Kylo X Reader - Blog Posts
Who Dunnit (Kylo Ren x Reader)
*GIF not mine*
Summary: Someone left their panties in the control room after what must have been a night of fun and Hux is determined to find out who.
A/N: Small lil thing that I’ve had rolling around in the ol’ hat rack for a while. Hope you like it!
Word count: 643
“What the hell is this?” Hux’s voice when he was angry was all-too familiar, but today there was an added element of pure abhorrence.
Curious, you glanced up from your holopad to whatever the general had screeched about only to widen your eyes at the sight.
Panties.
More specifically, the black lace panties Kylo had torn off you after last night’s mischievous “rendezvous” in the control room.
Fuck. “Oh-” Hux turned his attention to you and maintained furious eye contact while one index finger continued to point at the pair of destroyed undergarments flung directly behind his main computer. “-Oh, my God, how disgusting!” you choked out, trying to avoid the burning of your cheeks. “Sir, I will take care of that right away for you.”
You rose from your chair and took two steps forward only to rethink your plan and grab two number two pencils, reaching for the panties and stabbing them ever so precariously. With pursed lips, you lifted them up at just the perfect height to make awkward eye contact with Hux over the torn waistband.
One lone eye twitched while the other was so wide you could almost see your panicking reflection in his cornea. “Burn them,” he hissed, “and never speak of this again.”
“Y-yes sir,” you nodded, “of course, sir.” As fast and discreetly as you could, you speedwalked over to the doors that led into the hallway.
“YN, wait!” Hux’s back was to you as you flinched and turned to face him.
“Yes, sir?”
Fuck fuck fuck.
“You hear any word of who might’ve done this, you bring it straight to me, understood?”
Hallelujah.
“Yes, sir.” Without another word, you dashed into the hallway, hightailing it as fast as you could run with your two arms precariously holding your own panties between a couple of pencils before you crashed into something solid.
“Oof,” you coughed, bouncing back and shaking away the disorientation of the collision, only to meet eyes with the very culprit.
“YN.” Kylo acknowledged your presence curtly as he had agreed to do for the past few months since your relationship had started. With his mask removed, you could almost see his eyes bug out of his brain when he noticed just what exactly you had been holding.
“Is that…?”
“Yep.” You nodded with nervous eyes.
“Yours?”
“Yep.”
“From yesterday?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Where did-”
“The control room.”
“Fuck.” Kylo ran a hand through his hair and breathed out a sigh, eyes still locked on the panties you were currently stabbing. “Who-”
“Hux.”
“Damn.” He nodded and gestured to you. “Does he know they’re-”
“No.”
“Thank God.”
“Yeah,” you scoffed and shook your head, trying to ignore the way even the sight of Kylo left you feeling. “Well, I better-”
“Yes, of course.” Once more, he nodded, gesturing to the panties. “You… do that.”
Awkward silence settled around the two of you as you watched the other over the outstretched pencils. Kylo’s eyes flickered with something more than you could decipher at such a moment while you squeezed your thighs together.
Finally, he made the first move to turn away and stepped aside to let you pass.
As you did so, a single hand snagged your hip to stop you in place before a pair of lips planted on the skin just above your collarbone.
“Same time tonight?” Kylo whispered, kissing the mark you had tried so hard to cover up.
“Yes,” you hummed, tilting your head to let his lips travel further up your already marked neck.
“Same place?”
“No!”
His Mask (Kylo Ren x Reader/Soulmate AU)
*GIF not mine*
Summary: After your very first mission for the Resistance goes awry, you can’t help but feel a connection to the Supreme Leader sent to interrogate you. However, when he lets you go after reading the name on your wrist, you can’t help but feel like the mission hadn’t accidentally gone so wrong after all.
A/N: So like… this was one of the dudes I’ve been drooling over for the past couple weeks. Just a warning, I’ve only watched the first movie of the prequels and even that was like four years ago, so I wish you luck. Kylo is just *mwah* so freaking pretty I couldn’t help myself. Enjoy my first fic about a *non-animated* person, and Merry Christmas y’all!
Word count: 4115
Hot. Dark. Dank.
The bag haphazardly shoved over your head blinded your eyes along with your other four senses. Stray hairs plastered to your forehead with ease thanks to the sweat you produced combined with the condensation from your own breaths.
“Please, let me go,” you sniveled. “I don’t know anything, I swear.”
Your hands flexed and tugged against the metal clamps strapped over your wrists, doing nothing but leaving behind a rash you yearned to soothe. The chair you were strapped into was more like a reclining board, leaving your head to rest on stiff metal while your feet hovered above the floor, ankles confined akin to your arms.
“I think you know more than you’re letting on.” The voice was gruff and modulated, giving signs that this was the masked man you oh-so wanted to be the last person to interrogate you.
It was frustrating and terrifying all at the same time. Not only did you have no idea what information they wanted to extract from your brain, you also knew your denial of such would only cause them to hound you more.
“Come on,” you whimpered, head slamming back with a clang. “Just let me go. Please.”
Silence followed your words for a solid minute before a whoosh of fabric met your ears.
“Leave us,” the robotic voice mumbled, causing two or three heavy pairs of footsteps to trail out of the room. What you assumed was the door hissed to a close with one final click.
