inappropriately timed force bond moments (both nsfw and humor approaches)
dream-sharing
emotional bleed/transference (from rey, involving other parties)
inappropriate force bond voyeurism on rey/poe or rey/finn
mid-conversation force bond interruption
The Rise of Skywalker- Cross-galaxy chase of the Resistance
anything related to ben solo, but especially:
snoke confessionals with family or friends of family
returning to the light
smuggler life style
jedi knight ben
resistance-fighter ben
The Rise of Skywalker- Force Ghost communications w/ Rey
anything related to supreme leader kylo ren, but especially:
fall via coup
resistance fighter reconditioning (gen or nsfw)
force ghost visits from anakin/luke/rey/leia/snoke
defeat by the resistance, and subsequent aftermath
The Rise of Skywalker- Mole Discovery w/ Hux
canto bight:
shady weapons deals
picking up prisoners
recruitment
obligatory dinner party
general casino shenanigans
beach party
basically any reason you can think of to use canto bight as a setting piece
A note on romance: I will ship all of the new trilogy characters with Kylo Ren (except Snoke/Family). But I have no interest in exploring domestic-style takes on them. Thank you for understanding.
[Ben Solo is good at one thing and its ruining everyone else’s good time, no matter what is happening in this or any other universe. He lets her arms go as he mulls over her explanation. That makes. A little more sense, layed out like that. But he is still frowning.]
But ... last night, there was no pain. I didn’t even know it was him. It was just a — dream to me. How am I supposed to tell?
[Now that his hands are free, he sets about rubbing his cheeks, which no longer feel like they are about to melt off.]
[ There's something soft and insistent in her voice. It almost doesn't belong there. Kira isn't soft by any stretch of the imagination; even when she's vulnerable, it's like she's tightly coiled and frightened, all bare anxiety. But now, slipping into the explanation of the Force, the assurance she possesses and offers seems gentle. ]
Helping exercise your power will sharpen your senses. Both conscious and unconscious. Your reflexes improved as you became a better pilot, didn't they?
That explanation cleary hooks onto his one braincell as his brows knit in concentration and he slowly starts to nod. At the same time, he attempts to dig deepfor that animal he can feel snarling under his skin, opening the door little by little while simultaniously attempting to seek a calm somewhere in that yawning darkness.
There’s nothing there, but the calm sticks with his effort to slowly engage with that strange, far away feeling.]
[ She thinks of her own training. Of how she'd felt, facing the pain every day, forcing herself through it, surrendering to that snarling beast within. She thinks of it, and she recognizes that she would have wanted a break. Snoke had never given her one. She doesn't reach for him, doesn't budge, but she looks him over slowly, thoughtfully, and ultimately settles it. ]
We'll take a break.
[ She says it as though it's her executive decision, a gift. Keeps her voice hard like she is in control of what's happening. ]
[Ben nearly doesn't hear her through the roar in his ears, but her tone of voice grabs his attention enough to force his eyes open. It takes him a second to process.]
Yeah? Ok.
[He's not going to complain about a break. In fact, it sounds utterly delightful. So he leans forward on the dejarik table.]
[ The one she's been invited to. When she nods her head, it's with the explicit expectation that his bunk is the reading room, that they ought to sprawl themselves in there once more rather than any version of events where she brings it out here for a nice, neutral reading climate where they're not crammed in close and no one's in a bed.
She heads back that way, pulling the book out from under the pillow there. ]
[He absolutely expects her to come back out. When she doesn't, it settles in that she is looking for the same sort of intimate setting he had accidentally set up for them earlier, in an effort to befriend her. For some reason, it gives him pause now -- because they had been through more? Because he'd seen the inside of her dreams?
He knows if he stalls too long, she will get upset with him. So Ben eventually slinks into his bedroom and holds out an arm for the book, moving to sit on the mattress.]
[ She hands the book off to him, but she doesn't settle down onto the floor again. Instead she regards him with a sort of careful curiosity and then settles onto the bunk beside him, pulling her feet up onto it, boots and all. She folds her arms around her ankles, knees bent fully, and looks over at him, expectant. ]
[Ok, confirmation that they're doing this. He's not going to make this weird. Its not going to be weird. They can do this.
