Little Bird (Kylo Ren x Reader AU)

This Isn't Over

"Blessed be the fruit," said Ofarmitage, her voice soft as she approached.

"May the Lord open," you replied, taking up pace beside her.

It'd been a week since your last, er, meeting with the Commander. He'd been busy since then--you hadn't even had a chance to see him since that night. You knew you should've been relieved, but your heart had carried a stone from sunrise to sunset. As much as you hated to admit it, the encounter with him had sparked something inside of you--whether it was need or affection or desperation or simply ill-gotten pride. But you couldn't possibly be proud of what you'd done--could you?

"You didn't take my advice," hissed Ofarmitage.

Heat rushed your cheeks. "Uh, what? What do you mean?"

"Shh!" Her voice was sharp. "Keep your voice down."

You swallowed and said nothing. Your guilt rolled out at your feet like a soiled red carpet.

"The way you're carrying yourself," she said, finally. "Your shoulders. Your back."

As if to prove her wrong, you shoved yourself into a hunch, frowning. "I don't know--"

"Watch your volume." She sighed. You weren't sure why she kept saying that when she was being so damn loud herself. "You don't know what you're getting into."

You wanted to speak, but your throat had become the consistency of marshmallow. A flash of fire washed over you. If it was this obvious to her, had it been obvious to Johana and the Marthas, too? Perhaps it was good that you'd barely left your room in the week since he'd railed you into his mattress. Then again--they had no proof. And really, it was you he'd broken the law to be with, not any of them. If anything, he was the real one in danger. Totally.

"I can handle myself," you muttered. What had he said? I love fucking little sluts like you. See? He loved it. You had more power than Ofarmitage was giving you credit for. "I don't--"

"Shh." She tilted her head a centimeter. "I know how you feel. Just watch yourself."

You blinked. She knew how you felt? "What do you--"

"Not now."

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you nodded. Better to acquiesce than to let loose the figurative worms this close to a checkpoint. Your soles scuffed at the cement as you dragged yourself forward, the wind a whisper at the hem of your skirts, your hummingbird heart beating its wild wings. If anything, she'd given you some valuable information. You were proud of what you'd done. Just like a slut.

Your face burned.

Another silent market trip ended without a farewell as Ofarmitage left you at the entrance to your Commander's home. Groceries in tow, you trudged up the steps, conscious of your shoulders and back as they dared to straighten. It was a folly of pride, you knew, to believe your importance any more weighty than the Ofkylos that had stood on this very stoop before you. But it was a feeling you couldn't shake--the glimpse of acknowledged humanity, the respite from misery far too intoxicating to resist imbibing. In a life of endless nightfall, you'd identified a single, razor-thin shaft of sunlight. And you were going to bathe in it.

The door swung open--it was Emma, who raised her brows in acknowledgment while you followed her inside. Her red hair was coiled in a tight, thick bun. You wondered what it looked like before Gilead--if it had tumbled down her back in copper waves, if it had bounced and shimmered in the sun, if it had went frizzy with sweat when she had spent too much time in the summer heat. You thought to ask her, briefly--but then wondered if she'd even remember.