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.
[ Sharp and snarling, she corrects him immediacy, unable to withstand his imitation of kindness. The pale imitation of what once was. Kylo Ren has proven he does not care for her beyond how she can best serve his ambitions, his needs. ]
How does it feel? [ The exertion of fighting against his grip, gloved fingers stabbing into her ribs as he makes an attempt to wrestle her onto her stomach, turns her rebuttal winded. Even still, Rey does not stop thrashing, bringing her knee up to block him. ] Knowing I chose to waste away over being with you?
[ The bite of that anger is frigid, cold, aiming to wound as he had wounded her. Nothing like the simmering sparks of heat she had once possessed when she had possessed fiery hope. He underestimates them both if he believes she would not choose agony, even now, to bring him the suffering he deserves.
If not for his hands on her, she would not hesitate to end them both. To reach for her lightsaber, hidden within her cloak, to drive its double blades between their chests. Instead, she settles for clawing haplessly at his cheek, blunt nails struggling to gain any purchase. ]
[It hurts. She will no doubt feel the way he cringes on the other side of the bond, clear as a bell now that they are so connected. His face hardly shifts except for a minute twitch in the corner of his mouth, blood dripping off his chin and down onto her.
It takes a long moment for his heart to harden again, his expression wrinkling in disgust.]
It does not matter, you see. [It does matter.] I do not need you to be with me for what I need.
[That, at least, is true in his mind. Whatever the Force had done to them, how it sings or how it infects them, he just needs the proximity.]
[ Liar. It has to matter, has to be yet another reason she still lives — that deluded belief that, with nowhere else to turn, she might return to him. The accusation pings loudly in their newly revived connection, though she derives no pleasure in it as she had imagined she might. Compared to the wounds he has given her, unseen but festering, she has only delivered a minor scratch in retribution.
In the end, nothing will bring them back. Still, Rey viciously hunts for some satisfaction that his superficial injuries and desolation cannot give her. Some feeling that is not desperate rage and endless grief. It's almost cruel that he won't gift it to her by harming her in return, but Rey refuses to be so naive as to believe he can't bring himself to strangle the air from her.
No. That isn't it. Kylo Ren doesn't know what mercy is. ]
That's right. You need me. [ Her eyes flutter closed, as if searching for peace she cannot find. Peace she has not had since the Resistance crumbled. Steadily, his blood drips down onto her, skating down her chin to pool in the dips of her clavicle. Another trail trickles onto her lower lip. Just the copper tang of it seems to breathe new essence into her. ] And I don't need you.
[ If she has not made that clear. She'll find a way to end herself before he can ever lay any claim to her. All she has now are her hands, falling from him to settle on her own windpipe. Exerting pressure, even knowing it will be futile. ]
[Her words are like venom that he cannot siphon from the bond, and he has to avoid looking at her for a moment while he collects his emotions and shoves them into a box. Once that is done, he has to spit more blood aside before he can try again.]
Rey--stop!
[And then he sees what she is doing. She will earn the pleasure of seeing panic slip across his face, even when he knows that her gesture is symbolic rather than anything that would be effective. He shifts wildly to exert pressure on her nerve instead with the intent of knocking her out before she can strangle herself.
He doesn't bother to consider that the severance of the bond might allow his power back in full. The option simply isn't on the table. If he'd been able to kill Rey, he would have done it long before now. He doesn't just need her. He wants her.
When she wakes again. She will be in his quarters on the command shuttle, and he will be finishing off the last knot that he has tied to the foot of his bed keeping her arms apart. After that display, he is not about to give her the opportunity to do it again. Binders would give her too much flexibility.
The blood has dried on his face.]
It did not have to be this way, you know. This wasn't what I wanted.
[ Even in sleep, Rey finds no peace. The memories come as they always do, taunting and nightmarish, spurring her into waking from her murmuring and twitching with a start. A gasping inhale follows as she moves to launch herself upward, yanking in confusion when her limbs fail to push her from the mattress. Tug, tug, tugging as her heart pounds wildly in her chest, seized by the rush of panic.
Another bad dream in which Kylo Ren had found her once again, she tells herself, but blinking the sleep from her eyes sharpens her vision. This isn't her haven, her cave; her breathing picks up, a loud echo in the room around them, like a beast that has just noticed its leg in a trap.
The footboard rattles as she thrashes, trying to jerk away from his voice without fully comprehending what he's telling her. It jars her shoulder, popping in her socket, from the amount of wrenching she has done — but Rey continues through her muffled, strangled cry of pain. Furious tears burn at the corners of her eyes, no matter how she tries to beat them back. ]
Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?
[ Hissing like a wild thing, Rey shoots her leg outward in an attempt to kick him. Staying so near to her had been his own mistake. She'll take her blows where she can get them, even if it all feels so hollow in the aftermath. ]
I don't care what you want. You did this!
