peel away the heavy cloth, kicking off your boots as he did the same with his robes. Arousal burned through you as you undressed in the small space, cursing the confines of the cockpit. Still in his uniform pants, Ben pulled you onto his lap again, eyes raking over your newly exposed skin like it was the first time he’d seen it.

All that remained now was your underwear, the only barrier between you and the rough cloth of his pants as you straddled his hips. “Why do I always end up more naked than you?”

“Shh…” A smirk ghosted his lips as strong hands moved to grab fistfuls of your ass, squeezing with a bruising force. “We wouldn’t want anyone overhearing us, would we?”

The heat simmering low in your belly quickly transformed into a wild flame, demanding attention. Lacing your fingers through his hair, you kissed down the curve of his neck, running along the taut muscles until you reached his collarbone.

“I can’t make any promises,” you said, teeth grazing his skin.

A low moan rumbled in his chest, vibrating on your lips. “Fuck,” he said under his breath, snaking a hand up your spine and doing the same to your hair. Tugging your head back, he leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “Then I’ll have to find another way to keep you quiet.”

With that, his grip loosened, fingers moving to trace over your jaw until his thumb slid over your bottom lip. “Open,” he ordered, trailing kisses down your chest, coming dangerously close to your breasts.

You obeyed, squirming in his lap from the anticipation, seeking any relief for the ache growing between your legs. As you parted your lips, he pushed his thumb into your mouth.

“Good. Now, suck.”

Head spinning with arousal, you swirled your tongue over his digit, earning a groan of approval from him. You stifled a gasp as he took a nipple into his mouth, alternating between sucking and rolling his tongue over it. Beneath you, you could feel his cock stiffening, causing your arousal to burn hotter.

Wanting to encourage this, you sucked harder, allowing your moans to rumble around his thumb. When his cock twitched against you, you beamed with pride.

A moment later, he released your nipple with a pop, free hand fumbling with the waistband of his pants. “I need to fuck you,” he said, practically begging as he worked his pants down.

Every nerve in your body was alight, needy for attention. He pulled his thumb away, watching in awe as a string of saliva fell from your lips before running it over the head of his cock. Pupils blown with lust, he wasted no time, dragging your underwear to the side and spreading your desire around your entrance.

With a grunt, he paused, searching your eyes. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you said breathlessly, aligning yourself with him. “Please.”

You both let out a sigh as he pushed into you, lips clashing together. Before long, you relaxed around him, sinking your hips lower, relishing how he stretched you. He moved slowly at first, giving you control as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the headrest. Dark locks of hair fanned over his face, clinging to the beads of sweat forming on his skin.

True to his word, he kept quiet, concealing his groans of pleasure as heavy breaths. The same couldn’t be said for you, who was letting out wanton moans with every thrust. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, though. The desire coursing through you had addled your mind, leaving you unable to control yourself.

A particularly loud gasp caught Ben’s attention, causing him to slow his movements. “Careful, princess.”

Nails digging into the armrests, you held back another moan. “Sorry—I just can’t—help it.”

“I know you can’t.” The corners of his lips twitched and before you knew it, his thumb was seeking entrance to your mouth again. “Now, be a good girl for me and stay quiet.”

Running your tongue over his thumb, you welcomed him in again, heat rushing to your core as you sucked. Ben’s breaths grew erratic as he continued to fuck into you, eyes trained on your lips. He effectively silenced you, but the few moans that managed to escape were now muffled by his thumb instead.

“That’s my girl,” he said, sliding his finger free and dropping it to your aching clit. “I think you deserve a reward.”

“Don’t tease, Ben,” you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly applied pressure.

“Didn’t plan on it,” he said, drawing tight circles around your bud. 

The sensation was enough to drive you insane, hips rolling involuntarily against his hand, demanding more. Insatiable as ever, you pleaded for him to go faster, earning his cooperation.

“Fuck—baby—you look so good riding me.” His words were broken by quick breaths, evidence of his mounting pleasure. Your thighs burned from straddling his, trembling as your own pleasure threatened to wash over you. Every second you spent teetering on the edge felt torturous, stretching for eternity.

Desperate for release, you rolled your hips harder, forcing more pressure from Ben’s hand. A string of expletives fell from your lips as your resolve shattered, allowing the ecstasy bubbling beneath the surface to flood in. You bit down on the back of your hand, lost in the waves of euphoria that rippled through your body, your cunt pulsing around his cock.

With one last thrust, Ben gripped you tight, pulling you against his chest and burying his face into your neck. He littered your skin with sloppy kisses as he regained his composure, slowly leaning back into the seat.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his as your fingers traced over his rattling chest.

He let out a long sigh through his nose before agreeing. “Me too.”

Time passed like the stars swirling around you, and before long, the Grimtaash snapped out of hyperspace, revealing the ice planet of Ilum before you.

With a striking, silvery atmosphere, and patches of white storms riddling its surface, Ilum was truly a sight to behold. Unlike Dantooine and Ossus, there was no distinction between the terrains, only a vast, pale landscape.

“You weren’t lying about the snow,” you said, standing from your seat to get a better look.

“That’s what the coats are for,” Ben replied with a wink before calling back to the hull of the ship. “Geegee, prepare the landing sequence.”

The two of you had traded your robes for thermals and jackets in anticipation of landing, but despite the layers, a chill traveled down your spine. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought it was from the planet’s atmosphere radiating through the ship, but you knew what caused it. The prospect of adventure, traversing the unknown with the person you love by your side.

The realization felt like a blow to your chest, upsetting your balance as you reclaimed your seat. A string of beeps behind you pulled you from your thoughts. Master Skywalker’s astromech had come out of rest mode, now serving as a well-timed distraction.

Ben laughed under his breath. “No, Artoo. Your wheels will freeze to the ground if you go with us.”

The droid fired back, warbling as he rocked side to side on his wheels in defiance.

“You know I’m right! We can’t just sit around all day waiting for you to defrost.”

Another rebuttal from the droid, one that made Ben’s mouth fall open. “Just… stay on the ship, okay?”

R2-D2 concluded his argument with another string of beeps before spinning his head and body around and leaving the cockpit.

The low hum of machinery permeated the silence as you sat back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest. You would’ve given anything to know what R2-D2 had said to get under Ben’s skin the way he did.

Ahead, the Grimtaash entered the planet’s atmosphere, causing the ship to lurch as it sliced through the storm clouds. The floor beneath you no longer felt solid as the turbulence rattled the ship like a leaf in the wind, dread stirring in your stomach.

“Hold on tight—it’s going to be a rough landing,” Ben said, hunched over the control panel as he completed the landing sequence.

“Yeah, I gathered that!”

With knuckles blanched around the armrests, you squeezed your eyes shut and waited for the chaos to settle. When the ship finally touched the ground, you relaxed, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Running a hand through his glossy black hair, Ben smiled at you. “Welcome to Ilum.”

All the furs and thermals in the galaxy couldn’t have prepared you for the cold of Ilum. It was visceral, threatening to turn every drop of blood in your body into crimson ice. White flurries engulfed you, blinding you to your surroundings. If it weren’t for his hand clutching yours, you’d hardly be able to make out where Ben stood.

“Lovely weather this time of year, isn’t it?” he joked, voice raised over the howling wind.

You opened your mouth to respond but stopped when the chill spread through your teeth, prompting you to pull one of your many layers over your nose for coverage. “I didn’t think it was possible to be this cold.”

Shielding the snow from his eyes, he leaned in closer. “Once we get inside the caves, it won’t be so bad.”

From the depths of his coat pockets, he retrieved a small cylindrical device, struggling to activate it from the confines of his leather gloves. Finally, a blue digital map appeared in the center, displaying a system of caves and tunnels northeast of where you’d landed.

“There,” he said, his breaths strained from the weather. “The closest entrance is less than a kilometer away. Follow me.”

Wordlessly, you did as you were told, careful to step in Ben’s footprints to avoid sinking through the snow. The two of you were uncharacteristically quiet as you trekked through the tundra. You daydreamed about beams of sunlight, steaming cups of caf, and hot showers—just to name a few. More than just a coping mechanism for the intense cold, it also served as a distraction from the task awaiting you.

A natural opening in the crag served as your respite from the elements, inviting you to explore the labyrinth within. Despite being encased in frost and ice, the alcove felt warm, if only from the vapor of your breaths.

“So, where do we go from here?” you asked, voice hoarse from the wind.

“That’s kind of the problem,” Ben said, peeling off his wind-beaten jacket. “The Empire gutted this place, making it unstable in some areas. For now, we’ll follow the charted tunnels.”

