I'm Chelle and you've made it to my lil' niche on this site! 30 something. tumblr veteran. you can expect fanfic[occasionally]. reblogging[possibly]. and fangirling[my one true love]
One of my favorite genres of male character probably has to be the guy who, upon meeting a woman who can and does kick his ass, thinks “she kicked my ass, the only logical course of action for me now is to marry her.”
I think it's the ALMOST canon ships that get the best, most intricately woven, beautifully told fanfiction.
those nearly-kind-of-almost-maybe-could-be canon couples
the ones that make it almost painful to live with the knowledge that if just one or two things had happened differently, just one or two things: if one of them had said something differently here, done something differently there, or if certain events had shifted a little, just a fraction, they'd have been together - undoubtedly.
you can see it. everyone can see it. but it's not enough - they're still an almost-but-not-quite, maybe-but-it-was-never-confirmed, kind-of-but-annoyingly-ambiguous
fanfiction writers take their potential and they hold it close and they lovingly craft something amazing and beautiful with it - finally giving them the chance to be together like everyone knows they would be in-canon if the story wasn't against them
they spring out entire novels from canon-divergence in the places where just a little step in another direction could have led to them being together
they build whole intricate Alternate Universes where the characters are able to meet in an entirely different way and still fall for each other
what I'm saying is that the insanity of a ship where it was almost-canon drives writers to a specific kind of creative madness that produces the best fanfiction....
so if you check out my graph here you can see the line for the more almost it gets vs the more unhinged and motivated it makes the writers both rising in a wonderfully clear diagonal line and today I will be discussing the
I hope Barbie is so good and successful it makes every executive that’s turned everything bright and fun made for young girls into edgy boring teen dramas for the last ten years spontaneously combust into flames
din djarin: if droids have a million haters, then i am one of them. if droids have ten haters, then i am one of them. if droids have only one hater, then that is me. if droids have no haters, then that means i am no longer alive. if the galaxy is against droids, then i am the galaxy.
Summary: Rated MA. Rey gives into her connection with Kylo Ren — a oneshot that takes place in the time between TLJ and TROS. (But also— bond shenanigans lead to confronting unresolved sexual tension but does nothing to help with unresolved emotional tension — a bit of angst-my fav)
Word Count: 3102
Author's note: Back after many years with my first story in a the star wars fandom even though TROS came out over 3 years ago. *shrugs* I don't understand me either.
____________________________________
Rey lays in bed, staring at the ceiling, exhausted beyond measure, wondering why it keeps happening because she can't seem to figure it out and she doesn't know how much longer she can shut Kylo Ren out.
Snoke had said that he was the one linking them through the force. He had said that it was all a part of his scheme, his machinations, his plans—one that ultimately led to his end—but his nonetheless. So why was it that she was still sensing Ben—no, Kylo Ren, she reminds herself for the thousandth time because Ben was who she wanted him to be but Kylo Ren was who he'd chosen—at the corner of her mind? Why was there this constant ache, growing stronger day by day, from resisting giving into their bond?
It's a knock in her head that had started out demure like the tap of a knuckle and had gradually persisted until it felt like someone was banging and kicking on a locked door inside her skull. And the strangest part is that she can tell that Kylo himself has been fighting it too.
She wonders if he is as exhausted as she is.
She wonders how long it will be until one of them gives in.
It hadn't hit her the first time it happened after Snoke's incredibly satisfying demise. When Kylo was looking up at her, not nearly as angry as she'd thought he'd look after she'd refused him. In fact, the confusion and hurt hit her the hardest, and maybe she had even sensed a hint of hopefulness left over right before she'd closed the hatch and taken off with the resistance.
He had betrayed everything that they'd been building, asking what he had of her. Rey thinks about that moment so often, his pleading tone— because please had never sounded like an incantation before and she doubts ever will again— and how his hand was outstretched as if only Rey's grasp held his absolution. As if, though he could never forgive himself—'I am a monster, he'd said'—if she could, if she could just grab on to him then everything would be right.
