maskormenacelogs | [CLOSED]

WHO: Kylo Ren & Ronan Lynch
WHERE: The Eyrie, Kylo and Ronan's totally not at all a villain lair in Alaska
WHEN: Nowish
WHAT: Time to test Ronan's ability to control his dreams when under attack...
WARNINGS: Mind-control related creepiness, will update if/when necessary

Kylo hadn't truly grasped the purpose of the Darkroom Ronan dreamed for them at first. Utterly dark and devoid of all features or furniture but the bed they'd been lying on when Ronan pulled it into existence around them, it could have been designed to be a prison. But it isn't. Much like Ronan's gloomy bedroom cell at the Meadows, the Darkroom is a hermitage. Unlike Ronan's bedroom, the Darkroom was built to keep things out as well as in.

Ronan is laid out on the bed in the dark, Kylo sat in a chair pulled up to the side— a more recent addition to the decor since they began using this room to train in this way. There's nothing but the two of them here. No distractions.

"Are you ready?" Kylo murmurs, his voice accompanied by the quiet creaking of leather as he shifts to lean in. Every minute sound seems amplified here in the absence of all others. There's a subtle shift of air pressure as he moves, the familiar sense of his presence flowing, pouring over the surface of Ronan's mind.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kylo wastes no time. Not because he thinks Ronan might change his mind, but because he's already been waiting too long for this. Ronan's spent too long believing himself lesser than he is, expecting to be forgotten and abandoned— and but now, he chooses to believe Kylo's promise instead. This will be his reminder. Smoothly, the silvery band slides onto Ronan's finger— of course it does, Kylo's spent hours committing every part of him to memory— and Kylo lets go of the breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

There they are. Each encircling the other, an open declaration.

"What changed your mind?" Kylo asks, his focus tracking up from the sight of his ring on Ronan's hand to the blue of his eyes.

Ronan stares at the ring like he can't quite believe that it's there, as if it might vanish if he so much as blinks. When it doesn't, he finally pulls his gaze away from it, raising his eyes to meet Kylo's.

"My mind was already made."

It's sort of a surprise that Kylo didn't see right through him. But it can be hard to tell, he knows, when you want something bad enough. Projection can look an awful lot like proof. And vice versa.

"I tried to think of all the ways I could make it happen, but I couldn't figure out if you wanted it. I thought maybe you didn't want to change anything. I didn't want you to think it wasn't enough, the way things were."

Kylo reaches for him then, no longer content to have Ronan anywhere but caught up in his arms. He'd never meant to leave Ronan in any doubt, and he'd never intended to leave any room for Ronan's imagination to paint him disinterested— but he had.

"Come here," he murmurs, more demand than request. He draws Ronan close to himself, breathing him in.

It isn't Ronan's fault Kylo doesn't always know how to believe he could be chosen. It isn't his fault neither of them do.

"What we have..." He pauses. Tries again. "I want you to want more of me, Ronan."

Ronan sinks into the embrace with no resistance, his arms slipping around Kylo to hold him just as tight. He tucks his face into the crook of Kylo's neck and takes in those words, not trusting himself to do anything more than listen. An unexpected heat burns behind his eyes and he isn't sure why, because everything about this is exactly what he hoped for. He feels like the happiness is about to shatter him, the way he felt that night when Kylo first named the connection between them love.

So much of what Ronan could want is his for the taking. But this? The love that someone might feel for him? The desire to stay with him, to give to him? That's not something that Ronan can create. Historically, it isn't even something he can inspire in people. They take from him and then they leave. Every morning, he wakes to find Kylo still beside him, and every morning, it's a complete surprise. When something like that feels like a gift, it seems greedy to ask for more.

"Not just more," Ronan murmurs, his lips grazing Kylo's jaw. "I want it all."

It's Kylo who takes a shuddering breath now, pressing close and holding Ronan so tightly it can hardly be comfortable. Who would ever want all of him? The best he'd ever managed to imagine before Ronan was someone who could look at him and see enough of what they wanted that they'd be able to tolerate the rest— someone who could see how he might be cultivated into something better. It's all he'd ever known. The only way he'd ever known how to see himself.

"It's yours," Kylo promises. His eyes close, his head tipping to rest on Ronan's shoulder to offer him as much of his cheek, the corner of his mouth and the line of his jaw as he can reach. He needs, he decides, to do better. Ronan isn't asking him to surrender only the parts of him he believes he will like. "All of me."

Kylo would not be the man Ronan loves without the very worst of him. It wasn't his potential that Ronan fell in love with. He never looked at Kylo as an object to be refined, a person to be reformed, a project to be undertaken. He isn't trying to uncover Ben Solo, heir to the Skywalker legacy, the fallen hero in need of redemption. He loves Kylo Ren, who built an identity out of the ashes of his family's expectations, who found a will of his own despite the influences fighting to pull him in one direction or another.

Ronan will have this one. This war criminal. This monster.

He lays a trail of kisses across Kylo's cheek, which is difficult to do when he keeps breaking into a smile. Leaning his weight into that crush of an embrace, Ronan practically climbs him, until he can't get any closer without altogether sinking into Kylo. Awed, like he's trying to convince himself of this reality, he whispers, "I'm gonna marry you. We're getting married."

Kylo laughs. He can't quite help it— it overtakes him, building and building as he feels Ronan press closer and closer, until it bursts free.

"We're getting married," he agrees, pressing his smile into the warmth of Ronan's neck.

But it isn't enough. Suddenly, he's sweeping Ronan up into his arms, bundled up and held close to his chest. It's effortless, of course, but that's not why his heart is racing.

"I'm going to marry you," he confirms. "I'm going to be your husband. That's what you'll say, when they ask you who I am."

Ronan barks out a laugh, too, as Kylo sweeps him up like he weighs nothing - something Kylo alone has ever been capable of doing, giant that he is. It makes Ronan feel light as air, though his heart's soaring for an entirely different reason.

"Husband," he sighs, testing the shape of the word as he loops his arms around Kylo's neck. "My husband, Kylo. My fiancé, for now. I get to call you that already, the next time someone asks. Do you like it?"

Ronan is so beautiful to watch in moments like this it makes him ache. And yet this bright, soaring joy they've sparked within eachother against all odds, despite all the reasons it should never have been allowed to happen— it belongs to both of them. He feels strangely radiant himself, here in the safety of their sanctuary. "Your fiancé," he echoes, feeling the impossible delight of it surge through his words and out, where Ronan hears and reflects it back. "Mm. I do. Ronan Lynch. My fiancé. My promised, my betrothed."

He smiles, leaning in to kiss him softly.

"My husband-to-be."

[CLOSED]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject