ghostie (𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱) 🦋👻🍂

@ssadghostt.bsky.social

222 Followers 182 Following

31. she/her. friend of ghosts. history enthusiast. librarian. cat apologist. a reylo relic, ca. 2015. 🇨🇦

“Tell me,” he panted. His hands forced her dress up to her waist with a rough tug. “Were you trying to make me jealous?” Rey squirmed on the bed but he still managed to hook his fingers into her panties and pull them off of her. “Why? Is it working?” She didn’t know why her first instinct was to provoke him, especially when he was looking at her the way a predator watches its unwitting prey, but she couldn’t take it back now. Besides, the thrill was kind of fun. Just what was he going to do about it? “I will make the next man to put his unworthy hands all over you slit his own throat,” Ben snarled. He removed his shirt and stepped out of his pants as he casually threatened murder. It was far more attractive than it had any right to be. “Bit petty, don’t you think?” “Not nearly petty enough, actually.”
a reylofakeit fic - first pick - by ssalemghostss
Book: The Exquisite Torment of Loving Your Enemy by Brigitte Knightley. Book 2 of the Dearly Belothed duology
Text messages between Ben and Rey: Rey: oh wow Rey: someone’s in a mood Ben: yes. Come fix it for me. Fuck your work. Come fuck me instead. You know where I am Ben: I dare you Rey
Sadness poured into her heart, the organ clenching around the ache like a fist around a blade, trying to save itself and getting hurt in the process. She had once loved coming to this house. Not simply because she enjoyed playing in it, or taking in the orchard and the gardens and the woods, but because Ben was here. Because Ben had been her best friend and the only person she demanded to see, until he wasn’t. Until his eyes grew cold and his touch disappeared and he no longer smiled or hugged her or teased her. Until something broke inside of him, leaving sharp-edged pieces scattered in his soul, none of which seemed to fit back together right.
Kylo lost track of exactly how long he stood in his quarters staring at the wall. He supposed it didn’t really matter, considering the fact that he was actively dying. He had to be. It was the only explanation for why his heart felt like it had been crushed by an unrelenting fist. That, or it was a rapid decline into fervent insanity the likes of which had never been studied. It couldn’t be because he’d left the scavenger at her safe house on Kashyyyk. Or because she’d said goodbye in such a soft, quiet voice that almost begged him to stay. Certainly couldn’t be because she’d wrapped her fingers around his just moments before and seemed to relax at the touch. Highly unlikely. Kylo moved from staring at the wall to sliding down it until he was slumped over on the floor. He’d been kidnapped, tortured, maimed, and nearly killed too many times to count, and yet he knew nothing of agony. This pain was sharp. It was a dozen lightsabers piercing through his body, wreaking havoc on his internal organs and robbing him of life. Maker, it was causing him to be even more dramatic than usual, too. He didn’t even know that was possible. He didn’t love Rey. He admired her strength, certainly. She was…stubborn. Smart. Independent. Free-spirited in a way he could never be. Funny. Beautiful. And she had a violent streak in her that he found particularly enthralling… Nope. I’m sick. I’m sick and dying. It’s finally happening.
Just Pretend by Bad Omens
Ever since they were kids, Ben Solo got on every last one of Rey’s nerves. It started when she tried to join the soccer games he played with his buddies at school. He even let her try out only to mock her and get everyone to laugh at her, despite the fact that she scored more goals than any of the other rookies. “We don’t let princesses join the team.” That was his favourite way to torment her: calling her a princess. She hated it and he knew it. But it was Princess this, Princess that, just so he could watch her blood boil. Part of her had been glad when he joined that mysterious club while he was in college. He got a new name because of it and everything. Kylo Ren. No one knew what the club members did, but everyone said their initiations were brutal. Rey was convinced they were all a bunch of drug pushers or murderers or both. She didn’t care. She stayed well the fuck away from Kylo and all his chaos now that she had the ability to. That’s why, when she got that stupid text invitation to his club’s upcoming initiation, she deleted it immediately and blocked the unknown number that sent it. She thought that was the end of it. But then she was walking home from a late shift at the restaurant she worked at and everything went wrong. It was a short walk back to her apartment—maybe ten minutes or so. But when she passed by the first shadowy alley, she felt something hit the back of her head hard. The last thing she remembered was crumpling to the sidewalk.
