#i’m proud af of them regardless of the meltdown

[preciouspatriots]

[writesowhatnext]

the apple doesn’t fall far // kylo ren

Summary:

Kylo Ren was a Scorpio; he liked long walks on the beach, deep, meaningful conversations and pain. Modern!Kylo fic where Kylo thinks he might’ve found his match in a girl who makes his cold heart beat

Request: I have another idea to send in if that’s okay! It’s with Kylo Ren and the reader being in a relationship and she decides to go get a tattoo of her favorite band’s logo and he goes with her. He was watching the artist as she was getting it done, and than he’d look back at her because he was impressed with her pain tolerance, as she was able to hold a normal conversation the whole time.

A/N: I enjoy modern!kylo tbh I think it’s cute af – bit OOC given the whole context thing but I hope good regardless :) I’m not completely sure about it tbh I don’t know where it was going or where it went but we will see

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: tattooing??? Needles? swearing

Kylo, truthfully, had no idea who Bantha Fodder were. He knew you liked them. He knew they were your favourite band. He knew what their logo looked like, given it was currently stencilled on your arm in purple ink. But to say he knew who they were would be a gross overstatement. You’d always joke he had no taste so he supposed he wouldn’t like them if he heard them, but they made you happy. He was happy if you were happy; a fact he had not yet fully got to grips with himself, with his prickly nature and all.

You hadn’t told him you were getting a tattoo – not that he expected you to, really. For all his flaws, Kylo was never one to encroach on your independence; you were never one to ask for permission. It worked. That morning, you’d phoned him asking if he wanted to come with you whilst you ran a few errands. Personally, he wouldn’t have considered a tattoo an errand, per se, but he was happy to be with you nonetheless. He was surprised, actually, at how calm you were about the whole situation. 

“So, ready to start?” the guy across from him said. You nodded, smiling at the sound of the tattoo machine whirring to life.

The tattoo artist was skinny and, as expected, covered with his own tattoos. He had a hole in his ear big enough to fit a ping-pong ball and bleached blond hair tied back with a hairband. Kylo liked the tattoo on his shoulder: a floating astronaut among a few planets. The whole situation, for Kylo, was completely unfamiliar. He’d never stepped foot in a tattoo parlour in his life but he wasn’t too alarmed, he had you after all. And you were talking to him.

“What?” he said, suddenly aware that he’d zoned out completely. You laughed.

“I said,” you teased, placing your free hand on his forearm. “What do you want to do after this?”

“I don’t mind.” He moved his hand to capture yours, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “Up to you.”

“Okay then, we shall go back to your place so I can annoy you more.” He smiled, lifting your hand up to his mouth.

“What torture.” He said softly; empty words. You smiled and began a conversation with the tattoo artist about something or other Kylo didn’t quite understand- or try to, for that matter.

He just watched your face, occasionally looking down at your arm to check if it was, in fact, still being tattooed. He thought tattoos were supposed to hurt, but looking at your face, no one had told you that. You were smiling, occasionally laughing even. He watched the way your eyes lit up as you spoke (probably about the band, knowing you) and the way your nose crinkled. Ask anyone that knew him, they’d tell you that Kylo Ren was grumpy. A man that always looks either bored or murderous, they would’ve been pretty spot on with that assessment. Not around you though, somehow. Somehow you made him happy. The first time his friends heard him crack a joke was in front of you; the first time he laughed was because of your witty response.

Somehow you’d managed to turn his dark emo soul into some kind of Jackson Pollock and he couldn’t help but want to protect you. When you visited him one night and he’d opened the door to see you, almost in tears and sodden from the rain, he wanted to make whoever hurt you pay. When he learnt that you were on the brink of a meltdown because you’d had a bad day and the rain was absolutely the last thing you’d needed, he’d offered to beat up the rain. You’d laughed, which he considered a win.

Seeing you sitting there with a needle in your arm, chatting and grinning, a strange amount of pride flooded through him. He knew pain: he’d been in many a bar fight, had broken twelve bones on eight different occasions and boxed religiously, often immerging from the gym with a black eye and bruised knuckles. So, to see you, his source of happiness condensed into a talkative and stubborn, human-sized package, so casual, yeah, he was proud. He also felt a bit foolish about how protective he was but he figured that came with the territory of caring about something for once.

You noticed him staring at your face as the conversation with your tattoo artist lulled. He looked almost impressed; you couldn’t help but frown.

“What is your face doing?” 

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

A smile lifted his cheek as his fingertips trailed to your palm and he interlaced your fingers together.

“I’ve seen many expressions on your face, Kylo Ren: resting-bitch-face, grumpy-pants, just-ate-a-lemon, probably-about-to-sneeze...” you trailed off, unable to contain your grin. “But never this situation.” You lifted one finger, raising his hand to point at his face. You bit your lip.

“You’re hilarious.” he deadpanned sarcastically. You could see the playful look in his eye, though and let out an indignant laugh.

“I am hilarious, actually, thank you.” He raised an eyebrow, earning him a poke in the chest. “You’ve still not shared why you look so…” 

You once again gestured to his face.

“I’m impressed.”

“Well, now, that’s understandable. I am impressive.” You winked. His look turned dry. “Tell me what I’m most impressing you with right now.”

He suppressed a smile at your antics, ignoring your question. “Doesn’t that hurt?” He asked, pointing at where your tattoo seemed to have appeared.

“Oh yeah, like a bitch.” 

His mouth twitched and he clenched his jaw, hiding his amusement. 

“But it’s over now.” The tattoo artist said, wiping the ink from the skin to reveal a perfect Bantha Fodder logo. Your smile grew infinitely. Kylo watched with barely concealed fondness as he listened to the tattoo artist tell you what to do now, how you nodded and smiled. He offered his hand out as you bounded over to him, ready to leave. You gladly accepted.

Walking around the block to Kylo’s apartment, you couldn’t help but enjoy the experience. Despite how grumpy he appeared; you knew Kylo was the biggest softy for you. When you walked down the street, he would roll his eyes whenever you wanted to hold his hand. He’d also complain incessantly whenever he would wrap his arms around your waist from behind and you’d decide to just walk like that, with a giant shadow waddling from side to side. You knew he loved it, though, and it was obvious to anyone that you loved having him there. Even as you pulled him along the street, the dragging of his feet and constant grumbling was pure performance. 

You stopped for a moment, allowing him to catch up with you. He pulled you to his chest, dropping your hand and wrapping his arms around your waist. You reached your arms up, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. With a half-smile, he leant down, placed a small kiss to the cling film wrapped around your arm and tilted his head to the side. You were acutely aware of the way his eyes flitted around your face.

“I love you.” He said softly, staring into your eyes; as if he was convinced you’d disappear if he looked anywhere else. You felt your heart melt a little at his admission, a smile growing on your lips.

“I know.”