“Why am I not surprised to hear that?” you grumbled, doing the same with your coat. It came as no surprise to learn that the Empire plundered the Jedi’s sacred planet, destroying the ancient temple housed in its caves as they did. Twisting the knife in the Jedi Order’s back.

“It’s what they did best. But that’s why we’re here,” he said, a smile tugging at his rosy lips. “To rebuild.”

To defend, you thought. Your heart sank at the idea of your efforts being in vain. What good would a fledgling Jedi Order be against a rising empire? If the old Order crumbled at the height of its power, Master Skywalker’s Order didn’t stand a chance.

You cleared your throat, pushing your thoughts aside and refocusing on the task at hand. “Right. Well, then. Where should we start?” you asked, glancing at the glowing holomap in his palm.

“That’s not my decision to make.” His eyes twinkled from the blue light of the map as he placed it in your hand.

As much as you wanted to reject it, you didn’t. He was right, after all. This was your journey; he was just here as support.

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “But I don’t want to hear any complaints if we get lost.”

He smiled down at you. “Sure thing, princess.”

You nodded, holding his gaze for a moment longer. It was impossible to ignore his frostbitten beauty. Tendrils of hair clung to his forehead, the result of melted frost and sweat. The cold highlighted his sharp features more than ever, coloring his cheeks and nose in a peachy hue. Under different circumstances, you’d be happy to help him warm up.

Heat rushed to your face as you refocused on the holomap. Now was not the time—and most certainly not the place.

You examined the details of the holomap, trying to make sense of the labyrinth of grainy blue pathways. The crack you’d slipped through was just one of many that led to the caverns within, like veins tracing back to a heart. From what you could tell, the path you were on eventually let out into a central chamber, which then branched out into a handful of different tunnels. It was as good a starting point as any, and with a deep breath, you set out.

Ben followed behind you as you navigated the tunnel, with only the occasional drop of water breaking the comfortable silence. Stalactites adorned the ceiling, each bearing a unique state of damage. Every inch of the slate walls shimmered with ice crystals, reflecting in all directions as the blue glow of the holomap passed by. Slivers of clouded sunlight squeezed through cracks in the cavern’s walls, illuminating your footpath.

“What was your first time here like?” you asked over your shoulder, studying the mining scars etched into the walls for any sign of kyber.

“Loud,” he said, sighing. “I mean, just imagine a dozen teenagers running around a place like this. It’s a miracle we didn’t drive Master Skywalker insane.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the image he painted. He, Tai, Hennix, and to your surprise, Voe came to mind, a decade younger than they were now, squealing as their feet slid across the patches of ice. And Master Skywalker, futilely trying to reign them in.

“Maybe that’s why he wasn’t keen on coming back,” you said with a scoff.

He chuckled. “Maybe.”

A beat passed before you asked, “How long did it take you to find your crystal?”

Another sigh. “I’ll tell you once you find yours.”

Where you had hoped his answer would provide you with some comfort, you were only left with doubt. What if you couldn’t find one today? Or tomorrow? Or at all?

“Of course you will,” you muttered, watching your position on the holomap as it gently pulsed, showing that you were approaching the end of the tunnel.

The cave ahead was larger than you’d expected. With a ceiling that blended with the hanging darkness, you would’ve thought you’d stumbled upon a rune crafted by ancient men. But the crags and formations embedded in the walls proved otherwise. Water trickled freely down the jagged mineral, echoing throughout the room and filling the space with a fresh fragrance—rather than that of stale air.

Veins of opaque, white crystal ran through the stone walls, and for a moment, you wondered if this was it. There was only one way to find out.

Carefully, you approached a thread, setting the holomap down on a patch of ice. With trembling hands, you peeled a glove off and brushed the surface. The cavern immediately siphoned the warmth from your fingers, turning them numb before you could determine if the ore was made of kyber.

Finally, you conceded. “I don’t feel anything,” you grumbled, working your hand back into the glove.

Ben came to stand behind you, chest pressed flush against your back as his hands slid down your hips. “That’s okay. It’s just quartzite ore.” His breath fanned over your ear. “You’re not the first person to mistake it for kyber, and you won’t be the last, either.”

You spun around, still locked in his embrace. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He smiled. “We’ve been looking for all of twenty minutes. Don’t give up yet, princess.”

Despite everything—the weight of the unknown, the frost forming within your lungs, the lingering doubts you held about leaving the protection of the Academy—you found yourself savoring this moment. Deep in the heart of Ilum’s caves, wrapped in Ben Solo’s arms, you were content.

The vision of Coruscant appeared in your mind. Of you and him on the balcony overlooking the crowded hyperlanes of the planet home to so much life that it had become life itself. A place where anyone could blend in. Or disappear.

You blinked, wiping away the dream. “What if I never find one?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “I’d say that’s pretty unlikely. The Empire took what they could, but that doesn’t mean that they were thorough.”

“No. I mean…” You dropped your gaze, holding his hands on your waist. “What if we left now? Before I find a crystal, and before you undergo the Jedi Trials.”

At that, his face fell. “This is your fear talking. You’re not thinking rationally.”

“No, just… listen to me.” You guided yours and his hands over your heart, acutely aware of its relentless pace. “Is this our destiny? To steal moments under the cover of darkness? Away from the eyes of the galaxy?”

Ben was silent for a long moment, his honey eyes searching yours, full of conflict. “What if it is?”

Your breaths mingled, dancing to the tune of your heartbeats. His words told a different story than his heart—the heart you shared.

“I know you don’t believe that,” you said, running a thumb over his rosy cheeks. “So, what’s stopping you?”

He untangled himself from your grasp, raking his fingers through his hair as he paced the room. “I can’t just leave. The galaxy is on the brink of another war—the same war my family dedicated their lives to ending. I’ve spent the last thirteen years working to become a Jedi Knight, to protect the people of the galaxy from conflicts like this.” He pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose, shaking his head lightly. “I’ve come too close to throw it all away now.”

He was right. The galaxy was in jeopardy, its future dependent on the New Republic’s ability to snuff out a fire before it became an inferno. War was likely, and when it came, you both needed to be there to serve the light. To serve justice.

You realized then just how polarized the two of you were. Ben, the son of a Skywalker, burdened with the weight of a legacy imposed upon him from birth. Hailing from a family that ensured he would follow the Jedi path, just as his uncle and grandfather had.

And you, the daughter of a traitor. With no one left to turn to. Whose family legacy was that of deceit and treason.

It was unfair to ask this of him; you knew that. But in the same breath, you couldn’t imagine continuing to live like this.

Before you could apologize, Ben’s hands seized your face, his lips crashing against yours. His kiss felt like a flame breathing oxygen, burning hot and powerful, rendering you senseless.

“But I can’t lose you, either,” he said, resting his forehead on yours. “You are the stars in my sky. Without you, I’d be lost in the dark.”

Your heart skipped at his confession, and yet, words eluded you. The three you’d long wanted to give voice to felt too constrictive. What you shared with him went beyond anything under the definition of love alone. It was so much more than that—a connection that tied you to one another. The Force itself granted you this insight when it bridged your minds, creating the bond you shared. To call it love would be a disservice.

“Then come with me,” you whispered, pulling away to look at him. “It doesn’t have to be today. Just someday. Tomorrow holds endless possibilities for us.”

He pursed his lips as he let out a long breath, leaving you in agonizing suspense as he prepared his answer. “Okay.”

Elated, you reached to cup his face, eager to return the kiss he’d given you moments ago. Except his hands stopped you before you could.

“But only after you’ve finished your training,” he added, hands gliding down your arms. “And when the galaxy doesn’t need our help.”

It was a fair compromise to make—no different from you asking him to leave his life behind. Most of all, it was a compromise you could live with. 

“Promise?” you asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I promise.” He breathed the words rather than whispered them, stoking the fire in your chest. Before you could, he closed the distance and kissed you again, more gently this time—perhaps than ever before. It was the manifestation of his word, and yours in return.

When he eventually pulled away, the ghost of his touch lingered, burning through your very soul. A vortex threatened to consume you, chipping away at your rationality, seeking to swallow you whole. But now was not the time. In this moment, you knew what you needed to do, and even if it required the strength of all the stars in the galaxy, you would do it.

You cleared your throat as you reached for the holomap, forcing yourself to be interested in anything other than tearing Ben’s clothes off. “It looks like this path here branches out into three smaller ones.” Using the dial on the base of the map, you magnified the projected image, looking to Ben for reassurance. “We’ll follow it through.”

He nodded. “Lead the way, captain.”

