#Every time I rough sketch. her very base when drawing past the chest to her actual abdomen is always | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reylofanfictionanthology · 3 years

Photo

TO FIND YOUR KISS IS NOW LIVE!

Authors will be revealed next week! For now all fics are anonymous. Treats can be posted through author reveals on 2/21. We will post an updated masterpost at that time.

To Find Your Kiss collection on AO3 | Treats Masterpost

GIFT FIC MASTERPOST

- Reap the Stars for abbytheatre08

The prompt: After Ben's death, Rey goes mad and turns to the dark side. Only Ben's not dead anymore. ----------------------- She is consuming fire, magnificent in her rage. She will burn the galaxy to its foundations, until the ashes rain down and pile high as mountains. She will gather them into bouquets and scatter them like petals upon his grave.

He will be remembered, and they will not.

Call him The Light Bearer and Joy Giver. Call him He Who Loved and Laid Down His Life. Call him Ben.

- we are question marks that hang above the endless unexplained for AlwaysEverlark

The first time she walked into his club, she was looking for a job. Kylo took one look at her—the stubborn pout of her lip, the determined glint in her eyes, the ruddy glow of her face where the sun had kissed it—and swallowed a lump in his throat that was shaped like the words you’re too good for this place.

They needed a singer. Kira Johnson could hold a tune, knew the old standards, and had a knockout pair of tits to boot. A few slinky ballgowns and a touch of lipstick, and she’d more than do the trick of distracting suckers long enough to part them from their money.

The club solely needed to break even; anything they made on top of the Syndicate’s cut was gravy, and Kylo Ren had been lining his pockets with his own take for long enough that he could see Kira for the lump of clay that she was: rough-hewn, misshapen, but soft and supple and sure to curve under his touch.

- Eighty Bucks Says Sweetheart for Amoreusou

Ben likes puzzles. Rey needs help with a bunch of them. Good thing it's a slow day at the office.

- Seldom Visions for Andrina_Nightshade

After visiting an old Sith temple, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren has fallen into a deep sleep when he pricks his finger on the point of a red crystal. Rey become is the first to find him, but his rescuer isn't just any general or pilot, it's the woman he shares a soul with, who haunts his waking hours, who still sees him even in his sleep.

- The Dyad for aneighthdomain

Based of the Prompt: Groundhog Day scenario. Ben and Rey keep getting sent back to the first time they met and no matter what they do, Ben always dies so they stop trying to change events and just live a life time in the year between and couple of weeks and run away together.

- Saudade: The Love That Remains for AnneAnna

- The Delegation for aNerdObsessed

A humanitarian delegation from Naboo arrives at Niima Outpost. Rey is skeptical, to say the least.

- i don't want you like a best friend for anopendoor

It’s not like she hadn’t seen this coming—Rose told her weeks ago that he was invited. It was an inevitability Rey was always going to have to face, she just didn’t think that Rose would be so merciful as to also give every guest a plus one.

But Rey can’t really be upset—and she is totally, unequivocally not upset—that Ben's bringing someone because, well.

She is, too.

- Love is Weakness for bittersnake

“He’s someone I found on my recent trip to Corellia,” Rey replies placidly, her face practiced in its boredom. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Love is weakness,” her grandfather reminds her, the way he has for years. It’s why he doesn’t love her. He will not be weak. It’s why she doesn’t love him, either.

- in sickness and in health (with health being less likely) for BlueButterflyKisses

Deciding to spend the rest of their lives together is the easy part for both Rey and Ben; the trouble is in how to propose.

- Snowed In for Blueyedgurl

Never in her wildest dreams did Rey Johnson think she would ever get to meet her favorite other Kylo Ren. She also would have never entertained the idea of the scenario she found herself in. How did a hike in the woods lead to a snowstorm and taking shelter in a remote cabin in the woods? The idea was so ridiculous but had become reality. Stuck inside with a handsome stranger surrounded by a winter storm, Rey wonders what will happen with no power and only one bed. Will they be polite co-habitants stuck in a strange set of circumstances or is there room for something more?

- Curses, Comforts and Capybaras for Bombastique

Arrogant CEO bites off more than he can chew when he angers a witch... And suddenly finds himself transformed into a capybara. Can kindhearted wildlife rehabber Rey Niima help him break the curse?

- To Heal a Broken Soul for Cat2000

Ben survives the fallout of Exegol, but his connection to the physical world is in danger. Rey tends to him as she searched for a way to heal him.

- holding me like water in your hands for Ceallaigh

After Hux finds out Ben killed Snoke, Hux encases Ben in Carbonite. Rey refuses to let Ben stay frozen forever so she mounts a rescue.

- Like a Thief in the Night for chagrins

Their bond won't let them be alone. At least this time it's the middle of the night and they can't get into a shouting match.

- The Chance for Crysania

When Rey and Ben, long time co-workers who have never been able to admit their feelings to each other, go on a weekend retreat to work on a movie adaptation script together, a Nor’easter leaves them snowed in. On Valentine’s Day.

- Awake for cuddlesome

Something inside him is awake, and something inside her is about to wake up.

An alternate interrogation scene.

- darkness rises, and light to meet it for czechia

After the throne room, Jedi Ben Solo and Kira Ren meet again a year later.

- Not Quite a Fairytale for DarkMage13

Rey lets a stranger use the phone of the café she works at late one night. It changes the whole course of her life.

- You Won't Escape Me ('Cause I Set You Free) for DoorKeeper9

- The Canvas of Your Skin for darlingreadsalot

She was incapable of touching him without drawing blood, it seemed. Lines like vermillion paint streaked where her fingers sketched down the contours of his face, his back, and now his chest.

In which a Force bond is splintered, a resurrection goes wrong, a kiss is forgotten, and two almost-lovers avoid speaking for the better half of a year.

- Fleeing the Storm for driverfever

As the granddaughter of an merciless aristocrat, Rey’s life hangs on a thread at the hands of the French Revolutionaries. When her childhood friend, Ben, offers to platonically marry her in order to take her to his home in England to safety, she has no choice but to accept.

But her suitor and revolutionary Hux won’t give her up so easily. Hounded by revolutionaries and falling in love, Rey and Ben must use all their wits to flee Paris and make it to England.

- Equal Measure for dustoftheancients

When Princess Rey of Coruscant calls upon the cursed Sir Kylo Ren to help her escape her grandfather the emperor’s political machinations, she discovers freedom in the ancient familial magic that binds them together.

- Benimina Solo's Late On-Set Force Ability for Evangel10n

Benimina Solo has never, not even once, had an ounce of Force Sensitivity. She's done a great deal to move on with her life after failing out of her uncle's Jedi training school. So when Rey Palpatine comes into her life and suddenly everything changes, she's not a happy camper.

- Splatter for expendable

“You’re Palpatine’s girl,” he says coldly.

“His chief of staff, yes.” Rey’s eyes narrow. “And you have your hand on my ass, Kylo. Kindly take it off.”

“Or what?”

AKA powerful corporate rivals Kylo and Rey put the hate in love/hate.

- The Haunted Mirror for FangirlintheForest

When Rey travels to UK to attend the reading of his grandfather will, a grandfather she didn't know existed until that very moment, she finds a house, and a old story that will haunt her...

- i'm your secretary for firelord65

Kaydel pressed her lips together in a thin line, passing a pile of datapads over the desk. “I don’t know what that pretentious nerf herder has put into your brain, but these are tales of the key roles women have played in past rebellions.” She stood, tapping the pile. “They’re great reads,” she added, with a pointed raise of her eyebrow.

- and they danced across the sky for flipflop_diva

When he was still a child, he constantly watched the blue butterflies as they danced in the sky.

