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luke-shywalker · 3 months ago

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4 aby was a good year

“Do you ever think that it was better…? Before we got married?” Leia asked quietly, in the dim light of their bedroom. The timing of this question was particularly damning, and Han stopped tracing his finger over her shoulder to stare at her, trying to decide whether to put on humiliation or not.

“Sorry,” said Leia quickly. “I didn’t mean… No, I didn’t mean… It was good.”

“You don’t sound convinced, sweetheart,” Han mumbled, withdrawing a little.

“No, it was,” Leia insisted, reaching for his hand again, and Han let her, though he didn’t take his eyes from the ceiling. “Sorry. It’s just something that’s been on my mind a while.”

“A while? How long’s a while?”

“Oh, Han, this isn’t about you...”

“So it’s about someone else, huh?” Han said, sitting up on his elbow in mock hurt. “Humph. Must be that senator from Coruscant who’s been making the rounds in the HoloNet gossip circles.”

Leia rolled her eyes. If he was in the mood to tease, he couldn’t be that wounded.

“No. It’s about being married. Being parents. All of that.”

“Well, now that Ben sleeps through most of the night, I think it’s smooth sailing—at least until that little rascal starts climbing out of his crib and running around.”

“Oh, shush. Ben’s an angel.”

“Rascal,” Han coughed. “Or he ain’t no son of mine.”

Leia smiled in spite of herself and poked her husband on the nose. “Hm. Maybe you’re right. But…I wasn’t really talking about Ben, either. I…just…feel like things aren’t as exciting as they used to be. And, well…I expected that. But it just doesn’t seem fair sometimes, though. I mean…we used to be crazy, Han. All the places on the Falcon where we—”

She had to cut herself off because Han had started grinning the most slappably roguish grin.

“Oh, wipe that look off your face, Mr. Solo. We just finished.”

“Well, maybe a fella wants seconds,” Han said, not alluring at all—just goofy in that way that was so, so, man. And she was about to scold him for that, but then it occurred to her—Han seemed just as excited about her as he had always been.

And he’d always been that way. Through their first year of marriage, through her pregnancy, through the sleepless nights of young parenthood—she held so many memories of Han’s midnight eyes, though they had become more dopey than sultry as the years went on.

…Huh. She lay back down on the bed.

“…Maybe I’m the problem,” Leia said out loud. “Maybe I’ve let things get to me. Maybe I’ve forgotten how much I loved being with you.”

“Hey,” Han said, stroking her hair. “Listen, princess. You’ve been under a lot of stress. Raising a kid? Isn’t easy. Raising a fledgling Republic at the same time? Twice as hard. Things never stay the same—I’ve learned that much. I never thought I’d end up married. Never thought I’d be a dad. Things change sometimes, and hey, that’s normal, that’s life. You know? But, just as long as we stick together—no matter how things change—that’s what matters, right?”

Leia smiled. “…Yes. Yes, Han. That is what matters.”

“And if there’s any way I can help ya…you know…remember what you love about bein’ with me…you just let me know.” He winked at her.

Leia giggled, feeling nineteen again. “I’ll keep that in mind, flyboy.”

Han smirked in that lopsided way of his and leaned in for a kiss—but he was interrupted by a crash and a cry from the other room. Both their eyes went wide.

“What did I tell ya? Rascal,” Han muttered. “Well, stay here, Lei. I’ll take care of it.” And he kissed her on the forehead and leapt out of bed and threw on a pair of shorts and bounded off to their son’s rescue.

Leia smiled at the ceiling thoughtfully. Maybe things didn’t stay the same after marriage. But…maybe love matured with time. Like a sweet nectar slowly becoming a fine wine.

#my writing #I’m married can you tell????#hanleia #I hope the hanleia fandom forgives me for accepting ben solo as my solo kid #han solo #leia organa

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sweetrevxnge · 2 years ago

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Ghosts In The Snow

Chapter Four

Pairing: Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader AU

Summary: Six long years had passed under the reign of the First Order. The bitter winters grew longer, and as they did, hope faded from the hearts of the citizens of Hosnian Prime. As a lieutenant in the Resistance cavalry, it was your duty to nurture that ember of hope. After a mission takes an unexpected turn, you are taken prisoner by a commander in the First Order, a mysterious man with an insatiable appetite—for violence, power, and you. In the coming days, you must keep the spark of your own hope alive from the dark confines of the Commander's castle.