“Well, fuck.” He was looking at her now. There was a particularly famished gleam in his eye that she didn’t dare ignore as he stepped closer, until it would take nothing for him to touch her, but he didn’t. “You better tell me what it is that you want, then, pretty girl. I’m not a mind reader.” No, but you do know the answer, she thought. And yet she knew in her heart that this was more than a game to him. This was him showing her that he would do nothing unless she explicitly asked for it. It was a good quality for a man to have, and yet it was frustrating as hell at that moment.
Album art displayed for the song Doom Loop by PRESIDENT
My coworker (29F) brought a fake boyfriend to the work retreat and I called her out on it a little. Okay, maybe a lot. But I had good reason to! She and this guy clearly have the hots for one another (it’s so obvious it’s adorably sickening tbh) and I may have told her to just fuck him already because from my outsider perspective, I don’t see how it would be a bad thing for them. My exact quote was “ride him to death or don’t, but just let yourself enjoy it.” Idk, I think it’s pretty sound advice for two people practically drooling all over each other. Surprised I haven’t caught them dry humping in the bathroom yet actually. It’s THAT bad, y’all. I’m rooting for them but they needed a little push so that’s all I did! It may have been a risk but I’m feeling pretty lucky 🤞
*a snippet from my upcoming reylofakeit fic* “God damn it, Ms. Whiskers!” She grabbed the stupid toy and shook it viciously. “Tell me your secrets, you cold-hearted bitch!” The toy didn’t speak. It just remained stiff and lifeless in Rey’s hands, staring up at her with those eerie fucking black marble eyes.
She leaned into him a little more as her breaths became erratic and his fingertips skimmed the waistband of her underwear with the most fleeting touch. His voice was a low growl in her ear. “You don’t actually think I’d do anything to you here in front of everybody, do you?” Rey swallowed. Her body certainly seemed to think that. “I-I don’t know,” she answered. She cringed at the tremble evident in her voice. “Yes, you do.” The words were accompanied by the lightest press of his lips to the spot just below her ear. She shivered. “It’s all just pretend, remember,” he murmured. It’s not real.
Kylo rolls her name across his tongue like a curse, angry because it tastes too sweet. Annoyed, because he craves it in his mouth. Violent, because it doesn’t belong to him. She doesn’t belong to him. So, he keeps her at the back of his throat, as if it could ever be enough for him. He doesn’t want to spit out her name just so she can look at him with those vicious eyes, snarling mouth and gnashing teeth. He wants her to take a bite out of him—to satiate her need for his blood by lapping it up with her tongue. Then she could taste him, too. Grow addicted like he is. Chase him to the ends of the galaxy for more, more, more. He wants her to want him for more than just vengeance. As he glances at the holoscreen of his Silencer and finds her gaining on him swiftly, a slow smirk stains his mouth. He barely had to play with her to draw her out this time. Perhaps he’s closer to getting what he wants after all. He will have her, body and soul. And he’ll resort to any means necessary to get what he wants when it comes to that bratty, feral Jedi. She’s already his.
The sight of him half-naked should not rile me up the way it does, she muttered in her head. Her frustration began to mount every time she found herself…yearning. He’s just a man. He’s just a very tall, well-built man who takes care of himself and who’s never been anything but nice to me, with pretty eyes and good jokes. A man who could probably force the headboard through the wall with ease, come to think of it. But still, just a man.
