#bit off the ear of another character and strangled them as well... i promise y'all that i do not condone violence of any kind-

[mad-hunts]

barton's legit reaction on camera whenever he finds out that the doctors in arkham have written a special note on his chart that says he should now be muzzled before being transported someplace (and i just thought i should mention this would take place right after he had pretty much bitten off the ear of a guard as well as strangled them in the past... like UMMM ☠️ i'm definitely not saying it's right to muzzle a human being, but he would really be out here acting like that didn't happen jsjsj)

[kylorengarbagedump]

Unprofessional Services: Chapter 4

Read on AO3. Part 3 here. Part 5 here.

Summary: You remember learning in the academy that working as a therapist required creativity. It seems as if anti-therapy requires the same.

Words: 2300

Warnings: None

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: So, I've kind of had this chapter written for months and just never published it because I thought it was terrible! But then, today, I read it over and thought, huh, this actually isn't half-bad! So! Here ya go!

Despite my inactivity, I am thinking about both of my current stories every day. Without getting into too much, my life has been kind of a mess since May, so, I'm trying my best to pull it back together. It seems as if it's beginning to settle, now.

Thanks so much for your patience and support. I love reading the feedback for this story. It's close to my heart! <3 I love y'all so much!!

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

Perhaps you could hypnotize yourself into sleeping. Or bore yourself. One of them would have to work eventually--wouldn’t they? You peeked over your shoulder. Fent was still conked out, his breath soft and deep. Not waking him was paramount. Freezing your lungs, you reached for your data pad, resting only inches from you. Your hand floated through the air, on a silent mission. Your nails grazed the edge and you pulled it toward you with your fingertips. So close. Almost there…

You slid it too fast, and it tumbled to the floor, a loud, glassy clatter cutting through the air. You winced.

Fent snorted, then shot up, shouting into the darkness as his head spun on a swivel. Cursing yourself, you eased him down, shushing him, caressing his back and murmuring in his ear. But it wasn't enough. His body shook, a choked whimper escaping him.

“I just want to sleep…” he sobbed. “Why can't I sleep?”

“Wish I could answer that for you, love.” If you ever found the answer, you hoped they'd solve the mystery for you, too.

“My life sucks,” he said. Your heart crumbled. You knew what he meant, but it didn't make it hurt any less when he said it. “I'm never getting better.”

“Shh,” you said. “Don't say that… We're getting off this ship soon. And when we do, everything will be different. I promise.”

Fent nodded, his body relaxing. Eventually, he fell asleep, but spent the rest of the night twisting, turning, pushing you to the edge. Between that and the sweltering heat of his body, you resigned yourself to a tiny corner of the mattress, staring into the empty ceiling, hoping the universe would mistake you for a corpse and claim you into temporary unconsciousness.

By the time to meet the Supreme Leader rolled around, you weren't entirely sure how much sleep you had gotten--only that your limbs moved like stones and your lids fluttered with the heavy weight of exhaustion. But it didn't matter. You had work to do. So, gathering what energy you had left, you slid out of bed and pulled on your uniform.

As promised, the location of the meeting had been sent to your datapad, and you tucked it under your arm, just in case you got lost, unlikely as it was. Between dealing with your clients and dealing with Fent, you were fairly certain you had a blueprint burned into your brain. You bid farewell to him before you began your journey through the halls.

What could the Supreme Leader want with you? Of course, it must have been related to the incident with Kylo Ren the day before--but that wasn't your fault. It was his own damn choice to act like a child. A massive, terrifying child. With magic powers. That he used to strangle you.

You snorted. You'd done nothing wrong. Why did you need to feel afraid? Ren was the one who'd choked his therapist.

According to the datapad, you'd arrived. The doors in front of you looked as plain as any blastdoor--a bit inconspicuous for concealing the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Didn't he deserve something gilded? And what were you supposed to do, now, anyway? There was no keypad next to the doors--no way of entry. Shrugging, you did the only thing you could think to do. You knocked.

The doors whirred open before you, taking your breath with them. Beyond them was a sanctuary--or, really, that was the only word you could think to define it. It was dark, without a single window or porthole, the floors flat and empty before a durasteel chair positioned at the head of the room. Where the Supreme Leader sat.