Warnings: sexual content, violence, blood kink, gore, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Next Chapter

Spotify Playlist

Word count: 3.3k

Chapter-specific CW: excessive drinking, vomiting

A/N: "oh he's kinda cute... HE'S A MURDERER! but he's kinda cute..." -y/n

───────── ❅ 🦇 ❅ ─────────

“You’ve barely touched your food, dear.” Commander Ren’s low voice pulled you from your trance as you poked at the lamb shank on your plate. A fitting entrée for tonight.

“I haven’t much of an appetite,” you muttered, setting the silver fork down beside your dish. You were almost catatonic, and despite your contempt for him, you felt betrayed. It was for that reason that you hadn’t so much as looked in his direction since sitting down, instead choosing to study the other guests in the dining hall—including the stormtroopers stationed at every exit. It was an impossible task—you knew that—but you’d sooner die trying than comply with this farce of a treaty.

A low laugh rumbled in Ren’s chest. “I have no stomach for lamb either; it’s far too tender for my liking. Perhaps you would prefer venison? Or roasted vegetables?”

“No, thank you. Just wine will do,” you said as you tipped your cup back and gulped down the remaining liquid. You imagined you would need many more if you were going to endure this evening.

“If you insist.” He pushed his chair back and lifted his hand, summoning one of the servants. A boy with short, tawny hair rushed over, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Yes sir?” he asked meekly, his eyes darting between yours and the Commander’s. Although he stood with his shoulders back and chin high, his age was obvious from the fat in his face and the pitch of his voice. Anger boiled beneath your skin.

“Fetch more wine for my bride,” Ren instructed, nodding at you as he spoke. “And for me, as well.”

“Of course, sir.” The boy’s fear rolled off of him as he turned on his heels and disappeared into what you assumed was the kitchens.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why am I not surprised that the First Order uses children as servants?”

“Only those whose families owe us a debt. No different from the New Republic’s operations,” he said calmly, tapping the empty cup in his hand.

You shook your head slightly and turned back to your plate. “That’s hardly justification for continuing to do so.”

His eyes followed you as you watched the rest of the guests dine. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, either lost in conversation or filling their plates with the assortment of meats, cheeses, and fruits set out on the table—all but one. Across from you sat a red-haired man, with hollow cheeks and a scowl twisting his features. Given his proximity to the Supreme Leader, you assumed he was another commanding officer.

Beside him was a woman, but unlike the other ladies in the hall dressed in elaborate gowns, she was wearing the same regalia as the men. You furrowed your brows. Was she…? No, she couldn’t be.

Ren leaned in close to your ear, his cold lips brushing your skin. “Captain Phasma of Parnassos, to answer your question.”

His breath sent a shiver down your spine. “Get out of my head,” you snapped, your knuckles white around the body of the cup in your hand.

“How else am I to make conversation with you?”

You scoffed, redirecting your attention to the servant returning with a pitcher of wine in either hand. It was clear by his unsteady footing that the weight of both of them was nearly too much for his small arms.

As he approached the table, you reached for one of the decanters to save his shaking arms. "Thank you," you said, mustering up a smile. Gods knew the poor boy needed some kindness.

“No need, my lady,” he replied quietly, pouring the rich liquid into your cup before reaching for the other pitcher. “Commander…”

Ren presented his empty cup and nodded for the boy to fill it. He obeyed, pouring the dark wine with trembling hands. For such an ordinary exchange, the boy was tense, utterly frightened. Not that you could necessarily blame him.

Once it was full, he set the pitcher down between your plates and quickly returned to his post along the wall. In the hopes of quickening the evening, you finished the cup in a few sips, reaching for the pitcher beside your plate.

A gloved hand seizing your wrist stopped you before you could. “Careful, dear. You might find that mine is a bit too strong for your taste.”

