Replaced the original chapter because this site would not save the changes I made when I found typos.

Kylo Ren is soft when it comes to Rey and their newborn daughter. Major major fluff and feelings guys.

I wrote this to detox from my darkfic. Might add more later. comments/thoughts appreciated.

The ornate bed frame is empty.

The crib acts as storage: full of blankets, pillows, rattles, infant toys. The occasional nursing pad and diaper finds its way into the mess.

The mattress is on the floor, pushed up against the corner of the room. The room is a bit bare, a bit stark - the First Order banners have been taken down and he has nothing to replace them with yet.

Rey is curled up, her back against the wall, their daughter facing her. Their chests rise and fall lightly in unison. It is everything he has ever wanted with her, with Rey.

A family.

Three years ago, after Crait, she would not talk to him, she would not give him the time of day. She would not acknowledge him until the two sides were at an impasse. They agreed to try and reach some sort of agreement. At the time reconciliation seemed too strong a word.

Their meetings were meant to be negotiations.

Nothing between them was negotiated, there were hardly any words spoken. When the door closed every pretense fell; the facade they showed the world melted away.

It was always her pushed gently against the wall, him bracing behind her. Always rushed, too rushed - there were times she told him to just keep the mask on, to please hurry.

Secret trysts, never enough, leaving both of them wanting.

Kylo's gaze rests on his daughter's wispy dark hair as he lingers on his memories.

He likes to think it happens the time he insists they face each other. Rey's hands soft and warm on his bare chest, her lips delicate and sweet. He likes to think this is the coupling that produces someone so innocent, so perfect, so pure...so beyond his comprehension and what he deserves.

Kylo never felt this kind of love until he held his daughter. He wanted to drink in the moment, the moment with his little girl in his arms.

He has known kindness, but the negative influences in his life had outweighed the good. For the first time he feels like he has a reason to be good. To try to be good.

He knew he would do anything in the galaxy for her. He would be her hero, her keeper, the one to comfort and kept her safe.

He would be her father.

Kylo pulls his shirt over his head and steps out of his trousers. He is simply mesmerized by everything that has taken place since her birth six weeks ago.

Rey's emotion at meeting someone related to her for the first time, watching her fears about motherhood slip away. Surviving the sleepless nights, trying to get the baby to take a bottle so he can give Rey a break.

She cares for their daughter so well.

It is only when he insists they all sleep together that their daughter gives them decent stretches of rest.

Kylo softly pads across the room, swallowing back the lump slowly building in his throat. The joy he feels at seeing them is overwhelming.

Gently, he lowers himself on the mattress. He looks at his daughter and her dark eyes are wide open, staring directly at him. Her tiny rosebud mouth is not moving, not pursed together - a sign they learn means she wants to nurse.

She only stares.

Kylo tentatively offers a finger and she clasps her small hand around it. He carefully nestles her in the crook of his arm and feels her breath against his chest. The sensation brings him chills every time. She is real.

He watches as her eyelids grow heavy and they close.

Kylo glances from Rey to his daughter and thinks the theory that love hurts is the biggest lie out there.

Love heals, love makes people whole again.

Before he drifts off he catches Rey peeking at him. She smiles. She scoots closer to the center of the bed and reaches for his hand.

Hands clasped, their daughter between them, they sleep.