[ To himself. To her. To the Resistance. He won't even allow her the respect of letting her end it once and for all. In the end, this was the path he had chosen, doubling down when she had begged him to join her in the light. She has no pity to spare him. Whatever she had felt for Ben Solo, she has convinced herself he had killed that, too. ]
[He winces when he feels the shoulder pop on the other end of the bond, so much so that he is sat flat on his back by the kick she manages to land. He does not get up right away -- there is no way she can break those bonds without an excessive amount of work, and some part of him knows that he deserves her ire.
And -- some part of him had wanted this. He wanted to see Rey's vicious streak in all of its glory, and he had gotten his wish. But some foolish part of him still believed she might come to understand, to join him by his side and unleash her hatred on the galaxy that had wronged her.]
If you really wanted to die, you would have done it long before I found you again.
[He says this from the floor, out of reach of her kicking.]
Is that what you tell yourself to help the pain? Have you fooled yourself into believing I wanted to be found by you?
[ He has shown her his soft underbelly in hoping that she might still be turned to his cause, still might be saved, still might be his. Rey's words aim to target it, prodding cruelly — tauntingly, almost, for how she openly scoffs at the idea. Kylo Ren had always reduced her to feeling like a lost child in need of answers; now, it seems he is clinging at something, anything, to convince himself of a better future for himself. Unable to accept the consequences. In that moment, she hates him even more for it.
She doesn't hesitate to try to drive the knife in deeper, ripping through any illusions, when she snaps, ]
I was waiting for the distance to kill us both. [ If she could not attack him directly, it would have to suffice. A decent enough strategy, effective, until he had finally found her. Above all else, he would be made to feel as empty, suffering alongside her. ] I would choose that fate a thousand times over if it meant getting away from you.
[His hands have folded on his chest, and he opens them in a sort of hapless shrug. for her to witness from the area he has bound her to. She might be able to hear the pleased smile in his voice when he speaks again]
Because now you are here. And I'll keep you alive as long as I need. If you refuse food, I will force feed you. If you find some clever way to strangle yourself, I will bind you further. If that is the life you choose, then so be it. But you see Rey -- I've already won.
[A hollow victory, but at this rate, he will take the victories he can get. He leans upward to observe her reaction to this information, a blank stare in his eyes. He lifts a hand to stroke at her cheek.]
[ Even in all of her certainty, Rey can't resist the weakness she displays in jerking away from him. The touch he offers is too intimate, too familiar, not to feel as if it is trying to pry into old wounds and rip them back open. Awakening the woman she once was by showing her the gentleness she had once longed for, that she had once thought him capable of.
As if threatening to keep her breathing is a blessing and not a curse, compassion he thinks he's providing her. A war he believes he is winning. ]
Rey is dead. You killed her when you destroyed the Resistance.
[ Whatever scraps had been left of her when the smoke had cleared, they aren't enough for her to resemble what she once was. She tries to take comfort in that knowledge, aware Kylo Ren is latching onto sentiment, wishing for the woman that had once promised him comfort, understanding, light.
The numb, assured hollowness hasn't left her voice when she continues. ]
What you have is a shell. A body. [ A consolation prize. He'll get tired of it eventually, aching for more. She only needs to wait. ] I will never belong to you as anything more than that.
[She jerks away, and he makes a noise of curious interest. His head tilts just so, eyes narrowing in that studious way they often did when he found something new. His fingers curl, his tongue wetting his lips. His hand captures her chin to force her to look at him.]
I think Rey is too stubborn to die. Or did you forget...?
[His finger curves to stroke along her cheek. Whether or not she finds comfort or joy or misery in his affection does not really matter to him. He can see the effect -- and it balms his loneliness that has suffered through so many years.]
I see it. The way you cringe away from me. What you desire, the things you miss.
[He nods, knowing the blow he dealt by annihilating the Resistance. It had not been easy for him. He still refused to even think of his mother, whether or not she had escaped the canon fire. It had been years since the smoke cleared -- it is safe to assume she is gone, and he no longer has to dedicate thought to any of it.]
And I can do a lot of things with a body. Let alone your body, so connected that we are.
[ The muscle in her jaw jumps beneath the skin, made more evident by the taut pull of skin over her bone structure where malnutrition has kicked back in. He is right, to some extent; Rey might have fallen with the Resistance, but the woman that has been left in her place is still so obstinate, fixing her gaze upon his with an enraged defiance.
She won't award him the pleasure of looking away, of witnessing her struggle. Already he is basking too heavily in her belligerence without adding more thrashing to the list. ]
I don't miss them. Not from you.
[ Not anymore, Rey thinks to herself, even in her wretched loneliness. He isn't Ben Solo, the man she might have imagined if he had not gone astray. Kylo Ren had slaughtered him, too, that day. Neither is he Finn, soft and gentle — or Leia, nurturing and kind. His touch means nothing to her when it is pure possession rather than compassion, rather than love. Images of each flash through her mind, more painful for knowing they're gone.