It takes him probably longer than it should to get comfortable. He kicks off his boots and nests himself in the opposite corner of her -- not really searching for distance so much as a place to comfortably lay his legs and rest his back. As a result, his long legs tuck themselves to her right against the wall.
Then, he searches for where they'd left off.]
Where were we...
[He clears his throat, trying to capture the same voices he'd used earlier to narrate.]
[ She stops him — a few times, actually — to make him reread the previous page, a testament to her investment. She doesn't want to miss anything. Now that she has set aside the awkwardness of it, she feels more able to appreciate it fully, to engage the way she has wanted to.
But his voice is soothing, too, and she is without restful sleep. After a time, she starts to doze against the opposite corner, breath even and slow and uncharacteristically calm. There's no forced restraint there. With him, in this moment, she feels at ease. For however long that lasts, for whatever that's worth. ]
[He obliges her each time she stops him, to the point that he is smiling near the end of his reading. This is the version of Kira he prefers: full of curiosity and near-innocence. That is about the moment he notices that she has stopped asking for him to go back and--oh.
She'd fallen asleep. She'd felt safe enough to sleep in his presence, even after all of the arguing they'd done just a few hours ago.
He gently closes the book to watch her. Every now and then, when she turns like she might wake, his heart thunders a little faster and he hastily looks away, as if he fears that she might catch him staring at her. And he is absolutely staring. She seems an entirely different person, like this. He wants to wrap a blanket around her again, but he hadn't soon forgotten the last time he'd tried that.
So, he stays right where he is, lost in mapping the way she's curled in on herself, the way it morphs the curves of her body. If only he could see her face from here.]
[ The more comfortable she becomes, the more pronounced her gentle snoring sounds. It's still light, more like heavy breathing than real snoring, but it's there. So is a softness that does not make its way through while she is conscious, keenly aware of him, and protective of herself.
It's some minutes before her brain processes the lack of the sound that had lulled her and the way he has stilled. She draws in a sharp, short breath, but even then doesn't move at first. Instead, she wakes slowly, blinking blearily, turning her eyes on him as they're still coming into focus.
A yawn holds her back for a moment, scrunches her nose, and she has to shake her head to quell it before she can ask — ] Did you stop?
[When she draws that sharp breath, Ben startles hard enough to crack his head into the top of the cubby hole.]
Sssson of a bantha!
[It comes out as a hiss, because not only does it hurt, but he is probably thoroughly busted. His cheeks start to color, and he aggressively attempts to clear his throat in an attempt to answer her question as casually as possible.]
Y-yeah. Thought you’d want to hear the whole thing and all
[And I totally wasn’t distracted by your prone sleeping self at all]
[ She takes a moment to study his puzzling reaction. A kinder person might offer some concern for his injury, or at least some sympathy, but Kira stares just as blank-faced and unflinching as ever. It's almost accusing, really, the way her eyes burn into him, study his bumps and bruises and sputtering. ]
You're staring again.
[ Now it's definitely an accusation. But she clearly doesn't know what to do with it. Only that she knows, now, because of him, that there is something to that. He has admitted he wants to be near her. But here she is, and he's still gaping, like he's perpetually waiting for something else. ]
[He suddenly remembers that she can sense his lies, which causes him to swallow, color more, and hastily follow up with:]
—ok, maybe. I’m just—not used to sharing my quarters.
[Especially with a woman is left off. At least with this, he can maybe play off his interest in her. Because he can’t possible have interest in her, right? Right. Sure. Definitely.]
[ She's going to keep pinning him down, sniffing out this confusion until she has satisfied herself with the answer. Thus far, she hasn't. And she's unflinching too, obviously not worked up about the implications of that phrasing. ]
Insisted on it.
[ She sits up a little straighter, head tilting as she surveys him. ]
[He adds emphasis on the word “sharing” like it is supposed to provide more clarity, but if this girl was taken as young as she seemed to be...well, he is sure Snoke did not teach his assassin about building meaningful relationships with people or about innuendo or any of that.
This is just another bed to her.]
Together.
[He is quieter when he adds that word, like it is supposed to be the glue.]
[ No, that's not right. Oh somehow gives the impression that she fully understands, and she doesn't. Not really. Not in the way he means her to, not in the way that provides clarity of the implications therein. But she understands that his nerves come from their proximity, that it's the closeness and the context which has him staring at her like he wants something.