They seemed to be calling him, aiding him each instance that icy-cold darkness flowed through his very veins. The magnificent creatures saved him from the voices. They drowned out the incessant chatter in his head. Temporarily cleared away all the anger. During those brief respites, watching those blue wings flutter in the sky, Ben felt free.

But that’s another life. Another world. Another time. Another, another, another.

And Kylo's no longer a child.

No. He welcomes the darkness now. Embraces it.

- Finding The Answer for FrenchMartiniPlease

Rey pines for Ben Solo…so why does her soulmate mark always drain of colour whenever she gets close to him?

- Almost Unforgettable for HopeRebel

The woman in the mirror has blood on her clothes, cash in her bag, and a letter from her husband telling her it's better to forget. Well, he got his wish. She forgot everything-- including her name. And she wasn't the only one afflicted.

It'll take the combined efforts of gumshoes, a flatfoot, a washed-up Hollywood starlet, and more to get to the bottom of this bad business. In the end, these things always come back to the beginning.

- The Curl of a Sigh for irridesca

During the last song in Maxine’s set, a song she announces is called “Soul Companion,” Ben heads back out to the lobby to look for Rey. He finds her not with his eyes but with one broad shoulder, when he bumps into her and knocks her gig bag out of her hands and onto the plush carpet.

- and they were roommates for Lady_of_Haven

When Ben loses a bet to his roommate, Rey, he has to eat her out for 30 days.

- torn away from you (my heart is broken) for lakerose

The Force binds more than minds.

- If You Take Me for literallynoonecares

She sighed wistfully as she watched her two friends lean in toward each other as they danced, their lips meeting and melding together as they seemed to become one person instead of two separate beings. She had seen them kiss so many times, but this kiss … it was special.“I just want someone to kiss me like that,” she mused softly to herself, her eyes not leaving her friends.“I could make that happen if you wanted.”

- 3 Days in Vienna for Like_A_Dove

Kylo Ren, trained mercenary Alpha assassin, is on a mission—assassinate Chancellor Palpatine and bring his underground authoritarian regime to an end. It’s what the First Order demands, for the better of society.

It should be an easy task. He’s been getting close to the Chancellor and his cronies for years. So how is it that the unexpected appearance of an Omega, with a seemingly similar mission—and a wholly inconveniencing scent—become a distraction he hadn’t accounted for?

- Confidence and Desire for LittleLostStar

“Stay afraid, but do it anyway. What’s important is the action. You don’t have to wait to be confident. Just do it and eventually, the confidence will follow.” - Carrie Fisher

- Love brightens even the most monstrous parts of ourselves for LRRH17

No one knows since when the giant, black bear has lived in the forest near Theed. Many stories about the origin of Kylo Ren circulate in the small village. After Rey has run away from Jakku, and arrived in Theed she has heard them all of, but has never actually meet the creature. This changes when her and her friends get attacked by bandits on their way back from Otoh Gunga.

- Your Sweetness Comes With Sugar on the Side for Lutrosis

Rey's daughter loses her mother as she wanders around the Supermarket. Ben finds her and the two connect over both being Type 1 diabetics. They find Rey, and Ben and Rey are instantly smitten. As they date and fall in love they discover that Jade and Ben are connected more than they thought and healing is brought to the Solo/Skywalker clan.

- Allegories, or Allusions to Real Life for maq_moon

“Boys, please stop arguing.” Rose rubbed her temples. “Poe, we get it, you’re childhood best buddies, you’ve got a better grasp on his character than some rando of a rando you met at a party. Finn, for fuck’s sake, we’ve been working with Ben for months. I’m pretty sure if he’s a serial killer or whatever, it would have come out by now.” Finn sat back in his seat, grumbling. “Not how serial killers work.” Rey was going to have a headache if this continued any longer, so she lied through her teeth at the reality of a new player joining their D&D party. "He seems nice." She didn’t trust a single inch of skin on that man. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

- A Mad Man, with a Box for MBlair

Rey and Ben meet, move in together, get engaged, and marry.

- Invite the Wild In for midwinterspring

Kylo Ren, the mysterious senator who appeared from out of the deserts of Jakku and somehow brought them back to life, has spent a long and unproductive session on Hosnian Prime. Now, it's time to go home. After all, there's someone waiting for him and so much for them to do together.

(The ancient Sith had some interesting rituals.)

- Purim Party for MissCoppelia

Rey goes back to visit her foster mother for a Purim celebration. She meets Ben Solo who's visiting his parents, who are friends with her foster mother. They have an attraction to each other right away, but try to play it cool.

- The Banished Heart for misszeldasayre

On Rey of Niima’s nineteenth name day, Jakku gains a new wizard.

Jakku is a withering outpost of the kingdom, and its people hope the new wizard - the mysterious Kylo Ren - will bring them the rains the land needs to heal. Rey is a lonely, clanless girl living in Niima, and she has a secret. One she hopes the wizard will be able to help her with too.

- The Smuggler's Bride for MyJediLife

Miss Rey Nemo is the new mistress of Manor Takodana, left to her by the late Lord Skywalker. When a strange man named Kylo Ren appears on her doorstep, she decides to hire him as her new groundskeeper. As Rey faces sinister threats and secrets are revealed, Kylo Ren may be the only person who can save her.

- Annabel Lee for myownlittleinfinity

Rey keeps finding these ... notes in her locker. She doesn't quite get them. They seem like love notes, but she doesn't know who they could be from. Meanwhile she's paired up with Ben Solo (who hates her despite her gigantic crush on him) for this English assignment. Who knows how THIS will go.

- with my body i thee worship for niennathegrey

- the losing game for no_big_deal

Sith Princess Rey Palpatine is given a peculiar gift for her Life Day: a Jedi. Not only that, one who is boorish, spirited, and stubborn. But, he presents an opportunity: one that could liberate her from a life under the thumb of her grandfather. She has seven weeks to change his heart before all her freedom is taken from her - forever.

- standing right in front of you for notkellymarie

When Senator Solo's engagement is pushed forward, he and his Jedi bodyguard, Rey, travel to Naboo alone for the announcement ball. The pair despise each other, constantly bickering and disagreeing with each other, which makes spending extensive amounts of time alone together all that more difficult. Until of course, one of them breaks...

- the good, the bad, and the smuggling for OccasionallyCreative

Ben Solo is a seasoned smuggler. And he’s not bad at it, either. But when bounty hunter Rey offers him a temporary partnership he can’t refuse, Ben will find himself pushed to the limits of his skill, patience, and resourcefulness on a job that’s dangerous enough to be his last.

It’s like his dad used to say: bounty hunters are nothing but trouble, kid.

- Whatever our souls are made of...his and mine are the same for Padawan_Writer

Ben and Rey meet only after Kylo has defected from the First Order and returned to the Resistance and his mother. Will the dyad still find a way to be?

- They say that only the dead have seen the end of war for politicalpadmé

“He traded his life for mine,” Rey choked, stomping back and forth in front of him so fast he could barely keep track of her. “He died. He died so I didn’t have to—and it’s not—it’s—after everything he’s gone through—it’s not fair.” Tears were running down her cheeks now, and Poe wanted to do nothing more than hug her, but there was nothing he could say—nothing she would want to hear. Poe remembered all the people he’d lost, all the times he had raged and screamed and cried about the unfairness of it all. “Leia sacrificed herself to bring him back,” Rey declared suddenly, ceasing her constant pacing around the fire as she looked straight at him. “And he sacrificed himself for me—and now no one’s going to know. All he’ll be remembered as is Kylo Ren, but he was—he was so much more.” She exhaled with a shudder and whispered, “He was a part of me, and I—I don’t feel whole without him.” ~

A Force Ghost Ben/Rey love story, with a side of rebuilding the galaxy.

