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toxicanonymity · 10 months

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Empire Builders. Ben's Hardware Ch. 3

5.4k / Ben Solo x Rey / ch 1, ch 2

WARNINGS: I8+ mdni. Sexual tension, gaslighting, another woman tries/fails to seduce him, angst, dubcon via uninformed force connection, ben jacks off, unsafe P in V (in force connection). Hardware Store AU explained. Strategic planning humor. Excessive plot. Beta/Star wars consultant: @dark-scape A/N: Written in February 2023. This chapter has far more world building & background than necessary. Like I set up way too much stuff for a miniseries, but I wanted to answer some reader questions. And at least the world is constructed in my head for future use.

Ben opens his eyes and looks around his office. There's a leather couch, a chaise, an end table, a credenza stocked with high-end liquor. It's certainly too high-end for the general manager of a local hardware store, but Ben likes things a certain way, and so do the clientele. He zips up his pants. With Rey, he feels like he's doing nothing wrong. He has his own rules for himself about the force connection, although they continue to evolve.

The first time it happened, it took him by surprise. He felt a familiar tingle in his nose, the same faint tingle he gets when he uses the force. And there she was in her bed. He watched her for a few minutes, growing more and more aroused. Then he gave it a shot - he invited her. And there she was in his house. After that, all she had to do was want him and he could tune in at will.

He may tune into Rey's cute little thoughts about him sometimes, and especially her sexy little thoughts, but he only interacts when he's clearly invited. When she desperately wants him.

In a way, Rey is in control – or, that's what Ben tells himself. If Rey wants something from him sexually, he makes sure she either asks for it or takes it herself. He merely makes suggestions. He opens her eyes to the possibilities. Rey may not understand it, but Ben barely understands it himself. Certainly not well enough to explain it to her. It would be like trying to explain to someone why water is wet or how to breathe. It's not Ben's fault Rey doesn't know she's force sensitive. Most people don't know about the force at all, and they're better off that way.

Ben never had a chance at a normal life. His parents dedicated their lives and his to using their powers for good. He didn't understand why teachers asked what kids wanted to be when they grew up. Did anyone have a choice? Ben even went to the FBI academy at Quantico and started in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. It just . . . Didn't work out. Or, it didn't work out *the way his parents wanted*, to say the least.

His parents' names followed him everywhere. Everyone had this very specific idea of who he was and what he was about before they even met him. Everyone had expectations. His entire career was laid out for him. He'd probably be the director one day. Without the freedom to be his own person, he grew bitter and angsty. It was only once he interacted with the most dangerous criminals that Ben realized the choices he could make.

Ben feels like he's protecting Rey by not cluing her in. The only thing he feels a little guilty for is using a Jedi mind trick on her. It's a little gross in principle, but he was protecting her by making her forget what she saw between him and Hux. Ben works for dangerous people, and Rey is far too curious for her own good. If Rey were to find out the store is funneling supplies to a dangerous criminal organization, it would not only ruin the whole set-up, but her life would be at risk.

-----

Ben goes back downstairs to the store and passes Hux on the stairs, who's on his way up to the office. Hux asks, "Want me to run those numbers for tomorrow?"

Ben has no idea what Hux is talking about. He sighs, "What's tomorrow?"

Hux looks worried that Ben forgot. "Uh, the retreat, right? Corporate?" He uses finger quotes when he says corporate.

"Fuck me," Ben mutters under his breath. "Yeah. Thanks."

How could he have forgotten? He knows how - Rey is a total distraction. Empire Building's strategic planning retreat - what a joke, but Ben doesn't have a choice. Who plans a retreat a week before Christmas? An organization that considers itself your only family.

Ben wants to get out of it. "Hey, Hux - shouldn't one of us stay here to watch the store?"

"Yup, that's why I'm attending remotely. I'll be here in the office and go down to the store during the breakout sessions."

"Actually, I wouldn't mind staying. You deserve the break," Ben offers.

"Ben, no offense, but you know nothing about running a hardware store. That's why I'm here in the first place."

"It's only two days," Ben says. He's annoyed, but can't really dispute the assertion that he doesn't know what he's doing. He's a hobby carpenter, which used to give him a false sense of handiness, but he's eaten his fair share of humble pie since opening the store. If he had to run any other department besides Wood, he'd be in trouble.

Hux sighs. "Alright, I wasn't supposed to say anything, but you're being honored. You can't skip out."

Honored? That intrigues Ben. He tries not to seem too excited, though. "Whatever," he says. "Yeah, run the numbers, but run them by me before you share anything."

A buzz saw whirrs in the distance as Ben steps back onto the floor of the hardware store. He wants to learn to manage the store himself, he just doesn't want to learn from Hux. He walks by the key-making station and the staff member greets him. He thinks about shadowing the keymaker to learn something new, but he goes to Lumber instead. They're filling an order of custom-length 2"x4"s.

"Want a break? I've got it," Ben says. The woman stops the saw and offers Ben her protective glasses. He takes off his jacket, puts on his apron, and rolls up his sleeves. He pulls on a pair of canvas gloves. He can feel the woman checking out his ass as he bends over to get the first piece of lumbar lined up just right. "15 minute break," he tells her. "You don't have to clock out." She walks off then Ben fires up the saw and cuts the wood.

He's finishing up by the time she comes back. He gives her the goggles back.

Ben puts his jacket back on, collar popped, and goes out to the nursery and picks up the water dispenser. He waters the tropical plant section and inhales the fresh smell of lush foliage mingling in the air with the sawdust from carpentry. He thinks about how much he enjoys the hardware store. He would love to just manage the hardware store one day and have that be his whole job. If only things were that simple.

----

The next morning, Ben drives his bulletproof Range Rover with dark tinted windows to the retreat, which is two hours away. He dresses in all black and lays a charcoal blazer in the passenger seat. He pulls up to the hotel at the last possible minute. He opens the glove box and puts his old beat up Glock in the back of his pants. He doesn't carry it all the time. It's truly gnarly, but it works, and it's a family heirloom. It was returned to him from the District Attorney's office after his grandfather died. He puts on his blazer and makes sure the notched Mandarin collar is standing - he doesn’t like his neck exposed. Then, he tosses his keys to the valet

There are two huge guards at the door dressed darkly in plain clothes. Ben knows one of them and gives him knuckles.

There are only a couple dozen people attending but they've branded it like it's some huge event. Ben would prefer to sit with his back to the wall in any given room, but there's a seat reserved for him in the second row. The retreat kicks off with a speech from the Emperor, which is a big deal. No one knows his real name and Ben has never heard of him appearing in public before. He hangs on every word at first, but it's a pretty general speech about the importance of loyalty and how prosperous they are together. Yawn. Then he talks about adversity.

He continues, "As we all know, we had some challenges last year. Now, I don't have anything against journalists - heck, my granddaughter is one - but they tend to stick their noses in places they shouldn't." The crowd murmurs. Ben starts listening closer again

"And it's not like the old days where we can take care of one problem and it just goes away. They've gotten smart. They've gotten digital. Setting up dead man switches and whatnot. Anyway, after the Post article last year, and the boycotts, each of our biggest suppliers suddenly grew a conscience at the same time. Construction came to a total standstill. For two months we built nothing." He lets that linger in silence for a moment, then continues, "Until one of you had an idea." His eyes twinkle as he looks at Ben. A few people quietly cheer. Someone behind Ben pats him on the back and Ben turns his head a little and smiles on acknowledgement but keeps his focus straight ahead.

In truth, Ben saw the Post article coming. The way they were handling their business it felt inevitable. But it would have been a big risk for Ben to try to change how they were doing things. Instead, he started anticipating the fallout and plotting to save the day.

"Ben's Hardware, ladies and gentlemen." He gestures to Ben. "We're back in business." He makes Ben come up to the front and presents him with a ruby signet pinky ring. When he sits back down, Ben sees Hux sends an applause on the Zoom screen behind the speaker podium. Ben's tries not to roll his eyes.

"That was real strategic thinking, and it got us out of a real jam. I want all of you to start thinking strategically. That's why I've brought in a consultant this weekend." He gestures to his right and an attractive young woman stands up. "This is Paige. She's going to get all of you thinking like Ben." She smiles at Ben and he swallows.

Ben wonders how much Paige knows and what's in store for her. This is sloppy. He manages a small smile.

----

The first session is a SWOT analysis of Empire Builders. Paige talks through their Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats. It turns into somewhat of a post mortem of what led to the Post article and boycotts.

Strengths: Reputation, resources.

Weaknesses: Disloyalty, competing priorities

Opportunities: Services. Diversify disposal.

Threats: Attention. Regulation.

This is a load of crap, and Ben is 100% sure Hux is just eating it up, scribbling notes and making stupid plans. He rolls his eyes at the thought. This is worse than a load of crap, he realizes. Nothing good could possibly come from openly strategizing about how to expand this criminal enterprise.

Ben could have walked right into a different crime family and taken his grandfather's seat, but that would have been the easy road, and he wouldn't have been met with true respect. He knew he was capable of sitting at any table he wanted, and chose a different family. A rival family. He's climbing from the ground up by merit. He whacks off a bad egg here and there, but he builds his reputation with brains more than brawn. He's bringing the family into the 21st century.

As part of his plan to make himself indispensable, Ben shared one of his many good ideas - the hardware store. He shared just enough to climb one more rung on the ladder, and now they want all these goons bumbling around trying to bring something fresh to the table? He would hate for this family to implode before he has a chance to destroy it himself and build his own dynasty.

In the SWOT session, they discuss some of the points together, but it's awkward because no one knows how much Paige knows about the organization or when she's supposed to get whacked. They keep trying to be vague, but they're really conspicuous about it. Ben tries to peer into Paige's inner world to find out how much she knows, but he realizes he can't see anything at all, much less read her thoughts. He wants to test a hypothesis that the sexual attraction and tension with Rey is what's creating their connection.

-----

They take a break and Ben takes off his blazer. He leaves it on his seat and goes to the bathroom. He looks in the mirror as he washes his huge hands, then he unbuttons two buttons and rolls up his sleeves. He feels kind of slutty doing this, but in a hot way, if he's honest. He runs his long fingers through his dark hair and swallows. When he sees his Adam's apple in the reflection he remembers his most powerful weapon. He should've made an acceptance speech.

Before they get back from break, Ben approaches Paige with a twinkle in his eye. He talks about nothing. He uses the lingo. He gesticulates with his massive hands and shifts his weight flirtatiously as they talk. He flashes his charming smile and compliments her on the dumb SWOT analysis. He tries to keep talking. He crosses his arms and watches her eyes drift to his forearms. When it's time to re-start the session, he heads back to his seat and glances back. She's definitely checking out his ass.

"What do we mean by 'diversify disposal'," someone asks, and Paige doesn't know how to answer it. So she doesn't know everything after all.

One of the big wigs chimes in. "You'll recall the Post article was primarily the result of a specific disposal that was discovered at a construction site. Which led them to look at other construction sites, pulling permits, and employment records, and so on and so forth. All that fuss started with one sloppy disposal."

The man still looks confused. The big wig makes a subtle gun gesture out of view of Paige.

"OH, disposal," the audience member realizes. "Okay and diversify that how?"

"Well primarily by considering properties that don't trace directly back to Empire Builders. And techniques that lessen the residue over time."

"Like lye?" The man asks. Paige swallows and doesn't know what to say.

Ben interrupts and saves her. "Have we thought about *reducing* disposal?" He asks the big wig.

The big wig laughs. "It's a core part of our business model."

"Reducing unnecessary disposal? That's when things get sloppy, right?"

"Go on."

"Like say you hire a person for one job, like a conference, but they have a diverse business skill set. That person could potentially be reassigned to, say, logistics and supply chain management?"