The two of you continued down the cavern’s narrow and winding passages for hours, only stopping when an unexpected gleam of light caught your eye. Out of the twelve times you’d hoped to find kyber, eight were quartzite, with the other four being shards of scrap metal left behind from the Empire’s demolitions. Each disappointment chipped away at your morale, feeding into your belief that you were unworthy of being a Jedi.

Ben must have recognized this as he suggested stopping for a break, digging through his pack for an energy ration. You came to stand beside him, dragging your feet across the ground as if they had turned into blocks of ice.

“Here,” he said, offering you the ration he’d fished out. “You need to eat. This will tie you over until we can get back to the ship.”

“At this rate, that could be days from now.” Your fingers had lost all dexterity as you tried to unwrap the ration, mouth beginning to water at the thought of food. “I just want to go home.”

As you took the first bite, your vision turned white, but only for a fraction of a second. It startled you, causing you to drop the chocolate-coated ration onto the icy floor.

“Hey! Careful with the Endorian cocoa. That stuff’s hard to come by nowadays,” Ben said as a deafening shriek pierced the silence of the caverns. 

You twisted your neck, trying to identify where it originated, heart hammering against your ribs as you lifted a trembling finger to your lips.

Ben grabbed the crook of your arm, turning you to face him. “What are you doing?” His tone was stern, seemingly unfazed by the cry that still echoed through the caves.

You wrested your arm free, lowering your voice to below than a whisper. “Are you deaf? That noise—the scream. We’re not alone.”

“I didn’t hear anything.” His dark eyes were wide, suspicious. “And we are alone. If we weren’t, the holomap would pick up their heat signatures, too.”

You lowered your eyes to the map, finding only yours and Ben’s forms in shades of red and yellow. But before you could consider any logical explanations for the sound, another cry rang through the tunnel, this time coming from the unexplored end of the path. Shrouded in darkness, the path beckoned you, drawing you closer like a magnet. The voice was deep and distorted, yet familiar. You closed off your other senses, focusing only on the voice as it came to clarity. Someone—or something—was calling for you.

“Come to me…” it said, nearly clear enough to be mistaken for another person in the room. “My love.”

Your breath hitched and tears welled in your eyes, rolling down your cold cheeks and onto the exposed fur of your jacket. It was a voice you wouldn’t soon forget.

“M-mom?” you asked, like a child searching for comfort in the night.

Ben stiffened at the word. “Princess, there’s no one else here.” From the volume of his voice, you could tell he was wary. He must have thought you were in a hallucinatory state, and truthfully, you couldn’t blame him.

“I know, but I can hear her calling for me,” you said, voice cracking as you stepped towards her voice. “I have to follow it.”

“No, you don’t.” He reached for you again, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Maybe you caught something in the infirmary or–”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, pulling away. “I just… feel like this is something I need to do.”

“Well, you’re not going alone,” Ben insisted, trailing behind you. “I promised Master Skywalker that I would keep you safe, and I can’t do that if we’re separated.”

You ignored him, turning on your heels and reaching into the Force to guide you in the right direction.

Beyond the shadows was another frost-lined chamber, and as you entered, the world around you fell silent. No voices, no footsteps, no ambient drops of water. Only the sound of your breath.

Your boots squeaked on the icy ground as you shifted your weight, glancing back to find Ben. To your surprise—and horror—you found yourself entirely alone. Not only that, but the chamber itself had become something unrecognizable, with no exits and cramped walls.

Panic swelled in your chest and as it did, the ice beneath you gave way, plunging you into dark, freezing water.

You were numb in an instant. Struggling against the weight of your clothes and the fear consuming you, you tried to swim, limbs heavy as bricks as you willed them to move. Unable to process what had happened, your thoughts were overtaken by instinct.

Slowly, you pushed forward, following the only source of light spilling through the black water. With no end in sight, you wondered if you would even make it, lungs growing tight, burning more with each passing second.

The light was pure, preternaturally so, blinding you as you swam into its glow. You resisted the urge to draw a breath, knowing that doing so would only seal your fate. You couldn’t die like this, not now. Not after the promises you’d made in these caves.

As the light engulfed you, you thought of Ben. Where was he? Could he sense that you were on the verge of sinking into oblivion? Would he mourn you when he realized?

With that last question, you used what was left of your energy to call to the Force, pleading for its aid. It wasn’t long before its familiar warmth came to you, an invisible hand grabbing yours and guiding you to the surface. 

As you approached the rippling plane of water, you could hear your name being called, dampened by the roar of blood rushing in your ears. It came again, louder this time, synchronous with your hand breaking through the water.

Cool air kissed your skin, welcoming you back to life. You thrashed at the surface, coughing up the water you’d taken in when you fell, nearly heaving from the force of it. As you opened your burning eyes, you found that the hand holding yours wasn’t invisible at all, but tangible, as real as your own.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” your mother said, lips unmoving as her words permeated the air. “You’re safe now.”

She looked ethereal, a backdrop of white light painting her like a vision of an angel. For a moment, you were sure that you’d arrived in the afterlife, reunited with your mother at long last. It wasn’t until her hand slipped away and yours hit the hard stone floor you realized you weren’t.

The brilliant light vanished along with her presence, leaving you blanketed in darkness. Desperate to escape the freezing water, you clawed at the jagged stone of the opening, mustering the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows. Your nails dug into your palms as you pushed yourself out of the water, crawling only a few inches before falling onto your back, muscles screaming. The layers of wet clothing clung to your skin, sending a violent chill through your bones, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was your breathing, the sweet sting of air filling your lungs.

The Force lingered around you as you lay there, fists slowly unfurling as the adrenaline waned. As your fingers relaxed, something rolled out of your palm, hitting the wet stone with a soft clink.

Your eyes shot open at the sound. Scrambling to sit up, you searched for the object in the dim light, but it didn’t take you long.

Beside you was a glowing crystal, pulsing with a heartbeat of its own and humming a soft melody attuned to your ears. You blinked in disbelief as you reached for it, tears blurring your vision.

A blue heart of kyber, calling to you.

[the-authoress-writes]

Up Where We Belong Part Three

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Writer!reader

Up Where We Belong Masterlist

Synopsis: When a writer experiencing horrible writer’s block goes to the Apple Valley Airshow for inspiration, she meets a certain older, daring naval aviator, leading to maybe a little more than just inspiration.

Warnings: Mentions of family member deaths, cancer, some to-be-expected cursing, age gap (reader is in their late thirties to early forties).

But really, this is just fluff.

Author’s Note: This was a pain to finish—you know the feeling when you know what you have to do, but you don’t know how to do it?

(Insert Ben Solo/Kylo Ren/Adam Driver gif here)

Yeah, that was this.

So many parts of this were so stubborn, even when I knew what the next story beat was; combine that with the inner critic being a bitch and the imposter syndrome impostoring, this was a labor of love.

Obviously, I pushed through, and here we have the final chapter of “Up Where We Belong”, which I am very proud of.

Again, I name a story after a song, from another movie about the Navy, funnily enough.

(Only three of my stories on my masterlist are not named after songs)

I can’t stop, apparently.

So here we go!

Even while her phone was telling her she was on the right path, she briefly wondered if she was, in fact, lost.

It couldn’t be more obvious that she was in the middle of nowhere, lonely desert stretching out before her for miles and miles, with nary another car in sight, much less a building that could conceivably be a hangar.

It comforted her to see a blue Bronco pass her by at a brisk pace as she continued down the route indicated by her phone, having not seen another car for the past fifteen or so minutes.

She eventually turned when her phone instructed her, the hills along the road she’d been driving next to giving way to an enormous desert plain, and the slightly heat-distorted sight of a building in the distance, probably a mile off.

A smile crossed her face, that had to be it.

As she drew closer, the nerves she’d been tamping down started to bubble up again, and she cursed herself. “Get a grip, woman, you’re here to review a scene, not to go on a date.”

Despite that, the fact that she’d spent nearly half an hour planning what she’d wear today felt like a Freudian slip—a loose orange tunic with small blue embroidered flowers on the hem and sleeves, dark wash skinny jeans and brown ankle boots—eventually deeming it not too much, but not like she didn’t care.

As she got closer, the building became more impressive, despite its rather homely outward appearance—from the white-painted wood panels worn down to their natural color here and there, the fading “United States Navy” emblazoned at the top, to the faint, sun-bleached squadron insignia on the open bay doors—it just felt beautiful in a wild way.

She parked about several yards away from the hangar doors and shut off the engine. “Okay, what’s going to happen will happen,” she muttered, “you’re going to survive it hook or by crook.

And besides, you don’t even know if he’s married or in a relationship.”