- Cicatrix for Priestly

Getting cut up by Rey on Starkiller awakens something in Kylo.

- I Will Always Be With You for Prix

But she wouldn’t be able to hide her pregnancy for much longer. She was starting to show, and her friends would start asking questions. She would have to give them answers, some of them would not understand, and none of them would accept.

She carried his child. The tiny spark of light woven with darkness, just like her. Just like his father.

—————

The world has gone dark More times than you Or your mother Or your grandmother Can remember. And every hurricane That was meant to be The end of it all Had instead ended In sunshine again.

So believe me When I say; You will survive this And the next one too.

World’s End—Nikita Gill

- all my daydreams are disasters for QueenOfCarrotFlowers

During her search for the infamous Luke Skywalker — the man who predicted a devastating earthquake in New Madrid, Missouri — Rey finds herself entangled in Luke’s family history and with his brooding nephew, Ben Solo.

- on what ground I was founded (when I first saw you) for redbelles

Kylo dreams of Rey after the Battle of Crait. And the yearning is mutual...

Some Force Bond dream smut inspired by "Shrike" and "NFWMB" by Hozier.

- Last Summer for Reykenobi68

Rey had started to get used to Ben not living next door anymore by the time the holidays came around. Then he's back for the holidays. Rey is really expecting things to go wrong after the way he left at the end of the summer. ut is it really going to be that bad.

- The Long Way Home for reylotrash711

In the aftermath of Exegol, Ben and Rey are divided by misunderstandings. It will take time and danger for them to work things out.

- Under the moonlight for shariling

I don't know why I followed you here. She wanted to reply. Maybe because you're so tall I couldn't help but notice you. Maybe it's because of your hair or the way you move, or maybe it's because of that kind of melancholic look in your eyes. There is something about you that I find terribly attractive and I don’t know what it is: maybe the moon or the alcohol or the wolf I have met before infected me with some strange parasite and now I am hopelessly attracted to dogs, I do not know. She could have said one of these things, any of them, instead she said: “I've never bitten anyone before, and I want you to be my first.”

- Fallen for shipperofdarkness

Prompt: Devil!Ben and Angel!Rey or Angel!Ben and Devil!Rey. How do these two on completely opposite sides fall in love and defy worlds to be together?

- come away with me for silentfleur

Rey owns a tinker shop, but her life changes when she meets Ben Solo and is cursed by a witch. Not necessarily in that order.

- A Picture of Me Without You for SpaceWaffleHouseTM

"I suppose I'd somehow struggle through / But I'd hate to picture myself without you."

It's impossible not to have a soulmark. It's not a big deal, not in the lax and gin-soaked speakeasies of 1920s Manhattan, but it's still a heavy weight to bear, as Ben Solo and Rey find out side by side.

- Lips Raw With Love for stellardarlings

Their kiss on Exegol wasn't their first kiss...

Nor would it be their last.

- Everyone Makes Divine Mistakes for Takekurabehime

Jedi Knight Ben Solo is sent to Naboo on an errand of mercy (and to visit his grandparents). He arrives in springtime; but will he be able to complete his mission without finding himself distracted and bewildered when love and intrigue waft through the fragrant air?

- Glitter & Gold for TearoomSaloon

Rey is lead singer in an up-and-coming glam metal band. They've finally got steady performances, but that means playing at the same club as the Knights of Ren, whose lead singer definitely isn't interested in any competition.

- To kiss like lovers do for the-reylo-void (Anysia)

Ben and Rey spend their formative years growing up together in Medieval Scotland and it looks like they will end up together. Circumstances intervene and Rey loses her chance to be with him. Devastated, she carries on until the day clan Ren attacks Castle Jakku lead by the notorious killer Kylo Ren.

- Snow Turns To Rain for thehobbem

For a moment, he wanted to ask what she meant, but if he was being completely honest, he already knew. He asked himself that same question over the years, and none more often than tonight, since seeing her again. Was leaving worth it? Was going their separate ways worth leaving each other?

“I’m not sure,” he said finally, shaking his head. “I’m happy...” he said, and she tensed a little, so he continued, “with my work. I’m glad I’m doing what I love, but....”

“But?”

“But it wasn’t the only thing I loved.”

- Change the Dance for theresonatinglight

- Meet Me in the Woods for thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)

“What do you mean no one goes in there?” A chuckle. “It’s haunted. People see all sorts of weird things in there and some don’t ever come out. You’re better off living with your curiosity.” Rey wakes in a shadowy forest with no memory of where she came from, only her name. With the help of the resident guardian she takes a journey to figure out her past, and maybe even discover her future.

- permanent calligraphy (your name on me forever) for Thursdaygirl

As they continue to work together, two things become clear. One: Ben Solo is an enigma. He’s preppy yet humble, privileged yet introspective. He’s the opposite of lazy; she kicks herself every day for assuming otherwise. And two: Ben Solo will never love her.

- show me the stars. for tmwillson3

“I don’t hate Christmas, I just don’t love it the way you do.” Lifting his head, he pulls a face, loosening up a tangled ornament of a poodle with pink, curly fluff. Rey snatches it from him possessively, tossing it back to the cart. “No one loves it the way you do, to be fair.”

“Now that’s the truth,” says Poe, who Finn invited about half an hour ago to keep him company.

“People have bad taste, I don’t know what to say.” Huffing, Rey scrolls through her phone with more intent. “Neither of you are helping me, anyway.”

“What’s the problem?” says Poe.

“Rey thinks her hot neighbor hates her —”

“He does hate me.”

“ — When really he’s been flirting with her for the past, oh I don’t know, how long have you lived there?”

- I realized that I need you, I wondered if I could come home for VR_Trakowski

Rey is doing exploration work for the Resistance, searching for force sensitive planets so any force sensitives that they find have a place to train.

One day, midflight she finds a slip of paper with the elegant scrawling words of the ones that came before. The ones that she found when Ben still roamed the galaxy.

When she lands on a dark and barren planet she is forced to face the feelings she thought she buried.

- Shadows of the Moon for walkingsaladshooter

The hallways got darker, the corridors grew longer. Shadows stretched across the walls. The ghosts of Breha Manor grew each night.

Rey clutched her necklace. Ben met her gaze.

And every night, there was weeping.

- show the way (the world could be) for writergenie

In the aftermath of the Battle of Crait, Rey struggles to find her place among the Resistance. However, her lingering Force bond with Kylo— Ben— whatever name he calls himself— complicates things, blurring the line between friend and foe.

When the tension threatens to boil over and a desperate plan goes awry, Rey begins to wonder whether there really is a line between light and dark after all.

(Stars do burn brightest in the blackness of space.)

- why don't we go (somewhere only we know) for XarisEirene

The bond snaps back into place, even stronger than before. He is here. With Rey, yes, but with Luke - Luke, who is looking at them now with that same dangerous glint in his eye that haunts Ben’s dreams.

- renewed, transfigured, in another pattern for yodalorian

Rey mourns on Tatooine while Ben is stuck in the World Between Worlds. But neither of them are alone, and blue butterflies light a path back to each other.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction anthology #rffa writers #to find your kiss #master post #mod post #photo edit

156 notes · View notes

preciouslittletoonette · 3 years

Text

“Your Daddy”

A self-indulgent Mickey Mouse fic that I just wrote on a whim. Based on a headcanon I made several months ago

1928

“ LES CLARK! GET IN HERE, NOW”

It has been a.... bizarre three years working for Walt Disney.

Back in 1925, when Les first joined Walt, he was truly expecting a temporary job, possibly washing cels and doing a couple drawings here and there. But what once was thought to be a temporary job turned into three years honing his craft under the careful mentorship and friendship of the great Ub Iwerks, someone Les heavily admired.

But that was not the bizarre part.

The bizarre part came in the form... of Julius the Cat.

