#juniordreamer drabble

[juniordreamer]

What You Hate: a gingerflower drabble

The spy is pompous. Arrogant.  Irritatingly tall.  

His features are arranged in a permanent sneer and his hair—his hair!  Is perfectly coifed.  Despite the fact that he’s technically a prisoner of war.  Despite the fact he has access to nothing more than the same 3-in-1 soap that’s been issued to the rest of the resistance.

His information is good though.  Detailed and accurate, relayed with such technical precision Rose sometimes wonders if he might be part droid.  It would explain the rigidity of his movements—that slight mechanical way he lifts from the cot, paces from one end of the cell to the other.

He represents everything she hates.  Everything she’s spent her life fighting against and yet…

And yet.

He asks about the medallion she wears.  Asks about where she grew up.  Asks about her sister.

He asks about her work in the resistance.  Where she learned to fix things.  Wonders aloud if he might could learn too.  Ways to make amends.  Ways to make things right.

“This is a start,” she tells him, gesturing to the cell, the data pad she holds in her hands.

She swears he almost smiles.  A quick quirk of the lips that makes him look—human.  Young.  Hopeful, or something like it.  

“Let’s keep going then.”

[ao3feed--reylo]

Somewhere Beyond the Sea

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2QfCy24

by juniordreamer

“Be with me, Ben, please,” she says a final time, a plea to the air and the dirt and the gods and the dead. To not be alone in this. To see him once more.

The wind whips around her and the cold she couldn’t feel sinks into her bones until it’s the only thing that exists. The cold and the awful absence in the force where she once felt him.

And then, just as suddenly, there’s warmth. And weight. And the ghost of a touch across her cheek. She doesn’t dare open her eyes, doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t move.

“I’m with you.”

Or, a little drabble to heal our hearts.

Words: 907, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Rey (Star Wars), Ben Solo | Kylo Ren

Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren

Additional Tags: Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2QfCy24

[ao3feed4reylo]

via AO3 works tagged 'Star Wars - All Media Types' read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/2QfCy24 juniordreamer

by juniordreamer

“Be with me, Ben, please,” she says a final time, a plea to the air and the dirt and the gods and the dead. To not be alone in this. To see him once more.

The wind whips around her and the cold she couldn’t feel sinks into her bones until it’s the only thing that exists. The cold and the awful absence in the force where she once felt him.

And then, just as suddenly, there’s warmth. And weight. And the ghost of a touch across her cheek. She doesn’t dare open her eyes, doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t move.

“I’m with you.”

Or, a little drabble to heal our hearts.

Words: 907, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Rey (Star Wars), Ben Solo | Kylo Ren

Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren

Additional Tags: Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/2QfCy24

[juniordreamer]

Everything She Needs

A post-tros fix it wherein Ben is alive and Rey is pregnant and they get the family they always wanted.  Read on Ao3 or below the cut. 

“You’re dripping paint on the floor.”

“Kriff!�� Rey jumps at the sound of his voice, quickly turning to find where he stands in the middle of the doorway.  He looks positively smug as he takes in the state of her clothes and hair—sweat drenched and splattered with paint.  

She moves toward him, fully intending to wipe the smirk from his sinfully handsome face before her barefoot slides through a cold puddle of paint.

“Kriffing son of a bantha bucket,” she curses, arms flying out to find purchase on the wall beside her, also still wet with paint.

Rey huffs a breath as she grabs a rag from the floor, pointedly ignoring Ben’s quiet laughter.  

“You could help me, you know,” she says after a while, stretching down to try to swipe the mess from the bottom of her foot.

Ben quirks an eyebrow, leans his shoulder against the frame.  “I seem to remember being exiled to the garden.”

“You were hovering.”

“And you were being stubborn.”

The rag flies through the air quick as lightning, but Ben is fast—annoyingly fast—and catches it before it can smack him in the face.

“Keep it up, Solo, or next time I’ll send you off world.”  

It’s an empty threat and they both know it, but Ben sidles up to her anyway before dropping down to where she sits on the floor.  