That, she understands entirely. By itself their situation evokes a want that she can identify even without a framework to process it. ]
Don't be nervous. [ Helpful. ] I feel it too.
[ The want to be close, but also the gripping dread of allowing anyone to be there. She reveals too much of herself in saying even that, but it's the truth. Something warm in her gut makes her more aware of where she brushes against his legs, of the hair on the back of her neck, of the sound of her heart. (She'd felt it more keenly, if she's being honest, when he'd been grappling with her in the hallway. It was more primal then, less soft. But she decides not to share that.) ]
[His surprise is a strange thing. He'd kind of sensed something, but it was hard for him not to think he was imagining it. To hear Kira confirm it is...a mix of "told you" and "wait, seriously???"
No way. She probably has no idea what she's saying. Or maybe he's reading too deep into it and she is just physically thirsty and not at all emotionally thirsty. That is a little easier to digest. Assassins don't have real emotions, right?
He's devoting too much brain power to this. Ben clears his throat and shakes it out of his mind.]
I'm. Not nervous. Just--confused.
[Because like, murderous bloodhound or not, she's really hot and his track record with hot women is in the negatives.]
[ She nods, albeit a little warily. Confessing it feels like it gives him some power over her, but doesn't he already have it? She'd told him that she didn't turn him over to Snoke when she should have. He ought to have already drawn conclusions as to the effect he had on her.
Well. It wasn't as though he was the smartest man she'd ever met.
Kira leans in, her hands planting on either side of his legs as she starts to get up in his face, probing wordlessly at his fumbling. ]
Me too. [ Offering that in response to what he has admitted feels more secure. Her eyes still dart around to survey his reaction to that news. Confused, yes, was a good way to put it. She cannot put her finger to why he has this effect on her — the Force, she assumes — or what she's supposed to do with it. She's never been close to someone before. Not before him. ]
[She gets really close really fast, and he is sure that she must hear how quickly his heart rate shoots upward. The red under his collar creeps up just a little further, and Ben spends a few seconds just trying to get his reactions under control. Kira is practically in his lap, he can feel her breathing on his face, even at the distance she's established. Or maybe he's imagining it, because he suddenly wants her so much closer than she is.
He lets her come closer. And closer. There are several points where he can feel instinct telling him to stop her -- and eventually, he listens. He pulls himself up just enough to lean forward and meet her half way, close enough for them to feel one another's body heat.
This is probably a trust exercise. But if there is anything left of his father in him, its the tendency to yeet where his instincts drag him, trust or no trust. One of his large hands raises with the intent of resting on her cheek.]
Do you... [Awkward.] ...we can try and figure it out. [Stupid. He clears his throat.] I'd like to figure it out.
[ Her eyes drift shut briefly, and Kira tilts her head into the touch of his hand, savoring the warmth there. It harkens back to the half-remembered dream state wherein he'd embraced her, cradled her through panic. Her whole body sings with it, greedily soaking in the comfort. She turns her head, brushes her nose against his palm and opens her eyes to peer up at him.
Then, slowly, she nods.
Yes. She would like to figure it out. She would like to savor every ounce of this she can get. Snoke had always asserted that connections allowed for weakness, that Kira was strong because she had none, but there's a powerful possessiveness in finally having what she'd always longed for. And a certainty that she will do whatever it takes to keep it.
She moves up the rest of the way until her knees cage his thighs and she settles into his lap more definitively. It's apparent, like this, that she doesn't know at all what to do advance that intention, except more contact. She'd been young enough and her parents had been selfish enough that even his embrace had been foreign to her. Gestures of affection are outside her wheelhouse. ]
[Ben Solo absolutely needs Jesus right now. She plants herself directly in his lap and he gapes for just a moment before he catches himself. He was not sitting in a position that was prepared for another body, and so he grunts in a mixture of pain and surprise when she seats herself flush against him. His hands shoot down to her hips to lift her without thinking, just enough so he can readjust himself so neither of them are sitting on his balls.
Warn a guy, Kira. He can't hold her over his lap, of course, so he eventually just...sets her down. There's no real way to do this without making it way more intimate than he initially intended.]
Ok. Yeah. Hello.