When Les entered the studio on his very first day, the toon barreled straight into his gut in excitement at the prospect of meeting someone new. Les, not expecting the greeting, barely caught the doorframe in time to stop himself from falling from the sheer force that was Julius.

Rather than amusement from his new coworkers, he was met with sympathy. Making him realise that this was, indeed, a normal occurrence.

The only one who had looked mildly amused was Walt, who sent Les a sheepish smile as he (rather gently) pried Julius off of him and settled the toon against his hip.

“ Heh, sorry about that Les. Julius here gets rather excited at the prospect of newcomers”, he said motioning to the cat, who was cuddling up to Walt’s side.

Les had accepted the apology and was soon introduced to Ub, who after the introduction immediately moved to scold Julius, who looked sheepish and nervous under Ub’s gaze. The entire interaction between Julius and the two men confused Les until two words came out of the cat toon’s mouth.

“ Sorry Papa”

While he looked nonchalant on the outside, the words had hit Les like a freight train on the inside.

And thus began Les’ journey into the bizarre absurdity that was the Animation Industry.

Working under Disney led to Les learning a plethora of things, and some of them had less to do with actual animation and more to do with the toons. Sometimes while Ub was teaching him, the man would throw in advice on caring for toons. Any question Les had, Ub would answer and the man was incredibly blunt with his explanations.

“ So you’re Julius’ father?”

“ Yes”

“....But he calls Walt ‘Dad’”

“ It’s co-parenting”

And some answers were... weirder than others.

“ What do toons eat?”

“ Everything we eat and a little more”

“ What?”

“ Julius once ate an entire an entire paint can, filled with paint. Nearly sent me and Walt to an early grave, the little bugger. He didn’t get sick or anything, oddly enough he looked a lil’ healthier after that...”

“... So you let him eat paint now or-”

“ God lord no! We’re not taking chances in case he actually gets poisoned someday”

“ Oh”

“ Another tip, don’t ever let your toon eat erasers. That stuff will make them sick”

“....Noted”

Though it suffices to say, the years leading up to 1928 was an experience Les would never forget.

It was currently well past 11PM when Les entered Walt’s home, Lillian letting him in and calling for Walt, who was in his office, who then called Les to get to his office.

Les peeked inside to see Walt pacing from one side of the room to another. Sitting on a chair in the corner was Ub, holding something close to his chest as he tried to not doze off.

Both Ub and Walt looked like they haven’t slept in days.

Les lightly knocked on the door, announcing his presence.

Walt ceased his pacing,” Ah there you are, Les. Thanks for coming over”.

“ Well it sounded urgent. Couldn’t leave you two hangin’. What happened?”, Les asked concerned

“ We did it”, Walt sighed as he ran a hand down his tired face before looking to what Ub was holding.

Les’ eyes widened when the realisation of what had happened, finally noticing that what Ub was holding was definitely moving and shifting in the sleep-deprived man’s arms. Ub, noticing the attention from the standing men, shifted the being in his arms until Les could properly see him. In his mentor’s arms...

... was a sleepy small toon mouse.

“ When did you-?”

“ An hour ago”, Walt answered,” We made him an hour ago- but that’s not the point of you being here. Wait right here, I’ll be back”, with that said, Walt left the room to go further into the darkness of the house.

Les made his way over to his mentor’s side, dragging another chair closer to him and sat close by.

“ You okay, Ub?”, Les asked concerned.

“ I’m good”, Ub replied looking down on the toon in his arms,” Walt called me out of work to do this”, he moaned tiredly.

“ You were working?”, Les questioned.

“ I had extra work to do for Mintz because of planning with Walt”, Ub explained.

Les was well aware his mentor was working on things for Walt even while he continued to work for Universal. Ub was providing the money they needed to get the studio running while Walt and Roy went out, looking for new distributers after Winkler Pictures and Universal betrayed them.... and took Oswald away from them.

It was tragic watching everything unfold after Walt and Roy returned from their meeting with Mintz. After everyone just upped and left, leaving the four of them behind. Ub was in a fit of rage when he found out and what happened after that was the loudest, most rage-filled argument Les had ever heard between Walt and Ub. It had gone on for nearly a hour before things quieted down. But they didn’t leave the room they were in immediately, they were in there for a few minutes before finally coming out, eyes bloodshot and puffy despite vehement denies that they were crying. But it was clear as day that they were deeply hurt.

Les hoped to never ever have to go through what they went through.

“ What’s his name?”, Les inquired.

“ Michael Theodore Mouse. Mickey Mouse”, Ub stated with a nod,” It was Lillian’s suggestion after hearing Walt’s original name for him”.

“ And that was...?”

“ Mortimer”, Ub gagged.

Les snorted when he heard the name,” Bless Miss Lillian for stepping up where Walt failed in the naming department”, he joked humorously.

“ Amen to that”, Ub said with a short laugh as he looked down on the toon,” Hear that, Mickey. Your dad was going to name you Mortimer. What an unusual unneeded punishment, eh buddy”, he continued as Mickey smiled at Ub with sleepy eyes.

“ He’s very cute”, Les commented with a smile.

“ Of course he’s cute. I designed him after all”, Ub quipped with a smirk.

Les chuckled,” Of course”.

Ub smiled before looking down to Mickey again, this time his eyes filled with sadness. Les noticed this.

“ Thinking about Oswald again?”, Les asked.

“ Yeah. It’s just..... it’s been weeks since Mintz took him away and I haven’t seen him around the studio even while I was working. I’m worried about him and Julius”, Ub admitted,”.... I initially really didn’t want to do this”.

Les raised a brow,” What changed your mind?”.

“ Walt”, Ub said plainly,” We’ve been runnin’ around this for weeks now- well I was. You probably overheard me and Walt talking about this one night at the studio”.

Les nodded. He had overheard the conversation between Walt and Ub one evening when they were doing checks on the Hyperion studio. A mere two weeks before the current moment, Les recalled. It was far from an argument but there was definitely a disagreement. Ub wanted to wait a bit longer before creating another toon but Walt wanted it done sooner rather than later. The man even had a rough idea sketched out after seeing a mouse on the train heading back to Burbank, Ub just had to create a proper design and then bring it to life. But to Ub it was moe complicated than that.

The man was exhausted, not just from overworking but from the very fact he had not JUST lost Oswald, but also Julius as well. And the guilt and sadness was eating him up from the inside. He was still wounded by the loss and Walt was not letting it heal like it was supposed to.

Not to say Walt wasn’t also facing his own major problems. He was also NOT coping well with losing Julius and Oswald (the latter especially) and his temper was much more explosive than usual from Les’ perspective. He threw himself into his work, dragging Roy everywhere to every film distribution company in the Los Angeles county. Heck, Les wagered Walt’s desperation might even have him go look for distributors in New York. And the man was constantly stressed out and judging by what Walt looked like earlier, even sleep deprived from working this much to avoid his own thoughts to grieve. You could say his desperation and grief was blinding him to his friend’s own grief.

Les winced at the thought, silently pitying his seniors.

Ub continued on speaking,” Distributors want to see the stars nowadays and not just concept art. They want to see and meet the toon and as charismatic as Walt is, he can’t convince them to wait any longer. So I bit the bullet tonight”, he explained, shifting Mickey as the toon squirmed a little in his arms,” But I’m don’t regret this. I feel a lil’ better after making lil Michael here. He’s just too darn active for me to ignore, isn’t that right buddy”, he said addressing Mickey, who was about ready to fall asleep again.

Les smiled at the sight of the toon,” Well I’m sure this one right here’s gonna be the one to boost us to success”, he said.

“ You think so?”, Ub inquired with a grin.