And with that rousing Crispin Crispianish speech, she picked up her messenger bag, slinging it onto her shoulder as she got out of the car.

The desert heat and silence washed over her as she moved towards the doors, calling out, “Hello?”

“In here,” came the reply.

She stepped inside the hangar, the shift to relative darkness briefly obscuring her vision, causing her to blink as her eyes adjusted, to see Pete standing by Bianca, looking somehow even better than she remembered, like something out of a movie.

His gaze was fixed intently on her, the slightest smile on his face, and she couldn’t help but match his expression, a “Hey there, sailor,” thoughtlessly slipping from her lips, which she immediately mentally kicked herself for saying; “Damn it, woman, how awkward can you be?” flashed through her mind like a neon sign.

Thankfully, he only brightly replied, “Hey, glad you could make it.”

Her smile widened. “Not going to miss it—for all I know, this is a one-time opportunity,” she truthfully replied, determined to make the most of this opportunity in regard to her novel—other… hypothetical motivations notwithstanding.

He shrugged, eyes sparkling, his movie star smile as devastating as a whole volume of honeyed poetry. “Who said it was?”

She chuckled, wrenching her gaze away from him before she said or did something stupid, settling for the sting of her teeth on her lip to knock her back to her senses.

Her eyes flit about the hangar, eventually landing on Bianca, the frontispiece of the whole room. “Great place you’ve got here, must’ve been hard to get, though, with it being Navy land.”

“Not that hard when you’ve got friends in high places,” he replied.

The sentence itself was vaguely humorous, something wry, an inside joke, but there was a weight to his tone, like the joke had lost its humor, and instead turned into something to grieve.

She tilted her head slightly, another enigma comprising Pete “Maverick” Mitchell revealing itself.

But before she could think too much, he broke the sudden silence. “Anyway, uh,” he clapped his hands, “you had a scene that needs checking?”

She blinked and raised the leather messenger bag on her shoulder. “I have my laptop right here.”

He gestured grandly to his couch, and as they moved towards it, she surreptitiously wiped her hands on her thighs, perspiration disappearing in the dark wash of her jeans, then busied herself with opening her laptop, finger fumbling on the start screen as she felt him settle in the seat next to her—realistically, she knew he’d likely sit next to her, but just because one knew something didn’t prepare one for experiencing it.

Again, the blinking cursor on her MacBook’s screen seemed to cackle at her, but she ignored it in favor of typing in her password, opening the laptop to the dreaded dogfight scene. “Here it is in all its misery,” she half-joked.

“May I?” he gestured to the device.

“Go ahead,” she sighed.

Pete picked up the device, leaning back with it in his lap, eyes darting about the screen, mouth moving slightly as he read, and in a matter of moments, his hands came up, mimicking the movements she’d written, while his face alternately made skeptical, approving, and a few amused expressions.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she plaintively asked, bracing for the worst, when he carefully placed the MacBook on his coffee table what seemed like an eternity later.

“It’s not bad at all,” he shook his head, an earnest expression lighting his features. “There are some maneuvers there that are only plausible for the P-51 in a rare set of conditions, and a… couple that I’d say are more in line with the capabilities of the F-35–or the 18 in my hands—but overall, it’s pretty damn good for a self-professed newbie to writing a dogfight scene.”

Her jaw fell open. “You’re kidding me.”

“Swear on my wings,” he laughed, the sound so musical, it was almost annoying how perfect and beautiful this man was.

“How would you fix it?”

He pointed, “Do you have a pen and notebook?”

“Never go anywhere without one.”

That beautiful smile of his spread his lips. “Well, let’s turn and burn, then.”

They worked for a couple or so hours, Pete writing out more plausible maneuvers to replace the impossible ones, demonstrating them with some models he’d run off to another corner of the hangar to retrieve, both of them mutually deciding to leave most of the only slightly implausible ones in, save for the ones where the bounds of reality were a little too stretched for the aerial conditions she’d already committed to, while she elaborated on what he’d written, fitting it into the novel’s style.

Eventually, she released a breath of victory, and proffered the laptop to Pete again, now actually proud of the dogfight scene. “You want to read it again?”

“Alright,” he easily agreed.

He read it again, the scene before her the same as over two hours ago, but this time, the skeptical and amused looks were replaced with a captivated and admiring expression.

“Well?” she prompted.

He blew out a breath. “It reads even better than I thought it would, you’re really good at this.”

She leaned forward, needing to be sure she hadn’t imagined him saying that. “It’s good?”

Pete leaned forward, into her personal space, matching her, as he fervently said, “It’s amazing.”

Her breath caught as the moment stretched taut around them, the two of them close enough for her to see the light reflecting off the peridot and aquamarine flecks in the brilliant jade of his eyes.

She looked around the hangar again at his earnest gaze, the itch to do something stupid scratching at her skin once more—she had a feeling that that would be a pattern for her with Pete Mitchell. “So, tell me, what exactly is it you do for the Navy, Captain Mitchell?”

He froze minutely at the end of her sentence, swallowing thickly as he processed the question.

“If you’ll have to kill me, there’s no need to tell me,” she joked, as she literally saw his brain reboot.

He blinked and chuckled softly, coming back to himself. “No, no, nothing as secretive as all that; I’m an instructor at TOPGUN—basically, I teach the Navy’s best aviators how to be better.

That’s why I talked about students during our phone call.”

“We’ll have to compare notes sometime to see who got it worse—I used to be a high school English teacher.”

Pete winced. “Ooh, teenagers, I don’t envy you.

But imagine taking hotshot twenty-somethings who fly multi-million dollar weapons as a career, who think they’re the best and know everything, shoving them into one room, and having to show them quite vividly that they don’t know everything.”

She gave her own wince. “Ooh.

But come on, you can’t have it that bad—especially if you fly an F-18 anything like how you flew Bianca at Apple Valley.

You’re telling me they’d still act up after getting so thoroughly schooled?”

He tilted his head from side to side, amused. “You’d be surprised, but uh… well, let’s just say that most of the “old man” comments typically tend to lose their bite by the end of the first hop.”

She laughed loudly, throwing her head back, just imagining the reactions of those hotshot kids. “As they should—I’d pay to see their reactions, come to think of it.”

She looked back at him to see his gaze was intently focused on her, but it didn’t send a shiver down her spine—at least not in the unsettling way it usually did when men stared at her. “Maybe my next class cycle, you’d like to come down to North Island, sit in the control tower, listen in on the first hop or two,” he said.

“An opportunity to see an experienced naval aviator in his element; I must say that’s an appealing offer.”

“You just let me know if you want to take me up on it.”

It was sheer instinct to say, “You know, I just might.”

Lowly, he replied, “I’d like that.”

The honestly there was breathtaking.

A glance out the bay doors showed that the sun was starting to hang low in the sky, casting a yellow-orange glow on everything, and caution nipped at her heels. “It’s kind of getting late, and I don’t want to bother you into the evening, I should go.”

Pete’s face fell ever so slightly. “You’re no bother, but I understand if you need to go.”

The slight drop of his features felt like a fall from a high precipice, sinking like a stone in her stomach. “Thank you so much again for your help, I really can’t thank you enough for everything,” she reassured.

“It’s no problem,” he said, almost resignedly.

She felt an intense yearning in her soul to strip that lonely note from his voice, to lift the sadness from him which came in like a squall, so she said the first thing that came to mind, her heretofore carefully-maintained caution getting unceremoniously kicked to the curb. “Uh, this might be stupid, and I’m so sorry if I’m being a nuisance, so feel free to tell me off, but… would you mind if I called you again?

Honestly—I, I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this in much detail with, and—and I’d love to talk with someone who understands the perspective my granduncle might’ve had.”

To her happiness, he brightened. “Not at all, I’d li—it’d be ni—” he sighed, a little wry smile playing on his lips, “feel free to call.”

She resisted the urge to giggle at his fumbling for words. “Okay, I’ll do that.

Thank you.

I promise not to call at like, 2:00 in the morning, when you’re asleep.”

He laughed, but pulled a face that had her mentally frowning as they both stood; however, she didn’t mention it, and instead gathered her things before Pete escorted her to her car, opening the door for her. “I’ll uh, expect your call?”

If the former sadness in his tone tugged at her heart, the thinly veiled hope now there positively wrenched it, and caution was nowhere to be seen. “It might come sooner than you think.”

The boyish, excited expression on his face was enough to make her heart skip a beat. “I look forward to it.”

By the time she reached home, while eating some ramen on her couch for dinner, she found herself picking up her phone and going to Pete’s message thread.