Bile rises in her throat, bound to choke her for the threat she inherently detects in his promise. He won't be happy until he's taken everything that is still hers, spared from him on Crait. Made every part of her his, believing it will bring her back to him. ]
[Not entirely -- she believes that she does not miss Kylo Ren. She misses Ben Solo, who is dead. But she is not studious enough to separate their faces, their bodies. Only their mannerisms. And that won't be enough, once she has been tied to his bed for long enough.]
I know enough.
[She has succeeded in shutting down his concern for how she might perceive him -- if she wants the monster, then that's what she'll get. It is easier to lean into, without the hope there to guide him elsewhere.]
I know that you blame me for all of them. That's alright. Everyone always gives up eventually. I can bear this too.
[His thumb traces up along her lip, admiring the feel of them with bare fingers, mindful of the joint should she decide to try and bite down. She is not quite skin and bones yet, but he can spot the signs of malnutrition. Whether or not she eats, she will need an IV of fluids and nourishment. It would be the quickest way to get her healthy again.]
Fight, if you need. But what's done is done, and the galaxy needs us now.
[ Each syllable brushes what's left of the softness of her mouth — cracked and dry, eroded from the desert's unforgiving climate — against the pad of his thumb, but Rey refuses to recoil. Knowing he must desire it, searching for the parts of her he has missed, is reason enough to deny it to him.
It goes against the very fiber of what she is to offer numb indifference, but it feels like a revelation. A new way of approaching him, now that she believes she is aware of his attempts to draw her spirit out, make her remember herself. Hoping she will fight in order to feel he has earned her surrender if it were to come. ]
You won't get anything from me.
[ And that makes all the difference. He can take it, but she will never give it willingly. Kylo Ren is a fool to believe that will ever be enough to slake his hunger, that she will come to him if he is patient enough (as if he has ever possessed patience, Rey thinks to herself). Rey's eyes finally leave his, glazing over as she directs them somewhere above his head. ]
[He does not believe for a second that she will not fight him, but her claims draw out the stubborn desire to push her -- even after all those years, he is still incredibly predictable.]
Well, if you won't fight...
[He reaches to untie one of her hands in a deliberately slow manner -- he has no doubt that she can outlast him in a game of patience, but she has done him the favor of nearly dislocating her shoulder prior to this moment. If she does, in fact, try to fight him...it should not be difficult to restrain her again. He'd just walk out with more bruises than he first anticipated.
And right now, that doesn't sound so bad. He was never one to shy away from physical pain -- quite the opposite, actually.]
[ Her heartbeat picks up, fluttering in her ribcage, as she follows his fingers to her wrists. The makeshift binders have done their share of damage, chafing the skin until it is red and raw beneath the wrappings he carefully untangles.
He's a fool. She would be a greater fool to act on impulse and reach for the lightsaber still buried within her cloak. If nothing else, he has done her the favor of wanting her to be awake before he tried to touch her. Waiting for an opportune moment is wiser.
Rey says nothing, though a flash of pain does spike between them as the weight of her arm drops — heavy from being in one position, sore from all of her thrashing. It jostles her shoulder again, an agonizing burst of pain, but she gives no voice to it beyond a grunt — even as fresh tears threaten to spring to her eyes, turning them glossy.
They never fall. Tears had never gotten her anywhere, after all. Instead, she focuses on drawing her arm back to her, watching him all the while to ensure it isn't a greater trick than it already is for his attempts to provoke her into action, observing him like an animal distrusting the hunter that had locked it in a cage and now thinks to free it. ]
[And like a hunter, he observes her reaction, from the flinch of pain to the tears that spring to her eyes and the way she curls in on herself. He is slower with the second binding, drawing on the few memories he still keeps packed away -- memories of how to keep an interaction intimate in its control, how to possess and own every slow slip of the rope as he unknots it and leaves Rey to her relief.
And he is leaning over her to continue this observation, a shadow covering a good portion of her body as he digs for the familiar signs of Rey -- the fight, the belligerence, the survival instinct. He craves it, practically vibrates with the need to feel it in the bond again. So engrossed in it, he seems to have nearly forgotten his cause for recapturing her in the first place.
His focus is singular, enough that his commlink can be seen flashing on the banister away from them as he ignores yet another summons.
She hasn't struck him yet beyond that first kick. Hell, she hasn't even tried to struggle -- so he gets bolder. The hand that had been playing with her lower lip drags back to thread through her hair, which he casually examines like one might examine a favorite plant.]
You must be starving.
[It is unclear if he is talking about food, or something else.]