"Instead of. . ." The big wig is thinking. "Right. Good question Ben. Let's take that offline."

-----

After the session ends for the day, Ben goes to the hotel bar. He wants to check in on the store but needs a drink before he can even think about talking to Hux. Mainly he's curious if Rey came by. He knows she wants to. Ben orders a whiskey on the rocks and thinks about Rey. He feels like she has all the control. He only gets to see her when she shows up to the store. He thinks about the way she blushes under her freckles and her dimples and her perky tits and how bad she wants him. He's horny.

As Ben examines his drink in his large hand, a sultry voice startles him.

"Ben's hardware, huh?" It's Paige. She slides her small hand onto his shoulder and puts her other hand on the back of the stool next to him. "Anyone sitting here?" He must have really worked his magic earlier.

"No, please." He welcomes her to sit. His sleeves are still rolled up.

She orders him another drink. "Another one for him. And one for me."

Paige reaches for Ben's large hand and inspects the ruby signet ring on his pinky. She wants to try it on. It's too big for even her thumb. One of the big wigs watches casually from the end of the bar.

Paige asks too many questions, and Ben doesn't give her any answers. He doesn't want to put her in more danger than she's already in. Also, part of him wonders if she's a trap. Maybe they've realized what he's known all along - that he's the future of this empire - they need to know he can be trusted and won't get distracted by competing loyalties. Even if it's not a trap, Paige isn't Rey, so that works against her.

At the bar, Paige is all over him. It turns him on. He's not that interested in her, but he's only human. She finishes her drink and slips Ben a key to her room. She scribbles her room number on a napkin with lipstick. He wants to leave the key and the napkin on the bar, but he wouldn't want a worse guy to bust into her room in the middle of the night, so he takes them with him.

Ben looks at his phone and has a missed call from Hux. He decides not to call him back, lest Hux think Ben answers to him. Plus, Ben is exhausted from being "on" all day. He's a solo creature and having to pretend to enjoy "the family" really takes it out of him. Especially with all eyes on him as an honoree. He felt like he couldn't let his guard down for even a moment.

-----

Ben retires to his hotel room alone he washes his face and hands and grabs the hotel lotion. He props up two pillows and lies down on top of the bed without unmaking it. He crosses his large feet and studies the pattern of his argyle socks. He really prefers stripes these days. He should overhaul his sock drawer. He reads the label on the lotion, then moisturizes his enormous hands. He holds the napkin in his hand and runs his thumb over the room number, which is just a few rooms away.

He recalls the way Paige looked at him and gets hard. He starts to think about whether he should just do it. It's not like he and Rey are dating - they haven't even gone out once. On the other hand, hooking up with Paige wouldn't do anything but physically get him off, and he still wouldn't be satisfied. He runs his long fingers over the mark on his neck. There is only one person who can satisfy him now. His eyelids are heavy.

Ben palms himself through his pants and debates whether he should try to force connect with Rey. If he does try to connect with her and she isn't already thinking about him, it could startle her or make her question everything. He decides to take care of himself instead.

-----***------

Ben takes takes off his slacks and hangs them on the back of a chair and lies back down. He leaves his shirt on and pulls his boxer briefs down. He closes his eyes. He wraps his hand around his hard shaft and despite how big his cock is, it almost looks normal sized in his massive hand. He's proportional.

He's almost too tired to do it, but his arousal wins over. He spits in his hand. He thinks about Rey sitting in his lap and begins to slowly move the skin on his shaft, lazily and in short, firm strokes, just getting warmed up. He thinks about her furrowed brow and her soft little sighs and how her warmth felt against his cock.

Before he can get far, his nose begins to tingle. Ben yanks up his boxer briefs and palms himself through them as he closes his eyes to let it happen.

But before he can see anything, Ben hears a moan echo from the bathroom of his hotel room. He lies there frozen, wondering if his ears deceive him. Then, he hears splashing and squeaking from the bathtub. He jolts up and grabs his Glock from the nightstand. He holds it in both hands, his arms straight, and slowly approaches the bathroom. He turns the door knob with one hand and pushes it open before resuming his stance. Steam billows out of the door and the mirror is fogged up.

The door creeps open the rest of the way on its own, and Rey is in a robe. Thank God she's facing away from him. He lowers his gun and quietly rushes back to the bed, taking huge strides. He puts the Glock in the nightstand but doesn't close it all the way.

The sink faucet turns on, then off. Rey emerges from the bathroom and looks around curiously. She doesn't look surprised to see him. He hasn't done it on purpose, but the collateral gaslighting might be driving her mad. Surely she hasn't figured out how this works.

Ben is lying on the bed in his boxer briefs and button up shirt. He's still hard. Her eyes meet his. "Ben," she says. It's the first time she's said his name to him and it's the sweetest sound. Her eyes scan his body, resting on his underwear longer than anywhere else. She looks away shyly then he sees her remind herself it's not real. She gains confidence and smiles demurely at him. "Where have you been?" she asks. "Where are we now?" She crosses the room slowly.

Ben ignores the questions. "Well, you found me," he says. Her eyes rest between his legs again. He's emboldened by her continued belief that this isn't real. He adds, "And you found me in quite a state." He strokes his hard length from outside his boxer briefs. "Is this what you were looking for?" He looks down to his lap then meets her eyes again as he strokes himself slowly. He knows it's what she wants. He still wants her to say it.

Her hair is damp. Her skin is rosy. He's disappointed to have missed her bath, but glad she's here now. Rey approaches the nightstand, then stands facing the bed, not far from him. Ben wonders how much she can see in this room. Can she see the napkin? The Glock in the nightstand? If she can, she ignores them. She lets her robe fall open "Maybe so," she says. That's close enough to a yes for him.

Ben sits up in the bed and pivots to face her. He sits on the edge of the bed and takes both her hands in his. He spreads his knees. She stands in between his legs, close to the bed. They search each other's eyes. He can feel all her thoughts even stronger now. She wants him bad. He scoots closer to the edge of the bed, barely on it. His large feet are firmly planted on the floor.

She wants his body against hers. He brings his hands around her waist to the small of her back. Her figure is striking and her skin is so soft and smooth. He gently nudges her closer. His knees are spread wide with plenty of room in between. She comes as close as she can and his clothed hardness meets her bare skin.

She starts unbuttoning his shirt. She looks even prettier with no makeup. He strokes her damp hair, then cradles her pretty little head in both of his massive hands and brings her face to his. Their eyes close. Her lips part. Their mouths meet softly, then the kiss grows hungrier. She wants Ben inside her. He slips his tongue into her mouth and she meets it eagerly. She finishes unbuttoning him as they make out.

Ben moves his hands down each side of her neck, then to her collar bone. He slips the tips of his fingers under each side of the robe and slides his hands gently to her shoulders. She shrugs off the robe. His hands slide from her shoulders down to her breasts and cup them gently. He takes one nipple into his mouth and moves his other hand around her back, down her spine as he tongues then sucks her breast.

Her skin is supple and her ass is round. He grabs a cheek in his large hand and pulls her into him, then his hand slides down her ass crack between her legs. His middle finger reaches her pussy and she’s so fucking wet. He releases her breast from his mouth and grabs her ass with both hands. He stands up and lifts her off the ground in one swift motion. Her legs wrap around him. He turns around and lays her down on the bed and their faces meet again. His nose brushes hers as their lips come together. As he reads her mind, he’s struck by the intensity of her passion for his nose. He’s so fucking hard.

Her fingers curl under his undershirt. He takes it off and she marvels at his physique - his sharp shoulders, his broad chest. Her hands trace his hard pecs, then his abs, and his happy trail. Then she slides her hand inside his boxer briefs and seizes his huge, swollen cock. Her hand feels so good. He thrusts into her and her other hand grabs at the hem of his briefs. He takes them off. She wants him inside her so bad, but he wants her to say it.

He reaches a large hand between them to finger her while she strokes him. As his long digits slide against her slick folds, he says, “You can have whatever you want.” He knows there’s only one thing on her mind and it’s his cock.

“I want all of you,” she says. She releases his cock and it smacks against her hip bone, then he removes his hand from between them and grinds his hips into her. His hard cock slides along her folds and her head falls back. Her neck is so delicate. It’s hard to resist putting his hands around it but he doesn’t want to scare her.

“Take it,” Ben snaps hastily. “Take what you want.” She opens her eyes wide and grabs his cock again. She swipes a bead of pre-cum around the head, strokes him for a second, then rubs his cock against her folds again. She wraps her legs loosely around his back.

Ben kisses her deeply on the lips and grinds into her hard. He can feel her wanting something beyond his body, beyond this room. “I want it to be real,” Rey says.

“This isn’t real?” He asks with a twinge of guilt. It’s an inopportune moment for this conversation, in his opinion. He just wants to be inside her.

“I want you in real life,” Rey says.

He slides off her and rolls onto his back, breathing heavily. He cradles his massive, aching erection in one hand, loosely stroking it. “I do too,” he says.

“How do I know?” she asks. She rolls over on her side to face him and hooks a leg over his closest leg. Her face is quizzical, but he can still see the want in her eyes. She traces his pecs and her nipple grazes his bicep.

“You just know.” He laughs. “I know you know.” Rey climbs up and straddles his big thighs, hovering her lower abdomen near his cock as she searches his face. He'd say almost anything to fuck her right now, but he settles on something reasonable. “Give me your number or something,” he says. "then I'll make sure you know it. I promise."

She relaxes. "Okay." She seems to view this experience as some way of accessing her intuition or some kind of mystical guidance on how to get with him in real life. She feels like she has her next step now. She'll give him her number.

“Can we still have fun meanwhile?” He asks and his hips lift up under her.

She smiles. The only thing on her mind is his cock now. She grabs it again and scoots forward more, her warmth hovering over his aching balls. He sits up and kisses her passionately as she grinds into him.

He nuzzles his nose against hers. “Whatever you want,” he says. Her hips roll into him more intensely until she rolls off of him and back onto the bed, lying face up, pulling him onto her. He brings his whole body down into hers and she grabs his cock and nestles the tip at her entrance. Ben kisses her deeply as he plunges into her. She moans as the thick head parts her seam.

He gives her a few seconds, then thrusts again, further into her. She digs her fingers into his back. Her cunt is so hot and tight. He feels like he could come at any second already. “More,” she says.

He pulls out an inch or two then plunges all the way in and she moans. They sloppily kiss as he thrusts into her again and again. They sweat and their hot bodies slide against each other. He knows he’s hitting that special spot deep inside her. He knows she’s close. And so is he, his pleasure is building rapidly.

As Ben pounds into her, Rey begins to whine and her face contorts. “Yes, yes, Ben." He feels a pang of pleasure in his balls at the sound of his name in her mouth. She says it again and he kisses her desperately before his name is gone from her lips, like he's catching it in his own mouth. She comes and her walls clench around him, and he starts to come, too. He slowly thrusts into her as his cock erupts. When his balls are empty, he pries his lips away from hers to look at her. His hair falls into her face and she tucks it behind his ear.

There’s a knock at the door. For a moment Ben hopes Rey can't hear it, but her face screws up. Ben ignores it and kisses Rey's neck sweetly, trying to make her forget about it.

Another knock. "Ben, I know you're in there," Paige says from the door. Rey's eyes water.

Ben wants to explain. ,"No, it's not - hold on. One second," Ben whispers to Rey. He gets up and starts toward the door. When he glances back, Rey is looking at the napkin and key on the nightstand. Before Ben can answer the door, Paige says "Whatever, you've got my key."

Ben turns around to come back to bed, but Rey is gone. He stews over it for a while, but there's nothing he can do.

The second day of the conference, Paige starts off cold toward Ben, but she tries to cozy up to him more during the breaks. He tries to play nice but he's upset about the night before. There's no way she could have known, but it still bothers him. He replays Rey's thoughts in his head and he's fairly sure her infatuation and attachment will win out over apprehension.

