#lariren-shadow

Senators Finn and Rose of the New Republic

After the end of the war, the New Republic rebuilds its Senate in the old chambers on Coruscant. Finn Stormbreaker is elected to represent the New Republic military, while his life partner Rose Tico represents her home planet of Hays Minor, recently freed from First Order domination. 

Ahh thanks for this one!

1: sexuality headcanon - bisexual2: otp - Reylo3: brotp - Don’t have one. Kylo is a friendless motherfucker.4: notp - Probably Kylux but I don’t hate anything that much.5: first headcanon that pops into my head - Well this is sad, but the first thing I thought of is that Kylo has a self-harm issue off the battlefield, buuut I feel that this is so obvious that I’m not sure it even counts as a headcanon lol6: favorite line from this character - “The droid stole a freighter?” 7: one way in which I relate to this character - He’s an abuse survivor with very poor coping mechanisms :P8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character - That Rey got an up close and personal look at his private thoughts. Ofc he did the same thing to her and then some so my sympathy is limited.9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? - Do I even need to answer this one? Problematic fave.

Rey has not known many soft things in her life. Her bed on Jakku was hard and her food was tough and the sand stung and gritted. The flowers were barbed to protect their soft water and the sun was blistering and searing and relentless.

Even her bony fingers, callused and blunted, were hard on her intimate flesh on those evenings when sleep could not find her so she sought a climax to grab its attention.

Sex is hard and Kylo Ren’s muscles are hard and the stones beneath her pallet on Ahch-To are hard.

But his mouth--he’s not used his wide, generous mouth before--it is soft. His mouth gives against her, even as he takes her pleasure inch by inch. It is the same surprise she felt when she was first kissed. Lips are pliant and yielding, and when pressed against another set of lips, the resulting touch was more formless and fluid than she expected.

But this--being kissed between her legs, where she can only take and take and take--it is a softness, a gentle that robs her of control. She is wet and hot and his mouth is wet and hot and she is suddenly soft all over. Soft tears on her cheeks, soft sighs, heavy lids over soft focused eyes. 

She tries to utter his name but “Kylo” is too biting, too sharp and jagged. She needs soft, now that she knows it. Now that he’s given it to her and showed her how hard the world is by comparison. She needs--

“Ben--”

The word is gentle enough to name the tenderness of this particular coupling. He’s making love to her and so she says the name given to him in love.

“Ben!”

His tongue is inside her and his lips are pressed to her and she’s evaporating into a fog not unlike what hangs low to the ground in the soft, soft morning. Before she has shattered. Before, she has broken and splintered and cracked. But she’s softer now, he’s softer now and she welcomes this floating sensation.

He hums against her, not giving her even the hard edge of formed words. Even that friction is too honed for what he gave and what she took.

When he moves, when he kisses her shoulder, then her neck, then her lips, his lips are hot and rubbed smooth and slick. Something hard will puncture this moment--either his goodbye or her giving him back the knife-edged name he arrived wearing--but for now, he only touches her lips to lips, soft to soft, and Rey thinks she might have known the Dark Side just as long as Kylo.

Rey gripped her key, staring with a smile around the bare, scruffy studio apartment. Footsteps in the corridor made her turn, and she saw a black-clad male, whose handsome face was drawn into a deep thoughtful frown.

“Hi, I’m Rey, your new neighbour,” she said, grinning.

“Yeah, and I’m loud,” snapped her sullen neighbour quickly, storming past her, “don’t expect me to apologise for it.”

6. Tipsy kiss

Rey leaned back against the makeshift bar with a beer in hand, watching the festivities build around her. After what felt like eons of conflict and battles strewn across the galaxy, they’d won. As much as it could be called winning, with all the turmoil and bittersweet heartbreak that came with it. She was content, a little buzzed and hidden against the wall, but overall satisfied with herself.

“Are they always this loud?”

She turned her head to the sound of still-sort-of-Kylo’s question. He’d deflected six months ago and hearing the bareness of his voice sent sparks of electric run down her back. It took a second to gather her thoughts. “Worse, usually. I think everyone’s too tired to be overwhelmingly unruly.”

“I don’t blame them, I’m ready for bed myself.” He eased himself into the space beside her.

“Then why stick around? You don’t have to.”

“I feel like I should be here. Everyone makes such an attempt to avoid me, I might as well try to blend in to prove I’m not evil.” He took a large drink from his glass, the golden liquid drained down to the ice.

“Have you spoken to anyone else tonight?”

“Just you. Not many of the others would listen, and I don’t want to hang off Poe all night; he seems busy as is.”

She followed his gaze to the pilot, busy chatting with his current object of affection. “I’m sure there are more people willing to get to know you, Kylo. You’re just afraid of making the first move.”

“Usually.” He shrugged and she found herself drawn to the lines of his shoulders. Rey inched just a fraction closer.

A buzzed thought made her pluck his glass with her free hand, swallowing the rest of the alcohol. It was honey-sweet but sour with a kick of ethanol to follow. He lacked the slightest hint of anger when he mirrored her actions, draining the end of her bottle. The tension eased smoothly, like hands across silk sheets.

“You don’t always have to act so stern,” she said softly, knocking into his hip. “That’s why people are nervous; you always wear this scrunched-up face like you’re going to kill someone.”

He pressed back. “You’re not nervous around me.”

“I’ve known you longer.” She glanced up, sucked into the deepness of his caf-brown eyes. “I know you’re not who you were.”

She saw it coming, but time still froze when he pressed his lips quickly to hers. It could have been a ‘thank you’ in a culture she wasn’t familiar with, or a gesture between friends, but…

“You taste like smoked cinnamon. Nothing you were drinking had cinnamon in it.” Her tongue ran along her bottom lip, chasing the flavor. “What do I taste like?”

“Like a sweet my mother used to make to surprise me.” His eyebrows knit together. “I don’t want to say it, but…what does cinnamon mean to you?”

“It was a gift, something I was thankful for.”

“That would make sense.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m grateful you’re willing to listen to me.”

That clicked. “Oh.” She felt the goosebumps prickle down her skin before her mind followed. Tastes associated with feelings, cinnamon lingering on her tongue, the fact that she’d been surprised…“We’re soulmates, aren’t we?”

“We could kiss again, just to be sure.”