Manipulation (Kylo x Reader)

Chapter 3 - Is That a Lightsaber?

Life got much busier as Captain, at least for the first couple weeks. I got everything properly inventoried, and the procedures pounded into the pilot and technicians' heads. Within three weeks, the command hanger and all its employees were back in shape.

Early one morning, I was in one of the training rooms alone, dancing with a wooden bo staff. I moved gracefully, an imaginary opponent before me. It didn't take long for me to lose myself in the fake battle, in the physical exertion. My eyes closed as I felt the room around me with senses other than my vision. I was almost hypnotized by the effort, the stale air becoming wind through my hair. I'd missed this.

Then I heard someone clear their throat. I stumbled mid step and opened my eyes. Kylo was standing before me—masked of course—but not really. It was like my first morning on the ship, some sort of force connection.

"Kyl- er, Commander."

"How are you doing this?" I couldn't tell if he was confused or frustrated, and I heard no thoughts coming from him. Thinking back, I realized I didn't hear him last time either. Does he really think I'm doing this? I don't even know if it is real. If it were, wouldn't I hear his thoughts?

"I don't think I am, sir." He didn't respond for a moment.

"You are training?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, nervous, for some reason, for what his reaction to this little fact would be.

"You are experienced."

I just looked at him. Was he asking me? Complementing me? Or just, stating a fact? I decided to go with all three.

"Yes, sir." He watched me, unmoving for another beat before he was gone.

I put my face in my hands and made a frustrated noise. With another sigh, I put my staff back and returned to my room.

Turning the shower to the coldest setting, I got in. Instinctively, I inhaled sharply. I closed my eyes and focused on my body. The cold water constricted the blood circulation closest to my skin, cooling the temperature. In turn, my body tried to warm up; the blood further in my body—in deeper tissues—began pumping through my veins faster. While this was happening, my muscles were slowly releasing tension they'd built up during my workout.

I washed my hair and my body. By then, my limbs were cold, and a lot of my blood was circulating through my torso, a natural bodily response.

I turned the water as hot as it would go and finished my shower routine, half my focus on the blood rushing back into my limbs. Vaguely, I wondered if someone with less force sensitivity—or none at all—could feel this occurring in their body, or if it was simply due to how in tune I am with my body and the force.

Once I was dry, I looked at my closet, feeling some disappointment that I hadn't flown since I got here.

I pulled out the captain's uniform and looked at it disdainfully. I hadn't worn it yet, and decided today would not be the day I broke tradition. Putting it back, I pulled out the black jumpsuit with the First Order emblem on the arm. Technically, if I wasn't flying, I didn't need to be wearing it. But it was way more comfortable than the itchy, stiff uniform. I slipped it on and then the belt, and my boots.

The moment I left my room I was looking at my datapad. I had a ton of computer work to do today, unfortunately. I slipped into the command center and went to my favorite little quiet corner. I spent a half hour filing reports and reviewing ones from the engineers, then dove into the policies and procedure revisions I've been putting off. It was dull work but it really had to be done. Half of it appeared to be direct copies of Imperial policy.