Paige's presentation talks about waste and efficiency. One of the types of waste is underutilized resources. Ben doesn't want to say it in front of Paige, but he feels like his capabilities are underutilized. There are so many times they forgo mind tricks in favor of straight-up offing someone. It would be cleaner to just to make them forget.

Of course, a mind trick doesn't always work. He can't imagine it would work for someone like Mitaka who worked full time for them. What memories would the person be left with? Plus, there are different rules for snitches. But as far as Ben knows, a mind trick would've worked for the disposal that ultimately led to the Post article. Ben keeps his mouth shut, though. He doesn't want to draw more attention to himself by bringing up his capabilities. Plus, he knows better than anyone that sometimes your temper just gets the best of you.

After the session, during the social hour, Ben gets invited on a hunting trip. He says he should really get back to the store. A big wig slaps him on the back and asks if he can tour the store the day after tomorrow. Ben agrees.

Ben really can't wait to get back to the store.

Thank you for reading!

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clone-bar-79s · 2 years

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Okay. So the bad batch teaser is out and many fans have rightfully called out star wars out on the clones still being whitewashed. In response to this outcry, the bad batch stans have called out these angered fans for being overdramatic, stupid and theatrical, all over a cartoon. And while poc don't have a responsibility to teach you just how a cartoon can have an impact on us, I want to give it a try from my perspective. Its a bit long but try would you?

So, I'm brown, desi, and darker than most desis so I've basically been identified as the unfortunate child who didn't end up with the right genes in the family. Desi culture is obsessed with white skin, no surprise keeping in mind the British's involvement, but that's not the point. As a child, I really pissed off my parents for not bleaching my skin regularly and not washing my face ten times a day because by then, I considered any form of skin care as an evil. I hated that I had to do it all to get whiter and so I rebelled against any form of skin care. I hated all the damned whitening creams that were meant to make me beautiful because while it wasn't being stated explicitly, I was ugly for being darker.

In the 90s and 2000s, Desi movies from Pakistan and India showcased darker actresses as the ugly girl in the movie. The one who wanted the guy but wouldn't get him. The one who was pining for a guy who was however pining for the pretty white desi girl. And even if the dark girl somehow did end up winning the heart of the hero, it wasn't because he thought she was beautiful... it was because she had a great personality or was kind or whatever. But despite everything, watching Rani Mukherjee on screen, who I saw myself in, made me feel all sorts of giddy. When she did get the guy and he did tell her he loved her and she did get the happy ending, I believed it was possible for me too, despite being told by every passing aunt and uncle that I'd have a hard time getting a guy, if at all. Rani Mukherjee's presence on screen gave me hope because it told me that I could exist in this fucked up world and expect some form of happiness.

This sole example kept me going for a very long while. I'm not saying it helped me forget everything that had been engrained into my head for the first thirteen years of my life. It didn't make me rethink everything or made me more confident in my own skin. It didn't make me embrace my color, or my features, or my nose or my darker lips. But I knew I didn't have to be ashamed of the way I looked. And that there was more beauty in this world than the Eurocentric beauty I had been forced to accept as the only beauty since I was born . Seeing someone who looked like me has made a difference! This one person's presence on screen helped!

So, for those of you who are screaming out louder than the fans who are very rightfully angered by the whitewashing of the bad batch, you need to stop for a second. If you're white, you've never even had to think about this! That is because every actor in Star Wars looks like you! Bar some aliens and mace windu, the multitude of characters in star wars are white. The greatest jedis, the greatest villains, every skywalker, Kenobi, Rey, Ben Solo, Han, Padme and any other major character you can think of. You don't have to worry about how it feels to not be seen. You've been shown again and again that every princess looks like you and every actress resembles you and every hero has your face!

Polynesians were given a singular chance to see themselves in Star Wars as the clones who were modeled off a polynesian actor. This amazing role that showed us that people of all colors and races do exist! How hard is it to put yourself in our shoes, and empathize for one second, just how awful it feels to see that sole role snatched away ? That out of the millions of stories to tell about the clones, star wars chose to focus on the white versions of the clones. That they actually informed the fans, and proudly might I add, that they chose to model the clones off of white actors? That they went ahead and decided that for some reason it was okay that Tech have a British accent (???). Why is it so hard to understand that its absolutely horrible to see the one role offered to a colored guy, be transformed into a white man who, lets not forget, are supposed to be a new and improved version of the OG clones. And that the only one who most accurately resembles the clones, was made the bumbling brute of the group. And that the young girl who was a copy of Jango is not only blonde, but whiter than any clone ever seen on screens.

Can't you pull yourselves out from your own bubbles for just one second to understand the point of view of those against the bad batch? When they're telling you that the franchise's decision to whitewash one of the few colored characters is hurting them, cant you see why? That when an author tells us it was too hard to bother finding out how polynesian hair works, cant you see why the outrage makes sense? Every decision that star wars makes has an effect on the fans and its absurd for you to negate the impact that media has on all our lives.

#well... this is personal but idk man i think its so obvious why were angry and its so weird to see others say we have no right to be #like theres abolutely nothing in star wars for colored fans except a few examples and you wnat to take that away too?#and offer us nothing but poc as unredeemable villains now?#how can it go over tbb stans heads???#hoooooooooowwwwwwwww?#unwhitewashtbb #the bad batch #the fact that i have seen multiple people argue with me instead of understand my point and tell me its not that big a deal #and that how they as poc still enjoy these shows because tehy dont care?#FINE! DONT CARE! I DO!#But to be spoken over and told to shutup because we are making a big deal out of somehting is just fucked up

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inayaluic · 27 days

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seeing you tonight (it's a bad idea, right?)

A Reylo Hockey Textfic

(WIP, Ch. 2/?)

Ben never meant to keep his identity a secret from his discord friends - especially Rey. It just sort of happened.

But now he was stuck. How was he supposed to explain that Kylo Ren was really Ben Solo - the star defenseman for the Chandrila Sabres?

Read it on AO3

#reylo #ben solo #rey #reylo fanfic #reylo modern au

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chromisomi · 2 months

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lifebuoy, a reylo fic | ch 15 is up!

After grabbing a few things from her apartment, the rest of the day is spent at Ben’s, with the two on their laptops in the dining room downstairs. Though, in hindsight, she should’ve insisted on being in separate rooms, because studying with Coruscant University’s lecturer Ben Solo proved to be unproductive. Her mind would wander each time his leg brushed hers or whenever she caught sight of the way his hand spanned easily across the laptop’s keyboard. Then that would lead to thoughts of how those same hands felt tracing her skin, her lips, her center.

And when Ben caught her staring?

Well.

“How are you already so wet?”

The words come out in a hot breath against her slickness. He has to hold her stomach down to keep her from squirming, but the table is cold beneath her back. “Ben,” Rey whines.

His nose brushes a sensitive nub and she squirms again. The hand presses down firmer before he closes his mouth on her, drinking in anything he can with long swipes of his tongue. It’s all too much – the view of his dark hair moving between her legs, the wide span of his hand pressing against her abdomen, the way he drinks her in like a man starved.

Another crack of thunder echoes in the sky outside.

“Perfect,” she thinks she hears him say.

And then he sucks.

The pleasure all too soon comes crashing down. Her back arches and a cry leaves her lips, the world bursting white until she’s left pulsing with heat and want and something… different. Something deeper, something that has her nearly in tears as she looks down at Ben. He pulls away from her, his glistening lips tugging into something of a smile – one that fades once he catches her look.

His eyes darken.

With no words, he unbuckles his belt and shoves down his pants and briefs. He rubs himself against her slick, coating himself in it, and then thrusts inside. The table creaks and Ben moves to grip her hips, pulling her closer to the edge, her opening pressed against him. When he pulls back and thrusts inside again, the table shifts backward with a groan.

“Oh!” Rey yelps when he suddenly gathers her in his arms and carries her to the living room, lying her down on the couch and huffing as he climbs over her.

“So much for getting work done,” he rasps before entering her again.

It feels like a sacred practice, the way her legs move on their own to wrap around his hips, the way he peppers kisses down her jaw as he moves – slow at first, then faster once he hears her moans. Arms wrap around her back and hands cup her ass, pulling her closer to himself as if being inside isn’t close enough. They move as one, on a couch in a house of untold memories. And once the hot breaths and roaming hands, grunts and faint cries, spill over, they’re left wrapped together on the couch in a panting heap.

“Do you have any idea,” Ben mumbles, his lips brushing her temple, “how happy you make me?”

Rey nudges closer to his neck. “No. Tell me.”

“An unbelievable amount.” His response is quick. “Unquantifiable.”

Her breathing grows shallow. Underneath her hand, she can feel the quick thumping of his heart, racing at the speed of her own. “You make me happy, too,” she says lamely.

“I do?”

Rey nods. “You do.” She thinks about it some more, trying to find a way to put her feelings to words without cringing at herself. “And… I don’t know, you make me feel safe.”

He hums at that, and his arms wind tighter around her back.

read the rest of the chapter on ao3!

start from chapter one here!

#reylo #reylo au #reylo fanfic #ben solo #ao3 #ao3fic #reylo ao3 #star wars reylo #reylo smut #reylo prompt #kylo x rey #rey x ben #rey x kylo ren #kylo ren #archive of our own #reylo modern au

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sweetrevxnge · 2 years

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Like Phantoms, Forever

Chapter Fifteen | In The Face of Evil

Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader

Summary: Your destiny had never been clear to you, only becoming so when it led you to leaving behind the life you knew to train with the galaxy's sole Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker. His Jedi Academy became your new home, bringing with it the promise of someday becoming a Jedi Knight. While navigating the ways of the Force, an inexplicable connection forms between you and a fellow student—the heir to the legendary Skywalker bloodline, Ben Solo. Together, the two of you must face your destinies and forge the path to your true selves.

What to expect: fluff, violence, sexual content, general angst, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

Additional info: this story is set in 28 ABY, six years prior to the events of TFA

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Masterlist

Spotify Playlist

Word count: 5.9k

Chapter-specific CW: description of injury, violence, blood, abduction, implied domestic abuse, death

A/N: this. chapter. was. a. BEAST, but I'm so proud of it. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it (even tho it had me questioning my sanity at times). also, in true george lucas fashion, I went back to ch. 1 and changed some of the details about Ben's introduction, but it was nothing major. anyways... cellphones on silent and shut your fckn mouths, the show is about to begin.

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If you had any weaker of a stomach, you would have vomited all over the Admiral’s polished black boots. But, in a stroke of luck, or perhaps due to the sheer emptiness of your stomach, you didn’t.

You were delirious, you decided. After everything you had gone through in the past day, you were hallucinating a false reality. But as you tried to blink away the image in front of you, it remained solid, too detailed to be an illusion.

Dressed in a high-collared, gray uniform stood your father, a shadow of the man you had known your entire life. The man who had raised you alongside your mother, the man you should have known everything about. He had always kept his past close to his chest, as well as his family at an arm’s length, omitting the details of his early life when the topic would arise. To someone who didn’t know anything different, he shared everything that a loving parent should share with their child. Come to find out, that had not been the case.

Although you struggled to comprehend what was happening, you immediately thought of his business. Distributing crops to buyers in all corners of the galaxy was the perfect cover, in a way. A former Imperial captain disguised as a simple, Dantooinian farmer who made frequent business trips off-world, owing no explanation to his wife and child.

At the realization, you thought of her. Your mother. What did she know of this? Did she even know? The meek woman you knew would never willfully marry an Imperial loyalist—let alone be involved with such an organization. You could hardly stomach the idea of her being aware of this deception.