She thinks about how for a moment she'd actually considered it—not joining him to rule while they watched the universe burn in their wake as he'd have allowed but just... joining him, just him and how intense the urge had been, how horrible and terrifying, and how she'd longed—ached—for someone who wanted all of her, needed her.
She wasn't important to Ben because he needed her for what she could do—he could do it too, just as well, or even better, their meetings had made it hard to tell—Ben needed Rey not in spite of, but even more so, for the worst parts of her, for all the brokenness, the self-doubt, and the invisible marks her loneliness had etched into her soul, marks that matched his. It was why he did not seem to care or even remember that scar she had left on him, because really, what's one more?
And it was always so incredibly hard for Rey to feel wanted with that clawing, nagging, reminder in the back of her head that she was born into this world lacking that one essential feeling—love— from the people who should have felt it for her most.
Everything goes quiet, light and darkness—and the entirety of the force— begins to fill her up and she braces herself for what she knows is about to happen because she just can't push back against it anymore.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
But some things are harder to brace for than others.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Rey turns her head to the side and millions of lightyears away and also right in front of her, Kylo Ren is, like she is, lying in bed. Only, their bond makes it feel as if he is right beside her, just inches away and it is the closest that they've been since they'd touched, the fire-light flickering between them, but everything is so different now. Everything has been destroyed. And it would seem, that while they had both been fighting it, the bond between them had only grown stronger.
She can feel his sharp inhale as if stolen from her lungs.
And it is aggravating because it would have been hard enough to ignore him from across a room. Like this, she can count the moles and freckles on his cheeks— if she wants.
"Did it hurt you too?" he asks, and there is a hint of an emotion in his tone that she doesn't wish to place.
Same as he had the first time the force linked them like this, he has spoken first. Rey looks away, trying not to linger on how his brown eyes still look as oddly open to her as she remembers, as though once he had let her in, he could no longer reverse what he'd done.
"That's the only reason I'm allowing this right now," she responds, trying to muster up the same amount of anger she'd felt six months ago but it had all ebbed away, leaving only disappointment (and a feeling of true loneliness) in its wake.
In fact, she has to actively try to ignore the relief that's filling her at seeing him again.
"Where are you?"
The question nearly makes her laugh. Her eyebrows furrow, "Why would I ever tell you that?"
Rey could never put her faith in him again. He was the enemy now. And yet, there's a weird realization that comes along with that thought because he had always been the enemy hadn't he—but just… not always to her. Along the way she had forgotten.
The expression on his face is unreadable and he doesn't answer her. Instead, he looks away, at whatever ceiling it is that he rests under.
They are silent for a long time, laying in bed together, and it is both the most comfortable and most uneasy Rey has been in months.
"Do you want to know what I can't stop thinking about?" he suddenly says, his deep voice so close to a whisper that she barely hears it. He doesn't wait for her to say yes. "I keep thinking, if Snoke created this link, then it should be gone. But since it isn't," and he turns his head to look at her again, his eyes roaming her face as if making sure of the truth of their bond, that she is near, "This must be something else."
His words start her heart racing because hadn't she just been thinking the same, right before giving in to this? There must be a reason why they keep getting pulled towards each other, why it literally hurts to avoid this thing they have.
There has been a link, a magnetism between them from the moment she'd first laid eyes on his fully masked form, on Kylo Ren, deep in the forest. She can remember the fear then like a dream, a fear that had changed and morphed into something else as in every moment since she had gotten closer to Ben, the core of him.
Getting to know Ben, had been like staring into a mirror. She had known it in her soul that Kylo Ren had just as much of a chance of coming back to himself, a Ben so much like her, as she had of becoming like him and from that point on there had been no fear, just understanding, and hope, and the lure of being right on the precipice of something great, the desire to give in to that deep, unmistakable bond. And they had both reached for it.