[ His fingers ruin what their scuffle in the sand hadn't, disrupting what's left of the braid that hangs low at her back. It promises what had once been intricate — familiar, a memento from Leia that she can only replicate now.
She hadn't had the heart to ever disband it. It's clear she has taken no better care of it — and herself, for that matter — than what had been strictly necessary to keep it free from dangling in her face, greasy from sweat and lack of proper hygiene, hanging in the middle of her spine. It hasn't deterred him, she notes, as she had hoped the state of her might.
It seems she was wrong. He is too desperate to find her unappealing, even wan and unwashed. Rey's dry throat works as she swallows, deliberately ignoring whatever suggestion she thinks she hears between the lines. Ignoring him, more than that, as she angles her face away to pay attention to rubbing feeling back into her arms.
She is convinced he will eventually stop once he gets no reaction. And if he will not stop ... She can take advantage of his current fixation. ]
I had all that I needed in the desert.
[ Enough to sustain herself on just enough nourishment to survive. Enough warm bodies if she needed the company, though she could never bring herself to want human contact again. Opening herself meant inevitably losing it. ]
[Not him. Not a family. No real connection — and for all Rey tries to deny that she doesn’t need those things, he knows that she lies. He knows because he lied too, until he could nor take it anymore and increased the search for her.
And certainly not enough food. He rises to his feet, intent on providing.]
I will be back.
[And after just a moment’s glance down at the discarded rope, Kylo Ren backs out of the room and locks the door behind him. His room, of course, is utterly bare bones: a bed with an imprint of the same position he has slept in every night with one crushed pillow that he seems to have been hugging. There are no photos on the wall, and only a calligraphy set poised on the table.
He returns before long with an MRE of sorts — fancier than anything Rey has likely had, and places the tray on the one table in the room. He also brings a wheeled IV, which he parks in the corner of the room.]
[ Not everything, he says, and Rey can only interpret it as arrogance. His folly is in believing himself to be the key to her salvation — the missing piece of her that will make her whole, make her see him as he wants to be seen. It's a child's belief thinking he can coax her from the festering void of the dark when he had been the one to push her there, but Rey has already done what she can to denounce his misconception.
He rises too quickly for her to dispute it, regardless. Rey is left staring at the door as he departs, waiting until the sound of his thudding footsteps has dulled before she rises. Locked, as she had suspected, but she couldn't have forgiven herself if she had not tried to seize the opportunity.
She returns to her place on his bed minutes before he returns, perched at its very edge in her refusal to get comfortable there. Kylo Ren has already convinced himself she belongs there, a fixture, a pet; she won't give him further reason to believe it. The room itself remains untouched and undisturbed, unwilling to risk rifling through it just yet. ]
There's no water.
[ Rey points that out bluntly once she has settled the tray on her lap, keen to observe all the ways in which he is lacking in caring for her well when she knows he would prefer gratitude. She's going to puke it up if she consumes it in its entirety, anyway. There won't be avoiding any of that after her stomach has settled into a routine of subsisting on scraps, unable to fully digest beyond those limits.
Petulantly, she doesn't warn him. It wouldn't do her any good when he'll shove his fingers down her throat and coerce her into eating, and she is not above forcing him to learn from his mistake of believing he knows best. ]
[Rey's complaint earns her a frustrated stare down, and for a long moment, it seems like he expects her to eat without it. Then, abruptly, he summons his canteen from the table and hands it to her expectantly. Inside is cool tea, obviously freshly brewed not long before she had woken up.]
My apologies, your highness.
[He manages to keep any sarcastic tone out of his reply, though the Force tells enough of that story.]
I already told you, didn't I? I don't need anything from you.
[ Just barely, she prevents herself from continuing with that bratty rampage by reminding him she had not asked for the tray he has brought. If he should fault anyone for his lack of foresight, for his inadequacy, it should be himself.
But it gives him too large an opening to suggest she has made a request of him when she knows it isn't true. Demanding is easier and spares her from feeling as if she must rely on him, taking on that imperious demeanor with ease. It continues as she unscrews the canteen, stirring the container until the liquid sloshes against its edges, and sniffs — nose twitching like a rabbit, as if she can detect anything amiss.
He wouldn't poison her when he'd gone to such great lengths to keep her alive. Drugging her seems equally out of the question for how it would alter her mind, but she remains skeptical, distrusting — and eager to insult him by reminding him of that, even now.
The first sip she takes is cautious, but the next is messier, throating working to swallow what she drinks down with greed — liquid spilling out onto her chin, missed when she finally breaks away to wipe at her mouth with the back of her hand. ]
[Again, Kylo Ren watches studiously as she devours his carefully prepared beverage, arms at his sides and eyelids half hooded. He waits until she is done before slowly and deliberately offering his hand to take the canteen from her. His fist uncurls one finger at a time.]
It seems your thirst would beg to differ.