Part of you wanted to try his wine out of defiance, but the rational part of you heeded his warning. With an empty stomach, your wine would be more than enough as it was. You pulled your hand free and reached for the other pitcher. As you poured it, you allowed yourself to feel everything—the anger, the disappointment. How Leia had seemed to so easily forget you. But beneath it all, there was still the ember of hope, buried under the weight of your emotions. It needed to be protected, locked away in the recesses of your mind until you could ignite it once more—until you were free. Once the cup was full, you returned it to its locked box, stowing it away for another time.

“You can’t ignore me forever, you know,” Ren said, taking a sip from his cup.

“I can try,” you countered, doing the same.

He exhaled softly. “I’m sure you will.”

Over the rim of your cup, you could see the red-haired man looking at you, his green eyes locked onto you. You wondered how long he had been watching.

Covering your mouth with your napkin, you asked, “Who is that man next to the captain?”

“That would be General Armitage Hux of Arkanis.”

You hummed. It wasn’t difficult to imagine such a seemingly pompous general coming from a place like Arkanis. “Does he always look so sour?”

Ren scoffed. “Usually less so. He’s been openly displeased about our arrangement.”

“Perhaps he and I have more in common than I realized,” you murmured.

“I think you’d find yourself more outraged with his proposition—gods know the Supreme Leader was,” he said with a light laugh, running a hand through his dark hair.

You cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

He mimicked you, raising his eyebrow in surprise. “Unless you would prefer to be wed to a bastard son.”

“I hardly see how that could be any worse.”

A hand resting on your shoulder immediately pulled you from the conversation. You recoiled, half-expecting it to be General Hux, slinking across the room while you were distracted. You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“My sweeting, it is so lovely to finally meet you,” Supreme Leader Snoke said with an unnerving smile. His touch was cold—even through the fabric of your dress. It felt unnatural, as if he had been trapped in a winter storm for a week.

“Supreme Leader,” you replied, forcing down the bitter taste in your mouth. “What a pleasure.”

It had been over six years since he had murdered Chancellor Villecham, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. He was untouched by time—not that he was youthful by any means. Despite his age, there was no silver in his hair or deep creases in his face. Perhaps the wolf skin cloak over his shoulders served as his own personal fountain of youth.

Snoke let out a hoarse laugh, one seemingly loud enough to rattle the crystal chandeliers above. “The pleasure is mine. I take it you’ve found your new chambers more accommodating than your last?”

Rage streaked your vision. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he was trying to provoke you—as if you needed reminding that you were nothing more than a bargaining piece to the First Order.

“Yes, thank you for asking,” you replied, bowing your head slightly. “Though I must admit, I had grown rather fond of the rats.”

Snoke let out a short, unamused chuckle. “Such misunderstood creatures, they are.” His gray eyes narrowed as he spoke. He quickly shifted his attention to the man beside you, a wall of ice now standing between you. “My boy… I have faith that you will treat our guest well.” He squeezed Ren’s shoulder tightly, threateningly.

“Of course, Supreme Leader,” he said, the usual color in his voice absent.

“Good. I would hate to have to marry her to Armitage, should you disappoint.”

Ren’s eyes flashed with something akin to envy. “That won’t be necessary.”

Snoke grinned. “I should hope not.”

The air felt thick, as if the room had filled with smoke. You shifted in your seat as the two men stared at each other, locked in silence. Snoke lingered for a moment longer before finally releasing his grip on Ren’s shoulder.

“Please, do enjoy the celebration. The wedding will be held in a fortnight. I had hoped for it to be sooner, but we must allow ample time for our guests to arrive.”

His words fell on you like stones. It wasn’t enough time. A fortnight was hardly enough time to finalize battle strategies—let alone to devise an escape. The flame in your heart waned.

With that, the Supreme Leader crossed to the other side of the table to greet the other guests, starting with Captain Phasma of Parnassos.

Silence stretched between you and Ren, your minds occupied with different concerns. Habitually, you finished your wine and pushed the empty chalice away. “How long should I expect this evening to last?”

“Eager to leave, are we?” Ren teased, taking the liberty of refilling your cup. “It might be wise to eat something. Celebrations like these have a tendency to be drawn out.”