She typed and retyped her message again and again, debating whether or not to send anything at all, but eventually settled on “Just thought I’d let you know that I survived the drive home to bug you another day 🤣”, and sent it off before she could think too much.

Her finger was on the verge of clicking her phone off, but then she caught sight of the typing bubble, and she absentmindedly chewed her lip as she waited for his reply.

Eventually, after about a minute of the typing bubble popping up and disappearing, a message finally came in. “I had every confidence that you would. 😉”

She leaned back, setting into her cushions as she figured out her next message.

The week passed by, and she didn’t pass a day without messaging Pete at least once—he was so easy to talk to about pretty much everything, and it was so comfortable, to just pick up her phone and ask a question or say something non sequitur, his reply coming within the hour, if not within the next ten minutes, starting a conversation by text or a subsequent call, either of which could last hours.

However, this had a drawback.

It meant she didn’t work on the novel nearly as much as she should, and she eventually found herself staring again at her cruel, blinking cursor as her mind stubbornly remained blank.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as her first block, or the block regarding the dogfight scene, but she was starting to get a little frustrated.

Deciding to take a little break from blinking at her laptop’s screen, she traded it for her phone, open, as usual, to Pete’s message thread. “Feeling a little frustrated right now…” she shot off.

Forty-five minutes or so later, she got his reply. “Sorry to hear that.

You want to talk?”

“You free?”

A beat later, her phone rang. “So—frustrated, huh?”

Just hearing his voice had some of the frustration draining from her. “Yes.

It’s absolutely infuriating; I know what happens next, it just doesn’t want to—” she gestured sharply even though he wouldn’t see it, “you know?”

He hummed, “I know the feeling, the same thing happened to me a couple of times when I was writing my paper for my Master’s.”

“You have a Master’s.” she restated, shocked.

“Two, actually—Aerospace Engineering and Physics.”

It was said so matter-of-factly that she simply blinked for several seconds, impressed. “Another layer to Pete Mitchell,” she said, once she found words again.

“Like an onion.”

His joke made her snort while he continued, “I’ll let you in on a little secret—you’d be surprised how many naval aviators are actually nerds.

Don’t let the flight suits and Ray-Bans fool you.”

She laughed, but soon grew serious. “Oh God, Pete, I don’t know what to do—I mean, the last time I productively wrote anything was last week, at your hangar.”

There was a long pause, so much so that she thought the call had dropped, but when she looked at her screen, the line was still connected. “Pete?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” He sounded tentative. “Uh, if, if you wanted, you could—could come down to the hangar this weekend—you never know, being where you were last productive might shake something loose.”

“Sure, I’d love to—I mean—anything to make any progress, and—and the company’s pretty good too.”

She tried not to sound too eager to see him again, but she knew she probably failed at that.

“…Is there anything I can do to turn that ‘pretty good’ to good?” the now-familiar smile could be heard in his voice.

“We’ll see what happens this weekend, Captain.”

This time, when she stepped into the hangar, Pete was kneeling next to one of his numerous motorcycles, hands buried somewhere in its engine, dressed again in a white t-shirt and jeans. “You know, I’m starting to think you live in a white t-shirt and jeans,” she joked, though it was undeniable how good he looked in them.

He looked up, a warm chuckle escaping him, “That’s not true; once in a blue moon, the shirt’s black, and you’re forgetting my flight suit.”

She grinned, “Oh, we have a comedian here, yet another layer!”

“I’ll be here all weekend,” he bowed and swept his arm out to the side before standing and wiping his hands on a nearby rag. “You’re welcome to make yourself comfortable in the living area, can I get you any coffee or anything?”

“Uh, maybe a coffee?”

“Sure thing; how do you take it?”

“Two teaspoons of sugar, splash of cream if you have it.”

With a nod, he strode to the trailer further in the hangar, and soon emerged from the silver Airstream, steaming cup in hand, which he set on the small table beside the couch, where she had settled. “Just ignore me and do what you have to do.”

“Thank you for letting me intrude on your space.”

“No problem, you’re a very welcome change from my usual routine and company.”

She placed a hand on her heart, “Gee, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special.”

A mischievous light entered those beautiful eyes of his, and he leaned down, placing a hand on the back of the couch, making her crane her head up to look at him. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

She swallowed thickly, and he glanced down, tracking the movement, but her “Is that so, Captain?” had his eyes meeting hers in a flash.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s so.” The slight rasp in his voice could have been a trick of her imagination, but before she could think about it, he cleared his throat and stepped back. “I’ll let you get to work.

Like I said, just ignore me,” he said, tone light once more.

She wasn’t sure if ignoring him was completely possible, but she replied, “I’ll call you if I need your opinion on anything.”

He threw her an insouciant salute, before heading off into the depths of his hangar.

The blinking cursor of her laptop was just as evil as it always was, but it didn’t seem so daunting here, so she buckled down, beginning to shave out some progress with the soft sounds of tools in the background—it wasn’t as much as she’d like, but anything was better than what she’d been doing, or rather, not been doing the last few days.

After an hour of sitting and writing, she stretched and stood, looking for Pete, curious as to what he was up to.

“Pete?” she called out.

“I’m back here!”

She followed the sound of his voice to a workbench near a sink in the recesses of the hangar; he was looking through a jar of screws, placing the contents into several smaller jars. “You make any progress with the writing?”

“Mm-hmm—not as much as I’d like, but it’s something; I just wanted to stand and stretch for a bit, take a little break from my screen.

What are you doing?”

“I’m working on some upgrades to one of my bikes, but I, uh, got a little sidetracked and I am currently sorting my screw collection,” he sheepishly said.

“Ah,” she nodded, “I know the feeling, the side quest that you absolutely have to complete before you can do anything else.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “it’s crazy, isn’t it?”

She laughed, a frown soon creasing her brow as she happened to look off to the side.

Involuntarily, she stepped closer to the photo-covered cork board on the wall, gaze fixed on a photo of a young, flight suit-clad Pete, helmet in hand, standing in front of a jet, a tall, familiar-looking man next to him.

The other man was the spitting image of Pete’s son, the only difference perhaps being perhaps ever-so-slightly lighter and straighter hair.

“Bradley looks exactly like him, doesn’t he?” Pete’s voice intruded on her confusion.

She looked to her left to see him standing beside her, an old grief shining in his eyes.

“Yes, he does,” she breathed carefully, knowing somehow that she was in different waters. “Who was he?”

“Nick Bradshaw—Goose—my backseater, back in the eighties, when I flew F-14s.

My brother in all but blood… Bradley’s father.”

The story he proceeded to tell was tragic and heartbreaking; she didn’t even have to see the muted grief in his eyes as he spoke to imagine the anguish he must have endured that day, having to hold Nick’s lifeless body in his arms for what undoubtedly felt like an eternity.

“I became Bradley’s legal guardian after his mother died of cancer, and… while there were a lot of rough years where we didn’t talk to each other, we made up late last year; came out stronger for it, I think.”

“I’m so sorry, Pete,” she breathed.

He smiled ruefully. “Wasn’t all bad, though; got some pretty good brothers out of all that, though I can’t say they’re all still here.”

The dots connected in her head. “The friends in high places?”

He nodded sadly. “My best friend—he was my wingman for decades until he became an Admiral, ended up the highest ranking one this side of the country, in fact.

He died shortly before Bradley and I made up; cancer.”

She didn’t know what possessed her, but she reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together.

His breath hitched, and he looked down at their linked hands, before turning glassy eyes to her.

She was caught in that piercing gaze, which seemed to look right into her soul, and something told her that she was incredibly lucky to be seeing this vulnerability.

The weight of that was almost enough to bring her to her knees, but she pushed that aside in favor trying to ease the sadness in his eyes. “Cancer really fucking sucks, doesn’t it?”

He burst into a watery laugh. “Yes, it fucking does.”

She laughed along with him, squeezing his hand, making the callouses on his palm press against the soft skin of hers. “You want some help with your screw sorting?”

He sniffled, chuckling, “I feel like you’re using me as a distraction.”

“Yes, I absolutely am; are you complaining?”

Pete looked down at the floor, shaking his head with a soft smile. “Not at all, but I’m giving you five minutes before I make you write again, I’m not about to be blamed for any lack of progress.”

True to his word, after the five minutes were up, he shuffled her off to the couch, and she was glad that he wasn’t enabling her procrastination, thankfully able to make a fair bit of progress from there.

Some time later, while in the middle of spell checking what she’d written, she looked up to see Pete place a fresh cup of coffee next to her before sitting in a chair opposite her, picking up a small stack of paperwork and a pen from the coffee table. “Just pretend I’m not here,” he whispered.