“ O ‘Course! After all, who could resist this cute little face?”, Les cooed at Mickey before turning to Ub,” AND you and Walt have already raised some pretty big stars. No doubt this little one will follow suit with his brothers”, he proclaimed confidently,” You two are gonna great dads.... again”, he joked lightly.

Ub chuckled,” And I’m sure you’ll be a fantastic dad too, Les”, he stated light-heartedly.

Les frowned, about to ask Ub what he meant before Walt peeked in, having returned from where he went off to.

“ Hey, sorry for the delay, she crawled out of the basket and I had to find her”, Walt explained nervously with a chuckle.

Les raised a brow at the mention of a her but Ub spoke up before he could ask

“ It’s fine. We were distracted with talking anyway. Bring her in already so Les can meet her”

Les was highly confused for a second before registering another toon mouse in Walt’s arms that was quickly transferred to his lap in seconds.

“ Les, meet Minnie, Minnie, this is Les Clark-”, and the next words will forever imprint itself in Les’ mind-

“ -Your Daddy”

“ Wait what?!”

#disney #disney fanfiction #les clark #minnie mouse #walt disney #mickey mouse #ub iwerks #walter elias disney #ubbe eert iwwerks #to be continued...maybe

12 notes · View notes

kashuan · 4 years

Text

All right, there are quite a few things that come to mind with a question as broad as this, so here’s my best attempt to sum up what character design means to me in like 5 minutes :,D. I’m going to start with a few very quick sketches that talk about more my general approach to drawing, but I’m going to build up to how it all connects with character.

Step 1) Find reference! Whenever you can, use reference, it will always make your character’s posing look 100 times more genuine than anything you can pull from your brain, and that’s nothing to feel bad about. It’s not cheating because we’re not stopping at Step 2 either, which is where the misnomer comes in that you’re just ‘copying’ (protip: even step 2 isn’t a straight Copy; as long as you’re not tracing, you’re not copying, and even tracing has its uses for personal studies). I could do a whole answer of it’s own about picking your reference, but I’ll keep it short by saying: not every reference will fit every character. Keep in mind your character’s attitude when choosing your ref. Some poses are so generic they’re one size fits all, but even this very simple pose has unique character to it. The way the legs are posed, to me, gives it a young and girlish feeling, and depending how you played with the expression, you could even make it come off shy. An overbearingly confident character, while also taking an arms crossed pose, will likely position their legs differently, assuming a stance that takes up more space, etc.

Step 2) Draw pretty much exactly what you see first, but keep it simple. Think of the body like individual shapes; anatomy is not the focus right now, and you’ll actually hinder yourself if you hone in on that first. What you want to do at this stage is capture what the pose is generally doing; character isn’t involved yet Step 3) Now, working off 2′s framework, start considering body type. If you skip the previous step, you might have a hard time capturing the gesture correctly, since it’s a lot for your brain to juggle at once. When I sketched these two different body types, I built it straight off the first drawing, erasing lines as needed.

So the first image includes some extremely basic body type variations, this one pushes that idea further. 1 is the basic frame from the last image, while 2 is about playing with proportions. There are a lot of ways you can play with proportions, and as I’ll come to sound like a broken record about: make those decisions thoughtfully. For example, when I made this version shorter than the reference base, I had to consider exactly where I wanted her to lose that height. Here, I made her shorter waisted, took a little length from the legs, and gave her a squatter neck as well. You can do one of these or all of them. Just keep in mind those are all individual options. Letting your train of thought stop at ‘this character is short/tall so I’m just going to generally shrink/stretch their body’ means you’ll run out of variety pretty fast, and sometimes the overall proportions can end up looking wonky (though there’s always exceptions to the rule, remember that the individual body parts should remain correctly scaled in relation to each other). Image 3 is another approach to proportional manipulation, except rather than focusing on height, it focuses on fat distribution and to a lesser extent bone structure. Again, there’s so many individual places you can focus on here, make sure to mix them up. Arm size, shoulder broadness, chest and hip size, leg thickness and musculature, foot and hand size and so forth. Image 4 is a further exaggeration of image 3 and the lines have started to get a little more stylized. While image 3 is still reasonably realistic, 4 is just starting to cross into cartoon territory. Advantage of 4 is that when you are able to push the proportions further due to the leniency of style, you can sell a clearer idea and a clearer character. Downside is, well, it looks more cartoonish now, and depending on the needs of your image that might not be what you want ie: it can look like a mistake rather than a purposeful choice if everyone else around the character is drawn more realistically.

Also… I see variations on this general advice quite a lot for women, but don’t forget about doing the same for men. It’s great to see how eager a lot of artists are to experiment with the female form that is simply absent in a lot of mainstream media, but I find that men really tend to fall by the wayside here even though they often get equally shallow treatment in the mainstream. There’s usually like 2-3 ‘go-to’ body types for men and that’s it. Men’s bodies can have the exact same amount of variety as a woman’s, including the individual ways the fat can be distributed on it, and the assorted ways their proportions can be played with. Whenever I find an artist that does this it’s like striking gold to me tbh.

So there’s some very rough hows. But, perhaps even more importantly than any of that, is WHY you make these choices. This is going to get a little stream of consciousness, but with a question this broad, I tried to hit on as many general points I could think of in regard to my own process.