More footsteps, these ones drawing closer to you, left you only to tense up in anticipation as the heat of another person took the place of the stale air on your right side.
The bag over your head was ripped away in an instant, causing you to gasp and swallow as much cool oxygen as possible. The light of the room stung your eyes less than you expected, most likely because it itself was dimmed with hues of deep blue climbing up the walls.
Taking in your surroundings, you immediately noticed your interrogator was nowhere near your field of vision--probably on purpose.
His presence, instead, was palpable behind you as the heat of his form rolled off in waves.
“There’s no one here to save you now.”
Though you didn’t need to be told that, the thought still drove a cold stake of fear through your heart.
“Come on, I don’t know anything,” you pleaded, shifting your position to try and stare at the man who seemed adamant on not allowing you even a glimpse of his form.
“Then perhaps I should stop bothering with the theatrics.”
The man the Resistance had warned you about was… intimidating. At least you knew you could trust them about that fact. Black leather covered every inch of his powerful figure, save for his helmet and cape, and a lightsaber was strapped to his hip. Watching the way his hand twitched just near the handle of the weapon, you feared he would pull it out and slice you right in half any second. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears but it couldn’t silence his voice. Sweat dripped down your face and clammed your palms when his head tilted to the side.
He wasn’t shy about observing you, doing so for what felt like hours.
“What is your name?” he finally grunted out, posture never changing. You, on the other hand, twitched and shivered every few seconds, itching to crawl into a hole and never come out.
Should I lie? Should I tell the truth? Would he be able to know even if I did?
This man held your fate in his hands. To him, you were just another prisoner to gain information from and deposit into the nearest waste planet when he was done.
But to you, he was the man who could kill you without batting an eye. It didn’t matter if you were someone’s soulmate or daughter or friend; you were just someone who happened to get involved in this galaxy’s war. A poor soul among many this man was ready to sacrifice in order for him to gain power.
You were nothing but another bug to squash.
“YN,” you dropped your head to your chest, acknowledging your fate. “YN YLN. And I still don’t know any information that might-”
Clang!
You flinched as the lightsaber crashed onto the floor, following its path back to the shaking hand that had dropped it. The man before you now stood stiff as a board but you could hear him suck in a breath between his teeth.
“Your name is-” he cut himself off and cleared his throat. “What’s your name again?” Unlike the last five minutes, his voice suddenly sounded less sure and demanding. He sounded unstable--one of the many emotions you never expected from one of the most feared people of the galaxy.
You hesitated, furrowing your brows before forcing your eyes to trail from his still-trembling hand to his mask. “It’s… YN.” You swallowed, licking your lips before continuing, “Why?”
“Your wrist. Let me see it.”
“What?” Suddenly, his every movement had your attention. You reared back in your chair and tensed all your muscles, trying even harder to rip straight through the solid metal. “No!”
“Show me,” he ordered, his tone now sharper than a blade.
To hell with him.
The second he reached for your hand, you ripped it away, keeping your wrist face down against the metal clasp he had unlocked to reach it. Just when he grasped your hand for the third time and tried to rip it away from your side, you did something that shocked both you and him out of the stupor of war.
Spit dribbled straight down the middle of his helmet, sparkling in the dim lighting of the room while trailing down every indent in the silver detailing around his eyes.
Oh shit. I’m fucked.
Ever so slowly, he dropped your wrist and straightened his posture, facing his head towards something just off in the distance past your own. You bit your tongue and watched his every move with a hawklike focus, knowing that a man trained as much as him could kill you in a split second without you even realizing.
Even when his hand raised in what you expected to be the last backhand of your life, you never looked away or braced for impact.
So you grew confused when his hand traveled up to his mask, which came undone with a small hiss of pressurized air.
Oh.
Oh okay.
Wow.
He was…. His hair was…. Damn.
This man, the man before you, was hot. Beauty marks decorated his right cheek as hazel eyes burned into your own. A long, straight nose sat naturally lifted above lips that seemed too plump for their own good and dark brown curls that had never heard the words “helmet hair” just barely reached the end of a pointed chin--all of which made you consider your sanity.
How-… how?
“Sorry about the helmet.” Nice one, YN. Apologizing to the enemy.
His face never changed; he only looked you up and down, properly this time. You were too caught up in the shock of his surprising allure to notice just where his eyes had landed.
It was only when you felt your arm being lifted away from your body that you were shaken from your daze. “Hey-”
“Hmm.”
Your brows furrowed. “‘Hmm’?” You tried to rip your wrist from his iron-tight grip but you soon noticed the effort was useless. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Your soulmate…” he trailed off, cheek twitching as he glanced away. “He is…”
“What?”
“He’s…” the man set his jaw and returned his gaze to yours. You only noticed there had been a warmth in his eyes when it was gone; all he gave you now was stone-cold nothingness. “He’s dead.”
His gloved hand dropped your right wrist and it only flopped down to your side. He’s dead. Whatever emotion you’d had on your face dropped in exchange for a blank slate. Tears pricked your eyes and yet you felt stupid for even mourning someone you’d never met.
“Oh.”