For a while, they worked together in silence, as the California sun set, but soon, curiosity began dogging her thoughts. “Doesn’t your wife mind that you’re here late?” she asked.

His gaze almost audibly snapped to hers, his jaw working as he seemed to carefully consider his answer. “…I’m not married.”

Her traitorous heart skipped a beat. “Girlfriend?”

“Don’t have one of those either,” he casually replied. “How about you?

Anyone waiting for you back in San Bernardino?”

She took a deep breath. “Not unless you count my neighbor, Mrs. Moscovitz.

She gets worried when I don’t come home before ten.”

A faint smile crossed his lips. “Good neighbors are hard to come by.”

“That they are.”

They worked in silence for another half hour before she stood and stretched; it was beginning to get dark, and while she was a little more confident driving the desert roads, she wanted to hit the highway before the sun fully set.

“Going now?” Pete asked.

“I want to hit the highway before it gets really dark.”

He smiled ruefully, “I understand, we got to get you back safe, I don’t want Mrs. Moscovitz to kick my ass.”

“And she could, believe me,” she laughed, gathering her things, and exactly like last time, Pete escorted her to her car, opening the door for her.

It was when she turned to face him that a thought body-slammed her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve been writing a lot here, and I’ve thought of some of the best moments here, actually.

Um… I guess what I’m trying to ask is… would you mind if we made this—me coming over to write—a regular thing?”

He blinked, seemingly taken aback.

“If I’ve overstepped, please pretend I never—”

“I’m here every weekend, from Friday night until Sunday morning,” he interrupted.

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yeah, it’s a yes.”

“Okay,” she breathed, grinning. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

He matched her grin, “I look forward to it.”

Over the next three months, she made regular weekend visits to the hangar, the two of them learning each other, slowly growing closer as she told him about her life growing up in a family of pilots, her years as a teacher, leaving more and more of her heart behind in the desert each time.

Her heart panged remembering the day he told her why the P-51 was named Bianca.

“Uh, __?

I, er, kind of need some help,” Pete called.

Immediately rising from the couch, she walked over to where he was standing next to Bianca, hands deep in her engine. “What do you need?”

“Could you hand me that wrench there that’s out on the cart?”

After handing it off, a few turns of the wrench later, he stepped back, admiring the old girl while wiping his hands with a rag. “There we go, sweetheart, that’s more like it.”

“You spoil her, you know?” she shook her head.

“How can I not spoil her—look at her!” he replied, with a mock-affronted expression.

“Yeah, she is gorgeous, isn’t she?” she said, turning to look at the marvel of engineering Bianca was.

“She is,” he murmured, and something in his tone made her look back at him, only to see he also had turned to look at Bianca.

“Why’d you name her Bianca?” she asked, wanting to draw out the conversation before he would undoubtedly shoo her back to writing.

He sighed wistfully, “I named her after my mother.

Her name was Bianca Rivelli; Mitchell after she married my dad, of course.

She was from South Philadelphia—Little Italy in that part of town—and she met my dad when she was visiting friends in New York City during Fleet Week; it was love at first sight, she always said.” He hesitated, and a pit sank in her stomach. “She uh, passed from a heart attack when I was seven, but I know that it was heartbreak that really took her, after my dad was shot down and killed in Vietnam and branded a traitor, all because he died during an off-the-books mission.

She tried so hard to hang on for me, I know, and I don’t blame her for leaving—not anymore, not for decades—and when I got the P-51, I wanted to commemorate her somehow.

So I named her Bianca.”

She didn’t even think twice before lunging and pulling Pete into a hug.

He stood stiffly for a moment, and she was just about to pull away, but then he positively sank into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her.

“You’ve suffered so much pain, and it only made you kind,” she sniffled after a long while.

“I can still be an asshole sometimes, you know?” he said, voice wavering.

“Maybe, but you’re still unbelievably kind.”

Now, as she was once again driving to the hangar, trepidation settled at the forefront of her mind; she was nearing the end of the novel, and in fact, she was sure she’d finish it today; but what would happen without a reason to visit Pete?

This was the twenty-first century, a woman had the right to tell a man if she was interested in him, but if he didn’t feel the same, she might just torpedo the best friendship she’d had in a long time; she loved to talk to him, spending time with him was the easiest thing in the world, and not having that anymore seemed incomprehensible.

The hangar drew closer and closer, but she was getting more and more confused, and so decided to engage in the oldest, most revered of writerly traditions: procrastination.

She’d just hope that she’d find the opportunity, the thoughts, and more importantly, the courage, to say something to him.

Fear and nervousness dominated her emotions as she walked into the quiet hangar—much too quiet for a space inhabited by someone like Pete Mitchell.

“Pete?”

“You’re right on time,” he breezily said, coming out of the Airstream, cup of coffee in hand, “something told me to make your coffee already, and here you are!”

“Seems like you’re getting ESP,” she lightly replied, trying to belie the mess of emotions she was feeling.

“I don’t know about all that—maybe just for you,” he softly laughed, his eyes endearingly crinkling at the corners like they always did when he was genuinely happy.

And if that didn’t make her heart absolutely melt—truly, how this man was not married or in a relationship at this point, she didn’t know.

She settled into what she had dared to start thinking of as her “spot” on the couch, the coffee cup he was holding clinking onto the table beside her the next second.

“I’ll let you get to it,” he nodded, squirreling off to a corner of the hangar before she could get a word in edgewise.

With nothing else for it, she reluctantly began writing, and in a sick twist of fate, the words came easily, when she most wanted them not to come, in hopes of drawing this status quo out for just one more week.

One more week of driving to this lonely desert hangar, one more week of seeing those ubiquitous white t-shirts and Levi’s, one more week of hearing his voice, seeing his smile when he caught sight of her.

But fate was cold and cruel, and after roughly two hours, the draft was finished.

Tears welled in her eyes, but for completely different reasons than she would have said when she first began rewriting her Uncle Joe’s story.

“Hey, what’s wrong?

What happened?”

She looked up into Pete’s warm, concerned gaze, and didn’t that just make things worse? “I—I finished the draft.

It’s done,” she croaked.

“Hey, congratulations!

That’s great!” he encouraged, a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah… yeah, it is.

I… I can’t believe it’s over… and I’m really feeling sad right now,” she numbly breathed, deciding for a little honesty.

He moved to sit beside her, his leg pressed against hers, and her breath caught at the proximity.

“Well, that’s understandable, you’ve devoted a lot of time to this, and it’s something very important to you,” he softly replied. “But hey, I have every confidence that this is going to be a bestseller—every publisher is going to want you, and won’t that make everything you went through to get to this point worth it?”

His words made her remember her PopPop, when he encouraged her to write about Uncle Joe and Céline, shortly before he died, and it made her smile despite herself. “It will.”

“That’s the spirit.” He reached up, cupping her cheek, thumb delicately brushing away a tear she didn’t even know had fallen, and almost subconsciously, she leaned into his touch.

He seemed to swallow reflexively, eyes quickly darting down before he met her gaze again and lowered his hand from her cheek, leaving her feeling bereft. “Uh, since it’s not every day one finishes a first draft and all,” Pete gestured, “how—how would you feel about taking a little celebratory flight?”

Her eyes widened. “In—in the—in Bianca?”

A smile she would venture to call sad inexplicably crossed his face. “Mm-hmm.”

“I’d love that.”

What better way to celebrate finishing her granduncle’s story than a flight in the same plane he flew?

At the very least, if she crashed and burned her friendship with Pete because she happened to find some heretofore unknown reservoir of courage, she’d have something shining and beautiful to remember him by.

It felt absolutely surreal to sit in Bianca’s backseat, and it didn’t feel any less surreal as they cruised through the air.

Sitting up here, over two thousand feet above the ground, while she was happy with the direction she’d taken in her life, she felt she now truly understood why the better part of her family had dedicated themselves to the skies.

It was breathtaking and awe inspiring; with the mountainous desert vista out below, the clear blue sky above, she thought she’d never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

To get to see this every day, and to have the controls of a marvel of engineering beneath your hands as a pilot… the feeling was surely beyond exhilarating.

“How you doing back there?” Pete asked, voice tinny through the headphones.

“Just perfect—I can really understand now why you and my family do this for a living, it’s amazing up here.”

“I know, right?

There’s nothing like it,” he breathed, and she could almost feel the joy in his voice.

They flew on in easy silence for a while before he broke it again. “So, I have a question for you; we can keep flying nice and easy like this until you want to land or until we have to, or… we can have some fun—nothing like what I did at Apple Valley, but uh, it’ll definitely be a little bit more exciting than nice and easy.”