A million questions crossed your mind in the span of a single second, none of which could be easily answered. Regardless, the likelihood of you surviving to even be able to ask her such questions was becoming more slim with every second that passed.

“Captain, I usually trust your judgment without a hint of doubt, but was this really the best option available to us?” Admiral Sloane asked your father, her skepticism evident in her tone. “Why not the Skywalker boy?”

Though indirect, the mere mention of Ben made acid rise in your throat. In your chemically-included sleep, what had become of him? Of all of your classmates, for that matter. All you could hope for was that he was sleeping soundly in his bed, unharmed and untroubled by his usual insomnia. It was all you could ever wish for him.

“It couldn’t have been him. He’s far too indoctrinated in the Jedi’s teachings to be compliant,” your father answered as he slowly moved forward.

Relief washed over you like a crashing wave, melting away your fear. Ben was safe—for now, at least.

“The same could have been said for Lord Vader, sir,” the Admiral argued, raising a dark eyebrow at him.

Despite never living under his reign, Darth Vader’s power still radiated through his name, carrying an indescribable weight. The air felt heavier at the mention of it, like a curse falling over you.

“I suppose you’re right, Admiral,” he said with a sigh. “Perhaps we can extract him later.”

An icy chill ran down your spine at the implication. With the location of the Academy now uncovered, there was no telling what lengths the First Order would go to to eliminate their opposition.

Your father stalked towards you, his presence suffocating in the massive room. Everything about him was familiar, yet completely different—more refined. The scrape of his boots, a sound that once echoed throughout your home in the early hours of the morning, was now akin to the sound of nails raking over a blackboard. His poised shoulders and lifted chin, once the stature of a proud businessman who provided for his family, was now reminiscent of a soldier’s posture.

As his footfall came to a stop beside the Admiral, his narrowed eyes pierced yours, the eyes you had inherited from him.

You dropped your gaze to the slate floor, unable to bear the sight of him any longer. Besides, the floor wouldn’t betray you, given its composition of a material far more durable than your father’s morals.

“It’s good to see you, my dear,” he said, the sound of his voice grating to your ears.

You said nothing, your erratic breath the only response you were willing to offer. Your eyes stung as traitorous tears began to fill them, blurring the edges of your vision.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.” He snatched your jaw between his fingers, pulling your head up to meet his unavoidable gaze. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“Happy?” you said, the muscles in your face straining against his grip. “You expect me to be happy to see you after what you’ve put me through?”

“You wound me, daughter. You are, after all, our guest,” he sneered.

“I’m honored.”

He stared at you for a long moment before directing his attention to the stout man still standing behind you. “General, I do hope that she was not too much trouble for your men to extract.”

“Not at all, Cap. The lecepanine darts you gave us worked like a charm.”

To your surprise, Brendol Hux was not the person who answered your father’s question, but rather the last figure concealed by the shadows.

Every set of eyes in the room locked onto the man as he moved towards the group, stepping into the low light. His face was shrouded by a mask, one with a dull charcoal hue and a collection of glowing, red lines etched into the center of the plate. Draped over his shoulders was a long, black cowl, the tattered fabric trailing behind him like a shadow as he approached the center of the room.

The most surprising aspect of his appearance wasn’t the helmet, or even the threadbare clothing, it was the lack of it. His chest was bare, the carved muscles covered with dark scar tissue from his neck to the waistband of his tactical pants.

“What the fuck?” you whispered, somehow more confused now than upon seeing your own father in an Imperial uniform.

Nearly simultaneous with your remark, the restraints on your wrists buzzed with a current of electricity. Fucking bastard. You shot the General a venomous glare, receiving only a pleased grin from him in return, his thumb still hovering over the remote as a warning.

“Where are your manners?” your father scolded you, quickly releasing your face to slap you across it. “I thought your mother and I had taught you better than this.”

At the mention of your mother, your heart sank. The thought of what evil she might have endured during her marriage, how your father may have treated her behind closed doors. A violent rage grew within your chest at the mere idea of him hurting her.

“My apologies, Sir Ren. My daughter has always had a tendency to speak out of turn, but I assure you, she means no offense.”

“I can speak for myself–”

You were interrupted by another surge of energy shooting through your cuffs.

“None taken. And please, just call me Ren,” the masked man said to your father before turning his shielded gaze to you. “Sorry that this had to be the way we met, kid. But sometimes, you just gotta work with what life gives you.” Despite being modulated, you could tell that his voice was rough—almost leathery—as he spoke to you. Each syllable sent an unpleasant chill throughout your bones.

“And somehow, this is still the most pleasant way we could have met,” you spat.

Ren laughed behind his mask, the sound rattling through the vocoder. Time seemed to slow as his thumbs grazed along the underside of his jaw, unlatching his helmet and lifting it off of his head.

Thick, white hair fell from the helmet, framing his tan face, a stark contrast to his dark brows. He was youthful, more so than everyone else in the room, but easily a decade your senior. His icy blue eyes scanned your form, his gaze lingering on your chest before finally pulling away.

Pig.

“I like her. She’ll fit in just fine with my men.” Though he was looking at you, his statement passed through you like a ghost, directed at the uniformed men behind him.

“I doubt that,” you said, taking a step closer to him, as if you could even appear threatening right now if you tried.

“Gods, when will you learn to just shut up?” General Hux cut in, smacking you at the nape of your neck with the back of his hand. “You will treat your new Master with respect, or you will suffer dire consequences.”

“What, you’ll kill me?” you snapped. “Your bark is louder than your bite—all of you. If you wanted me dead, you would’ve done so already.” Your response was bold, probably too bold for a girl in restraints who was entirely surrounded by capable beings, but you didn’t care. You weren’t going to give in to their manipulation.

“Death isn’t the only consequence in this world, child,” your father said coldly.

His threat was enough to humble you, but you didn’t cower, slipping in one last jab before quieting yourself. “It’s the only consequence I want.”

“Enough.” Hux was firm as he spoke, stepping between the three of you in an attempt to redirect the conversation. “Ren, I expect a reconnaissance report from you by the end of the day. And Captain, will you do me a favor and put her back in her hold? I must see to it that her next dose is prepared.”

Dose? Your mind raced at the mention of the word. The context made it sound like they were already dosing you with something, causing panic to rise in your chest.

“Dose of what?” you blurted, hardly considering the repercussions of asking such a question.

Hux turned to look at you and as he did, you prepared for another strike across the face, but surprisingly, it never came. The only thing you felt was the bruising grip of your father’s hand around your upper arm as he steered you away from the group.

“Save your breath,” your father said, pushing you towards the dark corridor.

You met him with as much resistance as you could, trying to sow roots into the stone beneath you, but failed. The faces of Admiral Sloane, General Hux, and Sir Ren grew distant behind you as you were forced back into your cage.

The silence between you and your father was unsettling, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to make light conversation with him. What was there to talk about? The intricacies of the cracks running along the walls? Really, there was only one thing you wanted to speak to him about.

Once you breached the threshold of the cell, you found the courage to break the silence.

“Are you going to leave me here?”

You turned to face him, avoiding his gaze by counting the square tiles pinned to his uniform instead. There were six.

“No,” he replied, shoving you forward into the confines of your cell.

You stumbled over your own feet, landing just inches away from where you had initially awakened. Somehow, that felt like a lifetime ago. It was as if time passed differently in this fortress. An hour or a decade could have passed in your absence and you wouldn’t have known the difference.

He crouched in front of you, grabbing the bar that connected your cuffs in one hand as his other retrieved a remote from his breast pocket.

For a fleeting moment, the naive part of your soul foolishly hoped that he would release you, that he would courageously guide you through the maze and send you off in an escape pod to somewhere far away from here, to somewhere safe. But as he reattached the heavy chains to your wrists, the spark of your hope dwindled into a pile of smoldering ash.

You resisted the urge to curse him, to call him a horrible father and dishonorable man, but the ache in your bones and the exhaustion that clouded your thoughts were becoming impossible to ignore.

You tilted your head back against the wall and allowed your heavy eyes to close, the brief moment of rest so sweet and liberating.

You weren’t sure how much time passed while you sat there, eyes closed, and truthfully, you didn’t care. You were content there, drifting in a place between sleep and consciousness. That was until the squeak of boots treading across the wet floor filled the room. You forced your eyes open, finding that your father was still standing in your cell, watching over you like a sentry. He was adjacent to you, his back pressed against the wall as he stared down at you.

“I see that you’ve been demoted to babysitter,” you said dryly.

“I believe ‘guardian’ is a more appropriate title,” he replied, seemingly unbothered by your jab.

You scoffed. “Personally, I think ‘captor’ is the most fitting, but whatever helps you sleep at night, Pops.”

This time, your insult reached him. His nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath, letting it out shakily as he spoke. “From now on, you will address me as Captain.”

“Whatever you say, Captain,” you said, biting back the smile that tugged at your lips. You couldn’t help but feel proud to have finally managed to get under his skin.

As the air fell silent, the questions stirring in your mind became louder. If you were going to be trapped in a cage with him as your guard, you might as well make the best of it.

“How did you do it?” you asked quietly.

“Do what?”

You lifted your chained hands, motioning around you as best you could. “This.”

“That’s a broad question,” he said flatly.

“I feel like I’ve more than earned some answers.”

He drew in another breath, holding the air in his chest for a long moment before responding. “Fine.”

Every question was important, and every would be answered, but where to start? You settled on starting at the same place that the First Order did.

“How did you find me?”

The question hung in the air. What if he changed his mind? What if you’ve just dug yourself into a deeper hole?

Finally, he said, “The First Order’s technology is cutting edge, but ultimately unnecessary in our pursuit. The lead landed on our doorstep.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean?”

“A few months ago, our scanners detected an anomaly leaving the planet’s atmosphere: a decommissioned X-Wing. After running a painstakingly long decloaking sequence, we discovered that the ship exiting our airspace belonged to none other than Luke Skywalker.”

“No,” you whispered. “That can’t be true.”

“I can show you the report, if you’d like.”

You stayed silent, processing what he was telling you. Admittedly, you were hesitant to trust your father, but you couldn’t deny your curiosity.

“Why was he here?”

“How am I supposed to know? We were not operating here on Zeffo at the time. He was gone long before we could investigate,” he said, pursing his lips in a tight line.

“Wait—Zeffo? As in, the lost Jedi civilization, Zeffo?” you asked, your eyes widening. The reveal of your location felt like a lifeline being thrown to you, but with nothing to communicate with, the information was trivial.

“Yes. I suspect that was why Skywalker was here in the first place.”

“But Master Skywalker says that he hasn’t left the Academy in over a year. It couldn’t have been him.” You were thinking out loud at this point, but you didn’t care. You needed to make sense of what he was telling you.

“Then you must be deceived,” he said. “His ship was here, regardless of what he may have told you.”

You struggled to believe him, sifting through every other possibility in your mind. Master Skywalker has been present at the Academy the entire time you’ve been there. And his ship, it hasn’t left the shipyard in months, not since—

“Ben,” you whispered. A glowing warmth radiated in your chest as you said his name.

That had to be it. When you met Ben, he had just returned from a Jedi artifact search in Master Skywalker’s X-Wing, rather than the Grimtaash. You wondered now if the choice for him and Lor San Tekka to fly smaller, separate ships had been deliberate.

“What did you say?” your father asked, his hearing evidently still as sharp as it had been when you were a child.

“N-Nothing—I didn’t say anything,” you stammered, clearing your throat. “What happened after that, after you discovered his ship?”

He watched you with suspicious eyes, but continued. “With a great deal of effort on our part, and the help of the Imperial archives, we were able to splice the ship’s navigational system remotely and extract the destination log from its data. It was there that we found the coordinates to an unknown location in the Outer Rim.”