The logical part of you that had shriveled to the size of a worm still questioned the relevance of this all. How did this man know your soulmate? Why had he been so adamant on seeing his name in the first place? What did he have to do with any of this?
The man you still had no name for clenched his jaw and turned away as a tear slipped down your cheek.
“We have no use for you.”
“What-”
“You will be returned to where you were found. Now that we know you have no relation to the Resistance, your name will not be blacklisted and you will be left alone.”
“Why-”
He left no room for your confused--albeit broken--questions as he turned away and pressed his hand against a glowing panel near the entrance to the room. The door slid open to reveal a blinding, white hallway guarded by a single stormtrooper.
“Hey, wait!” You tugged against the restraints as your eyes stayed locked on his back, only to crash onto the cold floor when the clasps suddenly released. “Oof!”
Click. With his mask situated back over his face, he finally faced you once more, his soldier standing at attention by his side.
“I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused you.”
+++
“YN, you’re back!”
The Resistance leader, Leia, glanced up from the holopad. Her dark brows raised high enough to meet her hairline as her lips separated in shock.
“YN.”
You struggled to meet her eyes or even fake a smile at the one who had greeted you. “General,” you cringed at your raw voice, feeling the onset of crying side-effects attack you all at once, “can we talk in private… please?”
Leia schooled in her surprise enough to nod at the other Resistance members, gesturing her head towards the exit just behind you. They filed out accordingly, each one more concerned than the last about your distraught appearance.
Finally, when it was just the two of you left in the room, Leia directed you to the table she stood at, shutting down the holopad so the only light in the room buzzed from the ceiling, flickering every two seconds due to the overgrown tree roots weaving in and out of each electric wire.
“YN, I’m so sorry we got separated on that mission. I never meant for you to be left behind like that.” Leia shook her head at herself in shame, but something told you she was avoiding eye contact for a reason. “Did you-... are you okay?”
“Yes,” you nodded, dropping into a single leather chair sitting at a computer a few feet away from the holopad’s table. “Yeah, for some reason, I’m fine. They-,” you glanced at your wrist before swallowing and returning your eyes to her face, “-they let me go. I don’t know why they did, but they let me go.”
“Did you-”
“General,” you interrupted with a shake of your head, “please, I need to tell you something.”
Leia got the hint and grabbed the second chair in the room, sitting with a straight back and hands splayed out on her lap. They seemed to twitch for something--something like a weapon to protect herself. You guessed it was a habit of hers, but since you had only known her for six months or so, you tried not to think too much of it.
Ever since she had found you holed up in your home hiding from the First Order soldiers that had attacked your town, she had taken you in. “Something about you,” she had said with a knowing smile, “I just want to make sure you’re safe.” She had treated you like her own daughter, much different from how she’d treat the other Rebels. Every two seconds, she would scan you for injuries or ask if you were okay. She’d even let you stay in her own home, in a spare room.
At least, you had thought it was a spare room.
It only took her two months of knowing you before she revealed the name on your wrist was her son’s. The very room you stayed in had been his, Ben Solo’s, and she’d wanted to make sure her son’s soulmate was safe and healthy in case she’d ever found him again.
She’d told you the story of how she got separated from him during a skirmish with the First Order and ever since she’d been searching for him.
It was only today that you knew she needed to give up the search.
“Leia, I-,” your breathing grew quicker and your headache grew worse and before you knew it, you were shedding tears. “Leia, I’m so sorry.”
The former princess tensed up and reached a hand toward you. “YN, what-”
“He’s gone,” you whispered, shaking your head and pursing your lips, “I found out when I got captured.”
“Kylo’s dead?” she breathed out, eyes growing forlorn. You paused, raising your eyes to study her face.
“What?” You sniffled, wiping away the tears and growing confused at her words. “What do you mean? Who’s Kylo?”
“The man who…” Leia’s words broke off when a sort of realization dawned in her eyes. “Oh.”
You were at a loss for words, utterly confused at her silence when you noticed something.
Her eyes. Her nose. The hair, the nervous habits, the “lost” family pictures, all of it.
“Kylo was the man who captured me,” you muttered, eyes growing wide and thumb running over your wrist, “but he’s not Kylo on my wrist, is he?”
Leia was trained in keeping secrets and her expression was as calm as one could expect, but it was only for one single reason.
She wanted to let you down easy.
“No, YN. His name used to be Ben Solo.”
“And it’s not anymore.”
“No. Now he goes by Kylo Ren,” she closed her eyes and dropped her head. “That’s his name now… in the First Order.”
“You knew?” A spark of betrayal flickered in the pit of your stomach. Though he was Leia’s son, he was also your soulmate. Some part of you felt like you had a right to know what had happened to him--especially if he had done something as significant as turning to the dark side.
Instead, she had lied to you, omitting just enough of the truth that you would stick around.
Lord knows you would have left months ago if you had learned of the person he had turned into.
A thought hit you--a terrible, painful thought that had you gulping and biting your cheek. “Did…” your fingernails dig into your palms to steady your breathing, “did you want me to get captured? By him?”
Her lack of a response was all you needed to know.
“Oh, my God. You knew. You knew the entire time. That’s why you took me in. You thought I could save him.”