[He offers her no smug smile, but the bond hides nothing now that they are in the same room again. It feels sticky, pleased by the fact that they've been reunited even while at odds with one another.]
Fortunately, there is plenty more where that came from.
[ She doesn't trust that promise for a second as she sets the canteen back in his hand. Rather than address it, Rey rubs away the moisture collecting at her chin, dripping down onto the bed like a stalactite, and turns her eyes to the meal he's offered. This time, she is careful not to dig in quickly, not to enjoy it.
Kylo Ren would only consider it another victory, and she knows well now that needs and desires are exploitable. He is not above dangling them above her head, using them as bait, to coerce her into behaving as he wishes, slotting her into the role he wants in order to indulge his fantasies.
Her disdain pollutes his satisfaction in the bond, working to overpower it. Carefully, she picks at the block of processed ingredients — meat and bread, if she had to guess, and snarks, ]
Did you expect me to thank you? I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.
[A blatant lie that he has no problem offering her. With that, he turns his back and heads to the counter on the other side of the table, intent on preparing more tea. It was supposed to be his, after all.]
If I wanted to be thanked, I would not have gone through so much trouble to hunt you down in the desert, Rey. I would have waited for you to seek me out. But we both know that was not going to happen.
[The use of her name is deliberate, reminding her that there is nothing to separate them now. Not names. Not familiarity. Nothing.]
So instead, you are my prisoner. Again. Until we both expire, this time.
[ This time, she does not spare him the sharpness of that accusation, eager to remind him that he is not immune to the bond's properties. He cannot hide from her any more than she can conceal herself from him. As an advantage in her hands, it grants her the smugness he had not outwardly shown, dripping from every letter.
Despite soothing her parched throat, Rey's voice dips unnervingly, crackling and hoarse. ]
Even after all this time, you're so desperate to be seen. Desperate to be loved. [ It must hurt, knowing another creature of the darkness would not dare to grant him that. ] You're too afraid to be alone. Being without me killed you.
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[ Sharp and snarling, she corrects him immediacy, unable to withstand his imitation of kindness. The pale imitation of what once was. Kylo Ren has proven he does not care for her beyond how she can best serve his ambitions, his needs. ]
How does it feel? [ The exertion of fighting against his grip, gloved fingers stabbing into her ribs as he makes an attempt to wrestle her onto her stomach, turns her rebuttal winded. Even still, Rey does not stop thrashing, bringing her knee up to block him. ] Knowing I chose to waste away over being with you?
[ The bite of that anger is frigid, cold, aiming to wound as he had wounded her. Nothing like the simmering sparks of heat she had once possessed when she had possessed fiery hope. He underestimates them both if he believes she would not choose agony, even now, to bring him the suffering he deserves.
If not for his hands on her, she would not hesitate to end them both. To reach for her lightsaber, hidden within her cloak, to drive its double blades between their chests. Instead, she settles for clawing haplessly at his cheek, blunt nails struggling to gain any purchase. ]
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It takes a long moment for his heart to harden again, his expression wrinkling in disgust.]
It does not matter, you see. [It does matter.] I do not need you to be with me for what I need.
[That, at least, is true in his mind. Whatever the Force had done to them, how it sings or how it infects them, he just needs the proximity.]
You were a fool to think you could run forever.
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In the end, nothing will bring them back. Still, Rey viciously hunts for some satisfaction that his superficial injuries and desolation cannot give her. Some feeling that is not desperate rage and endless grief. It's almost cruel that he won't gift it to her by harming her in return, but Rey refuses to be so naive as to believe he can't bring himself to strangle the air from her.
No. That isn't it. Kylo Ren doesn't know what mercy is. ]
That's right. You need me. [ Her eyes flutter closed, as if searching for peace she cannot find. Peace she has not had since the Resistance crumbled. Steadily, his blood drips down onto her, skating down her chin to pool in the dips of her clavicle. Another trail trickles onto her lower lip. Just the copper tang of it seems to breathe new essence into her. ] And I don't need you.
[ If she has not made that clear. She'll find a way to end herself before he can ever lay any claim to her. All she has now are her hands, falling from him to settle on her own windpipe. Exerting pressure, even knowing it will be futile. ]
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Rey--stop!
[And then he sees what she is doing. She will earn the pleasure of seeing panic slip across his face, even when he knows that her gesture is symbolic rather than anything that would be effective. He shifts wildly to exert pressure on her nerve instead with the intent of knocking her out before she can strangle herself.
He doesn't bother to consider that the severance of the bond might allow his power back in full. The option simply isn't on the table. If he'd been able to kill Rey, he would have done it long before now. He doesn't just need her. He wants her.
When she wakes again. She will be in his quarters on the command shuttle, and he will be finishing off the last knot that he has tied to the foot of his bed keeping her arms apart. After that display, he is not about to give her the opportunity to do it again. Binders would give her too much flexibility.