As much as she wanted to immediately say yes, she was still a little apprehensive. “You promise not to make me throw up?”

“Swear on my wings,” he solemnly promised, “and if you feel uncomfortable during anything, all you have to do is let me know, and I’ll immediately level off.”

She inhaled and exhaled deeply. “…Alright, go for it.”

“Okay, here we go!” Gently, he brought Bianca into a sweeping banked descent, and from there, while she was sure it was nothing for Pete, who’d done far more daring things in Bianca, and surely in his career as a naval aviator, this was the most thrilling thing she’d ever experienced in her life.

Before she knew it, Pete said, “We’ll have to land in fifteen minutes, so I’ll bring us back around, okay?”

Her heart sank. “So soon?”

He laughed, “We’ve been up here for almost an hour and a half.”

It felt like they just got up here. “What?!”

“Time flies when you’re having fun!”

“You’re corny, Pete Mitchell,” she chuckled.

“Guilty as charged!”

But the joyful mood didn’t last long—soon, the hangar and runway were in sight, and sadness suddenly overwhelmed her; she breathed mournfully, “How can I ever thank you for everything?”

“No need to thank me,” he replied, seemingly overtaken by the same sadness she was, though it didn’t have any bearing on how smoothly he brought Bianca onto the tarmac, and how he brought her back into the hangar.

The leaden pit in her heart and stomach seemed to grow even heavier; she’d been waiting the whole day for the time and courage to tell him how she felt, but she wasn’t able to find a moment or the courage to speak, and now her chances were slipping away, the sudden sound of silence as the engine cut and the canopy slid back feeling like the first handful of earth dropped on a casket.

“You need any help?” Pete’s voice intruded on her thoughts.

“No, I got it.” It wasn’t completely the truth, but anything to draw out the moments she had left.

With a nod, Pete eased himself up out of the cockpit and slid down the wing.

Finally, she was able to unclip herself from her harness and stand up, easing herself onto the wing—

“Ahhh!” she yelped, having lost her foothold on the wing, abruptly sliding down the warm metal, and then—

She suddenly stopped, toes just touching the ground, pressed against a firm chest, her hands fisting in white cotton, warm arms wrapped around her waist.

It was almost a replay of the day she met Pete, and it felt like fate was giving her one final chance.

She looked up into his eyes, knowing that if she didn’t say anything now, she never would. “Pete, I—”

The words died in her throat as he moved his hand to cup her cheek like he had two hours ago, and just like two hours ago, she leaned into the warmth of his touch, her breath hitching as she felt the gentleness with which his rough, calloused palm caressed her cheek.

He scanned her face, searching for something, and seemingly finding it, his viridescent gaze lighted on her lips, which had her heart stuttering in her chest and the air shuddering from her lungs.

“Don’t think, just do,” he muttered, leaning in, and like lightning, her mind sharpened; she leaned forward, pulling him the minuscule distance to her with a hand on his neck.

Suddenly, she found herself taking flight in a completely different way from five minutes ago.

Pete kissed her like he flew; with complete dedication, and like this was the last moment of pure, unrivaled, unfettered joy he’d ever have again, and her knees went weak, an entirely different thrill rushing through her, as she felt him push her up against Bianca’s fuselage.

She was breathless, she was taking the first breath of air she’d ever had—it was fire, it was light, it was incandescent.

She only realized the burn in her lungs when he drew back, both of them gasping for breath.

“God, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed, voice deep and rough, eyes dark.

An actual whimper fell from her lips, and she replied, “Holy shit, I don’t care if it’s done, that’s definitely going in the book.”

He huffed a low chuckle, that devastating smirk on his face. “In that case, you want a little more inspiration?”

“Oh hell, yes,” she breathed, and pulled him back into her.

The End

Previous Part

I very much had an inner debate as to whether the ending of this story was too similar to that of TG:M, but after a lot of soul searching, I decided that this was the only conceivable way to end this.

It starts with the P-51, and it ends with her.

You could call her Mav’s wingwoman, I suppose.

The Hangar, as I learned from an interview I will not be able to dig up from my YouTube history, is actually owned by Tom himself.

He said it in the aforementioned interview, and I honestly should have seen it coming.

The hangar was even featured in the background of the iconic video where Tom took James Corden flying in the P-51, and I am somewhat ashamed to say that I recognized it from shots where you only saw the corner of the building.

Yeah, do me a favor and please don’t bring that up.

“Crispin Crispianish” is a reference to the St. Crispin’s Day speech from Shakespeare’s “Henry V”, from which the title of the WWII book and series “Band of Brothers” is taken.

“Turn and burn” is a colloquial aviation saying which describes being cleared to takeoff from the runway generally without having to hold short of it for any duration of time, which leads to the aircraft immediately turning onto the runway from the taxiway shortly before the pilots push the engine thrust levers to Take Off/Go Around, which produces maximum thrust, and presto change-o, you have a generally expedited takeoff.

“You’d be surprised,” is absolutely a reference to Bradley almost punching Jake’s lights out in TG:M.

Yes, I am aware of the amount of art imitating life here; my writer and myself were very much twinning in our frustration with what we were writing.

You can pry ADHD/Neurodivergent/Genius IQ Mav from my cold, dead hands.

Here we have the answer to why the P-51 is named “Bianca” in my story.

I headcanon Mav has Italian heritage, and I thought this would be a nice way to put it in here.

I also made his mom from Philadelphia, because there’s a Top Gun ‘86 costume test shot of Tom wearing an Eagles sweatshirt, and as a Philly-adjacent girl, I had to somehow reference that even obliquely.

“You’ve suffered so much pain, and it only made you kind,” is an adaptation of a line from “Doctor Who”, which I thought perfectly describes Mav.

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡His High｡⋆.

Kylo Ren x plus size reader

His Choice Masterlist

Riding the high of his new fix, Kylo shows her the beauty of her subservience

Chapter Warnings: dubcon, smut, size kink, d/s dynamics, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), public sex, fingering, ocean sex (don't do this- the chaffing isn't worth it)

WC: 2.2k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The First Order was just that, an order. Routine was drilled into them from the moment they were conscripted. Everyone had their place and every job had its responsibilities. The patrol ships left at the same time every day, returning several hours later only for another batch to be sent out when the hall lights began to dim. As a lone TIE fighter streaked by the large window, Y/N stretched her limbs, it was time for her lunch.

Meals were delivered three times a day to the sith lord’s chambers. Sometimes there would be enough for two but most of the meals were only for one.

Y/N sat up against the headboard of the huge bed she was chained to as she heard footsteps make their way down the hall. She had gotten good at listening to the sounds outside those dark walls that surrounded her, she had almost worked out which stormtroopers would bring her food each day just by how loudly they marched. 

Yet when the doors opened, her master was the one that entered. Immediately, she rocked to her knees, hands clasped in her lap, just as he liked her. “Up.” He said, his voice clipped. Her head tilted in confusion.

“Sir?” His helmet turned to her, the blank expression giving her no answers as to what he wished. A sigh bled out from his respirator before he pulled something out from under his cloak and threw it to her. Two small light brown candles landed on the bed a few inches from her knees.

“Put those on and come with me.” With a flick of his wrist, the silver chain attached to her collar fell away, leaving her free. “Now.” He ordered and Y/N sprang up. Her hands shook with nerves as she slipped them onto her feet. She stood from the bed on uncertain legs and almost crashed into the much taller man. He caught her with a gloved hand, steadying her easily. His touch lingered for only a moment before he dropped her arm like it had burned him and turned back to the open door.

“Keep up.” And then he walked off. She scrambled forward, following behind as closely as she could despite how quickly he was walking. They passed throngs of stormtroopers, each one saluting him as they walked by. She could feel their gazes on her but she kept her eyes locked forward on her master’s wide back.

Excitement stirred in her gut, having only seen the med bay and Kylo’s rooms, this was an overload for the young woman. There was a tinge of fear in the back of her mind, a warning to keep her guard up for what the sith may have planned. Her brain reminded her that even if he had been kind to her so far, he was still a dangerous man.

Soon they approached another set of blast doors and before Y/N could even wonder what was behind them, they slid open with a series of mechanical thuds.

The breath was knocked from Y/N’s lungs as they stepped into the hanger bay. Kylo continued to walk but she was rooted to the spot. She had never seen anything like this in her life. It was so much more advanced than the sand gliders of her youth and even bigger than all the villages on her planet combined. 

There was only one ship docked in the hangar but it could easily hold 10 within its hexagonal walls. Huge lights were built into each vertical metal panel that lined the bay. Y/N could only just make out the blue shimmer of the forcefield at the mouth of the hanger. It was filled with robots bustling around, doing repairs and menial jobs, smoothly moving away from the pair’s path. 