“You’d miss me,” he says, taking her foot in his hands to continue wiping at her stained skin.  His hands are gentle and warm around her ankle and she can’t help but close her eyes, lean into his touch.

“Maybe,” she resigns, the corner of her mouth quirking up just a little. And then, gesturing around the room, “I just want it to be perfect.”

It’s a small space.  Nothing extravagant, but still far larger than she’s used to with a large window overlooking the gardens and the millaflowers Ben tends to with such care.  She can see them now, the bright blue and red petals reflecting sunlight and moving softly in the breeze.  She could smell them too, if not for the heavy fumes choking the air in the room.

“It will be,” Ben assures her.  

She nods, worries her lip.  Moves her hands to her belly, the roundness still so foreign and strange.

“I want,” she starts, stops, takes a breath.  “I want her to feel safe here.”

Ben drops the rag, gently placing her foot back on the floor before covering her hands with his.  The light from the window reflects off the ring on his hand and Rey almost smiles, remembering the day she placed it on his finger.

“I never felt safe,” she continues.  “I never knew what that was like growing up.  I don’t want her to ever know that feeling.”

Suddenly Ben’s arms are around her, scooping her up as easily as a child and depositing her in his lap, her back pressed against his chest.

She closes her eyes, feels his warmth, finds him in the force as easily as she reaches down and grabs his hand to place back on her stomach.  It soothes her, his peace.  His steadiness in the force.  So different from the storm she used to find raging there.

Will their child be resigned to face the same storm?  To the fate of their ancestors?  Will she know the pain and destruction that plagues her family line?

“She won’t,” Ben answers, though Rey never spoke the questions aloud. “Search inward, Rey.  She’s fine.  She’s happy.”

He guides her then, through the force.  Leads her right to the orb of pulsing light that lives, for now, inside of Rey.  As bright as the sun.  And she feels it—their daughter’s life force.  Content. At peace.  

But she can’t stamp down the fear inside her.  It bubbles up and out, making her skin go cold.  Her lungs go breathless.

“What if Palpatine isn’t really gone?” she asks, voice panicked.  “What if another rises in his place?  How do we protect her?  How do we make sure she’s okay?”

Ben rubs soothing patterns down her arms, leans low to whisper gentle words in her ear.

“We love her,” he says, simple as that.  “We give her a bright sunny room and a Wookiee for an uncle.  We teach her to fly, we show her the galaxy.  We tell her our story, when she’s old enough.  When she’s ready.”  He places a kiss to her temple.  “We make sure she’s never alone.”  

Rey turns so she can face him, stare up into those eyes she memorized all those years ago, when he first took off his mask and let her see them.

She should have known then, the inevitability of their story.  That they would end up here, despite it all.  In the face of everything.

She hears his words, believes in them the way she once believed in the possibility of Ben Solo. And yet, doubt still lingers. Fear.

“And what if all of that—all the love and family and adventure we give her.  What if even then it isn’t enough?”

He cups her cheek with his palm, presses his thumb to her lips.

“It’s enough,” he says, sounding so sure.  More certain than she’s ever seen.  “With you and me, she has everything she needs.”

He kisses her then. One in a thousand they’ve been lucky enough to share and yet it still steals the breath from her lungs in the best way.  Leaves her hungry and fulfilled.  Renewed.

She pulls back after a moment and takes a breath, lets their daughter’s light calm her worries. Chooses to believe in the truth of her husband’s words.  

She looks around the room. The bright walls, the window, the bassinet Ben carved just last week with Chewie.  

Everything she needs, she thinks.  Everything she’ll ever need.  Right here, at home on Naboo.

Rey runs a hand over her stomach, takes a slow breath before climbing carefully to her feet.

“You mind giving me a hand with this?” she asks, tilting her head toward the can of paint by the wall.

Ben smirks.  “Wouldn’t be the first time I offered you my hand. Or the second.  Or the third for that matter.”

Rey rolls her eyes, tries and fails to hide the grin on her lips as she tosses a paintbrush his way.

“Get to work, Solo.”

“As you wish, Solo.”