Thinking about Ben & Rey as parents. Rey would be a ball of energy. She would be the kind of mother who plays and it would always get messy — mud wars in the backyard, finger painting in the middle of the living room, meal times that end with food splattered on every surface. 1/6

Ben would watch on, fond and amused, and wait until it was time to draw a bath for his son and his wife, and he then he’d carry them to bed and they’d cuddle, soft and sleepy, as he read from an Alderaanian storybook, one of the treasures his mother kept from when he was a boy.

He would teach them words and numbers and history and languages, like Huttese and Hapan. They’d learn to say ta’a, for mother, and know what Ben meant when he called them da, for son, and understand when he referred to Rey as my sen, my elesa — my treasure, my wife.

Ben would teach them how to fly, like Han taught him, and they’d spend a lot time tinkering with ships and droids with Rey. She’d build build forts in the garden with bits of scrap metal and they’d all climb inside, a messy pile of limbs and laughter.

Rey & baby would nap curled in Ben’s arms, in the hammock outside, one of his feet hanging out so he can rock them back and forth. These would be some of Ben’s favourite moments. Everything is quiet in his mind, except for his love, which is very loud.

Above all, there would be love. And despite all the tantrums and sleepless nights, the rough mornings and late evenings, the teenage mood swings and the brooding and the sulking, their children would always, always know that they are loved and treasured, no matter what.