Little Bird (Kylo Ren x Reader AU)

Interests of Gilead

"It's morning."

Kylo Ren's voice trickled like a creek through the hazy meadow of your mind. You had been divorced from rest for so many hours that you were certain you'd begun hallucinating, phasing through dreams and reality like osmosis. The dark sheets underneath you were a black ocean, Ren's chest at your back a mountain made of heat and stone. And you--you were a bird, floating on thermals of terror, too afraid to flap your wings, lest you birth a tornado, but even more afraid to rest, to languish to death in exhaustion.

"You need to walk."

His voice again, guiding you back to reality. He eased you forward, uncurling his legs from around you, the reassuring strength of his body leaving you exposed. Your head hurt less, but the lack of sleep still had you a little dizzy. What if you still couldn't walk? Perhaps you'd be forced to the doctor, where'd you'd be asked twenty dozen questions, maybe determined deficient. Maybe this entire episode had been for naught, maybe you'd be shipped off to the Colonies for your disobedience, maybe--

"Up," he said. "Show me if you can walk."

You shook your head, brain wobbling like congealed fat in your skull. Ren stood at the side of the bed; you soaked him in, from the dark waves of hair skating above his wide, powerful shoulders, his broad chest rising with quiet breath, down to his abdomen, wrapped tight with muscle, and the trail of hair that led below his pants. God, he was gorgeous--it was almost ethereal. It sent a distant tremble to your toes, agitating the chilled pond of desire in your belly.

The tenderness you'd felt from him had evaporated, now--he observed you with cold, expectant eyes. Jaw stiff, you eased yourself onto the ground, surprised when your feet connected with the floor and steadied you. One step, and then another, no teeters to be found.

He shifted back, a silent request for a continued demonstration. Shrugging, you stepped again, again. The world had stopped spinning. Finally.

"Get to your room. The Marthas will provide you with another dress." He scanned you, memorizing something. "You should sleep."

You nodded, folding your arms over your chest, feeling more naked in your civilian clothes now than you'd felt the night prior when you were actually naked in the backseat of his car. "What's... going to happen to me?"

He raised a brow. "You will remain as my Handmaid and serve this home."

"You know that for a fact?"

"Yes."

You wanted that to be true for more than one reason--the first would be to give the Resistance what they needed, to ensure Poe's death hadn't been in vain. The second was more nebulous and shameful, woven into the fabric of your ache, your longing to know him. If only you could set that fabric on fire and bury the ashes--after all, you were a spy, now. He deserved retribution. No matter how sweetly he stroked your hair.

"Okay... it's just, Johana had mentioned something about re-education--"

"I meet with the Council today," he said. "I'll inform them that re-education won't be necessary." A dark flame flashed across his irises. "Unless you believe it is."

You ignored the shiver at the base of your spine. "No, sir."

Ren's eye twitched. "We're alone. You..." Then, his expression hardened, and before you could respond: "Go."

You nodded, peeling away and shuffling into the corridor.

It was strange to creep through the halls of his home without the swish of skirts at your ankles--a shame you'd have to give this outfit up. It wasn't something you would've worn prior to the rise of Gilead, but in this world, it made you feel as if you'd strapped on Doc Martens and a trenchcoat.