-When I start to design a character, I really need to have an understanding of them first. This includes things like backstory, personality, habits, so and so forth… Yes, all of this stuff shows up in their design, even if it’s just a drawing of them standing straight up. This isn’t just like ‘this character got this scar at age 7 so I need to know where it goes′, I mean in depth info about them. I touched on this a little bit earlier, bringing up the different ways a character would assume the same general pose, but let me expand on that. -What do I mean by personality? So there’s the most obvious answer, which is that a bubbly character will assume bubbly poses, a sullen character will slouch more, etc… But let’s take it further than that. This is a concept I’ve touched on in past tutorials, but here’s a quick recap. A character’s personality involves their opinions, for one; how do you make that show up in their design? Well, one of the most obvious questions I always ask myself is: what is their opinion on their own appearance (the thing we are drawing)/how do they want to be perceived by others? Consider a strong character. I see a lot of artists who take this thought as far as: okay, this character is strong, so I’m gonna throw a 6 pack on him, maybe a nice pair of guns, and call it a day. Which leads to like, nice art, but also...kind of bland? I think that’s because this is a rather half-baked approach. How can we take it further? Ask yourself more specific questions. Is your strong character concerned with being perceived as an ‘ideal’ sort of fit by others (the type you give that showy 6 pack to) or does that not matter to them? (more likely to look ‘chubby’ if not outright fat, though probably is just as if not more capable of actually doing some real heavy lifting than saran wrapped abs man). If they’re some kind of mystical being that can look like whatever they want (ie: the anime waif that can also lift 1000 lbs-trope), you should still take into account their personal perspective on appearance. Don’t just stop at ‘this guy/girl is strong so they’ll look super shredded’ or ‘they’re magic so I’ll do whatever’. Doing this, you’ve instantly lost a chance to inform the audience more about the individual there beyond ‘they’re strong’ -Break it down further with their habits. What is their daily life like? If they’re running ten miles every day they should probably have some strong looking legs. If their job involves a lot of lifting, maybe focus on the upper body more and leave the legs less defined. Do they eat a lot? Or drink? The way the fat distributes in both these cases will be noticeably different (and this isn’t even taking into account points like an endomorph vs an ectomorphs body, which I always suggest reading up on). I’d definitely recommend drawing as many different body types as you can just as studies, in order to add these variations to your mental library. I’m sure every artist has seen this popular athlete line up by now, but really study images like this. Don’t just mindlessly copy what you see when you create your own characters though; think about why those athletes have the bodies they have, what they specifically did to get them like that, and how that can apply to your character’s own life. -One thing that has always bothered me is how often artists are afraid to use the head (not the features; I’ll get to that in a second) as an extension of the body when it comes to imbuing it with variety and character. While it is absolutely possible to have a thin face and a fat body (as is any combo), it’s another missed opportunity not to experiment with chubby cheeks, a soft jawline, etc. It’s a cliche to mention him at this point as an inspiration, but one of my very favorite things about Mucha’s art was how he was able to make fuller faces look so beautiful despite being a rather nontraditional approach (so many art books try to tell you this is a big NO). example, example. These faces actually look like real individuals to me than a drawing that focuses too hard on being generically aesthetically pleasing. -So, facial features. A face with less traditional features isn’t just going to be more memorable than Stock Beautiful Face #73, but it’s basically a more zoomed in version of informing the audience about the character in the same way the body does. -Know tropes, play with tropes, do not rely on tropes. Sunken bone structure, long features-guy will always pretty much read like a villain (or at least someone off-putting), but find somewhere to make the formula your own. Give him thicker eyebrows or big ears. Give the girl with the standard doll-face a nose that sticks out a little more prominently or a crooked smile. -Speaking of are so many different ways to draw a smile, do not underestimate the mileage you can get out of this one feature alone. Artists tend to have a favorite way to draw smiles, in my experience, but remember your character. Would they have a big toothy grin, a handsome ‘cool’ looking smile, a small shy lopsided one, ones that touch the eyes, ones that don’t… This is probably a repetitive point by now but just do whatever you can not to draw the exact same feature on two different characters, and make sure to think through your reasoning for every choice you make. To me, it’s always immediately evident if an artist really knows their character or if they’re just trying to make something aesthetically pleasing. The former is always more attention grabbing in my opinion. -One of my favorite things to consider when designing a character who’s part of a family: genetics and how you can play with them to inform the audience more about the character’s story. Does this character take after their mother or father? How? Why? Why why, you might ask? This isn’t a photo of a real person, this is an illustration that you should be making deliberate choices about every step along the way. It’s one thing to draw a character that looks like their parent simply because logic dictates they should, another to make meaningful decisions as to where and why they do. Some examples: He has his father’s eyes because they carry the same intensity and other characters are a little put off by him because it (conversely, maybe he’s such a gentle character that this detail stands out twice as strongly). He has the same hair as his father, but he styles it differently to avoid the association. She has her mother’s nose which everyone compliments her on so shes happy to be seen in profile. She has her father’s broad shoulders and she’s a little self conscious about it so she tends to wear baggier clothing. Etc etc! In all these cases, you can communicate these details through even a simple drawing of the character standing alone, and should try to as often as you can. -In the end, the only way you’re going to know how to draw all these different details, whether they be different body types or different facial features, is by studying real people. Draw as many different kinds as you can, add them to your mental library. Your reference will never give you everything you need to work it, and I’m not sure if that’s maybe what this question as getting at-- if I have a reference folder of go-to ‘types’ or something. I don’t. I have a folder of poses labeled with characters I think they’d fit, and that’s about it. If you’re just imitating what you see in a photo, you’ll always be drawing That Person, not Your Character. So you are going to have to pull some of it out of your brain. Note, however, the important difference between just ‘making it up’ and recalling information you’ve studied in the past. That said, while on this last topic of expanding your mental library, that includes not just doing studies, but also learning and observing the ways other accomplished artists work. Here are some of my book recommendations when it comes to those which have most helped me in regard to this particular subject. This includes books that specifically tell you how to vary your body types, but also ones that just have a lot of examples of different kinds: Morpho: Anatomy for Artists Morpho: Fat and Skin Folds Famous Artists School Course in Illustration and Design (If anyone is interested in this one and has trouble finding a non $500 copy, hit me up and I’ll help you out) Spirit of the Pose Anatomy Lessons from the Great Masters Drawing People: How to Portray the Clothed Figure Figures from Life (my favorite currently; not the most varied array of figures but he goes in depth on how to successfully grow an academic study of a model into an illustration influenced by your own ideas and personal style) If you found this answer helpful, although it isn’t specifically about character design, I go a little more in depth about some of the topics I briefly covered here (such as choosing the right reference, good vs bad reference in general, honing in on shapes, pushing the pose, etc) in this short book of mine :>

#tumblr messed up the coding on the original ask so I had to repost this!#art tutorial #hope this helps!!#not sure if got a little too rambly #i wonder if it's hashtag justintpthings to spend 3/4ths of a post talking about how to draw by talking about thinking lol

115 notes · View notes

psalloacappella · 3 years

Text

Pink

Title: Pink Pairing: SasuSaku Word Count: 2,636 Rating: E for Explicit Tags: powerplay, orgasm denial, shut up and sit down Sasuke

Hems, hips — her hair, those lips.

Ao3 | FFN | ↓

It doesn’t occur to him until she’s easing herself to the floor, assuming a position of mien supplication on her knees that she’s been working him since he’s come home.

His mouth drains dry, and he couldn’t form a question even if he tried. Always she supplies the answer, quenching his endless thirst. Plucking the ends of his silences and teasing them into his obsessions, the desperate adoration to which he has trouble testifying. Analytical observation be damned — he’s a sham of a shinobi, letting her do this, corner him here.

But it’s something he believes she does better; starts the beguilement hours before with the loving and effervescent notes in which she trills his name, the way her eyes linger on him with a sense of personal, possessive delight.

Jade eyes like glass, lips tumescent and plush from drawn and excruciating touches she’s already given — his ear, the magnificent column of his throat, the sinew and muscle — a fever rising and pink in their cheeks from nothing else but their dance, because she hasn’t kissed him on the mouth once since this began. Lips mapping his body of scars and sorrow as a canvas, the latitude lines which lead her in.

“There’s patients out there, Sasuke-kun. So please be quiet.”

Why she chooses bringing him to the edge in front of others, well, he can only reflect that maybe they’ve had this tendency to play their affection out in a dramatic spectacle for a long time. Childhood, even. Perhaps that’s why their friends stay quiet and play blind and dumb to her brushing his cock with nonchalance in the middle of a vapid, overspun mission debriefing not once, but fucking twice.

“Though unlike you,” she whispers, “I lock the doors.”

He’s been gone for weeks, now traipsing home in the bleak dawn with the others, reporting for debrief and medical under her hungry gaze.

Once it starts happening around others, he knows he’s caught in her strings. Unable to admit even to himself that if she spurned him, stopped pining, he’d come seeking. Crawling, even.

So while Sasuke doesn’t often embarrass himself, much less twice in one day, or otherwise draw attention in the middle of meetings, he’d done so by reacting with aplomb, which means cracking his kneecap on the underside of their table.

He’s fairly sure that dark-haired girl had seen, really seen, and her face lit up like red festival lights. Unable to contain the vile knowledge, she had passed it to Ino as a talisman and Sasuke knows he’s going to hear about this, somehow, the next time he’s on a mission or otherwise sequestered with his idiotic psuedo-friends that really belong to Naruto, that tolerate him in kind. Ino’s the reigning rumor queen and Sakura’s best friend; nothing escapes her notice.

It escapes Naruto’s, though, who actually has the gall to shush him in histrionics in front of half the damn village — the audacity. All about his Hokage recommendation.

And same to Sakura, now, kneeling in front of him: preening, dragging a flat and soused tongue from the base of him to the tip with eyes that skewer him through keen as polished senbon, forcing a jutting of his hips he can’t hide and a sound in this throat threatening to crack — the audacity.

“Maybe you’ll want to sit for this one.”

Words slip from her lips as dripping silk, laced with the precious and delicate hint of a laugh. Never outright teasing but certainly just rasped and low enough to trigger the primal urge to lay her out on that empty emergency cot.