You couldn’t tell if you were angry or saddened to learn that all of this stemmed from Ben’s artifact trip in his uncle’s X-Wing. Though, the blame wasn’t entirely his. After all, he had made the journey under the supervision of Master Skywalker and Lor San Tekka.

“I just don’t understand. Why only capture me? Why not destroy the entire temple when you had the chance?” As grim as the question was, you needed an answer to it.

“After some debate, it was decided that we would only extract one student as a candidate for our initiative, and after hearing word of my beloved wife suddenly shipping our daughter away to parts unknown, I proposed that we choose you.”

“But you didn’t even know that I was at the Academy. Mom made arrangements before you returned from your business trip—whatever it may have been for.”

“Truthfully, we were testing a hypothesis. I suspected that you had been sent to Luke Skywalker’s Academy, so, General Hux and I created a plan to infiltrate the grounds.”

Your heart pounded harder against your ribs with every word that left his mouth. Every step of this nightmare had been delicately crafted with malicious intent, and you weren’t sure which part of it was worse—the physical suffering, or the psychological torment of knowing that each day you spent the Academy, you were being hunted.

“It was simple, really. With the aid of an experimental formula created decades ago by Imperial scientists, as well as a contracted team of mercenaries, we were able to test our hypothesis.”

The drug mentioned earlier immediately came to your mind, the one the man named Ren had used to incapacitate you. What did he call it? Lelpanocine? No, that wasn’t right.

“The lel…lelpano—” you started to say before your father interrupted you.

“Lecepanine. No, not that. This task required something more complex than a paralytic alone. Diazexacin was created with the purpose of severing one’s connection to the Force. According to the reports, creating it was a tedious process, but the end result is highly effective. And, to our benefit, quite versatile.”

Why was he telling you so much? It felt too convenient for him to plainly reveal the First Order’s master plan to abduct you, but then again, you were already their helpless captive. What did they have to lose by divulging this information to you?

“Versatile how?” you asked, snapping yourself back into the conversation.

“It can be absorbed through a variety of routes, including the digestive tract,” he answered, a smug expression plastered across his face.

Your father’s words rolled around your head. His mention of the digestive tract illuminated a detail that you had overlooked in the chaos of everything. The day you were abducted, every student you spoke to at the Academy reported feeling off, or otherwise disconnected from the Force. But why? That had been the question you posed to Ben, Tai, and Hennix, who had all brushed off your concerns. In retrospect, you were right to question it, but it was too late now. Now, you needed to find the common denominator, the thing that everyone had to have shared that day.

Just then, the realization hit you, slamming into you like a fiery meteor colliding with a planet. The food. The First Order had found a way to spike the Academy's food supply.

“You drugged the food…” you said, nauseated at the thought.

“Very good, my child. But not all of the food,” he corrected. “Only a select amount of produce was able to retain the diazexacin after the cooking process. Carrots and potatoes were all that we were able to manage.”

The memory of that morning’s breakfast came back to you: diced potatoes and eggs. And that evening, the hearty tiingilar that had warmed your heart and belly. How naive you had been while eating it, trying your best to enjoy the stew as Tai and Hennix poked fun at you. The First Order’s strategy in this matter alone proved them to be a worthy threat to peace across the galaxy.

You rubbed the bandage taped to your neck in thought, digesting the wealth of information being given to you. “Well, congratulations. Your hypothesis was right. Next time, maybe consider peaceful negotiations before shooting a blow dart into my neck and dragging me out of my home. Perhaps I would’ve gone with you willingly.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Is that so?”

“Stars, no. Not in a million light years. But you never know,” you said with a small shrug. A bit of humor eased your discomfort, even if it was just slightly.

Across the room, you saw the corner of your father’s mouth twitch upwards before falling back into a hard line.

Silence filled the space as you closed your eyes again, letting out a long yawn as you did. If it weren’t for the sharp ridges of stone probing you like a human pin cushion, you would almost be able to fall asleep.

“Dad,” you said weakly, fighting off the weight of sleep that threatened to take you. “I’d like to sleep, but I can’t get comfortable.”

“And what would you have me do about that?” he replied curtly.

“I don’t know. Tell me a bedtime story, or something.”

The request hung in the air for a long moment, as if he were carefully deciding his answer.

“I suppose I could do that. What kind of story would you like to hear?”

There was no cadence in his question, not like you remembered from your childhood. It was as if he had been replaced by a stranger—a staunch, heartless stranger whose lack of compassion rivaled even the most vile beings in the galaxy.

“I’d like to hear the one about the Imperial officer, the one who fooled the world posing as an ordinary farmer for the better part of his daughter’s life.”

His throat knocked as he considered, his lips tight. “Fine.”

At that, you pried your eyes open, looking at him expectantly.

“Where do I even begin…” he said, lowering his voice. “When I was a young man, I enlisted in the Imperial army, with every intention of someday becoming a Commander. As it were, fate had other plans for me.”

“Before I could attain my goal, the Empire collapsed. I was left to fend for myself, searching the galaxy for a job that wouldn’t look too far into my history. That’s when I met your mother.”

“Neither of you ever did tell me how the two of you met,” you said quietly, the warmth in your cheeks vanishing at the idea of your mother somehow being connected to the Empire.

“No, we didn’t. You wouldn’t have believed us if we had,” he said with a chuckle, the first indication of emotion you had seen from him all day. “We met in a bar in the lower levels of Coruscant. I was a different man back then, placing large bets with credits I didn’t have and drinking away what little winnings I made.”

It was hard to imagine him like that, young and stupid, tossing credits down on a dirty, felt-lined tabletop in some seedy bar tucked away on Coruscant. The image almost made you smile.

“I remember it vividly. It was a particularly busy night, the heavy rain was driving everyone inside. I was already down five thousand credits, with only two in my pockets when I saw her. Your mother stood out from the crowd like a star in an empty sky. She couldn’t help it, of course. Despite her casual attire, she was stunning, and in my drunken stupor, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to ruin my life in a new and exciting way.”

You tried to picture the scene, imagining what she was wearing, how she had styled her hair. It was calming to hear about her, to piece together the image of the woman she was in her youth.

Your father sucked in a short breath before continuing. “I was so drunk, in fact, that it did not even occur to me that the woman I had spent the evening buying drinks for was, in fact, a Rebel spy.”

The image you had painted in your mind crumbled at his words. “Mom was…a Rebel?”

“Oh, don’t look so surprised. How else do you think she knew about Skywalker’s precious Academy?”

The question simmered in your mind as you processed it. In the wake of the discovery of your Force sensitivity, you hadn’t stopped to consider how your mother knew about the existence of the Academy to begin with, being more concerned with getting there than asking such questions.

“If what you say is true and she really was a Rebel, then she would have never married you. Especially not with the knowledge that you were still loyal to the Empire,” you said, your voice raised slightly.

He took a step forward, careful to keep the distance between you wide. “Oh, but she did know. It was not by chance that we met in that bar, not at all. She had been watching me for weeks, learning my routine, just waiting for the right opportunity to strike. You see, your dear mother was operating under the orders of Chancellor Mothma, who had created a task force to exterminate all remaining Imperial officials in the galaxy. Evidently, I had pissed off the wrong person and they tattled on me to the New Republic. It was just my luck that your mother was the agent they had sent to investigate.”

“I…I don’t believe you.”

At that, he let out a low laugh. “You don’t have to. Our vows were proof enough that love conquers all, or rather, did conquer all.”

“What do you mean?” you asked wearily.

Ignoring your question, he continued. “For a long time, there was talk amongst my buyers, talk of a rising power in the shadow of the New Republic. I never gave it much merit, but after a while, the rumors became too much to ignore any longer. I knew I needed to do something, to help restore the Empire to its former glory.”

Spoken like a true sympathizer, you thought.

“I suppose your mother did the same, keeping her connections in the Rebellion just as close as I had kept mine in the Empire.”

There was a tonal shift in his statement, one that left you feeling uneasy. He was choosing his words more carefully now, holding you at a distance once more.

“Where is she now?” you asked, hiding the anxiety that was creeping in.

He averted his gaze at the question, which only made you more desperate for an answer.

“Please, tell me,” you pleaded, swallowing what little remained of your pride.

Reluctantly, he answered, “Somewhere safe.”

It was not the answer you had expected, but still not specific enough to ease your concerns.

“Where is she?” you demanded.

“I cannot speak to where she is at this exact moment,” he said, letting out a long sigh. “But I will say, shooting her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

In an instant, the world around you shifted. It was no longer gravity that held you in place, but rather a different weight, one that crushed your bones and stilled your breath. You were sinking, plummeting backwards through frigid water as it filled your lungs, the reality at the surface becoming more distorted the further you fell.

“What…” The word left your lips slowly, tumbling through the dead space between you and your father.

Before he could respond, you felt it. A heavy swirl of energy surrounded you, filling your senses as it embraced you like an old friend. It was radiant and welcoming, but equally as dark and demanding, moving through you as if you were a vessel of its will.

“Don’t be mistaken, I did not take any pleasure in doing it. Truthfully, it was like putting down a sick dog, releasing it from its misery…”

Your father’s voice faded into oblivion as your ears rang, the only sound reaching you being your ragged breath as the Force ripped through you.

Bolts and fasteners bounced across the ground as you pulled against the chains that anchored you, ripping them free from their base. The squeal of metal scraping stone filled the room as you took a step forward. You lifted your hands, sending warm blood running down your arms, cascading down your skin like a crimson rain. Hot, burning pain spread through your body, but you were unbothered. The sensation only focused your anger, channeling it like molten glass being poured along an iron cast, creating something violent and destructive.

“What are you—General! Somebody, please, get in here, NOW–”

Your father’s cry for help was interrupted by a strangled cough as the Force seized his throat, lifting him into the air until he was hovering, flailing his legs wildly. The only thing that could be heard over the sound of him suffocating was his leather boots dragging across the ground as you summoned him to your hand, gripping his windpipe tight when he finally reached you.

For the first time in your life, you saw fear in your father’s eyes. The sight of it fed the dark spirit in your soul, fanning the flames of its rage.

As if he realized this, he squeezed his eyes shut, baring his clenched teeth as he worked to pry your fingers from his neck.

“Look at me,” you said, your low voice almost unrecognizable to your ears. “I want you to look at me when I kill you.”

Against his volition, his eyes flew open, the whites of them now littered with broken vessels as the color slowly drained from his skin. He clawed at your hand, successfully peeling back a few fingers before the lack of oxygen took its toll, rendering his attempts to free himself futile.

“You…w-will always b-be…” he croaked, gulping down what little air he could manage. “Scum.”

His limp body fell to the ground with no resistance, and as it did, the fog lifted. As quickly as it had appeared, the energy surrounding you vanished, leaving you hollow and cold in its wake.

All you could do was stare into the vacant eyes of the man who had murdered your mother, his warm corpse mangled on the floor. No blood pooled around him, and every limb was accounted for and intact. He was nothing more than an empty shell now.

The urge to vomit was intense as you turned on your heels, searching for the exit. Acid burned your throat as General Hux came rushing through the doorway, clutching a cloudy syringe in his hand.

His pale eyes widened as they fell on you, an image drawn from nightmares. You stood in the center of the room, dark, thick blood coating your arms and running down the broken chains like fresh paint, small drops landing on the corpse lying beneath you.

“What have you done?” he asked quietly.

You whipped your head around to face him. In a rush of adrenaline, you shot your hand out towards him in a desperate attempt to wield the dark energy from moments ago. But it had abandoned you.

The syringe in the General’s hand flashed under the waning sunlight as he barreled towards you. The diazexacin.

You scrambled for your father’s body, frantically searching his uniform for a weapon. The barrel of a blaster peaked out from under his tunic, tucked neatly into his belt. Before ripping it free, the horrid question of what this blaster had been used for crossed your mind, but you pushed it away. You couldn’t dwell on that right now.