“YN, please, I had to-”
“You didn’t have to do anything,” you clenched your eyes closed, resentment overtaking anguish deep in your chest. “You didn’t have to lead me to him like a lamb to the slaughter.”
More tears fell, and the one person you thought you could trust in this galaxy only sat by and watched, opening and closing her mouth without a single word escaping.
“I just wanted my son back,” she finally whispered, “I didn’t want him to lose himself like my father had.”
“Yeah,” you scoffed, licking your lips and rising from your seat. “Well, now you’ve just lost another person.”
“YN, wait-”
“I’m leaving,” you breathed out, shaking your head hopelessly, “so please don’t bother coming after me.”
Nobody said a word to you as you walked to the nearest empty craft and boarded, and the only ones who tried were hushed by Leia.
“Let her go. She wants to be alone now.”
+++
The bar was chattier than usual, though you blamed it on being a Friday afternoon. The outside was hot and though you could still feel the beating sun through the glass windows, the tan building was a hell of a lot cooler. Air conditioning clanked and buzzed as you cleaned glasses and bused bottles.
“YN,” the bartender of the night handed you a damp rag and gestured to a table just over the bar ledge, “stop moping around or I’ll cut more than your paycheck.”
You sighed and grimaced, accepting the dripping cloth before tiptoeing your way around the many customers already reaching their alcoholic limits.
Only two weeks had passed since the worst day of your life and you still felt the sting of betrayal and rejection. Not only had the man you were supposed to spend the rest of your life ended up being the daunting Supreme Leader of the First Order, but the woman you had almost grown to love as your own mother had delivered you straight into the palms of his hands.
You were lost and confused, trying to find some sort of way to keep traveling across the galaxy by making money anyway possible. Sadly, only bounty hunter bars seemed interested in allowing an unknown, unwanted female to wash their dishes and tables.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you muttered under your breath, wedging a used fork under what must’ve been the third piece of gum stuck to a wooden chair that day. Gambling and poker around the room must have reached an all-time high as cheers and groans ringed in your ears. An all-around unpleasant buzz settled directly between your temples as you bit your lip, scraping at the gum harder and harder until finally--finally--the last string of green tore away from the seat and gathered around the fork’s prongs.
Forearm burning, you almost permitted yourself a small cheer in success until you noticed a change in the bar’s atmosphere.
Everyone was dead silent as the bell atop the entryway stopped jingling. The wooden door creaked to a close and five to ten pairs of heavy footsteps thumped against the dusty concrete of the bar’s floor.
Panic froze you like a deer in headlights, hoping your location in the back corner of the bar hid you from whoever had entered. You didn’t even dare raise your head for fear of drawing attention to yourself.
The person who had the power to silence a crowd of former soldiers, bounty hunters, and drunk mechanics was not someone you wanted the focus of.
More footsteps pounded on the floor, drawing closer before a familiar voice spoke up.
“Clear everyone out,” Kylo ordered. “Then leave us.”
Your heart jumped at his firm, mechanized tone and a warm wave of fuzzy feelings washed over you. After being by your bitter self for so long, you suppose the new emotion wasn’t completely unwanted. You just… weren’t sure if you were happy about its cause.
Eyes still locked on the tabletop, you listened as people filed out of the building without question, more than likely at gunpoint with hands raised above their heads. A solid five minutes passed before the room was left completely empty aside from you and your soulmate, and you chastised yourself for deriving some sort of pleasure out of the opportunity of getting to see him again.
“YN.”
“Why are you here?” You spun around to face him, surprised to find his hand outstretched and reaching towards you. Almost immediately, it dropped to his side as he straightened his posture.
Deep down, your heart glowed at his presence, and you hated it. You hated that even after everything that had happened, everything you had learned, that you still wanted to see him. You wanted to feel his touch and see his face again. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted to see your own name in your own handwriting on his wrist.
You cursed at whoever had placed his name on your wrist, because you were falling for the man before you before you had even seen his face twice.
Kylo’s hands raised from his side, pausing midway for just a second before reaching up fully and removing his helmet. Like before, it clicked and pulled away with a hiss and, of course, his hair looked untouched.
That said nothing of his appearance, however.
His eyes held dark circles you didn’t quite remember from your last meeting and his lips seemed paler. The brown locks, as you took a second closer look, seemed more flat and dull than you remembered.
Maybe it had been the glory of your first meeting, or maybe it just so happened to be that he was feeling as bad as you had been without having your soulmate by your side.
No, it wasn’t physical, like a stabbing pain in your side. It had been more like a piece of yourself had been missing; like there was a hole in your heart that ached and ached, but you just didn’t know how to solve it.
Seeing Kylo now made it fade just a little, but just as much time together would be needed to heal how much time you had spent apart.
The Supreme Leader set down his helmet just next to your forgotten rag and gum-fork on the table before returning his attention to you. With a twitch of a muscle in his jaw, he met your eyes and spoke.
“I thought tracking you down would have been hard, and yet you decided to find home in a place where information can be bought at any price.”
“Maybe I wanted to be found.” The words slipped from your lips without volition but you couldn’t deny their truth. You wanted to see him again because, though your first meeting had only lasted minutes, you found it hard to focus on anything else.
His lips twitched at your confession and he took that as an invitation to step closer. “I’m glad then.”