The wine was beginning to take effect, making your skin warm and your mind hazy. Against your better judgment, you continued, draining each cup in a matter of minutes. Truthfully, it was a relief—allowing you to drift to a place far from here, to a place by the sea. A cobblestone home perched on the cliffside, surrounded by vines like veins around a heart. A place that always had a fire in its hearth and a stew simmering above it.

A warm tear hitting your hand pulled you from your reverie. You quickly blinked them away, not wanting anyone to see your emotion—least of all Commander Ren. Empathy wasn’t exactly his strongest virtue.

The night passed in a blur of drinks, hollow introductions, and avoiding your betrothed. It was nearly midnight when you finally staggered back to your chambers, barely lucid. Against your wishes, Ren had accompanied you, ensuring that his prized bride reached her chambers unscathed.

You fumbled with the doorknob for a moment, all too aware of his lingering presence. You continued to ignore him until a sobering realization fell over you.

“Does the Supreme Leader expect you to bed me?” you asked, frowning. The wine suddenly felt heavy in your stomach.

“No,” he said, a flash of humanity in his dark eyes. “Not yet, at least.”

“Oh.” Heat rose to your face. Of course he wouldn’t bed you tonight. If that were the case, the two of you would have been wed during the feast.

“Besides, I don’t intend to take you in this state,” he added, stepping closer. His fingers brushed your cheek as he pushed back a piece of hair that had fallen from your updo. You shivered at the sensation.

“This,” you hissed, stumbling backward until you collided with the doors, “is the only state that would make it tolerable.”

An amused smile played on his lips. “We’ll see.”

Dawn cracked the sky early the next morning, a fateful sign of the long winter ahead. As much as you longed to relish the fleeting sunlight, you were damned to spend the day with a pail in your arms and a cold rag on your neck.

“Are you feeling better at all, my lady?” Rey asked, wringing out a washcloth after soaking it in cool water.

“If only I were. I can’t imagine that there’s anything left to expel,” you said with a shudder, pulling your head from the basin.

Rey blotted your forehead with the cloth, her touch as light as the feather pillows beneath you. She had been silent for most of the morning, which you didn’t necessarily mind. There was an unspoken understanding as to why you were so ill this particular morning.

Hours had passed like this; with her encouraging you to take sips of water and you immediately spitting it up. At this point, it was difficult to tell if the culprit was the constant flow of wine or the extended time you had spent with Commander Ren. Perhaps a bit of both.

After what felt like an eternity, your stomach had settled enough to hold down the water Rey was offering. Once you were able to finish a roll of bread and a cup of broth, she returned to her quarters, allowing you to sleep away the rest of the aches.

When you finally woke, cool moonlight was spilling through the windows, casting shadows on the floor. The fire burning in your hearth had been reduced to a pile of embers and ash, but despite the cool air in the room, sweat coated your skin.

The night terrors that had plagued your sleep in the dungeons were relentless, managing to wake you even after a night of drinking and a day of illness. Every night was the same dream, the memory of the night in the forest. Without failure, the terror always ended with Commander Ren’s mask inches away from your face, close enough to show your reflection in the silver ridges around his eyes. The sight of you, bloodied and bruised, was always enough to wake you from the dream.

Tonight was no different, only this nightmare had a different ending. Instead of your armor, you wore the gown from the feast. Standing before the Commander, you looked at him not with horror, but with admiration. His hands were firm on your waist, holding you tight against him. You were unrecognizable in the reflection of his mask—with ruby lips and dark eyes. Piled around you were the bodies of Resistance soldiers—your soldiers—blood spilling from their ripped throats, staining the snow beneath.

Slowly, you pushed his visor up, but before you could see the man behind it, you jolted awake.

Immediately, you kicked the covers off and ran to the chamber pot, coughing and heaving in an attempt to settle your stomach. Nothing came from it, except possibly waking every occupant of the castle. Before returning to your bed, you used the washcloth and water basin that Rey had left behind to blot your face and neck, hoping to cool the heat under your skin.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed as you stared at the canopy above you, trying to erase the image of the dream from your memory—a task proving to be impossible. With each minute that passed, your breath felt more strained, as if the walls of your chambers were shrinking, suffocating you. It was beginning to feel like you had traded one cage for another.