Even as she thinks it, Ben's eyes slip from her eyes to her lips and back up again, and her stomach flips. Has he come to the same conclusion as she has? The same conclusion she doesn't let herself think. They are the same, two sides of the same coin, two parts of a whole. Fated to be.
Her throat goes dry and quickly she breaks the look between them, being the one to stare away this time. She breathes heavily through her nose as she tries to calm her nerves. She can feel his gaze still on her and her face has gone hot, her entire body has gone hot and as if the thought of her own body spurs his into action, he turns on his side—her bed and blankets shifting against her too hot skin with his weight— to face her fully.
Even now there is that desire to let him in, to be truly seen by someone, to be…
"I didn't give in because of the pain," he says, and with his admission his voice has dropped an octave, "I'm accustomed to pain. I gave in because I've passed the point of wanting you."
Her traitorous heart skips a beat.
Rey closes her eyes as the intimacy of laying in bed together fully hits her. She can't speak and if Rey is being honest, she doesn't trust herself to respond to what he's said. If she's being honest, she should have gotten out of the bed as soon as they'd connected but she hadn't done that had she? Either way, he hasn't finished talking so it turns out she does not have to respond.
"Ever since we touched, it is the only thing I've been able to think about, to dream about. I've imagined what might have happened if Luke hadn't discovered us. I've imagined, lacing our fingers together, bringing you close. I've imagined…" and he stops, a heavy breath leaving him, "It's been driving me insane."
It's like they're living the same life because it's been haunting her too, invading her thoughts. That small touch had changed something and it could never go back to the way it was before. She had never been closer to someone than she had in that moment, never felt so seen, never felt so right.
Rey's breathing hard and though it's against her best judgment she turns back to look at him. His eyes have always been where his emotions show the clearest, but this time—and the knot in her stomach tightens—the longing is not only there, it's plainly written all over his face.
She can almost hear it again—the begging, the please— and she'd been strong enough to not give into him once… shouldn't that count for something?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Shouldn't it?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
It is almost as if she's merely watching herself do it, completely out of control, as she turns towards him and reaches out. He reacts immediately. It must be the invitation that he's been waiting for because suddenly he has met her halfway.
And while first, their reaching hands do in fact lace together, grabbing on tightly, it is not much longer before those laced hands are pressed into the pillow beside Rey's head as Kylo Ren hovers over her.
They pause, staring at each other and unbidden Rey can't help but to ponder about the mechanics of their bond. To her, he is in her room—Fin, and Poe, and everyone else just down the corridor but to him, she must be laying in his bed surrounded by The First Order that he leads now.
It is ridiculous. It should matter, it really should, but as she stares up at him nothing could matter any more than this impossible point in the Universe that they have created.
They start moving again, and now their hands glide across each other, roam, and feel, and caress with a desperation that could only come from avoiding this for the last half year.
And god, his arms, and his chest and his stomach are all just as hard to the touch as Rey had dreamed of, taut from his likely obsessive training and his terrible misdeeds.
She only gives those truths a second before pushing them forcefully aside because it is his mouth, when finally they have touched enough, that is the surprise as his soft lips meet hers and his talented tongue force all thoughts beyond his body, and her body, and how right this feels, from her mind.
Rey can't say that it is a surprise but he is unapologetic about his need. Everything he does, he does fully. As he kisses her, he pushes his fingers into her hair, pulls her closer. When he grabs her waist, his hands are rough and greedy. When she presses herself against him, he rolls his hips hard against her in return, and it is enough to make her gasp.
He wants her so badly, and that feeling of being someone's World is all Rey has ever wanted. And she knows, because they are the same, just given different choices at different times, that he needs to be seen just as much as she does. That he needs to be understood and loved.
And she does love him—just not unconditionally because Rey cannot love Kylo Ren. She can't love him through all of the things that he's done—she can't even let herself think about them for too long, but she can love Ben and hope that he will finally win the war going on inside the body they share.