“Kylo-”
“Because you’re coming with me,” he latched a hand around your wrist, “willingly or not.”
Your eyes widened and some part of you screamed to pull away; maybe it was the logical part of your brain, or perhaps it was your brain altogether.
Either way, you didn’t care to listen.
“I’ll go with you,” you nodded, “but only on one condition.”
Hazel eyes met yours and he nodded curtly. “Anything.”
“Let me see my name.”
His brows furrowed for a split second before he released your wrist and removed his right glove, tugging up his sleeve and flashing just the minimum amount of bare skin.
YN YLN. Same easy handwriting, a little too heavy in the beginning but lighter in tone at the end. Your name was a bold black, a stark contrast from the rest of his paled wrist.
Without a word, you reached forward and snagged his hand, running your index finger over the name and smiling at the quick breath he sucked in.
You felt it too--the rush of pure endorphins travelling down your spine, through every nerve ending in your body.
Unconcealed happiness. Sheer pleasure. You shivered a tad at the giddiness running through your veins.
Kylo was much better at concealing his emotions, allowing only a small tilt of the corner of his lips while his pupils widened at the feeling.
“I’ll go with you,” you nodded, a small grin making its way onto your face. “I want… I want to be with you.” If possible, his eyes glowed even brighter and a hint of adoration creased the corner of his lids.
“Good.” Ever so hesitantly, he reached a hand up to cup the side of your face. “Then we shall rule this galaxy together, my empress.” You leaned into his hold and pressed a hand against his own, intertwining your fingers with his against your cheek.
“Just one more request.”
“Anything for you.”
“Stop wearing that goddamned mask.”
Imagine being a race similar to humans, but living for a very long time, befriending Anikan as a child, Luke as a physical teen, then falling in love with Ben around the physical age of twenty-five...walking through the dark, back into the light, then becoming a Grey Jedi to save Ben...
Masterlist!
I won't have time to write anything for the a while, so will leave the links here for now :)
Kylo Ren x Reader/ You-
The Briefing Part 1
The Mission Part 2
The Tunnel Part 3
The Temple Part 4
The Journey Back Part 5
And a George Harrison x Reader/ You
Notes
can’t stop thinking about this :( wish ben solo was real
nervous neighbor ⟶ ben solo
description ⌙ you're back at home from university, living with your parents for the summer because it's cheaper than trying to pay for an apartment while on a student's salary. but after you meet the new neighbor's son, ben solo, you're not so sure it's worth it.
pairing ⌙ neighbor!ben solo x f!reader
warnings ⌙ inebriated reader & ben, they're smoking weed and being petty together, mean!ben because when do i not make him a bit mean, ben jokingly attempts to solicit reader, reader has a blatant sort of fascination with ben, ben has severe blatant yearning for reader, reader is described to need a belt to wear ben's pants (don't question me it comes up), some high kisses (they're so fun oops), somewhat getting caught, tiny little bitty cliffhanger, ben's personality is totally based off this brent faiyaz song lmao
word count ⌙ 3.5k
— request (frl especially for ben/kylo) | masterlist
i love the idea of neighbor!ben so ofc i had to put my thoughts into a little fic! if anyone is interested... i wouldn't be mad at making this a series. i love neighbor!ben!
the sun is low in the sky, casting a warm and appreciated golden glow on the world around you. you revel in the sanctity of the suburban environment as you step outside your front door. the rays burn into your exposed shoulders, spaghetti straps lightly digging into the skin.
the fragrant scent of freshly cut grass hangs heavy in the air, leaving an earthy flavor in your mouth. you pull at the hem of your shorts, feeling the soft fabric brush against your exposed thighs as you make your way to the black mailbox straight ahead.
you flip through bills and junk mail, all in your parent's name for a minute before you hear the unmistakable rev of a car engine approaching. the engine seems to purr the closer it gets, and you're all too familiar with the sound. you feel glued to your spot as it approaches.
soon enough, ben solo's sleek aston martin swerves into his driveway, coming to a stop just a few feet away from his closed garage door. you watch as he gets out of the car, his dark hair falling messily over his forehead, and meets your gaze with his severe brown eyes.
there’s something about the way he looks at you that causes your heart to race. the sensation is unwanted or, at least, you tell yourself it is.
he looks like he always does; clad in dress pants and a pristine button-up, face etched with subtle haughtiness, and pink lips curved into a deliciously heretical grin. the previous sanctity you felt dissipates as his stare beats down on you, hotter and more all-consuming than the sun above.
"neighbor." he anoints, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "how much allowance are mommy and daddy giving you for checking their mail?"
"very funny," you retort, eyes rolling, "maybe they're drawing from the same funds your parents did when they bought you that ridiculous car."
you liked playing this game with ben. where he attempts to seem as if he's got something over you, some unspoken win. as if you're not both twenty-somethings still living with your parents.
he does have an actual retirement plan type job though, so, perhaps, he has you beat in some areas.
he works full-time, a fact you learned after dinner with your parents and his. brought up by your parents so they could dote on him— effectively buttering up han and leia further. the ass-kissing earned the family privileges to their in-ground pool though.
he's pretty prestigious, unfortunately. ben organa-solo, the youngest associate at his legal firm. he apparently had over forty offers of employment before he ever even looked at the bar exam.
he's doing well, sure— but the sheer fact that he still lives with his parents is enough to quell your nuanced jealousy. somewhat.