The wedding was at the forefront of your mind, and you knew that every minute you spent laying awake was precious time slipping away. Despite Ren’s orders to stay in your chambers, you left the warmth of your bed, determined to familiarize yourself with the castle. Even if you couldn’t do it tonight, knowing the layout would benefit you when you did.

Hanging in the wardrobe was a long, dark cloak—perfect for concealing your ivory nightgown from the world. You pulled the hood over your head and carefully cracked the door open, scanning the hallway before stepping out into the unknown.

Flickering candles lined the corridor, but only a few were still burning. No one tends the candles past midnight, you noted, creeping towards the familiar spiraling staircase. As you reached the threshold, you peeked into the main chamber, expecting to find guards posted by every door. To your surprise, the room was empty—other than the portraits of the Supreme Leader gracing the walls. But you were no fool. The First Order was more concerned with outside threats; it only made sense that their guards would protect the exterior of the castle. Until you could be more certain of a safe exit, you would only roam the upper halls.

The corridor leading to your chambers seemed to stretch endlessly, leaving much to be explored. You followed the path, passing by quiet rooms and elegant artwork, committing every detail to memory. The cloak fluttered at your ankles as you crept around, feeling like a marauder trespassing on the grounds. If only you were.

The glow of candlelight dwindled the further you ventured, a sign that you had explored enough for one night. With no help from the drawn curtains, you were blind in the darkness. The threat of being caught outside of your chambers loomed over you as you turned to walk back the way you came, eager to return to the safety of your room. After a few steps, you discovered that the carpet beneath you was entirely different. You froze, searching along the walls for familiar fixtures, but found none. Panic began to swell in your chest at the realization that you were lost.

You tried to retrace your steps—understand how you had managed to get yourself to where you were now, but to no avail. Your breath became difficult—as if your ribs were tightening around your lungs. How could you have been so stupid? What had possessed you to step foot outside your room? Forfeiting the luxury of a proper bed for what—the possibility of finding an escape route?

Adrenaline burned your veins like magma as you swiveled on your heels, clutching your cloak tight around your chest to run. The solid frame of a man standing behind you quickly put an end to your efforts. An involuntary gasp escaped your lips as you collided with his chest.

“Lost, are we?”

Your heart plummeted through your chest. You didn’t need to look up to know exactly who had found you. In a moment of pure instinct, you answered with a half-lie. “I couldn’t sleep. I was only trying to find a bit of fresh air.”

Commander Ren chuckled as he gently pushed the hood of your cloak back. The material shifted on your shoulders, revealing your nightgown beneath. Even under the veil of darkness, you felt exposed.

“Were the windows in your chambers insufficient?” he asked, moving his hand to tip your chin up.

“Yes,” you said, reluctantly meeting his gaze. His eyes were an abyss, drinking you in as you stood there. He looked ethereal, with messy, black curls and a loose sleep shirt to match. As your eyes roamed his figure, you were reminded of the night terror that had incited this predicament.

At that, he released your chin and offered you his hand. “Perhaps you would prefer to go for a stroll outside, then?”

Outside? You couldn’t recall how long it had been since you had even been outside—since you had felt the crisp winter air kiss your skin or listened to the song of cicadas in the dead of night. As enticing as his offer was, you hesitated. Was this another trick? Was he luring you outside of the castle walls to lock you out as punishment for disobeying his orders?

Your fingers twitched at your side.

Noticing your apprehension, he sucked in a deep breath. “Do my intentions seem so insincere?”

Silence followed. You wished for a mountain of bricks, ones you could use to barricade your mind from his sorcery.

Finally, you said, “Forgive me for being mistrusting, Commander.” Regardless of the frequency with which you said his title, it never failed to make your mouth bitter. Carefully, you slipped your hand into his, a chill running up through your body at his touch. “I would like that very much.”

Through the darkness, you watched as his gaze lowered to your joined hands, satisfaction burning in his eyes. “Allow me.”

#don't drink the kool aid (commander ren's wine)#also sneaky broom kid cameo bc he’s my king #ben solo #ben solo x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x you #ben solo x fem!reader #ben solo x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars self insert #kylo ren smut #ben solo smut #my writing #vampire!kylo #vampire kylo #vampire kylo ren

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