The problem was, the chair was empty. Your stomach sank. Perhaps he wasn't here. Perhaps this was a mistake. You stepped inside to double-check before escaping back to your quarters--but the doors shut behind you, plunging you into complete darkness.

“Dammit!” You scrambled and scraped at the door, raw shivers hitting your bones when your nails grazed the durasteel. It didn't budge. “Dammit!” Spinning around, you confronted the empty, black air. “Hello?” you shouted. “Someone!”

Blue, broken light cut through the void, a fuzzy hologram materializing at the head of the room. It blipped, stabilizing, and then solidified. You gulped.

The Supreme Leader might have been human, once--he had the framework--but what appeared in front of you was something strange, disfigured, its head like skin stretched over a craggy rock. Heavy robes consumed its thin body, seated in what you’d now probably refer to as a throne. How the hologram managed to do that, you didn’t know, but it seemed like a waste of a chair if no one was going to physically sit in it. Then it--he--spoke.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

For a moment, you wanted to look around. You were the only one in the room--but he could’ve meant someone besides you. Probably. It was difficult to produce any words when your throat was drier than salt. To be honest, you’d never put much thought into your function as part of the First Order, but now, faced with its Leader, you wondered about the motivations of someone who looked like the the casualty of a steel shredder. Okay, fine, that wasn’t nice.

“Um. Is it something to do with Kylo Ren?”

Snoke sat back in his chair. “Yes.” A pause. “He’s been assigned to you.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

“Tell me what you did yesterday.”

You hesitated. Did he want the truth? Had Ren, like, tattled on you? Or said you were mean? Or, like, what? You drew in a breath. “Yesterday,” you said, “we began the process of identifying the automatic thoughts as a way of ultimately working toward naming his core beliefs.” It wasn’t a lie. You just didn’t want him to know Ren wasn’t cooperating.

“I see.” Snoke considered you, the silence stretching out between you. “Then you will do it again.”

“Oh, uh… I’m sorry, sir?”

“You produced promising results, yesterday,” he replied. “I want you to continue with whatever treatment you’ve identified.”

“Really?” you asked, and then cleared your throat, realizing you sounded far more incredulous than was appropriate. “I mean. Really. That’s very encouraging, sir.”

“The progress is already more than I had anticipated.” The hologram fizzed. “I look forward to seeing more.” Another pause. Sweat was tickling your nape. “Return to your assignment.”

You swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

The hologram blinked and the door flew open--you spun, marching into the hall, jaw tight as you heard it then shut behind you. Back to your office it was.

Promising results? What in Maker’s name had you done to produce promising results? All you’d manage to do was get choked, and even then, it wasn’t like you and the Commander had great rapport. The therapist-client relationship was almost non-existent. Well, no, you couldn’t say that. It existed--in the same way that burning corpses existed after an explosion.

When you arrived at your office, the reminder that you’d managed to sleep only a couple of hours pressed at your back. You lugged yourself into your chair, dropping your datapad onto your desk with a rattle. Sighing, you shoved your hands into your hair, gripping your scalp as your head spun. Stars, why wouldn’t they just let you go? You weren’t a good therapist, and you weren’t a good anti-therapist, either. All you’d been able to do was piss off Commander Ren--

You shot up. That was it. Piss him off. That’s what you needed to do. You grinned, sinking into your chair. Piss him off. It wasn’t that difficult. Of course, it might mean you’d get Force-strangled a few more times, but, sacrifices were necessary for progress. You could manage that. No--you could more than manage it. You could do it. And you would. He was due in your office any minute, now. Your face was hot with excitement.

You could do this.

Anxiety had slowed time. Five minutes past his appointment time seemed like an hour. And then ten minutes. And then fifteen. And by the time an entire hour had passed, your anticipation and pride had cooled completely, magma into rock. Despair settled into the cracks, flooding you, drowning you with every passing second. There would be no progress without a client. That’s what you’d forgotten. Kylo Ren wasn’t even interested in participating. The countdown to your release grew longer and longer, like a ball of yarn spinning out endlessly across the floor.

By the time you gave up, your head wobbled, as if it was filled with water, and your stomach twisted and growled. You hadn’t eaten since your meal with Rue the day before. It was probably important to take care of that. Admitting defeat, you gathered your datapad and trudged your way to the cafeteria. Though you couldn’t imagine what would be there that’d you’d want to eat.