"my db-nine can never be called ridiculous. do you know the specs on this car?" he taunts, opting to lean against his aforementioned car.
you begin to turn away from him, not willing to go into a conversation regarding his stupidly expensive automobile. you can feel your ears warming as you try to ignore him, but ben is relentless, as usual, "you know, you really should relax a little, i'm only joking, kid.."
"excuse me?" you snap, fronting him again and crossing your arms defensively, "i am plenty relaxed, solo. thank you very much."
in truth, you haven't been relaxed or even casual since the organa-solo's moved in eight months ago. wealthy and recently retired, leia and han are amusing, charming, and almost constantly travelling.
the pair managed to befriend your parents the second they moved in. bringing over a plate of brownies, the duo easily meshed with your parents, making for countless dinners, conversations, and visits between the two homes.
the opposite can be said for ben and you. when you finally met him, a few weeks after his parents moved in, it was because he was yelling at your dog for 'purposely' pissing on one of his tires. since then, you haven't exactly seen eye to eye.
"mhm, of course," he drawls sarcastically, "that's why you're always so wound up,” he’s smirking now, "you ever thought about smoking a joint or something? might help you chill out."
"really?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow, "that's your solution? drugs?" you choose to ignore his quip about you being tightly wound. as if he's not— you've seen him after work, he always looks tense, shoulders tight. at the recollection of his job title makes you almost comment on his choice of illegal activity, but you stop yourself.
maybe this was his vice after hours of listening to legal jargon?
"i'm just offering a suggestion. i've got pot and an empty house." his voice is biting, holding his hands up defensively, "take it or leave it, kid."
your mind is wrought with confusion over his words. in the few months you’ve known him, you would have never thought he’d be suggesting what he is.
ben solo, who drives an aston martin, only wears button-ups or suits, and is always willing to make you look or feel idiotic, is trying to convince you to smoke pot with him.
you worry for a brief second if you’re deluded.
you would have never suspected the famed judiciary to unwind in such a way.
no, your first guess would have been whiskey, or maybe something a bit more scandalized and indecent. you try to shake that idea out of your head.
"fine," you blurt it out before you can stop yourself, surprising both you and the arrogant figure in front of you.
"seriously?" ben questions, his eyes widening in apprehension. "you're actually going to do it?"
"yeah, solo," you shrug, drawing out the first word, trying to sound more resolved than you feel, "nothing i haven’t done before."
"okay, cheech," he mutters, grinning wickedly, "let me smoke you out."
you follow him into his house, heart pounding in your chest. you're familiar with the layout— almost identical to your own home, only nicer. everything is nicer.
the air inside is cool and smells faintly of lavender, mixed with something decadent you can’t quite place. glancing around the space, you take it all in. it feels different now that you're alone with ben. less homey and more belly of the beast.
there are windows everywhere, letting in an abundance of natural light despite the evident tint. the furniture is modern and obviously hand-picked though comfortable and no doubt, expensive.
you try to make yourself cozy on the couch, tucking your legs underneath you. ben disappears for a moment and returns with a tray, a red grinder, a lighter, and a baggie of green herbs.
your hands go clammy as you watch him grind it down. you try to wipe them on your pants, hoping he doesn’t notice.
he doesn’t seem to, instead beginning to roll a joint, packing the herb down with his thumb. his movements, precise and hypnotic. he's defiling all previous conclusions you had of him. he’s sure, magnetic, and undeniably confusing.
“ready?” he asks, holding the rolled paper out to you. you nod, and he lights up the twisted end, inhaling deeply before passing it over to you.
you place the joint to your lips, feeling the warmth of the light spark grazing your fingers. the earthy plant kindles with a soft crackle, and you inhale deeply. smoke fills your lungs, coiling inside you.
the cloudy smoke immediately hits your entire sinus system, choking you on its descent down.
you cough and ben laughs, “shit, take it slow, kid.” he huffs, before handing you a tepid water bottle, no question he figured you'd wind up coughing a lung.
you drink gratefully, feeling the water cleanse your burning throat. you look at ben, who’s watching you intently.
your eyes are watery and slightly hazy, but ben has never look better. eyes red and low, posture easy with one arm behind his head, and faint pink flush.
“what?” you ask, self-conscious. the room seems to swirl around as ben sits beside you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body.
"nothing, neighbor," his stare is mocking, "do you feel relaxed yet?" he asks with a smirk.
you give him a meager thumbs-up, suddenly lightheaded and giggly. your thoughts are wondering to ben's pretty lips, but your mouth remains whetted and silent. adorning thoughts remaining within your capricious mind.
the tension in your body melts away, and you lean back against the couch cushions, letting out a deep sigh. ben's hand brushes against yours to steal the joint away, and you feel the heat of his touch all the way to your toes. it's as if the world has narrowed down to just the two of you, and nothing else exists.