“Girl.” The modulated voice broke her from her amazement. Her eyes snapped back to attention, finally catching sight of the huge black TIE fighter standing right behind her master’s hulking form. “Come along, the journey will be long so we need to leave quickly.” She stumbled over her feet as he strode towards the ship.

The cockpit opened smoothly as they approached, revealing the dark interior which included only one jump seat. Her brows scrunched. “There’s only one seat, master.”

“Yes.” He replied before he swung himself over the control panel, settling into the seat. She was confused only for a moment as Kylo reached a long arm out to her. “Take it.” His black leather gloves were surprisingly warm as she fit her smaller hand into his much larger one, the material creaking softly with the curling of his fingers. 

Then, he pulled. Suddenly, Y/N found herself in the air and moving quickly towards the hull of the ship. Just as she let out a yelp, her ass was planted on two very firm thighs, her back pressed against Kylo’s front. He grunted under his helmet and readjusted the girl so she wasn’t sitting right on his cock. Warmth crawled up her neck at the sheer power he had just exhibited, and she was ashamed to admit but it set her veins alight.

He pulled his hand from her grasp (she hadn’t realised that she was still holding him) and pressed several buttons on the display before them. The red glass shield came down, shutting them in as the huge engine came to life. Y/N jumped back into her master in surprise, causing him to let out an almost inaudible chuckle. “I guess you haven’t been in one of these before.” She shook her head and looked back at him.

“I hadn’t even been in a star cruiser until the day you selected me.” He hummed with a measure of self-satisfaction, winding an arm around her soft tummy as he took the controls with his other hand.

“Hold on tight then.” She watched as the world around them seemed to spin, the view of the dark walls quickly replaced by the vast expanse of the ‘verse. Her fingers tightened on his forearm, her eyes almost doubling in size. The fighter silently glided out of the Star Destroyer, giving her a good look at the truly massive ship she had called home for the past couple weeks. 

Using her distraction, Kylo lifted her wide hips from his lap, giving the soft flesh there a tap- a silent signal for her to remain in that position which she obeyed blindly. Her pale pink dress lifted over her plump thighs, the hem coming to rest right below her hips. A hand slipped between them and cupped the roundness of her cunt. “Keep your eyes forward.” He murmured as a thick finger prodded at her entrance.

“Press that button by your knee.” His middle finger, still covered by his glove, sunk into her warmth, uninhibited by any undergarments as she had been barred from wearing them. She bit back a moan as she reached for the button, letting the pad of his finger hit the place inside her that set her body ablaze. She did as he asked and suddenly the stars warped, growing longer and longer until they were only streaks of white above their heads. 

Another finger breached her before quickly being followed by a third. Y/N’s back arched against her master, pushing them even deeper inside of her. Just as her stomach began to tighten with pleasure, he pulled away. She whined, earning a firm squeeze of her plump lower stomach. “Don’t complain.” He snipped.

She felt his trousers shift under her naked thighs before the blunt tip of his cock was suddenly resting between her folds. “Sit.” Her eyes rolled back into her head as she did what he commanded, each inch of his thick cock, brutally stretching her cunt to its very limit, as it did every time he took her.

She was gasping for breath as she finally took him to the hilt, her hands desperately clawing at his forearm. She could feel his cock twitch inside of her, the fat head resting against her cervix, sending shots of pleasure through her. 

Taking in as deep of a breath as she could, Y/N attempted to rock forward but was quickly yanked back and forced to be still. “Keep me warm on our journey. You may rest if you wish but do not finish.” With a great effort, she forced herself to relax into him, tucking her head just below his chin and shutting her eyes. She let the hum of the engine and the sound of his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

——————

“We’re here.” Warm salty air washed over her, stirring her from her light slumber. Calloused fingers traced up the curve of her arm, encouraging her to open her eyes. And when she did, she swore she was still dreaming.

There was blue as far as the eye could see, even blending into the clear sky and blurring the horizon. “It’s beautiful.” She breathed, sitting up as if it would allow her to absorb even more of the landscape. A deep chuckle from behind her shook her body softly.

“Why don’t you get a closer look then.” Kylo delicately lifted her from his lap, letting his half-hard cock slip from her cunt. They both hissed at the sensation but Y/N’s attention didn’t remain on that for long. She yanked her dress back down over her thighs and leaned over the cockpit edge, vaguely wondering if she could jump. Before she could decide, Kylo took her by the waist and lowered her down until her toes were just barely touching the white sand beneath the ship.

She smiled broadly as the tips of her sandals disappeared into the warm sand. He released her gently, half-expecting her to immediately run off but instead she looked back to him, waiting for something. “Go on. But not too far.” He warned and in return, he received a blinding smile, one he had never seen before.

Kicking off her sandals, Y/N ran to the water. She only stopped when the clear blue was up to her hips, soaking her dress through. He watched as her eyes fluttered shut, letting the calm waves wash over her. 

With a sigh, Kylo tucked himself away then shed his helmet and cape, leaving them in a pile with his gloves, before he himself swung out of the cockpit and onto the sand. She paid him no mind as he approached.

This was a truly beautiful planet, one of the many moons of Naboo but so under-utilised considering its vast supply of spice hidden just under its crust. He had discovered it years ago when attempting to track Luke Skywalker and decided to keep it a secret. A selfish piece of him wanted to keep its beauty to himself, to have a sanctuary from his own darkness. He had no doubt that the Supreme Leader knew of this place as well but for now, he would savour his little secret. 

He laid his large hands upon her hips as he curled around her back. “You have been very good. You have not disobeyed me, you have not tried to run. I thought it high time you were rewarded.” As he spoke, one hand dipped lower, disappearing under the water to grasp her thigh and then travel upwards beneath her dress.

He smirked when her breath hitched. “Th-thank you master.” She stammered out, rolling her hips downwards, chasing his touch. He rewarded her with a wet kiss to the crook of her neck. 

���Good girl.” He purred as he finally touched her neglected pearl. “Now let me reward you.” He rolled the sensitive bud between his two fingers as his other hand cupped one of her heavy breasts, his thumb finding her nipple immediately. 

Pleasure rippled through her as she succumbed to his touch. She was already on edge from having him inside her for so long with no relief. And with the feel of the warm water around her lower half and the solid mass of her master behind her, she was ready to fall. His hand shifted from her clit, slipping two of his fingers inside of her as the heel of his palm reconnected with the small bundle of nerves.

“This is what you can receive when you obey me. I will lavish you with gifts and treasures.” He took her earlobe between his teeth, causing her to shutter and clamp down on his fingers. “And ecstasy you could only dream of.” Her moans were carried out with the waves, going higher and higher with each shuddering breath. She clutched at his arms as the knot in her stomach tightened dangerously.

“Let go, give me your pleasure my pet.” She shattered in his arms with a howl, her end consuming her like the ocean that surrounded them. Kylo caught her swiftly as she sagged, her knees buckling. Carrying her bridal style, he walked from the waters to a shady grove a few metres away.

She was still struggling to breathe as he laid her upon the grass, quickly laying down next to her right after. There was no need for words as they each soaked up the perfectly warm rays of the sun, basking in the calmness of the moon. Yet all too soon, Y/N sat up with a smile.

“Let me take care of you too, master.” She rolled between his legs with a smirk and pulled his trousers down his muscular thighs. A groan slipped through his lips as she took him into her mouth, determined to serve her master thoroughly.

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His Choice

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S T A R D U S T

Hello little flowers,

Here's a little story I'm writing because I am in love with Ben Solo. That is all.

Title: Stardust

Summary:

General Leia Organa is slowly losing hope that her son, Ben, will return home to the light side. She has been fighting for most of her life, and wants more than anything to be reunited with her family. When Odette, a woman from Batuu, decides to take a chance and attempts to join the Resistance on a strange request, Leia finds hope blossoming again. This story follows Odette's journey through the Resistance, her relationships with the established members of the base, and their fight to not only bring peace to the galaxy but also bring Ben Solo back to the light.

This is a very self indulgent OC x Ben Solo fic. OC is female, but feel free to use your imagination, with anything really in this :) Hope you enjoy, would love to hear your thoughts. Okay. Let's get into it!

Chapter I. - Ignite the Spark.

Chapter II. - Morning.

Chapter III. - Nightfall.

Chapter IV. Midnight.

Chapter V. Twilight.

Chapter VI. Dawn.

Chapter VII. Sunrise.

Chapter VIII. Daylight.

Chapter IX. Bright Suns.

Updates are on Sundays🖤