kiss the villain by rina kent
“Don’t even think about it. He’s a textbook player who gets off on broken hearts.” Those were the exact words Rey’s friends had said to her when she’d first met Kylo a few months ago. They’d been stuck in her head ever since, mostly because he’d been, too. Because, before she’d heard that first warning, her initial thoughts had been that he was attractive and she wanted to talk to him. Pretty glaring discrepancy there. So, she took their words to heart, because she trusted her friends, and she stayed the fuck away from Kylo Ren. And yet, she still found him everywhere. At the grocery store, the library, sports events. Living in the same suburb as he did was actually quite the problem, as it turned out. Mostly because every time she saw him, she wanted to wave or say hi. She didn’t even think he knew her name and part of her itched to introduce herself, but that was a silly impulse. “Don’t even think about it.” She went out with Rose, Kaydel, and a few others to the club and absolutely did not think about it. She did shots, laughed, and danced and for a while, she forgot all about the guy she wasn’t supposed to know. Until a stranger followed her to the bar and tried to talk to her, and not for the sake of a good conversation, either. Rey was instantly uncomfortable by the man’s proximity and the way he reeked of cologne that just smelled like it came from a bottle shaped like a naked woman. She was about to make serious eye contact with one of the bartenders when a warm arm banded around her waist from behind and a deep voice spoke from beside her. “Hey, babe. Sorry; the line to that bathroom is fucking insane.” Rey went stiff. She slowly looked up and when she did, her heart fell to her feet then ricocheted into her throat. Kylo stood there, all dark and territorial, looking at her with eyes that, to Rey, clearly said trust me.
Rey’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “I am your guest,” she growled. “Should you not be more accommodating?” Again, Ben chuckled. She was full of jests tonight. “Correction: you are my wife, not a guest. And for tonight, this”—he patted the mattress as he laid down on it—“is our marriage bed. We are somewhat obligated to share it, unfortunately.” He could practically hear her teeth cracking from how hard she ground them together. He did nothing to hide his cocky smile. “I do not wish to lay with you,” she admitted quietly, darkly. “I do not wish for you to touch me, I—” “I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me. I would rather touch a caged lion. Then again, what is the difference, I wonder?”
“Do we need to come up with a story about how we met, or can we just tell the truth?” He waited with bated breath to hear her answer. Personally, he wanted to tell the truth, if only to be able to utter the words and see how realistic they tasted. After all, “we’ve been friends a long time and decided to be more” was a sentence he’d never expected to get to say. “Hmm,” she hummed. “I don’t think I have enough creative juices to come up with a plausible story.” He smiled but tried to snuff it out so she wouldn’t see. “Truth it is, then.”
Rey first heard the story about The Man on the Moon when she was six years old. Her father pointed out the shadowy craters on the moon’s surface that bore a vague resemblance to a face. Eyes, nose, mouth. Watching over everyone like a god in its own right. The story stuck with her and as she got older, she found herself drawn to her bedroom window at night, where the moon shone brightest. She always felt like when she looked at the moon, someone was looking back. It was a strange sensation, but it was one she clung onto after her parents died. It made her feel less lonely on those cold, dark nights. On her twenty-first birthday, she stood in front of her window in her pyjamas, just as she’d always done. It was a clear night, thankfully, and the moon draped her in its soft, silvery glow. “I’m glad to see you,” she told the moon. “It means this horrible day is over.” Another birthday spent alone with her grief, which felt the most potent on important milestones and holidays. Sleep claimed her swiftly. A gentle breeze trickled in through her open window, ruffling the curtains. When her eyes blinked open some hours later, her room was filled with a pale blue light that seemed to pulse and move, even as it stretched to fill every corner. At first, she thought she was dreaming. A quick pinch on her thigh changed nothing, however. She sat up in bed and froze.
He dipped his head and leaned in close and she gasped, fully believing he intended to kiss her. But he stopped himself only an inch or so away, monitoring her expression all the while. “Relax. I won’t actually do it,” he murmured. “But if I’m going to fake kiss you for the benefit of your nosy coworkers, you could help me out a little by at least making it look like you enjoy it. You know, before my ego bleeds out.” It was at that point that Rey realized she’d gone entirely stiff in his hold. Heat crept up the collar of her blouse. “Oh,” she muttered. She moved to drape her arms around his shoulders. As a result, his hands skimmed down her arms and the sides of her ribcage, coming to rest upon her hips. She repressed a shiver as the sensation caused fire to lick a firm path down her spine.