“are you cold?” he asks, taking a drag, dress shirt sleeves rolled up, leaving his arms on full display.
you look at him, bewildered for a second, and he continues with an eye roll, “you’re shivering.”
looking down at your body, you note that you indeed are. either from the weed or the proximity you have to your novel neighbor.
with a gentle breath, you reply, “i guess.”
he holds the joint with his lips as he stands to look down at you, “c’mon i’ve got blankets in my room.”
you look up at him, unsure of what to say, but find yourself bobbing in agreement. you follow him upstairs, the both of you languid in reaching the destination. when you do finally get to his room, you note the array of muted jewel tones and dim light, different than the rest of the house.
ben keeps his blinds partially closed and curtains that mostly fall in front of them. his bed is huge, pristine white sheets and an inviting navy bedspread.
you watch as he pulls out a thick woolen blanket from his closet and spreads it over your shoulders. you feel the weight of it settle over you, cocooning you in warmth.
"better?" he asks, voice low.
you nod again, feeling the hazy ardor of the drug swimming through your body. everything feels fuzzy, and for the first time you don't feel so out of place with ben.
he takes a seat beside you on his all too comfortable bed, the aroma of his pomelo-scented cologne filling your senses. you discern it's probably dangerous in some way to be alone with ben like this, but you can't seem to bring yourself to care or reason why.
you let yourself peer into his large and expansive open closet. clothes, mostly suits and dress shirts, hang neatly on identical black hangars. he's tidy. the fact feels unmistakable, and you think you should already know just by the way he carries himself.
ben's voice interrupts your absent mind, "anything you like?"
you look back at him, leaning up against the headboard of his bed, joint billowing smoke from its rested position in his fingers. he looks less severe like this, less perfect, more mortal.
you're certain the drug has taken effect now because when you move to get closer to him, it feels as if you're floating.
you take the joint from him, stealing another hit before replying, "you just have a lot of suits. i wonder if you own anything besides them. i've never seen you in anything but."
"is this one of your long-winded jokes?" he briefly closes his eyes, but you can see them roll through his lids, "because if so, i'll kick you out. i won't hesitate to send you back to your house, neighbor."
snorting, you take yet another hit of the joint, "i did see something i liked, actually." you confess, your drugged mind deciding to be just a bit genuine.
he hums, "really? i've never seen you in a suit, or anything formal."
the sentence sounds stupid coming out of ben's mouth, but you chalk it up to his tipsy state, "maybe you will. one day."
your reply sounds equally as dumb, but you feel good, and you're actually having a conversation with ben. one that doesn't involve him undermining you or snickering at what you're saying.
"really? wanna try mine on? for practice." ben is smirking, eyes narrow, searing, and bloodshot.
you give him a ditzy look, joint still dangling from your fingers, "whatever, solo."
ben lets out a genuine giggle at that, and in your inebriated state, you smile at the sound. his dimples are on full display as he leans further into his cushioned headboard, eyes glazed and focused purely at you, "i'll pay, if you do."
his face is gentle, almost winsome, but the words that tumble out of his mouth sound murky— riddled with a slight hint of hunger. for what exactly? you're not sure.
your lips contort into a frown before you reply, "you'll pay me to put on your clothes? god, ben how much did you smoke?"
you mean for your words to come off as a joke, easy and light. instead, it comes out as timid and shy. you'd normally feel a tinge of embarrassment but either the drug or ben's starved stare makes the would-be feeling detach from your mind.
"enough." he shrugs, answering your rhetorical question, "i've got five hundred in my wallet right now," he pauses, leaning over to you and grabbing the joint, fingers brushing against yours, "and i want a show."
your mind seems to blank for a second, leaving you to blink your dry, red eyes in front of him. when the small wave of shock subdues, you reply, "i don't know how to give you a show."
ben shakes his head slightly, his eyes still set on yours, “yeah you do. swear it's not hard, kid.”
“says you,” you giggle, “but i’ll try on your clothes. for the money.”
he breathes in, contented, “for the money.”
without much more thought, you rise from his plush bed and make way for the closet. it's big enough to be another room, a stark contrast from your own closet, and it smells of his citrusy cologne merged with the lavender scent throughout the home. you find it comforting.
you look back over your shoulder, ben's watching you intently from his seated position, "what should i start with, solo?"
he hums before replying, "your pick, neighbor. what's mine is yours."
you can't help the dorky smile that graces your lips at his sentiment, even though you know he's being flippant. you hastily turn away from him, hiding your weak-willed reaction.
taking a deep breath, you begin to rummage through his wardrobe. your fingers brush against the luxurious fabric of his suits before settling on a satin black button-up that looks silky smooth to the touch.
you grab it and turn around to face ben, who's now standing and walking towards you, his eyes fixed on the shirt in your hand.
"that's a good choice," he says, his voice low and husky, "you'll look better in it than i do."
you roll your eyes at his comment but can't help the warmth that shoots through your body at his words. you quickly slip it over your cropped tank, eager to see it on.
as you're buttoning it up, you feel his swarthy eyes on you, watching your every move. you can't help but feel giddy with his ardent gaze and your own euphoric state of mind.
as you finish up the last button, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the ornate mirror hung upon one of the closet walls. you look decadent in his pompous shirt.
the feeling of contentment that washes over you is startling.
it's a beautiful cut of fabric, but it's the way it represents the achieved man behind you that has you stalling. you notice ben's breath hitch as he takes in the sight of you.