The blood has dried on his face.]
It did not have to be this way, you know. This wasn't what I wanted.
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Another bad dream in which Kylo Ren had found her once again, she tells herself, but blinking the sleep from her eyes sharpens her vision. This isn't her haven, her cave; her breathing picks up, a loud echo in the room around them, like a beast that has just noticed its leg in a trap.
The footboard rattles as she thrashes, trying to jerk away from his voice without fully comprehending what he's telling her. It jars her shoulder, popping in her socket, from the amount of wrenching she has done — but Rey continues through her muffled, strangled cry of pain. Furious tears burn at the corners of her eyes, no matter how she tries to beat them back. ]
Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?
[ Hissing like a wild thing, Rey shoots her leg outward in an attempt to kick him. Staying so near to her had been his own mistake. She'll take her blows where she can get them, even if it all feels so hollow in the aftermath. ]
I don't care what you want. You did this!
[ To himself. To her. To the Resistance. He won't even allow her the respect of letting her end it once and for all. In the end, this was the path he had chosen, doubling down when she had begged him to join her in the light. She has no pity to spare him. Whatever she had felt for Ben Solo, she has convinced herself he had killed that, too. ]
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And -- some part of him had wanted this. He wanted to see Rey's vicious streak in all of its glory, and he had gotten his wish. But some foolish part of him still believed she might come to understand, to join him by his side and unleash her hatred on the galaxy that had wronged her.]
If you really wanted to die, you would have done it long before I found you again.
[He says this from the floor, out of reach of her kicking.]
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[ He has shown her his soft underbelly in hoping that she might still be turned to his cause, still might be saved, still might be his. Rey's words aim to target it, prodding cruelly — tauntingly, almost, for how she openly scoffs at the idea. Kylo Ren had always reduced her to feeling like a lost child in need of answers; now, it seems he is clinging at something, anything, to convince himself of a better future for himself. Unable to accept the consequences. In that moment, she hates him even more for it.
She doesn't hesitate to try to drive the knife in deeper, ripping through any illusions, when she snaps, ]
I was waiting for the distance to kill us both. [ If she could not attack him directly, it would have to suffice. A decent enough strategy, effective, until he had finally found her. Above all else, he would be made to feel as empty, suffering alongside her. ] I would choose that fate a thousand times over if it meant getting away from you.
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[His hands have folded on his chest, and he opens them in a sort of hapless shrug. for her to witness from the area he has bound her to. She might be able to hear the pleased smile in his voice when he speaks again]
Because now you are here. And I'll keep you alive as long as I need. If you refuse food, I will force feed you. If you find some clever way to strangle yourself, I will bind you further. If that is the life you choose, then so be it. But you see Rey -- I've already won.
[A hollow victory, but at this rate, he will take the victories he can get. He leans upward to observe her reaction to this information, a blank stare in his eyes. He lifts a hand to stroke at her cheek.]
You're mine. Whether you like it, or not.
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As if threatening to keep her breathing is a blessing and not a curse, compassion he thinks he's providing her. A war he believes he is winning. ]
Rey is dead. You killed her when you destroyed the Resistance.
[ Whatever scraps had been left of her when the smoke had cleared, they aren't enough for her to resemble what she once was. She tries to take comfort in that knowledge, aware Kylo Ren is latching onto sentiment, wishing for the woman that had once promised him comfort, understanding, light.
The numb, assured hollowness hasn't left her voice when she continues. ]
What you have is a shell. A body. [ A consolation prize. He'll get tired of it eventually, aching for more. She only needs to wait. ] I will never belong to you as anything more than that.
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I think Rey is too stubborn to die. Or did you forget...?
[His finger curves to stroke along her cheek. Whether or not she finds comfort or joy or misery in his affection does not really matter to him. He can see the effect -- and it balms his loneliness that has suffered through so many years.]
I see it. The way you cringe away from me. What you desire, the things you miss.
[He nods, knowing the blow he dealt by annihilating the Resistance. It had not been easy for him. He still refused to even think of his mother, whether or not she had escaped the canon fire. It had been years since the smoke cleared -- it is safe to assume she is gone, and he no longer has to dedicate thought to any of it.]
And I can do a lot of things with a body. Let alone your body, so connected that we are.
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She won't award him the pleasure of looking away, of witnessing her struggle. Already he is basking too heavily in her belligerence without adding more thrashing to the list. ]
I don't miss them. Not from you.
[ Not anymore, Rey thinks to herself, even in her wretched loneliness. He isn't Ben Solo, the man she might have imagined if he had not gone astray. Kylo Ren had slaughtered him, too, that day. Neither is he Finn, soft and gentle — or Leia, nurturing and kind. His touch means nothing to her when it is pure possession rather than compassion, rather than love. Images of each flash through her mind, more painful for knowing they're gone.