[It's kind of...adorable. That's a weird adjective to assign a murderous assassin, but her curiosity and naked forwardness is intoxicating in its own way. He's softer in his approach, as if afraid he might take it one step too far and cause her to change her mind.
But now, with the lack of space between them, there's nothing to hide his nerves -- the warmth brewing under his skin and somewhere deep in his stomach, the feeling that makes the hair on his arms stand on end. He pulls one hand from her hip to return to her cheek -- his fingertips have started to tingle, and his skin might be a little clammy.
She's probably never even kissed anyone before. Oh boy. Pressure's on.]
[ As it turns out, she likes his hands on her hips just as much as she likes it on her cheek — in that she prefers the touch of bare skin, to her great surprise, but there's an appealing steadiness to him holding her by the hips. Her mouth feels dry, so her tongue presses out to wet her lips while she shifts her weight, trying to get an idea for how sitting in his lap is gonna go, the overall effect of which is some vague squirming. ]
Okay?
[ She's strangely invested in him approving this move for someone who'd just spelunked in his brain. But it had been hard to coax him towards that before, and as far as Kira is concerned, this is more. Much more. Pain is mundane, universal. Intimacy is scarce and precious and terrifying.
Reaching up, she mimics him. Returning the favor, really, as if to show him why it has managed to soothe the monster. She cups his cheeks in both her hands, though hers are so much smaller than his. His hand dwarfs her whole face. There's something fascinating to touching his face in this way too. She'd done it to probe his mind before. But it's not utilitarian now — it's exploratory, and she makes note of the bony prominences of his cheekbones and the galaxy of moles mottling his pale skin in a way she hadn't before. ]
[Oh god, the squirming is killing him. He makes a sound caught between a grunt and a groan as he's forced to drop his hands to her hips to -- stop her from wriggling. She can't possibly know what she is doing to him, rubbing against him like that. Or maybe she has an idea, but doesn't think it applies here. He does not need to pop a boner this soon into this exploration.
Even if his lizard brain really wants to yeet forward and embrace his inevitable erection.
As a result of that realization, he does not answer her question verbally. His eyes meet her's after she's done exploring the finer points of his face. Somewhere in between her exploration, he's tipped his forehead forward to rest on her's, momentarily content to absorb the contact.
But he doesn't stay that way long. Once he senses that she's still calm, he will eventually duck his head to search out her lips for a long but chaste kiss. It feels both the right and the wrong thing to do in that moment. But if it was definitely the most wrong thing to do, he suspects he'll find out shortly.
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But ... last night, there was no pain. I didn’t even know it was him. It was just a — dream to me. How am I supposed to tell?
[Now that his hands are free, he sets about rubbing his cheeks, which no longer feel like they are about to melt off.]
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[ There's something soft and insistent in her voice. It almost doesn't belong there. Kira isn't soft by any stretch of the imagination; even when she's vulnerable, it's like she's tightly coiled and frightened, all bare anxiety. But now, slipping into the explanation of the Force, the assurance she possesses and offers seems gentle. ]
Helping exercise your power will sharpen your senses. Both conscious and unconscious. Your reflexes improved as you became a better pilot, didn't they?
[ She tilts her head. ]
It's the same.
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That explanation cleary hooks onto his one braincell as his brows knit in concentration and he slowly starts to nod. At the same time, he attempts to dig deepfor that animal he can feel snarling under his skin, opening the door little by little while simultaniously attempting to seek a calm somewhere in that yawning darkness.
There’s nothing there, but the calm sticks with his effort to slowly engage with that strange, far away feeling.]
We’ll see, I guess.
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We'll take a break.
[ She says it as though it's her executive decision, a gift. Keeps her voice hard like she is in control of what's happening. ]
You can read me more of that story.
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Yeah? Ok.
[He's not going to complain about a break. In fact, it sounds utterly delightful. So he leans forward on the dejarik table.]
Where'd you put it?
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[ The one she's been invited to. When she nods her head, it's with the explicit expectation that his bunk is the reading room, that they ought to sprawl themselves in there once more rather than any version of events where she brings it out here for a nice, neutral reading climate where they're not crammed in close and no one's in a bed.
She heads back that way, pulling the book out from under the pillow there. ]
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He knows if he stalls too long, she will get upset with him. So Ben eventually slinks into his bedroom and holds out an arm for the book, moving to sit on the mattress.]