"i was right. it looks much better on you." he says, his voice rough.
you grin at him, feeling a newfound confidence wash over you, "is that right, solo?" you question, your demeanor one of leisure.
without warning, ben steps forward, right hand coming to rest on your shoulder as he leans down to you, "here," he says, his breath hot against your ear, "you missed the first button."
his fingers dance at your chest, fastening the skipped button. you fight a smile at the act, keening at his rash action. high ben is certainly less sardonic than sober ben, finding a nice middle ground at graceful teasing.
"you pick the pants, and grab a belt so that they'll fit." you smile.
he hums, pulling away and trifling through his clothes. his nimble fingers card through various pairs of slacks, settling on a matching black pair.
he turns on his heels, facing you. he raises his brows, a silent request for you to take the pants. when you do, his hands begin to fumble with his belt.
your eyebrows scrunch in confusion, "what are you doing?"
"i want you to wear this one. just let me play dress up with you, doll." his black locks are falling into his eyes.
you huff out a weak chuckle, focused on his action and new endearment. when the belts slides away from him, you notice the way his slacks droop slightly.
with a curt and nervous smile, you slide up the dark pants, fitting his belt around your hips afterward.
you study yourself in the mirror, opting to tuck the shirt into the pants messily— an attempt to somewhat display your waist.
ben comes up behind you, hands resting on your shoulders, humming into the top of your head, "i quite like you this way. ever thought about getting an office job for me?"
you give him a sarcastic pout, "for you?"
he smiles, canines showing, "yeah, doll, just for me."
you're dizzy at his words, "yeah, then who'd watch my parent's house all day? it's a full-time job being a stay-at-home daughter, you know."
ben groans a bit at your words, "that makes you sound like a little brat, you know." he drawls out the last two words, mocking.
you smirk, facing him now, lips becoming level with his when he leans down to stare into your eyes, "my mom calls me a brat sometimes. she says i'm never going to find someone acting like one," you pause for a beat, "d'you agree, ben?"
at the emphasis of his first name he sighs and lets his hands fall to your waist, "i agree that you're a fuckin' brat," he cranes his head closer, breath brushing against your lips, "but i don't think i mind very much."
your eyes flutter against your better judgment, and ben takes an evident note of the fact. his hands tighten at your waist, fingers digging in possessively. you feel a beat of caution before it flies away from your resolution. you press forward just as he does the same, lips meeting in a slow, heady, absolutely exalting kiss.
ben's fingers dig into you, timidly pulling you further into him. you crumble at his touch, hands fisting into his hair as he deepens the kiss further. he tastes of sweet honey and sunlight that fills you with warmth and affection.
you're both weakly fighting for more— an incessant craving for each other that quickly overtakes your common sense. the looming man continues to cast an unbreakable spell with each aching kiss as his gentle hands caress every inch of exposed skin on your body.
you let his hands fumble with the buttons of the borrowed shirt, slowly slipping it away from you. it brushes past your shoulders, and ben breaks the hungry kisses to trail sloppy ones on your exposed neck.
you're lost in the feeling of him— all-consuming. neither one of you willing to be pulled back to reality— but eventually you both have to break away from one another with heavy breaths and flushed cheeks. ben looks down at you with an amused grin on his face before planting a chaste kiss on the top of your head.
you hum and he mutters against you, "you like that? hm?"
"duh," you steal a glance up, "feels s'nice." there's a stupid grin stuck to your face.
"you taste so good, doll," he places a teasing kiss at the dip at the bottom of your neck, "and your lips are so fucking soft."
you give him a questioning look, lips upturned, "really? sounds wild coming from the same man that just called me a brat."
he hums darkly, "you being a brat," he places another kiss to your exposed neck, "just makes this little game of ours more interesting," one of his hands lifts your chin, pulling you closer, "c'mere, kid."
his lips are back on yours, less languid and with much more fervor. you feel so full in his arms. divinely entangled in the coveted luxury of ben organa-solo.
suddenly, you hear commotion from downstairs, drugged mind abruptly anxious.
"what's that?" your voice is barely above a whisper.
ben growls, "fuck— i'm sorry doll, i think my parents are home." you catch the faint flush on his cheeks.
you bite your lip, concerned, "but... i'm high. and wearing your clothes."
ben is about to say something else when the deep baritone of han solo's voice booms from behind his closed bedroom door, "come on out, son. the neighbor's are over for dinner. their daughter should be here soon," han's voice drops a bit, "and try to ease up on the flirting this time, okay?"
you stifle an uninhibited giggle, earning a glare from ben.
"yeah, sure. just let me get out of my work clothes," he peers down at you, eyes wicked, "don't want them to think it's all i own."
your eyes widen at his subtle dig, and he seems to revel in your amusement.
han grumbles something back before leaving. your breathing is erratic for a good few seconds. ben's hands remain on you, gentle grin on his lips.
"you heard the man. dinner." his voice is low, and you fight the urge to pull him into another kiss. the thought of more than kissing weighing heavily on your stoned mind.
your reply knocks the smile off of his face, "how are you going to explain the fact i'm already with you and high off my ass?"
he groans, head falling into the crook of your neck, "shit."