Wrapping your trembling finger around the trigger, you turned to face the General, lifting the barrel to aim at his broad frame.

“Drop it,” he barked, searching his waistline for a weapon of his own.

Shakily, you pulled back on the cold metal, closing your eyes in anticipation of the discharging laser beam, but nothing came. Shit—the safety.

“Idiot,” Hux spat, raising the barrel of his own blaster and firing a shot.

You felt the impact immediately, the tearing of your flesh as the blast ripped through your shoulder, every bone in your arm seeming to shatter. The blaster in your hand clattered to the floor, echoing in the tiny room. The force of the fall released the safety, sending it flying forward until it hit the metal body of the gun with a soft ping, as if to mock you.

“A reckless, idiot girl who–”

The words died in his tongue as you swept your leg beneath his, buckling his knees and knocking him onto his back. His blaster flew from his grasp, landing meters away as it clattered against the jagged rock.

You were frozen for a moment, waiting for any movement from him. Did you kill him, too? Though his skull hit the ground with the same force as his body, his chest finally rose and fell with shallow, slow, breaths. Strangely, you couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed.

“You talk too much,” you said, groaning as you pulled yourself to your feet and collected the two blasters, holding the smaller one weakly with your injured hand.

You clutched your limp arm against your chest to the best of your ability as you hurried through the hallway to the main chamber, blindly navigating the winding corridor as the edges of your vision turned black.

When you reached the mouth of the doorway, you stopped in your path, using your good arm to lean against the wall for support. The nausea returned and you hunched over your knees, coughing violently to settle your stomach.

The chamber was empty, with only the flickering lights filling the space. It was an unsettling sight, but you were in no state for an outnumbered fight. There was no strategy in your escape from this prison, only pure instinct guiding you now.

Distant voices rang throughout the fortress, quickly approaching you as you stood at the precipice of the room, forcing down the adrenaline that rushed through you.

Just as you stepped into the room, you sensed an unmistakable presence, one that had grown more familiar to you than your own reflection. Immediately, you felt a calmness wash over you.

“Ben,” you whispered.

#I hope the end of this chapter cleanses me of the sin of taking three entire weeks to update #ben solo #ben solo x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x you #ben solo x fem!reader #ben solo x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars self insert #kylo ren smut #ben solo smut #my writing

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readingreylo · 2 years

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Summer Reylo Fics

I know, I know, I know -- Summer is almost over 🙃

that green light, i want it by SecretReyloTrash | @lyresandlasers | Explicit | 9.8k | Two shot | PWP | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: Unbearable heat | Strangers | Random hook up | Public Sex | Public Transportation | Communting | ch 1 Ben POV | ch 2 Rey POV | "Maybe it’s being baked alive inside public transport, but there’s something dreamy about her, unreal. Or too real, in a time that he paid little attention to the people around him, just music or a book or staring at the streets out the window. He accepts the impulse. The closeness of her, her bare shoulders, the way her clothes fit over her skin. He tries to prevent his legs from brushing hers, but it’s the fit of the tiny seat and his large body. But she doesn’t glare at him when it happens, like some women do. She doesn’t flinch away, like she’s been burned. Ben has a long commute home. Rey enjoys the ride."

The Long Summer by deedreamer | @deedreamer | Explicit | 13k | Complete | Modern AU | Summer Vibes: School Vacation, Sticky heat, Skinny dipping, Sunburn | Older brother's best friend | Sexting | Sexual Tension | College students | Garage Band | Multi POV | "He’s Rey's older brother's best friend. He watched her grow up and still teases her mercilessly. It's summer break, and the heat finally gets to Rey as she works up the nerve to flirt with Ben Solo -- the boy she grew up with who's quite suddenly become a man. Soon, she's skinny dipping, swapping secret dirty texts, and thinking all kinds of insane thoughts. And then one day, Ben sends Rey a picture of his perfect, huge... Whoa. Damn, boy. DAMN! Now, Rey can think of nothing else but getting her mouth on him. EVERYWHERE."

💖 between two lives by neonheartbeat | Explicit | 31k | complete | Modern AU | Summer vibes: Scorching heat, Bonfire, Outdoor sex | Strangers to lovers | Fashion Model!Rey | Mechanic!Ben Solo | PTSD | military backstory | sexual disfunction | psychological trauma | Rey POV | Rey Niima, a model driving from Chicago to New York, finds herself broken down in the middle of nowhere, Indiana, without any way to fix her rented car. Ben Solo, the big, silent, resident jack-of-all-trades in Kirby, a town with almost two hundred people, happens to come across her on the road, and offers her a place to wait for a tow, but Ben has a secret he's not willing to share, and Rey is determined to find out what it is...

Enjoy!

☀️🌊🍉🌴⛱️🍦

#reylo #reylo fic rec #reylo fanfiction #reylo au #reylo fic #jess made something #moodboard

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enkisstories · 1 month

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Armitage: "General Sonderan! When the boy calls you grandfather, does he refer to the fact that you acted as your servant's surrogate father? Is that child by chance... the one we codenamed CH-200?"

Hank: "His name is Jin."

Armitage: "Jin Dree, then. Created from the genes of two in themselves unremarkable parents, but projected to hit the far end of the IQ scale. By now he should display the emotional maturity of Ben Solo’s, I mean, of a six year old. Force-sensitive, too, as was reported before we lost control of Batuu."

Hank: "I take it you have insider information on that "custom order" of Snoke's. So break it to me, what exactly is Jin capable of?"

Armitage: "Let me put it like this: I'd rather stand in front of the Death Star's muzzle than get on this youngling’s wrong foot."

Hank: "Ah, Armitage Hux. Always the bearer of such HAPPY news."

Jin: "Oh! I know EVERYTHING about da Death Star! I saw blueprints!"

Armitage: "I built a BETTER one!"

Jin: "You're lying!"

At this point my sims took over. Over the course of the group conversation, Rose picked Jin up three times. She's not set as caregiver, I never instucted her to interact with Jin, but that didn't deter Rose.

Rose: "Armitage isn't lying."

Jin: "Oh, no..."

Rose: "But you can still beat him, you know! Can you think of something different to build from the Death Star parts? Something nice?"

Jin: "Do I need to use ALL da parts? Cuzz I don't think I can do that."

Rose: "Something small is perfectly fine."

Rose: “You know what? I think he’ll be alright. Jin isn’t growing up in the First Order, but in our present.”

Armitage: “She’s right. It’s all a matter of what Jin gets exposed to. That’ll shape him, not the abilities he was born with.”

Hank: “Then all we need to do is make sure these two won’t steal you, ey, Jinny?”

#armitage hux #rose tico #gingerrose #sims4journeytobatuu #star wars #simblr #newstarwarssims #battleforbatuu7

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swiftly-skywalker · 10 months

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10 songs, 10 people (part 2!!)

okay when i did this a while ago I said i wanted to do it again so now i am :P this round's way more chaotic so buckle in bitches my caps lock was working hard tonight

lets get started

@justadmiringanakin (i know i already tagged you in the last one but you have top tier music taste so im bringing u back) @emilysmidnights (come back...be here) @karmaismyb0yfriend um idk anyone else to tag so open tag?

You're Losing Me | Taylor Swift - bro this song. so devastating but also such a period slay??? miss blondie i just love you so so much you will always be awesome

firearm | Lizzy McAlpine - "what a joke?!?!" "WHAT A FUCKED UP REALITY SHOW?!?!?!?" "YOU HAD ME CONVINCED THAT YOU LOOOOOOVEDDDD MEEEEE???????????????????" i have no other words. lizzy i love you so so much as well you're so cool

in my head | Ariana Grande - this one's partly for ch 18 of ffm. I- rfobsVKfobalAbalbgrushf I love this song so much. The lyrics? the production?? the high notes??? perfection. ALSO GO READ FALL FOR ME PLEASE BY @justadmiringanakin DO IT

The Alcott | The National and Taylor Swift - the parts where they sing like at each other??? AMAZING. i never fail to scream out tay tay's parts-- DID MY LOVE AID AND ABET YOU SHRED MY EVENING GOWNNNNNNN

Easier to Cry | TV Girl - and she just wanted to die but it was easier, it was easier to ADFFJSKBF:IURCSVG CRYYYYYYYY

What You Wish For | Guster - okay where my hayden girlies at cus theres a story to this one. I've always loved Guster since I was a baby, theyre my mom's fave. The movie Life As A House (EMO HAYDEN) came out about 4, 4.5 months after I was born. The directer of LaaH is a HUGE Guster fan. Their songs are in all of his movie soundtracks. This, along with the song Rainy Day of the same album (Lost and Gone Forever 1999), were featured in Life as a House. My mom met the director of this movie at a Guster concert when I was unfortunately only like 2 and too young to go. She also loved Hayden-i guess the obsession is a gene lol. thank u for coming to my ted talk

Thinkin Bout Me | Morgan Wallen - before I begin, if you're thinking of hating on country music, do not interact please. it's unnecessary. I'm unashamed for my interests. anyways this song is so GOOD morgy is absolutely SAVAGE songwriter and i loveeee him for it.

NYMPHOLOGY | Melanie Martinez - this song is also so amazingly savage. I love both Melanies, old and new. Angry songs are my PASSION and this song hits so hard for me

Someday You Will Be Loved | Death Cab for Cutie - "DO IT FOR BEN GIBBARD"-my friend i was talking to making this as i told her idk if i should put death cab on here -> this is my fave song by death cab (postal service and solo gibbard not included) for inexplicable reasons

and finally....

WILD UNCHARTED WATERS BY JONAH HAUER-KING yes i felt the need to yell that one at you guys this barbie just saw the little mermaid and is officially obsessed. IT WAS SO GOOD!!!!! the music? the storytelling?? the casting???? PERFECT. Everyone was soooo good in it and i encourage you ALL to go see it or watch somewhere. i condone illegals to see this movie. anyway Jonah Hauer-King was GORGEOUS and sang SO WELL and I LOVE HIM and OMG. ive listened to this song on heavy repeat in the last few days. like my spotify is having a stroke actually

#tag game #taylor swift #swifties #morgan wallen #tv girl #hayden christensen #life as a house #the national #aaron dessner #ariana grande #lizzy mcalpine #taylor swift unreleased #melanie portals #melanie martinez #midnights #death cab for cutie #ben gibbard #the little mermaid #jonah hauer king

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silviascorcella · 5 months

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Caterina Gatta p/e 2020: nell’archivio c’è la fonte della bellezza futura

“Di una cosa ero sicura, non volevo fare la fashion designer”: suona curiosamente paradossale pronunciato da Caterina Gatta, che con la sua moda di giovane e talentuosa stilista, è sempre felicemente riconoscibile perché non è mai stata imitatrice né debitrice di estetiche standardizzate e massificate, vero? Difatti, l’unicità è una dote che accade raramente: ovvero, quando le creazioni sono una combinazione non solo di grande passione e bravura sartoriale, ma anche di una dedizione profonda per la ricerca agganciata ad un senso del tutto personale della bellezza, e di un istinto rispettoso che va oltre il mero fascino dell’estetica, per andare a conquistare e condividere il valore prezioso della cultura che tramite l’estetica si esprime.

Ecco, Caterina Gatta nel mondo del suo brand, che con lei condivide anche il nome e cognome come fosse uno specchio che ne riflette tutto il ventaglio di bellezza, esercita proprio questa combinazione pregiata. L’ha fatto sin dall’inizio del suo percorso di giovane promessa del fashion italiano, e lo riconferma tutt’ora nella collezione s/s 2020, che del suo percorso è anche una rinfrescante sublimazione.