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It takes him probably longer than it should to get comfortable. He kicks off his boots and nests himself in the opposite corner of her -- not really searching for distance so much as a place to comfortably lay his legs and rest his back. As a result, his long legs tuck themselves to her right against the wall.
Then, he searches for where they'd left off.]
Where were we...
[He clears his throat, trying to capture the same voices he'd used earlier to narrate.]
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But his voice is soothing, too, and she is without restful sleep. After a time, she starts to doze against the opposite corner, breath even and slow and uncharacteristically calm. There's no forced restraint there. With him, in this moment, she feels at ease. For however long that lasts, for whatever that's worth. ]
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She'd fallen asleep. She'd felt safe enough to sleep in his presence, even after all of the arguing they'd done just a few hours ago.
He gently closes the book to watch her. Every now and then, when she turns like she might wake, his heart thunders a little faster and he hastily looks away, as if he fears that she might catch him staring at her. And he is absolutely staring. She seems an entirely different person, like this. He wants to wrap a blanket around her again, but he hadn't soon forgotten the last time he'd tried that.
So, he stays right where he is, lost in mapping the way she's curled in on herself, the way it morphs the curves of her body. If only he could see her face from here.]
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It's some minutes before her brain processes the lack of the sound that had lulled her and the way he has stilled. She draws in a sharp, short breath, but even then doesn't move at first. Instead, she wakes slowly, blinking blearily, turning her eyes on him as they're still coming into focus.
A yawn holds her back for a moment, scrunches her nose, and she has to shake her head to quell it before she can ask — ] Did you stop?
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Sssson of a bantha!
[It comes out as a hiss, because not only does it hurt, but he is probably thoroughly busted. His cheeks start to color, and he aggressively attempts to clear his throat in an attempt to answer her question as casually as possible.]
Y-yeah. Thought you’d want to hear the whole thing and all
[And I totally wasn’t distracted by your prone sleeping self at all]
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You're staring again.
[ Now it's definitely an accusation. But she clearly doesn't know what to do with it. Only that she knows, now, because of him, that there is something to that. He has admitted he wants to be near her. But here she is, and he's still gaping, like he's perpetually waiting for something else. ]
Is that why you're nervous?
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[He suddenly remembers that she can sense his lies, which causes him to swallow, color more, and hastily follow up with:]
—ok, maybe. I’m just—not used to sharing my quarters.
[Especially with a woman is left off. At least with this, he can maybe play off his interest in her. Because he can’t possible have interest in her, right? Right. Sure. Definitely.]
And. I don’t know.
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[ She's going to keep pinning him down, sniffing out this confusion until she has satisfied herself with the answer. Thus far, she hasn't. And she's unflinching too, obviously not worked up about the implications of that phrasing. ]
Insisted on it.
[ She sits up a little straighter, head tilting as she surveys him. ]
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[He adds emphasis on the word “sharing” like it is supposed to provide more clarity, but if this girl was taken as young as she seemed to be...well, he is sure Snoke did not teach his assassin about building meaningful relationships with people or about innuendo or any of that.
This is just another bed to her.]
Together.
[He is quieter when he adds that word, like it is supposed to be the glue.]
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[ No, that's not right. Oh somehow gives the impression that she fully understands, and she doesn't. Not really. Not in the way he means her to, not in the way that provides clarity of the implications therein. But she understands that his nerves come from their proximity, that it's the closeness and the context which has him staring at her like he wants something.
That, she understands entirely. By itself their situation evokes a want that she can identify even without a framework to process it. ]
Don't be nervous. [ Helpful. ] I feel it too.
[ The want to be close, but also the gripping dread of allowing anyone to be there. She reveals too much of herself in saying even that, but it's the truth. Something warm in her gut makes her more aware of where she brushes against his legs, of the hair on the back of her neck, of the sound of her heart. (She'd felt it more keenly, if she's being honest, when he'd been grappling with her in the hallway. It was more primal then, less soft. But she decides not to share that.) ]
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[His surprise is a strange thing. He'd kind of sensed something, but it was hard for him not to think he was imagining it. To hear Kira confirm it is...a mix of "told you" and "wait, seriously???"
No way. She probably has no idea what she's saying. Or maybe he's reading too deep into it and she is just physically thirsty and not at all emotionally thirsty. That is a little easier to digest. Assassins don't have real emotions, right?
