❝ In her youth, she was arranged to marry Daeron Targaryen, but Olenna (so she claims) did everything she could to make sure it never came to fruition. She married Luthor Tyrell instead and liked him well enough, as he was kind and not unskilled in bed, but she still considered him an oaf. ❞
Anonymous Requested: I have a request ♡ Can you do a story of a medical officer in the First Order that takes care of Kylo Ren after the battle with Fin and Rey? He lashes out at her for trying to heal him but after months of recovery begins to develop feelings for her.
Prompt: The reader is a doctor who deals with Kylo Ren. He begins developing feelings for her.
The tall bruised figure sat on the edge of the medical bed, he took slow breaths and was shaky. You looked down at the patient charts, and shudder as you realize you, of all the medical personnel on Starkiller Base, would be taking care of Kylo Ren. You look back up at the patient to see his dark, sad eyes looking at your face. He is surprisingly handsome, you realize as you examine him. His lips are in a pouting formation, giving him all around a puppy-dog look that would be impossible to imagine on Kylo. “Alright well, I would ask about the problem, but it’s very clear.” You walk up to him, your body almost leaning against his knee(s). You examine the scar, and feel around it.
“What are you doing?” he smacks your hand away. His sad puppy-dog look is replaced by an annoyed confusion.
“I’m looking at your scar, calm down.” You lean in a bit closer and take mental notes on how to fix it. You become distracted by his breath almost on your neck, and his hands on his knees, dangerously close to your waist. “You.. you may need surgery for that.” you tell him, turning to the sink to hide your blush.
“I’m fine. I’m only here because Hux forced me.” He snaps.
You pour some numbing alcohol onto a rag and return to Kylo. “This is going to hurt at first, okay?”
“Get it away from me, I’m fine!” he hisses. Your hand was already in motion to his face, when he said it, but he stopped you by grabbing your wrist at lightning speed. A pause occurs between you and him, he looks you in the eyes and you feel a wave of dizziness run through you. He must be reading your thoughts.
“Look, I’m trying to help you.” you sigh. He hesitantly lets go of your wrist, letting you apply the painful liquid to his scar. His muscles tense up and as a reflex, you put your hand in his so he can squeeze it. There used to be a ball for that, but that was long gone, and your hand had to take it’s place. His hands were strong and slightly calloused as he crushed your fingers and palm. You pull the rag away from his skin, and his hand loosens significantly, but he doesn’t let go just yet. “Any minute now the pain will die down, but you’ll still be able to talk. I’m going to have to ask your more questions, okay?”
“Or, I could just go.” he suggests.
“No, Ben-” you cut yourself off by biting your tongue. “Kylo, you can’t-”
‘What did you just call me?” He voice is deathly low, and his eyes become darker than they’ve ever been, finally his hand crushes yours again, in anger this time, not pain. “Who gives you the right-” he stood up, towering over you, and put his arms to his side, but still holding your hand, pulling you down. “To call me, Ben? That’s not my name anymore, and it doesn’t have meaning to me! I could have your fired and killed if I wanted to, call me Ben one more time, swear.” he shakes his head angrily. “Do you understand me!” he shouts
You push him away from you, giving him a pissed-off kind of smile, and open your mouth to talk, but instead only shake your head. He calms down a bit, sitting back on the bed. You grab the clipboard of patient notes and write down that the patient needs surgery as payback. “Be that way, if you want.”
Every other day, Kylo comes in for a checkup. It starts off with you walking it and smiling at each other, then he flirts a bit, and apologizes for snapping at you the first day, then get’s his actual checkup and leaves. One day, months after his surgery and one of the last few checkups he has, you go to toss his chart on the counter when his hands (that our now not as rough and calloused) reaches for your wrist. “Y/N, wait.”
You look at him and see worry in his eyes. “What is it?”
“I um… I thought you should know that…” He looks at the ground nervously, then back at you. “I’ve begun falling for you…”
You sigh in immediate relief and joy. “I feel the same way!” you laugh, putting your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug. “Maybe get hurt more often and come see me.” you whisper, pulling away from him. His hands fall to your waist.