She tries with all of her to get her own message through, angling her mouth against his, deepening their kiss, 'Please' she thinks and hopes he can taste it, 'please turn Ben.'
When they finally break apart, they are both dazed and lightheaded. She places his hands beneath her shirt and responds by undressing her quickly— as if he is sure that at any moment she might disappear— while she takes her time with him, though he is only covered from the waist down anyway. He looks like he enjoys it nearly as much as she does.
And then she places a palm against his chest, pushing him away from her.
The fear that takes over his expression, breaks her heart but she keeps pushing until she has changed their positions and pushed him down on the bed. And when she climbs on top of him—he is so much bigger than her—she kisses him deeply until the fear fully ebbs away.
She is not going anywhere, not now, not yet.
His gasp against her mouth is the most alluring thing she's ever heard, as she sinks on to him. And when finally she has all of him, is full to the brim, he grabs her hips halting her, as if memorizing the feeling.
"I love you Rey," he says and she is not sure if it is Kylo Ren or Ben or both speaking.
"I know," she says, with a small smile because it's all that she can give them. It is only Ben that she is willing to give her heart to but she can give into this.
Experimentally, Rey rolls her hips and the strangled groan that Kylo Ren releases nearly undoes her.
He is a wreck and they have just barely begun. It makes her feel powerful in a way that even the force has never made her feel and so she does it again, and again, savoring the look of him—hair fanned away from his face, eyes half-lidded and watching, mouth agape—and the feel of him—thick and hard where she needs him most, rough hands gripping her thighs.
And for a while, he seems content to let her be in complete control, let her ride him into oblivion but when Rey starts to get close, it's like he can sense it and in turn she can sense the urgency in him.
His hips begin to rise to meet her own, his thumb finds its rightful place between her legs, and the beat of his heart, already erratic beneath her palms, quickens in pace.
He says her name like a plea and surges up to drag his mouth over her mouth, her neck, her chest, moaning into her skin. She can feel him everywhere, even the places he's not physically touching. It's hard to explain. It must be the bond, but the feeling is overwhelming. And the arm that's not attached to the thumb rubbing quick, frantic circles against her, latches around her waist urging her to move faster.
Suddenly, it strikes her just how badly he wants to be the reason, wants to be the one capable of making her lose herself, pushing her over the edge. How badly he needs it and it is that thought that gets her there, the pressure inside bursting to release.
The noise she makes as she clenches and throbs around him is loud and it isn't until she feels her back pressed into the bed—he has changed their position— and his hand gently covering her mouth, muffling the sound, that she remembers all the others nearby—Fin, and Poe, and Rose, and the entire resistance —that might have heard her, not that she can bring herself to care as this spot in the universe they've created shrinks down into a point of pure pleasure.
And he keeps going, somehow managing to angle his hips just right, his large body pressing down on her own, drawing out her orgasm until she is tensing again and rolling into another one. She shakes beneath him, a warm, tingling glow spreading through her just as he groans out his own release, hips jerking out of rhythm until finally he stops.
The two of them stay like that, catching their breath between fevered kisses, wrapped up in each other. And he stays inside her even as he softens, even as the sweat on their skin starts to go cold.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
And they are satisfied, fully, in one sense of the word, but in another, perhaps more important sense, they are not satisfied at all.
It is a quieting realization and in the silence all the ways that this was not everything that they needed become harder and harder to ignore… until finally, he disentangles from her, rolling to lay on his back—still close enough to touch but not so close that they aren't both aware that their time is near its end.
Rey stares up at the ceiling, holding back tears. "I love you Ben," she whispers, heart clenching, because it's true and because the silence has become deafening.
She doesn't turn to him but feels his heavy gaze as he looks at her, his eyes roaming over the profile of her face, taking her in as if committing whatever it is that he sees to memory.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"I know," Kylo Ren finally answers.
So Rey turns away from the force and their connection, and is alone.
theartofmadeline
annaxmalina
titsay
andulkaphoto
kianamaiart
izzy806
vaporwave