A ben vedere, forse il segreto di Caterina Gatta e della sua moda potrebbe essere raccolto proprio nell’essenza di quell’affermazione: che, badate bene, non ha nulla di perentorio né altezzoso, tutt’altro! Anzi, è per l’appunto l’incipit spontaneo del suo itinerario poliedrico e generosamente curioso nella moda: che al fashion design approda come fosse il contenitore professionale perfetto dove raccogliere e esprimere le illuminazioni scoperte durante il percorso. Che inizia con lo studio in Scienze della moda e del costume, mescolato ad esperienze lavorative assai eterogenee, cioè l’esperienza in un negozio vintage, lo studio dei diamanti presso un azienda import export, lo stage in America come associate new business per un agenzia di PR, l’assistente di una giornalista durante le fashion week di Milano e Parigi. Esperienze diversissime, ma che già custodivano il fil-rouge che da lei, e del suo brand, è tanto amato: l’amore scoccato per i tessuti vintage appartenuti alle grandi griffe che del made in Italy son state pietre miliari per eccellenza di qualità manifatturiera e per meraviglia di creazione estetica.

Una scintilla scoccata con l’incontro casuale di un tessuto vintage firmato Irene Galitzine, da cui Caterina Gatta aveva avviato una collezione personale: oltre un centinaio di stoffe splendide, provenienti principalmente dai favolosi anni Ottanta e Novanta appartenute, tra gli altri, a Gianni Versace, Mila Schön, Valentino, Ungaro, Yves Saint Laurent , Givenchy, Fausto Sarli, Lancetti e molti altri. Una collezione presto divenuta ispirazione per il suo progetto di moda.

È il 2011 quando il progetto di Caterina Gatta riceve la benedizione di Franca Sozzani e Sara Maino per la partecipazione al ‘Vogue Talents corner’: aveva ragione Caterina, a voler creare abiti dall’appeal contemporaneo a partire da quelle stoffe testimoni di una bellezza unica e irripetibile, profondamente italiana e straordinariamente creativa.

Da quel momento il brand è cresciuto e maturato, naturalmente: si è anche ampliato a collezioni dove i tessuti sono ideati e progettati da lei, con un’evoluzione naturale della ricercatezza divertita dei motivi stampati a dar forma a silhouette squisitamente attuali.

Ora, per la p/e 2020, Caterina Gatta torna alle origini con consapevolezza entusiasta: torna al suo archivio prezioso di tessuti vintage, materia prima il cui valore è anche nel gesto, a suo modo ribelle e salvifico, di riportarli nel nostro presente e plasmarli in creazioni sartoriali perfettamente contemporanee, perfettamente coerenti con il gusto di Caterina Gatta, fatto principalmente di appiombi netti e linee asciutte come base solida su cui costruire volant plastici, gonne a corolla che sbocciano con brio pop, tagli fendenti che aprono geometrie affacciate sulla pelle, silhouette anch’esse felicemente caratteristiche del brand come la tuta pantalone con i volant appoggiati sulla vita e gli abiti imbottiti con la tundra di seta e organza tripla, dove per fare un mini abito servono più di dodici metri di seta pura.

Restano intatti i giochi di accostamenti e sovrapposizioni di colori vividi e stampe che sembrano sottratte a opere d’arte: resta intatta la creatività libera, assieme alla passione per l’arte in connubio con la moda.

Forse Caterina Gatta ha ragione: se avesse voluto fare la fashion designer, non avrebbe tracciato un viaggio così personale e intenso!

Silvia Scorcella

{ pubblicato su Webelieveinstyle }

#Caterina Gatta #nuovoartigianato #nuovomadeinitaly #modaindipendente #modasostenibile #sostenibilità #nuovitalenti #fashion writing #webelieveinstyle

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toxicanonymity · 11 months

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The Hardware Store. Ben's Hardware Ch. 2

4050 words / Ben Solo x Rey / ch 1, ch 3

Warnings: I8+ mdni. Sexual tension, dubcon via inappropriate use of the force, masturbation kind of, voice kink. Hardware Store AU but more than meets the eye. special thanks to @dark-scape

Rey thinks of him constantly, but the next few nights are dreamless. She returns to the hardware store on her next day off. Her cheeks are burning as soon as she walks through the sliding doors. She grabs a hand basket. She’s wearing a wool hat, even though it's not that cold. She feels less exposed this way. She heads for Aisle 39 as if he just hangs out there all the time. Her eyes dart around, unsure whether she’s hoping to see him. Her heart is racing. She reminds herself it was just a dream. It wasn't real. He hasn't tasted my skin or seen my tits. I have no idea what he sounds like when he comes.

Oof. Now she's all hot and bothered. Rey squares her chin. She's at the store to get a part and finish her project. Maybe she'll see the same worker, maybe she won't. Her heart aches to think she might not. She hasn't felt this irrational over a stranger since she was a teenager. She doesn't even know his name.

Aisle 39. He's not around. She sighs silently in a mix of relief and disappointment. She lazily browses, biding her time. She's looking for the whole dimmer, not just the knob after all. The whole package. When other workers walk by, she puts on an air of confidence so they won't help her and thereby ruin her excuse for talking to him.

She holds a dimmer in her hand and nods in approval as she pretends to read the back. After ten minutes of various versions of this, she tires and pulls out her phone, searching "LED dimmer." She locates a match and puts it in her basket. She has no idea what to do, installation-wise. She starts googling. She's going to need a screwdriver for the panel, and a voltage tester.

She wanders through the store with this list in mind, even though Poe and Finn surely have the tools at home. The screwdriver will depend on the screws. She finds herself in the nail and screw aisle and stares at the little bins on the shelf, thinking about the other night’s lucid dream. It was impossibly vivid. His skin was hot and soft. She wants to feel it again, feel it more. Feel *him* more. Feel him inside her. It wasn't real.

A voice like a bassline snaps her out of it. "What kind of screw do you need?"

Her heart catches in her throat. She turns. "Um, Hi. . . I hadn't given it much thought." She smiles with just a hint of sauciness. She must be emboldened by the illusion of having seen him naked…ish.

She sees him now: flannel shirt, black and yellow. Jeans. Radio clipped to his belt. No apron, no hoodie. Charcoal work jacket, collar erect . She likes it. She wonders if he's doing a different job today or if the new management is ditching the aprons. He steps a little closer and stands by her side, looking at the shelf with her. His arm brushes hers, and arousal moistens her panties. "Oh, I hadn't thought about it either," he reassures her, almost demurely. Is he teasing her? She smiles up at him. He’s so tall. He spreads his feet a little, just like he did when he was thumbing through the records. It wasn't real.

He surveys the shelf, then turns back to her. "So, you want to think about it, or want a hand figuring that out?" He could read her the tool catalog and it would sound sexy, but he's also asking a logical question. He follows it with, "What do you want to do?" And steps into her space. Interesting. The other night he made her make all the moves. It wasn't real.

"I, um-"

"Install this?" He leans closer, grabs the dimmer out of her basket, and turns the package over to read. God, he smells good.

She enjoys the intimacy of this. Surely he doesn't reach into just anyone's basket. She watches him brush his hair behind his ears and gives a small nod, captivated. She wets her lips.

"Oh yeah," he looks up in recognition. She wonders if he knew it was her when he came over. She reminds herself she might be just another customer to him. "You want to install this dimmer," he concludes, nodding with a contemplative pout.

His voice is like ASMR. It penetrates her skin. She inhales his scent. It's not cologne. It's more like a luxury shampoo. A masculine one. It really compliments the sawdust aroma of the store. She lets out a little sigh as he waits patiently. Feeling self-conscious, she explains her sigh. "I really haven't the faintest clue what I'm doing."

He drops his head a little, which only emphasizes his height when he’s this close to her. "Oh, don't sell yourself short," he says, letting that hang. He sweeps a few strands of hair behind his ear. His hand brushes the jacket collar and he doesn't put it down. He gazes absently at the screws.

She breaks the silence. "I mean really, how does it work?" Ugh, she thinks. Why did she ask that? She's certain he doesn't know a thing about hardware. She hopes this doesn't end the conversation. She should have waited to see where he took it.

The radio on his belt hisses with static a few times. Bleep, bloop. "Hux to Solo." A burst of static. "Solo, come in. Do you copy? Solo. Code 66. North port." He reaches to his hip and turns a knob to silence the intrusion with a clenched jaw. Her eyes follow his hand to his pants. His jeans are not exactly baggy. She shakes herself back to reality. What's code 66, she wonders.

"Hey. I'll be honest with you," he says. "This isn't really my department." No shit.

Rey nods, "yeah," wondering what his department is. Wood? There's a moment of silence.

"That obvious?" he glances down, then at her. No smile, but his eyes are warm. Almost hot. Before she can ask about his department, he adds, "Buuuut." The low hum of his voice gives her goosebumps and she tugs her sleeves down. He continues, "if you figure out what kind of screw you need. . ." her cheeks burn under her freckles, and her nipples harden. She crosses her arms. "I'm pretty good at reading the shelves, so I could help you find it," he finishes, straight faced. "The screw might depend on the outer panel on your wall at home," he suggests with a shrug.

Rey thinks about what kind of screw she *really* needs, and the left side of her bottom lip slides under her top teeth. The right side of his mouth breaks into a little smile and he searches her face. His eyes sparkle and his eyebrows raise like he's about to offer something. Rey hopes it's his number or at least his name.

An apron-clad worker arrives and receives somewhat of a glare for interrupting. "Sorry,” they look down nervously, “Hux needs you." They step back a little. Rey wonders if she should excuse herself.

His plush lips disappear into a straight line, and he jams his large hands into his pockets. He closes his eyes and his nose takes in a slow breath, like he’s calming himself. She wants to feel his nose on her neck, his breath against her mouth. He nods his head downward as he exhales, then reverses and stares straight up at the ceiling for a beat and blinks as he inhales.

With his neck outstretched, Rey sees a red mark on it. Her breath hitches, remembering what she did. It wasn't real. It's at the exact right spot. She feels naked. Her hand comes up to her own neck and her fingertips feel her heart racing. She studies the mark. It's two smaller marks, really. A perfect match with her teeth. She can still feel his skin between her lips. Now she can't even remember what they were talking about.

His deep voice sharpens, and he turns to the worker. "Tell him I'm with a customer.” He rises to the tips of his toes then rocks back down. The heels of his work boots land with a soft rubber thud and he looks at the worker expectantly.

The worker looks hesitant, but replies "Of course," and scurries off. Rey wonders if Hux is his boss. Bold response, if so. She stares again at his neck, though she can't see the mark as well in the shadow of his hair and collar. His hand follows her gaze, and his finger traces his red skin. Shit. He noticed. Rey wants to crawl into her wool hat.

"Sorry," she blurts out.

"Oh. . ." he says, dropping his head a little. His hair falls into the far side of his face, forming a private curtain for them. "Don't be. It didn't hurt," he adds, almost reassuringly. She's frozen. Her mouth is dry. She swallows. He quickly corrects himself, "Doesn't. It doesn't hurt." He brushes the curtain of hair back.

Rey lingers on his words, with her lips slightly parted, then apologizes again, clarifying, "I didn't mean to stare." He shrugs and picks up a screw to examine. She wants that red mark to be hers so badly. Her panties throb. Then it hits her that the mark might be someone else's. Her temples feel weak, but she tries to brush it off for now.

"Occupational hazard," he says, dropping the screw back into its bin.

Rey's eyes drift to his jeans again, and she yanks them back up. She abruptly changes the subject, forgetting to ask which department is his. "Where's the apron?"

"Oh, I just haven't put it on yet," he answers.

"I liked your doodle," she explains, not wanting to sound like a Karen.

"You liked my. . ."

"Um, the death star."

"Ah, yeah.” He lights up. “Well, I'm glad to hear that. You know, not everyone-"

A stern voice comes over the intercom: "Benjamin to Greenery. Benjamin to Greenery. Please ."

