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.
[ In his flashes of guilt, she can almost mistake it for a glimpse of his long-buried humanity. It washes away like the streaks of dirt and sand that have crusted on her skin, receding into the steaming water. To believe there is some part of him not tainted by darkness, that is still worth saving, is ... precarious.
Dangerous. A threat to what she has convinced herself of for three years. Rey turns from it, averse to examining what discomforts her, and sinks down into the scalding warmth of the tub. It feels a waste, but she doesn't have the muscular fortitude to stand on her own two legs for fear of falling. More than that, it reminds her of what he had given up in pursuit of these luxuries, his prestige, the position of power he holds.
She can't hold onto that for long. The warmth is a balm to her stiff limbs and the deep-set ache in every bone, lapping at the mangled bracelet of bruises that have begun to form from his persistent need to bind the bird-like bones in her wrists and ankles. From Rey's side of the bond comes a strange flutter of contentment, the pour of simplistic relief as she droops into the water, eyelids fluttering closed.
It's the only comfort she has had in some time, however fleeting. Rey seizes it, so much so that she dozes off before she can finish scrubbing the grime — and blood, leftover from her attack on him, dotted across a band of freckles — from her collarbone. ]
[The contentment floods the bond, and Kylo Ren feels his shoulders unknot in a series of slow pops -- each feels like heaven, even for the brief bite of pain that they each offer. His sigh is slow, rapturous, like he had forgotten such a feeling was possible, and the moment it disappears, he finds himself depressed for its loss.
That is when his eyes open, and he becomes aware that Rey had fallen asleep in the tub. She would catch a chill before too long, judging by the lack of flowing water. No doubt she would prefer that then to find Kylo Ren leaning over, scrubbing her while she was naked and asleep. But this isn't really about what Rey would or would not prefer.
She is his responsibility now. And that means she needs to be clean, and she cannot be permitted to catch a chill.
Still, he gives her a bit of her own time to wake up before he approaches the door with a dry towel and a fresh wash cloth. He is careful and quiet as he steps in, as if this will somehow be easier if he can manage to keep her asleep.]
[ As if recognizing his approach, her eyelids flutter, a gradual stirring that is not complete until he crosses the threshold fully. Only then do her limbs jerk and startle; Kylo Ren is too heavy on his feet even when he seeks to be gentle, thundering along in a manner that makes her believe he is trying to conquer world beneath his feet, and the dark cloud that follows him — more potent, now — does him no favors.
It's the latter, primarily, that does the trick in rousing her. A klaxon, in its own manner, that seeks to warn her. She hates the wide-eyed stare she must give him, vulnerable and caught off-guard in the groggy throes of waking, though not more than the feeling that those few minutes of peace have been stolen away from her.
The urge to pull up her knees is there, though not for modesty's sake. Not even to conceal the scars peppered along the planes of her back from battle, from the gunfire he had trained on the Resistance, from the blaster bolts that had nearly taken her down. Shielding the expanse of wet skin on display — more luminous now, glowing and alive rather than sunken and wan — would only be a self-defense mechanism from a man that has used intimacy to try to wear her down in the past, weaponized it and her own body against her.
Even as her fingers twitch, curling over the lip of the tub as droplets cascade over them to drip onto the floor beneath, she resists the impulse. She has no intention to make herself smaller, straightening her posture where she sits. Rey holds his gaze unwaveringly and says nothing — watchful, waiting for his next move.
Either he will prove himself to be that same desperate monster that he had shown himself to be, or he will allow her body to remain her own in that way. To some extent, it is a blatant test. ]
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no subject
Dangerous. A threat to what she has convinced herself of for three years. Rey turns from it, averse to examining what discomforts her, and sinks down into the scalding warmth of the tub. It feels a waste, but she doesn't have the muscular fortitude to stand on her own two legs for fear of falling. More than that, it reminds her of what he had given up in pursuit of these luxuries, his prestige, the position of power he holds.
She can't hold onto that for long. The warmth is a balm to her stiff limbs and the deep-set ache in every bone, lapping at the mangled bracelet of bruises that have begun to form from his persistent need to bind the bird-like bones in her wrists and ankles. From Rey's side of the bond comes a strange flutter of contentment, the pour of simplistic relief as she droops into the water, eyelids fluttering closed.
It's the only comfort she has had in some time, however fleeting. Rey seizes it, so much so that she dozes off before she can finish scrubbing the grime — and blood, leftover from her attack on him, dotted across a band of freckles — from her collarbone. ]
no subject
That is when his eyes open, and he becomes aware that Rey had fallen asleep in the tub. She would catch a chill before too long, judging by the lack of flowing water. No doubt she would prefer that then to find Kylo Ren leaning over, scrubbing her while she was naked and asleep. But this isn't really about what Rey would or would not prefer.
She is his responsibility now. And that means she needs to be clean, and she cannot be permitted to catch a chill.
Still, he gives her a bit of her own time to wake up before he approaches the door with a dry towel and a fresh wash cloth. He is careful and quiet as he steps in, as if this will somehow be easier if he can manage to keep her asleep.]
no subject
It's the latter, primarily, that does the trick in rousing her. A klaxon, in its own manner, that seeks to warn her. She hates the wide-eyed stare she must give him, vulnerable and caught off-guard in the groggy throes of waking, though not more than the feeling that those few minutes of peace have been stolen away from her.
The urge to pull up her knees is there, though not for modesty's sake. Not even to conceal the scars peppered along the planes of her back from battle, from the gunfire he had trained on the Resistance, from the blaster bolts that had nearly taken her down. Shielding the expanse of wet skin on display — more luminous now, glowing and alive rather than sunken and wan — would only be a self-defense mechanism from a man that has used intimacy to try to wear her down in the past, weaponized it and her own body against her.
Even as her fingers twitch, curling over the lip of the tub as droplets cascade over them to drip onto the floor beneath, she resists the impulse. She has no intention to make herself smaller, straightening her posture where she sits. Rey holds his gaze unwaveringly and says nothing — watchful, waiting for his next move.
Either he will prove himself to be that same desperate monster that he had shown himself to be, or he will allow her body to remain her own in that way. To some extent, it is a blatant test. ]