Little Bird (Kylo Ren x Reader AU)

Resolved Those Doubts

"Blessed be the fruit."

Ofarmitage stumbled, blinking at you in disbelief--only a moment of hesitation, but enough for you to glean that your face was unexpected. She recovered and moved forward, head straight, shoulders squared. "May the Lord open."

Head down, you trailed her.

Following your lesson--if it could be called such, as the only marks you'd received were purple and along your collar--you'd plopped into bed, mind mesmerized with memories of Ren's mouth, his words, his eyes. Your chest had seized in want for him to lie there with you, to curl around you as he'd done before, a want you'd liked have to suffocated with your pillow. You wondered now if he'd had the same feelings about you after fucking you so goddamn thoroughly, if he'd laid next to Johana, imagining your body instead, if his brain had swum with regrets and hopes and dreams. It didn't feel foolish now, to wonder such things.

After all--he was you.

A light, airy breath entered your lungs--and you recognized a distinct lack of anvils on your chest, a burden you'd been carrying since you'd stepped in the van with Rey. It was only now, in the relief of Ofarmitage's company, that you realized she was the one person--perhaps on the entire planet, at this moment--whose presence didn't inspire guilt when it came to your feelings about Kylo Ren. It was an unintentional bond, forged in the fires of shame, recast now in desperation--a need for someone, anyone to know the sick, frustrated desires of your heart.

Her words--I'm scared I'd miss him--seemed more tangible to you now than ever.

"How do you do it?" Your voice seemed strange to you in its softness.

"Uh." She cleared her throat. "Do what?"

"Live with yourself."

"Uh, excuse me?"

You shook your head. "No, sorry," you said. "Not like that. I just..." You snuck a glance beyond your wings, trying to meet her eyes--but she refused to look in your direction. "I want him. I can't stop wanting him."

Silence--she inhaled slowly through her nose. "Yeah," she said. "It sucks."

The acknowledgement alone sent your heart soaring. God, it did suck, didn't it, to exist for your womb, to be teased with trailers of affection but never provided the feature film, to be starved of love and humanity and have only a single man you wanted to receive it from--the very same man who'd determined you weren't worthy of it. Ofarmitage had known the other Ofkylos, had been with her Commander at least a year. A year of suffering in the hell you'd made home. You hoped for some guidance, some pardon from a person who wasn't in your own head.

"How do I forgive myself for it?"

"Just accept it," she said. "Take whatever he's willing to give. Be grateful for it."

The words fell like deflated balloons on your brain. "Oh."

A long moment of silence hung between you as you approached the Guardian checkpoint, produced your passes, and moved forward. Even if you hadn't decided to help the Resistance, you weren't sure how long you could pretend your feelings were anywhere in the realm of acceptability.

You imagined telling Rey and Finn you'd begged for Ren to fuck you after he'd stuffed you full of the barrel of his gun--and that you'd meant it, too. You imagined telling them that, even with the knowledge that you were his Handmaid, you'd pined for his arms, willed a world to exist where you hadn't ever known the word Gilead. You imagined telling them the doubt that wiggled in the back of your bestial brain, causing you to question whether you should even try to fight for your freedom.