His nostrils flare and his eyes widen as though to say, how dare he . He must be getting called back to his department. "Sorry, I have to go."

"Okay. . . Benjamin," Rey smiles brightly, adding an inquisitive raise of her eyebrows.

"Ben," he chuckles, and doesn’t ask her name. She's holding the hand basket with both hands. He gives her arm an affectionate squeeze as he turns to leave. "See you later, Rey."

Rey feels the blood leave her face at the sound of her name. "Sorry, what?"

He turns back. "See you later, I hope."

Maybe she heard what she wanted to hear the first time – her name sounds so safe in his mouth. But, he hopes. She smiles as he walks away with a swift, long stride.

Rey hopes she doesn't look too giddy. She feels observed. She adjusts her hat and clears her throat, then checks out and pays. She makes sure she has her keys and looks at her receipt on her way out. She reads it again, Ben's Hardware . . .she pines for his hardware. Maybe the Ben is his dad, and that's how he gets away with defying his manager. She feels a little bad for thinking it. He doesn't have a nepotism vibe. Common name, most likely a coincidence. "Ben," she whispers to herself, approaching her car. It really suits him. Masculine. Humble. She puts the receipt in her pocket.

As she reaches her car door, there’s a loud boom near the store. She looks back to see a white tractor trailer docked near the greenhouse. Men in pale jumpsuits appear to be loading crates *into* the truck. Maybe they're remodeling?

She sees Ben's silhouette mount the truck, his hair catching up to him in a bounce. He’s talking to someone. His hands are on his hips, his jacket pushed back behind him. He points with his thumb over his shoulder toward the store, then points with both hands into the truck. He drops an arm and pauses, as though waiting for an answer. He twists toward the parking lot, gesturing with both hands. He does a double take in her direction before pivoting back toward the inside of the truck. He steps further into the truck. As she gets in her car, she hears something clang – from inside the truck, she thinks. She wonders briefly if Ben has a temper, but she can’t picture it.

Rey doesn’t have any other plans today, aside from stopping home to water her own plants. She thinks about finding out what kind of screw she needs and coming back to the store. She wonders if it would be too much to come twice in one day. Hey, that’s the kind of screw I need. Her mind drifts to his climax, and hers. It wasn't real.

Before she turns on her car, she looks in his direction one last time. Through the nursery, she can just barely see Ben hop down out of the truck. She can't pull herself away just yet. It's like a magnetic force. She feels it in her whole body. Being in the same parking lot as him is enough to make her tingle. Her stomach growls.

Outside the Café

It's another rare weekday off, so Rey decides to visit Chalmun's Café next door before she leaves. When she comes out with her soup, she notices the white tractor trailer has moved out of view. She sits on the patio. It's still bright for December. She finds her sunglasses. She kind of feels like a creep sitting there, but she's been going there for years and even worked for Chalmun in high school. Granted, she's never eaten outside.

Rey will feel less creepy if she doesn’t stare at the store. She scoots her chair, metal screaming on the concrete, to face the parking lot instead. As she situates herself, out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees Ben round the corner outside the nursery. Her heart races. She can’t help but glance. It’s him, and he seems to be in a heated argument with a slender, serious-looking man with red hair and pale skin. They pause at the corner.

Ben is facing the hardware store, but his voice is booming. “My customers need it. Find another way.” His customers? Rey smiles with a bit of second-hand embarrassment, but it's charming.

“Your customers, Ben?” The redhead raises his voice, incredulous, then reigns himself in. “Respectfully. We have one customer.” He's the voice from the intercom.

“Yes, my customers. My customers here ." He moves both hands in unison like he's explaining a logical sequence that should be common sense: "There’s no store without the customers, and there are no customers without inventory. Tell them the rest is staying here.”

The redhead looks distressed. “If we don’t deliv-”

Unmoved, Ben points at the truck. “Unload those last two crates, too.”

The redhead is exasperated. “I tried to call y-”

Ben continues, “You should have made a bigger order. Don’t they give you a list?”

“We can’t–there’s no–it’s the supply chain-"

“If I hear another word about the supply chain,” Ben warns him with a finger, and pauses. “Get another supplier." He shrugs with his arms raised, then tries to move on. "What the hell are they building now, anyway? Why could they possibly need so mu-”

“- What other suppliers?”

“I don’t know; Mitaka got new suppliers all the time!”

“Not in this business model,” the redhead responds. “That was before.” Their heads seem to be cooling. Rey can just barely hear.

“Suppliers are suppliers,” Ben insists. “And now, you’re ordering from a local hardware store. If anything, more of them should be willing to work with you. That was the whole point,” he sighs.

The redhead thinks for a moment, and seems to sour. He snaps, “Well I can’t exactly ask Mitaka where to find new suppliers. Maybe if you hadn’t-” She can’t hear the rest, or he stops.

Ben's hands ball into fists at his sides. He watches the redhead shrink. “If I hadn’t what?”

The redhead is coughing. He catches his breath and tries to rephrase. “I mean, if Mitaka was still-” He coughs again and starts over more gently. "If we hadn’t-”

“If HE hadn't. We had no choice. Figure it out, Hux," Ben commands. "And put on the apron.” Ben shoves a cloth bundle into his chest. As Hux raises a hand to receive it, Ben gives him an appreciative pat to soften the blow. Ben steps around him and through a back door to the store. Hux lingers there for a moment, his head bowed, the strings dangling from the apron. He scoffs and brings a radio to his mouth as he walks off.

Rey feels guilty for spying, but it was kind of sexy to see him dress Hux down like that, only because Hux seemed to deserve it. Hux must not be his manager after all. Is Ben the Ben? Or maybe he’s a logistics guy? She’ll learn more about him in due time, she thinks. She finishes her meal and leaves.

Today was the most Rey's ever spoken to Ben. The closest she's ever stood. The most he’s ever touched her in real life . Hopefully that won’t hold true for long. Her arm is still vibrating from his little squeeze. And his aroma – goodness. She wants to figure out what it is so she can inhale it before she sleeps. Anything to see him again. Citrus and eucalyptus? She scolds herself. She has to find some kind of release. Her gym bag is in the hatch, she remembers. She can make the next boxing class before she goes home.

The Gym

Rey braids her hair into pigtails to keep it out of her face. The first third of class is on the bags, mostly kicking, then she stretches. It feels good to limber up her groin. It’s been holding a lot of tension. Next, they use handheld strike pads, rotating match-ups with class members. “Damn, who pissed you off today?” the instructor remarks. “Pair up.” Time to spar.

There are no other women to spar with today, so she pairs off with the smallest guy. It’s not the first time she's fought him. He once decked her in the mouth, even though heads are off-limits in class. She didn't blame him - reflexes are reflexes - but she doesn’t hold back as much now. By the end of the match, he looks dejected and embarrassed, and she's finally worn out. She gives him an apologetic pat on the back on her way to the locker room. She feels kind of bad but also satisfied. He returns the gesture and as he raises his arm, she catches a whiff of her victory. There’s something about the smell of men, she admits. Even men that don’t interest her.

***

Rey peels off her sports bra and leggings, which are already cold with sweat, and grabs two towels to hit the sauna. She steps in and feels the warm floor under her feet. She wraps a towel around herself and puts another down on the wood bench. She takes a seat, sinking back into the wood. The sauna is dimly lit with a salt lamp. She undoes her pigtails then leans her head back again.

Her mind and body are humming with the afterglow of seeing (and hearing) Ben. Her mind replays things he said to her today, conjuring his voice as best she can. “. . . want my help figuring that out?” She smiles and bites her lip. It was so hard to pull herself away from him. He seemed just as reluctant to leave her presence, she realizes: "Tell him I'm with a customer."

She remembers Ben's confrontation with Hux in the parking lot. She wants to focus on Ben’s booming voice, but the echo of Hux creeps in. “We have one customer.” She can’t help but dwell on it and wonder if there’s something else at play. It’s none of her business, she tells herself. She doesn't want to know. She tries to release Hux from her mind. The sight of him is killing the mood, too.

Suddenly she hears Ben’s voice out loud, gentle and clear as a bell: “You heard nothing. It’s just a hardware store." It stops her breath and startles her eyes open. Her skin is gooseflesh and her nipples are pebbles. How did she do that, she wonders. It was like he was there. She breathes to slow her heart rate. Once she can relax again, she tries to hear him say something a little sexier. "If you figure out what kind of screw you need . . ." but she doesn’t hear it out loud. It doesn't echo or send a prickle up her neck.

She can't remember what she was thinking about just before. Her thoughts turn to the dream, Ben's arms moving her up and down, the shine of cum on his shredded torso. She rewinds to the beginning of the dream and tries to hear him say “you can sit anywhere you want." She doesn’t hear it out loud, but the memory is enough to stir something between her legs. She clenches her thighs together firmly. Now this sauna is getting hot. She adjusts her towel at the top.

“Lower,” the voice says out loud. “As low as you want,” it encourages. Oh . She remembers the towel around her chest. Okay, she’ll play this game with herself. She tugs the towel a little lower and a nipple peeks out. There were no other women in class, so no one will barge in.

“How do you feel,” Ben’s voice says. Her heart swells, and her eyelids feel heavy.

Relaxed, she thinks. This is incredibly realistic. How is she doing it? Incapacitating lust is a hell of a drug, she thinks. Extreme fatigue doesn’t hurt, either. She relaxes her shoulders. She tingles all over. She closes her eyes gently. “Say something else,” she whispers to no one.

“Do you want to touch yourself?” his voice asks.

No, Rey thinks, startled. At the same time, she reaches to massage the muscle that connects her pec to her armpit, which aches from striking. She lets her palm rest on her nipple and grazes it lightly. Wetness seeps into the towel she's sitting on as she recalls how his lips felt on her breasts. She breathes in through her mouth. It wasn’t real.

“Where else?” Ben’s voice asks. She clenches her thighs again, tighter. “Don’t be shy,” it encourages. She lets her other hand part the towel and find its way to the apex of her entrance. She holds her hand there, but doesn’t press down. She can feel the energy there. She thinks about his hard cock against her. Ben's hard cock. It’s the only thing she wants to feel.

“How?” she whispers, wondering how this works.

“Fuck me,” his voice answers.

“How?” she thinks silently

“Just ask.”

She relaxes, releasing everything but her memories. Her fingers are resting gently, practically hovering, right near her sensitive bud. She feels his cock pressing against her. She begins to move her middle and ring fingers in a come hither motion, without physically touching her own skin. Truly, all she wants to feel is Ben.

Gradually, she feels his cock sliding against her to the rhythm of her fingers. He feels amazing. She hears him breathing. She slows her hand, and his cock slows with it. He softly moans. It's an exhilarating sensation. It’s like she's pulling on invisible strings, operating him as her personal toy. She speeds up again. The sauna begins to smell like bergamot and eucalyptus. She wants him desperately. Needs him.

“Take it.”

A pang of pleasure in her core begins to pulse outward. She clenches her legs desperately, and she comes. In public. Her face contorts into a grimace, her head turns to the ceiling, her aching muscles jolt, her feet lift off the warm ground, her back off the bench.

She catches her breath and wipes sweat off her face. It’s the relief she needed. She sinks back into the wood bench, wishing it was his chest. She hears him breathing so clearly that it could be someone else. She panics to close her towel as she opens her eyes and is relieved she's still alone.

Thank you for reading and engaging!!

Chapter 3

#adam driver character #ben solo fanfic #ben solo smut #kylo ren smut #ben solo x rey #kylo ren #kylo ren x rey #toxicanonymity ☠️#reylo fanfic #reylo smut #reylo #inappropriate use of the force #wrong use of the force #tw dubcon #star wars fanfiction

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