His exhale comes in tremolo, a sound of weakness that sparks his temper, matches on flint. But it melts away as her fingers replace the cradle of her tongue, navigating, pressuring him back into a well-placed chair.

Even on her knees, she bends him to her bidding.

She pumps him idly, ignoring his stifled noises and groans, regarding him with mellow innocence.

“Who’s coming for you? What are you worried about, Sasuke-kun?”

Soft tip of her thumb dipping to brush the tip, as a pot of ink; hands always soft enough for him but clean and calloused for the medicine. He always imagines her (because of course he does, in lonely caves and arid deserts and cleaning blood off blades, she’s always holding on to his heart) naked, kneeling, shy. And sure, she can do that, does. But her irises gleam sharp and something about that pristine white coat offering only a glimpse of the pink skirt that when she’s on her knees rides up to show the shape of her thighs — and if she would just spread them a little more —

She brings him back, refocuses him with a swipe of her hot tongue over his tip; she savors the tart taste with a moan and he slings a fuck! across the room just a little too loud.

With a sigh, she sucks his taste off her thumb and draws out the motion, lets him watch. She’s here for the glittering black stare, the fury dancing just beneath his skin. Removing it with a pop!, the playful smile pulling the corner of her lips is a brand of teasing he’s relented to more than a man ever likes to admit.

“So hard,” she says delicately, “and yet . . . so easy.”

Stupidly, he tries to respond. His eyes follow hers, bright and green and never once leaving him as his cock disappears past her pink lips and into the wet mess of her mouth and throat, ripping a noise from him feral and startled. The chair will end as kindling at the rate she’s going, a steady pace and unshaken gaze, slender fingers wrapped around him for the rising and falling and ridealong with her mouth while the other hand grips his knee in a gentle admonition against the urge to grab her by the hair — he’s overstepped, misinterpreted who’s leading once. As he learns in battles, he’s learned by her when to touch.

So, not now. Not yet.

He’s crumbling, ancient ruins disintegrating across time.

He’s a glutton for this, the way she bends him in the vein of punishment because deep down, she knows he’s not the legend, and she’s no saviour; they’re tremulous and in love, humans stripping their flimsy warrior veneer.

If he keeps meeting her eyes, he won’t last another goddamn second. Not with that panting as she catches her breath, tilting back her throat to gulp air before lowering her mouth on him again and he still isn’t allowed to touch her, not yet. Flexes a fist so tight his knuckles pop off in an erratic tempo — but that’s all him, on the flimsy edge of control. He brings his shoulders to his neck and undulates again, curses intertwining with her name, legs readjusting just a bit wider. Slicker this time, finally relenting to a lower, baser layer of himself. She is the only one, and he knows she knows, reducing him to nothing but them, this.

So he watches her bring him back to life, reminding him of the things that are real.

“Oh, fuck me—”

She grins around his cock in her mouth, and the sensation pulls a jutting of his hips and another rough word from his lips.

Does he know, as she pulls him apart and her pink-painted nails catch on the fabric covering his thighs, that she’s absolutely dripping? The buzzing in every atom as she brings him to a plane of existence terrifying and beyond comprehension. Lifting her slender fingers, she continues working him with her mouth, tucking stray locks behind her ear with the quick flick of the wrist.

He reaches for her, wants to brush it away himself; at heart, he tries to be a good man and often a giving one. Lavish, even, but stubborn.

She reasserts their rules, agonizingly pulling him from her wet ministrations and mouth with eyes as jewels, apt to cut.

Sa-Sakura, fuck—

Gazing up at the magnificent column of his throat, the beads of sweat clinging to the ends of his hair, the chair arm that endures the brunt of his strength. Something about the way he stares at her down the regal arch of his nose, struggling not to let his mouth fall open like some common tramp (such a snob, she thinks) to reveal enjoyment. Muscles twitching in tune with her touch: in his forearm, his thigh, and good gods even the one making an intermittent appearance in the beautiful pale canvas beneath the sharp edge of his jaw. It scratches at the surface of his skin, a trembling and unconscious weakness that keeps her slender fingers moving over his shaft, silk and velvet and slick.

Her eyes dart here and there, as if she can behold him all at once: His cock; the apple of his throat, never spoiling; and his eyes, one scarlet and keen and sketching whatever he’ll hold onto while he alone, whatever he touches himself to when he’s on the other side of the world.

He is melting. He is hers.

His hand reaches for her again; contemplates, and instead grips the muscle of his thigh. The quiet threat of her strength keeps him teetering, back and forth in the motion of waves as she leads him to the ragged edge and relents just enough to let him sink again.

With an angry breath, she presses her fingertips into his chest and flicks him back against the chair with just enough warning vigor to stutter and steal his own. She is taking, and perhaps only a man like this manages to beg in complete silence.

“You’re not being very good, Sasuke-kun.” Her voice is sharp, an admonition.

When he sees the glistening string from her lips to the tip, their fluids, he considers disobeying — what’s the worst she can do, shatter his femur? Bones go back.

She watches him closely, letting their heart rates ebb closer to baseline in an endlessly taut wait before diving back in.

She takes him into her mouth again, and when her hand comes along to cup him underneath he thinks of bending her over her desk, fucking her in some messy and ruinous way, anything to distract him from the shaking in his thighs and hands and the noises he can’t tamp, can’t let out but can’t put back —

And her rhythm could kill him, his hips stuttering off-key, he’s too close, but he’d agreed so stupidly —

Fuck — Sakura — please!

His strained outburst gives her pause.

She blinks up at him, long and slow. Deliberate.

“Please.”

His voice fucking breaks, and he’ll never live this down. Thoughts leave him as he capitulates to everything stupid and base and his rough fingers bury themselves in her locks and they’re soft as he remembers, just like the rest of her except those hands with callouses born of antiseptic but this is worth it to him, he’ll surely be punished but in this world of shadows and deception and missions wrought with contradictions this is real, this is worth it —

to be at her mercy, to fuck her beautiful mouth raw.

And now she’s delicately swiping one of those beautiful hands across her mouth, green eyes verdant and wild with amusement and surprise.

Even knowing this was coming after all, sometimes he’s not so disciplined, in fact he fails when it comes to her more often than not it’s cathartic in itself, the way she regards him with delight despite his failure.

She stands and readjusts her skirt, smooths it down. Eyes surveying him and lingering on those such small things that reveal him, lay his soul bare: The heat in his face and glittering of his dark eyes, black like pitch; his hand as he tucks himself away. The jumping muscle in his neck. Her gaze flickers to his cock and back.

She curses, because no matter how raw in strength she is he possesses ungodly, stupid speed. The sound of her body pinned against the door, is loud, so loud, and prompts another knock on the door.

“Sasuke—!”

“You think you’ll just do that and get away with it, Sakura?”

“There’s simply no time.”

His fingers splay over her small ones to pin her hand, and she’s trammeled between him and the office door, mouth hot on her neck and seeking skin amid her mess of hair. And of course, he’s hard against the small of her back in a desperate way that leaves her legs unsteady and everything between them quaking, fervor and frenzied ache.

“Weeks,” he hisses against her, “in a wasteland.”

The breath he forces from her is a shudder, a shake. Playing a dangerous game, to break rules he already agreed upon for this round; after all, they both have legendary methods of bequeathing consequences.

“If you disobey me, you’ll be s-sorry.” Her voice is a bite, but wavering.

He groans into the kisses he’s leaving against the place her hairline joins the skin, leading into her ear, a sensitive juncture he espied that first night of which he’ll never, ever lose knowledge.

The knocking continues, louder this time.

“I want you here.”

“You lost. Now you wait,” she says. “And you’d better not touch yourself until I’m there.”

In a quick movement she slips around under his mismatched eyes, now facing him with her back against the door.