Bile rises in her throat, bound to choke her for the threat she inherently detects in his promise. He won't be happy until he's taken everything that is still hers, spared from him on Crait. Made every part of her his, believing it will bring her back to him. ]
You don't know what you're talking about.
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[Not entirely -- she believes that she does not miss Kylo Ren. She misses Ben Solo, who is dead. But she is not studious enough to separate their faces, their bodies. Only their mannerisms. And that won't be enough, once she has been tied to his bed for long enough.]
I know enough.
[She has succeeded in shutting down his concern for how she might perceive him -- if she wants the monster, then that's what she'll get. It is easier to lean into, without the hope there to guide him elsewhere.]
I know that you blame me for all of them. That's alright. Everyone always gives up eventually. I can bear this too.
[His thumb traces up along her lip, admiring the feel of them with bare fingers, mindful of the joint should she decide to try and bite down. She is not quite skin and bones yet, but he can spot the signs of malnutrition. Whether or not she eats, she will need an IV of fluids and nourishment. It would be the quickest way to get her healthy again.]
Fight, if you need. But what's done is done, and the galaxy needs us now.
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[ Each syllable brushes what's left of the softness of her mouth — cracked and dry, eroded from the desert's unforgiving climate — against the pad of his thumb, but Rey refuses to recoil. Knowing he must desire it, searching for the parts of her he has missed, is reason enough to deny it to him.
It goes against the very fiber of what she is to offer numb indifference, but it feels like a revelation. A new way of approaching him, now that she believes she is aware of his attempts to draw her spirit out, make her remember herself. Hoping she will fight in order to feel he has earned her surrender if it were to come. ]
You won't get anything from me.
[ And that makes all the difference. He can take it, but she will never give it willingly. Kylo Ren is a fool to believe that will ever be enough to slake his hunger, that she will come to him if he is patient enough (as if he has ever possessed patience, Rey thinks to herself). Rey's eyes finally leave his, glazing over as she directs them somewhere above his head. ]
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Well, if you won't fight...
[He reaches to untie one of her hands in a deliberately slow manner -- he has no doubt that she can outlast him in a game of patience, but she has done him the favor of nearly dislocating her shoulder prior to this moment. If she does, in fact, try to fight him...it should not be difficult to restrain her again. He'd just walk out with more bruises than he first anticipated.
And right now, that doesn't sound so bad. He was never one to shy away from physical pain -- quite the opposite, actually.]
I suppose we don't need these after all.
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He's a fool. She would be a greater fool to act on impulse and reach for the lightsaber still buried within her cloak. If nothing else, he has done her the favor of wanting her to be awake before he tried to touch her. Waiting for an opportune moment is wiser.
Rey says nothing, though a flash of pain does spike between them as the weight of her arm drops — heavy from being in one position, sore from all of her thrashing. It jostles her shoulder again, an agonizing burst of pain, but she gives no voice to it beyond a grunt — even as fresh tears threaten to spring to her eyes, turning them glossy.
They never fall. Tears had never gotten her anywhere, after all. Instead, she focuses on drawing her arm back to her, watching him all the while to ensure it isn't a greater trick than it already is for his attempts to provoke her into action, observing him like an animal distrusting the hunter that had locked it in a cage and now thinks to free it. ]
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And he is leaning over her to continue this observation, a shadow covering a good portion of her body as he digs for the familiar signs of Rey -- the fight, the belligerence, the survival instinct. He craves it, practically vibrates with the need to feel it in the bond again. So engrossed in it, he seems to have nearly forgotten his cause for recapturing her in the first place.
His focus is singular, enough that his commlink can be seen flashing on the banister away from them as he ignores yet another summons.
She hasn't struck him yet beyond that first kick. Hell, she hasn't even tried to struggle -- so he gets bolder. The hand that had been playing with her lower lip drags back to thread through her hair, which he casually examines like one might examine a favorite plant.]
You must be starving.
[It is unclear if he is talking about food, or something else.]
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She hadn't had the heart to ever disband it. It's clear she has taken no better care of it — and herself, for that matter — than what had been strictly necessary to keep it free from dangling in her face, greasy from sweat and lack of proper hygiene, hanging in the middle of her spine. It hasn't deterred him, she notes, as she had hoped the state of her might.
It seems she was wrong. He is too desperate to find her unappealing, even wan and unwashed. Rey's dry throat works as she swallows, deliberately ignoring whatever suggestion she thinks she hears between the lines. Ignoring him, more than that, as she angles her face away to pay attention to rubbing feeling back into her arms.
She is convinced he will eventually stop once he gets no reaction. And if he will not stop ... She can take advantage of his current fixation. ]
I had all that I needed in the desert.