He's devoting too much brain power to this. Ben clears his throat and shakes it out of his mind.]
I'm. Not nervous. Just--confused.
[Because like, murderous bloodhound or not, she's really hot and his track record with hot women is in the negatives.]
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Well. It wasn't as though he was the smartest man she'd ever met.
Kira leans in, her hands planting on either side of his legs as she starts to get up in his face, probing wordlessly at his fumbling. ]
Me too. [ Offering that in response to what he has admitted feels more secure. Her eyes still dart around to survey his reaction to that news. Confused, yes, was a good way to put it. She cannot put her finger to why he has this effect on her — the Force, she assumes — or what she's supposed to do with it. She's never been close to someone before. Not before him. ]
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[She gets really close really fast, and he is sure that she must hear how quickly his heart rate shoots upward. The red under his collar creeps up just a little further, and Ben spends a few seconds just trying to get his reactions under control. Kira is practically in his lap, he can feel her breathing on his face, even at the distance she's established. Or maybe he's imagining it, because he suddenly wants her so much closer than she is.
He lets her come closer. And closer. There are several points where he can feel instinct telling him to stop her -- and eventually, he listens. He pulls himself up just enough to lean forward and meet her half way, close enough for them to feel one another's body heat.
This is probably a trust exercise. But if there is anything left of his father in him, its the tendency to yeet where his instincts drag him, trust or no trust. One of his large hands raises with the intent of resting on her cheek.]
Do you... [Awkward.] ...we can try and figure it out. [Stupid. He clears his throat.] I'd like to figure it out.
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Then, slowly, she nods.
Yes. She would like to figure it out. She would like to savor every ounce of this she can get. Snoke had always asserted that connections allowed for weakness, that Kira was strong because she had none, but there's a powerful possessiveness in finally having what she'd always longed for. And a certainty that she will do whatever it takes to keep it.
She moves up the rest of the way until her knees cage his thighs and she settles into his lap more definitively. It's apparent, like this, that she doesn't know at all what to do advance that intention, except more contact. She'd been young enough and her parents had been selfish enough that even his embrace had been foreign to her. Gestures of affection are outside her wheelhouse. ]
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Warn a guy, Kira. He can't hold her over his lap, of course, so he eventually just...sets her down. There's no real way to do this without making it way more intimate than he initially intended.]
Ok. Yeah. Hello.
[It's kind of...adorable. That's a weird adjective to assign a murderous assassin, but her curiosity and naked forwardness is intoxicating in its own way. He's softer in his approach, as if afraid he might take it one step too far and cause her to change her mind.
But now, with the lack of space between them, there's nothing to hide his nerves -- the warmth brewing under his skin and somewhere deep in his stomach, the feeling that makes the hair on his arms stand on end. He pulls one hand from her hip to return to her cheek -- his fingertips have started to tingle, and his skin might be a little clammy.
She's probably never even kissed anyone before. Oh boy. Pressure's on.]
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Okay?
[ She's strangely invested in him approving this move for someone who'd just spelunked in his brain. But it had been hard to coax him towards that before, and as far as Kira is concerned, this is more. Much more. Pain is mundane, universal. Intimacy is scarce and precious and terrifying.
Reaching up, she mimics him. Returning the favor, really, as if to show him why it has managed to soothe the monster. She cups his cheeks in both her hands, though hers are so much smaller than his. His hand dwarfs her whole face. There's something fascinating to touching his face in this way too. She'd done it to probe his mind before. But it's not utilitarian now — it's exploratory, and she makes note of the bony prominences of his cheekbones and the galaxy of moles mottling his pale skin in a way she hadn't before. ]
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Even if his lizard brain really wants to yeet forward and embrace his inevitable erection.
As a result of that realization, he does not answer her question verbally. His eyes meet her's after she's done exploring the finer points of his face. Somewhere in between her exploration, he's tipped his forehead forward to rest on her's, momentarily content to absorb the contact.
But he doesn't stay that way long. Once he senses that she's still calm, he will eventually duck his head to search out her lips for a long but chaste kiss. It feels both the right and the wrong thing to do in that moment. But if it was definitely the most wrong thing to do, he suspects he'll find out shortly.
So yeah. Yeet.]
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