“C’mon inside. I think Mom said dinner will be ready soon anyway.” Rey took one last deep inhale of that fresh, boreal forest air and followed Kaydel and the rest of their friends inside the spacious cabin, where the delicious scent of garlic, onions, and butter wrapped around them like a hug. The door closed and she saw him. It happened that fast, like her eyes couldn’t help but to be intrinsically drawn to wherever he was—like her soul longed to combine with his. She briefly wondered if he had the same experience when his eyes met hers and held on. A strange amalgamation of emotions bubbled up inside of her. There was excitement that buzzed just beneath her skin and awakened the butterflies in her stomach. But tangled within it was wariness, enhanced with just a hint of sadness. Ben had always been the hot, kind of dorky, very off-limits guy on the edge of Rey’s friend group. He was classified as such largely owing to the fact that he’d been Kaydel’s legal brother since she was six, and therefore he’d sort of always been around. But it was also because Rey had always had such a severe crush on him that she’d assumed it couldn’t possibly be healthy to even entertain the thought in any serious capacity. She knew all these things, and yet it hadn’t stopped her last summer. In the same cabin they now all stood in.
The brisk night air forced her to halt almost the second she escaped those front doors. She inhaled deeply, erratically, frantic just to breathe. Everything had become so unbearable in that place so quickly, the discomfort of it prickled her skin. The people—their bodies bumping into hers with no apologies offered, their fake laughter coalescing into a neverending cackling sound, their eyes catching hers in judgemental stares. She didn’t belong in that place with all that money walking across that polished marble floor, and everyone in there knew it. She didn’t know why she’d agreed to come. Maybe she’d hoped that living a different life just for one night would make her feel good. That if she got just a little taste, it’d be enough to satisfy her craving for a while and she could live more comfortably in her minimum wage, microwave meal lifestyle. She’d been wrong. Very, very wrong. She’d realized that the second she’d found him in the crowd. His tall, broad frame looked tantalizing in a well-tailored black suit. Why did he always have to look good? Just when she thought her lifelong crush had faded, there he was, looking better than ever. Women bedecked in sparkling jewels and silky gowns that clung to their fit bodies flanked him at all times, but his eyes never lit up like Rey knew they were capable of doing. He looked bored. Lifeless. Sort of angsty. He hadn’t seen her, though. She was fairly certain if he had, she’d be in an even worse mood than she was. Ben Solo didn’t flirt. He played. Unfortunately for him, Rey didn’t always appreciate the game. Especially when it always felt like she was bound to lose. She was on her phone, shakily trying to find a taxi service to call, when a deep, dark voice spoke behind her. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”
“Let go of me this instant!” Rey thrashed in her knight’s tight hold. The sharp contours of his armour dug into her legs, arms, and chest, cold and unforgiving. Just like the man wearing it. That man laughed. It was a threatening sound, like swords being drawn or rocks tumbling down a cliffside. There wasn’t an ounce of honest humour in it, nor was there any to be found in his blackened glare. “Now, why would I do that?” he snarled. She caught the flash of his white teeth clenching together as he hauled her along the dark path that wound through the forest. He barely broke a sweat despite her unrelenting wriggling and kicking. “Because I am your princess and you are to do as I command you!” He halted. For the briefest of seconds, she thought she might have won. But then she was dragged upright and shoved against the broad, rough trunk of a tree. Her skull smacked against it and she yelped and saw stars, but her knight—her assigned protector—didn’t seem bothered. His body kept her pinned, for she had nary an inch to move. Fear finally cut through all her other senses and forced her stubbornness into the background, effectively muzzling it. She stood perfectly still and breathed hard.
His tufted tail twitches as he stares at her from the bar counter. He rests his cheek in his palm and allows his crimson eyes to trace the stiff posture of her spine and to follow the movement of her arms as she washes glasses at the sink. Her long brown hair spills over her shoulders and down to her waist, appearing darker than normal in the lowlight of the bar. Last call was an hour ago. She’ll be kicking him out to close up in fifteen minutes, and then he’ll be alone on the dark streets, biding his time until she opens again. This is their routine, whether she likes it or not. She doesn’t like it. He is a demon, horns and all, and she is a human. A human who can stand her ground, but a human all the same. The thing is, he doesn’t care if she hates it—hates him. He wants her, and he’s not very accustomed to not getting what he wants. Unfortunately for her, he loves playing games such as this. He knows as well as she does that there will come a day where he will win. She’ll finally get curious enough to give in. When that inevitable day comes, he won’t just take her soul. He’ll take all of her. Forever.