[ Enough to sustain herself on just enough nourishment to survive. Enough warm bodies if she needed the company, though she could never bring herself to want human contact again. Opening herself meant inevitably losing it. ]
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[Not him. Not a family. No real connection — and for all Rey tries to deny that she doesn’t need those things, he knows that she lies. He knows because he lied too, until he could nor take it anymore and increased the search for her.
And certainly not enough food. He rises to his feet, intent on providing.]
I will be back.
[And after just a moment’s glance down at the discarded rope, Kylo Ren backs out of the room and locks the door behind him. His room, of course, is utterly bare bones: a bed with an imprint of the same position he has slept in every night with one crushed pillow that he seems to have been hugging. There are no photos on the wall, and only a calligraphy set poised on the table.
He returns before long with an MRE of sorts — fancier than anything Rey has likely had, and places the tray on the one table in the room. He also brings a wheeled IV, which he parks in the corner of the room.]
Eat.
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He rises too quickly for her to dispute it, regardless. Rey is left staring at the door as he departs, waiting until the sound of his thudding footsteps has dulled before she rises. Locked, as she had suspected, but she couldn't have forgiven herself if she had not tried to seize the opportunity.
She returns to her place on his bed minutes before he returns, perched at its very edge in her refusal to get comfortable there. Kylo Ren has already convinced himself she belongs there, a fixture, a pet; she won't give him further reason to believe it. The room itself remains untouched and undisturbed, unwilling to risk rifling through it just yet. ]
There's no water.
[ Rey points that out bluntly once she has settled the tray on her lap, keen to observe all the ways in which he is lacking in caring for her well when she knows he would prefer gratitude. She's going to puke it up if she consumes it in its entirety, anyway. There won't be avoiding any of that after her stomach has settled into a routine of subsisting on scraps, unable to fully digest beyond those limits.
Petulantly, she doesn't warn him. It wouldn't do her any good when he'll shove his fingers down her throat and coerce her into eating, and she is not above forcing him to learn from his mistake of believing he knows best. ]
I'll choke without it.
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My apologies, your highness.
[He manages to keep any sarcastic tone out of his reply, though the Force tells enough of that story.]
Will that be all?
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[ Just barely, she prevents herself from continuing with that bratty rampage by reminding him she had not asked for the tray he has brought. If he should fault anyone for his lack of foresight, for his inadequacy, it should be himself.
But it gives him too large an opening to suggest she has made a request of him when she knows it isn't true. Demanding is easier and spares her from feeling as if she must rely on him, taking on that imperious demeanor with ease. It continues as she unscrews the canteen, stirring the container until the liquid sloshes against its edges, and sniffs — nose twitching like a rabbit, as if she can detect anything amiss.
He wouldn't poison her when he'd gone to such great lengths to keep her alive. Drugging her seems equally out of the question for how it would alter her mind, but she remains skeptical, distrusting — and eager to insult him by reminding him of that, even now.
The first sip she takes is cautious, but the next is messier, throating working to swallow what she drinks down with greed — liquid spilling out onto her chin, missed when she finally breaks away to wipe at her mouth with the back of her hand. ]
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It seems your thirst would beg to differ.
[He offers her no smug smile, but the bond hides nothing now that they are in the same room again. It feels sticky, pleased by the fact that they've been reunited even while at odds with one another.]
Fortunately, there is plenty more where that came from.
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Kylo Ren would only consider it another victory, and she knows well now that needs and desires are exploitable. He is not above dangling them above her head, using them as bait, to coerce her into behaving as he wishes, slotting her into the role he wants in order to indulge his fantasies.
Her disdain pollutes his satisfaction in the bond, working to overpower it. Carefully, she picks at the block of processed ingredients — meat and bread, if she had to guess, and snarks, ]
Did you expect me to thank you? I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.
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[A blatant lie that he has no problem offering her. With that, he turns his back and heads to the counter on the other side of the table, intent on preparing more tea. It was supposed to be his, after all.]
If I wanted to be thanked, I would not have gone through so much trouble to hunt you down in the desert, Rey. I would have waited for you to seek me out. But we both know that was not going to happen.
[The use of her name is deliberate, reminding her that there is nothing to separate them now. Not names. Not familiarity. Nothing.]
So instead, you are my prisoner. Again. Until we both expire, this time.
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[ This time, she does not spare him the sharpness of that accusation, eager to remind him that he is not immune to the bond's properties. He cannot hide from her any more than she can conceal herself from him. As an advantage in her hands, it grants her the smugness he had not outwardly shown, dripping from every letter.
Despite soothing her parched throat, Rey's voice dips unnervingly, crackling and hoarse. ]
Even after all this time, you're so desperate to be seen. Desperate to be loved. [ It must hurt, knowing another creature of the darkness would not dare to grant him that. ] You're too afraid to be alone. Being without me killed you.
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this sentence is your last stop before non-conlandia
choo choo or should i say yeethaw
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