You weren’t sure what time it was. You hadn’t checked. All you knew was that there were people swarming the tables, and you and your pounding temples were having none of it. You took a seat in a secluded corner, driving the heels of your palms into your eyes until stars shimmered behind your lids. You needed to get up and eat. You needed to. But the longer you sat there, the heavier your body became.

There was no way you’d be able to sleep in your bed, anyway. Not with Fent there. You supposed you could ask him to get up, try and get him motivated, but the thought of facing his misery changed your mind. You didn’t need to sleep there. Just a nap. You dropped your arms on the table and buried your head into them. You remembered sucking a long, slow breath into your lungs--and you were asleep.

How long you slept, you weren’t sure. Long enough for the cafeteria to clear out, long enough for the owner of a crackling, modified voice to find you. Alone.

“Officer.”

Lightning sprung through your limbs, and you shrieked, head popping up to face the noise. When you were greeted with Kylo Ren, you gasped again, before collapsing into your seat and plopping your face in your hands. Shivers rippled through you.

“Hello, Commander,” you grumbled.

“Is it customary for you to sleep outside of your quarters?” You couldn’t tell how much of a snarky jerk he was trying to be. You assumed he was going for a medal.

Sighing, your hands fell to your sides, and you stared at him. Stars, he was huge. Your heart skipped. “No,” you replied. “Is it customary for you to miss your appointments?”

Static through the mask. “I’ve already informed the Supreme Leader I’m through wasting my time with you.”

“Really?” you asked, propping your chin on your hands. “When was that?” When he didn’t respond, you continued. “Because he just told me that whatever I did yesterday was progress.”

Kylo Ren was silent. His shoulders, broad, cloaked, rose and fell like a dying wave. His fists curled. Uncurled. Curled. “I’m not interested.”

You snorted. “Doesn’t matter. You have to.” Crossing your arms, you grinned. “You’re stuck with me.” Stuck with you until the Supreme Leader thought you’d made enough progress and saw fit to discharge Fent. And you.

“I won’t be attending future appointments,” he replied. “It’s in your best interest to find another way off this ship.” He almost seemed proud. “We’re done.” He started to turn.

Heat flashed through you. “Listen!” you growled. “We’re not done until I say we’re done! If you think you’re stopping me from getting off this ship, then you are wrong!” Spit was soaring from your teeth. “If you’re going to do this, I’ll meet with you and the Supreme Leader myself and you can tell him why he’s not seeing the results that I was responsible for!”

When you finished, you realized your chin was quivering, your hands trembling. You weren’t sure if it was from hunger or from rage.

Ren, meanwhile, stood, as statuesque as ever. The only indication he was alive was that soft shift of his shoulders with his breath. The longer he stood there, the hotter the flame within you became. You wanted to turn him to ash with your eyes, wanted to dig your fingers into his arms and tear him apart. How would it feel, you wondered, to touch him--to slap him on whatever face he had under that stupid mask?

“Sleep in your own bed, officer.” He turned, his long legs carrying him toward the door.

“Wish I could,” you mumbled, and he stopped. So did your heart, for a moment.

He sought you out. The point of his gaze was sharp, even through the black visor of his mask. “I still won’t attend appointments.” Then he stared, lingering on you for a long moment, before stalking through into the hall.

Your shoulders sagged, and you exhaled--you couldn’t remember the last time you’d done that. Tremors continued to rumble through you, but a tiny victory spun itself in your head. His last words were a tacit agreement that he was not, in fact, done. The lack of appointments was a part of that deal. You hummed, gazing at your datapad. Prodding at him in a single setting was unlikely to continue to produce the same sorts of results, anyway. You also needed to make sure he couldn’t just leave--

A tiny grin crept onto your face. He wouldn’t go to you. You’d go to him. Follow him. Be that voice to drive him to the edge, again and again. A laugh actually escaped you. Yes. You’d follow Kylo Ren. You would appease Leader Snoke. And you would get off this stupid, kriffing ship.

You stood, and your legs wobbled, your head whirling. “Whoa,” you said, catching yourself before you passed out. Another sigh.

First, you’d eat.