Book: Agnes Aubert’s Mystical Cat Shelter by Heather Fawcett
“Alright, I’m just going to run this casserole dish over to Maz’s and then I’ll be right back.” Ben skidded into the kitchen before his mother was even finished speaking. She froze with her purse strap half-off her shoulder and her car keys dangling from her fist. She gave her son a look of pure, motherly curiosity—the kind that begged the question even though she already knew the answer. “I can take it over,” Ben volunteered, far too eagerly. “Oh? You can, can you?” “Yep.” He didn’t argue about it, nor did he even hint that he was picking up on the strong judgmental signals she was putting out. He just plucked the glassware from her hands and headed out the door. This is fucking stupid. I’m using a casserole dish from the year 1983 as an excuse to see a girl who will never wanna date me. This is a new low. He sat in his truck with the engine off for perhaps two minutes too long after pulling up in front of Maz’s charming cottage-style home. His hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel the entire time he sat there contemplating every decision he’d ever made that contributed to him being there, freaking out over social interaction, with a casserole dish riding shotgun. Eventually, he snapped himself out of it and before he knew what he was doing, he knocked on the front door. The person who opened it was sunshine personified.
sour cream rhubarb pie slice
When Ben disappeared, he took a piece of Rey with him. She’s been searching for it every day since. No one knows what happened to him a year ago. The detectives have essentially given up. No sign of forced entry at the house, his car was untouched along with his money, which was folded neatly into the wallet still sitting on the kitchen island. There were no foot or finger prints, no blood, no signs of a struggle. He was just…gone. Like he’d blinked out of existence. It wasn’t the not knowing that hurt her the most. It was just simply the loss of him that tore a fatal wound through her core that ached and throbbed and rotted. The injury had festered long ago. It consumed her. Some days, the pain and grief felt life-threatening. She hated the grief most of all. She didn’t want to grieve him, not when there was a chance that he could still be alive. She clung onto that hope even though it was slippery and dangerous. It didn’t matter if everyone thought she was foolish for doing it; she knew it was the only thing keeping her standing.
Rey: Hm, I suppose you’re right. I bet your tub’s bigger than mine. Ben: It is. Rey: Let me guess: clawfoot? Ben: Duh. With antique gold faucet handles, circa 1920 Rey: ANYWAY Rey: About that bath we’ll take together?
Album art for the song ‘Ritual’ by The Devil Wears Prada
Poe tugged Ben into his bedroom with a little more force than necessary, but it was required. Half-drunk and drowning entirely in his emotions, Ben needed serious help. He sat down heavily on the foot of Poe’s bed. “You gotta get it together, man,” Poe warned him. His syllables were perfectly in sync with the thumping bass below their feet, Ben noticed. “I don’t understand why she makes you so…skittish.” “Really?” Ben mumbled. “You don’t know?” “No! Rey’s just a girl! You used to get along just fine with her when we were in high school, so what changed? You can barely look her in the eye now and it’s fucking weird.” Because I’m scared she’ll figure me out if she looks too closely, he thought. “Why’s it matter?” he asked. “It doesn’t.” “It does! Tell me what I don’t know!” “I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out. You, of all people.” “Figured what out?!” “That I like her!” Ben yelled. The significance of the words was enough to bring him to his unsteady feet; their weight alleviating when he spoke them kept him there. Poe stared at him in silent shock for a moment. Then, “Here’s an idea: just tell her how you feel.” “No. I can’t. I can’t, because it’s more than that. When I’m around her, I see all of her. The kindness in her eyes, the brilliance of her laugh, every little micro-expression and quiet exhale—all of it affects me. I’m consumed by her. So, yeah, I fucking forget how to act. What am I supposed to do, huh?”