Her voice scant above a whisper when she insists,

“When you’re home, I only want it to be me.”

This is how a man breaks; this is how his knees shake.

“How does he still make you so flustered?”

“Pig, please.”

“You have a big brain, but you’re not good at hiding anything.”

Tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, she wiggles an index finger in what she thinks is a surreptitious way and asks quietly, “Why does he look so dazed?”

“I guess . . . I still make him nervous.”

“Over a post-mission physical? Big baby,” Naruto interjects, sticking out his tongue.

Sasuke scowls, turning away from them with a huff; Naruto snickers, and Kiba lets out a laugh closer to a bark.

“Doctor, lover, you’ve seen every inch of him.” Ino sighs. “I wonder.” Bringing another finger to pair with her index, she waves them and lowers her voice. “Did you try what I suggested, with the—”

Sakura elbows her so hard the clipboard in her hands goes flying; Ino bobbles it and hisses:

“Hey, no need for that!” Brandishing the papers, she huffs. “And you need these, they’re your dispatch orders!”

“Dispatch?” A flicker of concern crosses her face. “You mean I’m . . . going in the field?”

Kiba’s expression is blatantly irritated. “Uh, can I get checked out so I can fuckin’ leave? Got a report to write.”

Both women turn to look at him, glowering, and in unison snap:

“Shut up!”

“Ew, stop it you two,” Naruto whines.

Sakura folds her arms and sticks out her tongue at him in return. “Stop what?”

He gestures between his teammates, face screwed up in a nauseated expression. “This! I can feel it.”

Sasuke turns on his heel and stalks down the hallway.

Naruto’s waving goodbye to the others and following him, babbling away in his ear, but as they approach the corner and Sasuke’s forced to turn his eyes drift to her lithe, distracting legs and she crosses one in front of the other as he watches. He doesn’t miss the way the bright hem skims the muscle in her pale thigh or the serene, easy manner in which she twitches her white coat.

He lingers for a moment and finds her staring back with a soft smile trying for inscrutable, but failing to hide such unadorned affection.

Lips puffy, faintly painted in the shade of strawberry wine, knees still bright and pink.

#sasusaku #ssnsfw #psalloacappella #shut up and sit down sasuke

17 notes · View notes

angelsunflowers-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Nathan Prescott x Female!reader (The Sketchbook incident)

Request: I had this idea for a Nathan Prescott and female reader imagine where he’s secretly her muse and she drawing him every day in her sketchbook but one day he sees and destroys her sketchbook and she gets so upset she stops drawing and he feels bad and realizes how special it was to her and buys her a new one Sorry if that long, it’s my first time Also love your writing <3

Fandom: Life is strange

Genre: Mix of Angst and fluff (Happy ending)

Linktree

~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Rough sketches, pencil marks, pen and an assortment of colors rubbed onto her fingers and arms as she shaded in a certain area of the model, of her picture of Nathan. As an artist, (y/n) needed a muse and without his knowledge, she had chosen Nathan Prescott to be it. She didn’t know how he’d react if he even found out. Would he be embarrassed? Angry?

Who knew?

(y/n) grunted in an effort as she finally finished shading the base of Nathan’s neck in her beloved sketchbook. The book itself had been used and filled up to the brim with photographs and sketches of the school, her friends but most importantly, of Nathan.

The two didn’t talk very often, but she saw how soft he could actually be; in the little moments, he let his facade vanish. She wanted to be closer to him, but… How do you approach a person like that? Not to mention, that he had a reputation for going too far.

(y/n) pulled herself away from the sketch, glancing around at the yard to admire everyone enjoying life peacefully.

Max was talking to a few people as always, being a bit nosy, but nice. Evan was taking pictures, Warren was probably watching another weird movie of his in his dorm. Everything was pretty normal except for Nathan Prescott storming up to (y/n) with rage-filled eyes and clenched fists. He was angry, anybody within 50 feet of his could see that. He was too obvious with his anger, didn’t even try to hide it.

(Y/n) gave a polite smile to the obviously Pissed off Prescott, nervous about what he might say or do. He could be a bit unpredictable. He stopped in front of her, glaring at the large sketchbook in her hands.

“Good morning Nathan. Lovely day, isn’t it?” (y/n) asked.

Nathan only continued to glare harshly, the students in the surrounding area began to stare In curiosity.

No one dared to say a word, they didn’t want the wrath of Nathan directed toward them.

He dug a hand into his pocket to fish out his phone, he found the photo that could be the cause of his anger of the day and shoved it into (y/n’s) face. It took her a moment to realize that the photograph was of one of her drawings of Nathan.

And she knew exactly how it got onto the web. Victoria Chase.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked, anger seethed into his words.

(y/n) nervously laughed but soon stared up at his eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes and that pretty dirty blonde hair wasn’t helping. It was the perfect combination. There didn’t need to be a reason as to why she liked to draw him so much, the pretty face and different expressions he used in day-to-day life were amazing. So was he. (y/n) wanted to find a way to tell him that she actually liked him but knowing Nathan, she wasn’t sure if he would recuperate her feelings.

“Um, a drawing of you that I made… Nathan, I’m sorry. I showed it to Victoria, I didn’t know that she took a picture and posted it online,” She confessed.

The taller boy slowly pocketed his phone before he grabbed the sketchbook out of (y/n)’s nimble fingers.

“Wait, what are you doing?” (y/n) asked, panic seeped into her chest.

Nathan tossed the sketchbook into the trash can before lighting a match, (y/n) stood up quickly knowing what he was going to do. (y/n) rushed to him, trying to grab the match out of his hand but failing in the end as he dropped it into the trash can watching the sketchbook go up in flames.

The students surrounding (y/n), stared at her with empathy but didn’t say a word. Nathan slowly turned to (y/n), crossing his arms over his chest. He still looked angry, even after destroying the one thing that (y/n) held precious.

“I’m not your subject to use,” Nathan growled.

Nathan glanced into (y/n)’s eyes just in time to see her tears building up and drip from the pools in her eyes. Nathan felt a strike go through his heart, guilt. An ugly emotion that he felt all too often, but now toward (y/n)? Someone who was actually nice to him no matter what other people told her?

He clenched his jaw in anger, this time toward himself. He watched as (y/n) slowly turned around and walked into the dormitory building, needing to be alone for a while. He made her cry. Nathan Prescott made (y/n) cry. He messed up, big time. Was there even a way to fix what he broke?

The group surrounding Nathan slowly disbanded, not wanting his anger to blow up again in such a short period of time.

Nathan was left alone with his thoughts, he ran a hand over his face and picked up his phone as it rang. Victoria. Fuck, what was he supposed to say?

“Hey,” Nathan whispered, his voice hoarse.

Nathan slowly trudged back to his own dorm, he had thinking to do indeed. How was he going to make this up?

“Nathan, what the hell happened? Did you burn her sketchbook? I told you to go talk to her. There are videos all over social media… The comments are brutal,” Victoria said.

Nathan barreled into his room and sat on his bed, running a hand through his hair to tangle it lightly. He didn’t know what he was thinking. If he was thinking at all during that moment. The sketchbook that he burned… sketchbook, maybe he could try to make it up by buying her another one? It was a start…

Nathan and Victoria conversed over his previous actions and how he could fix them while (y/n) on the other side of the dormitory building, stared out the window, wanting to fly away to get away from these gross feelings. Even after what happened, she still liked him. Anybody that found out about her feelings would call her insane. She had no will to draw anymore, what was the point if her own muse didn’t want to be drawn? Right?

She fumbled with her fingers lightly before glancing at her watch, great. She had physics in 10 minutes, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about art for a while now. She slowly grabbed the bag she threw onto the ground and slowly left the dormitory building, hesitantly. If it were her choice, she’d stay in her dorm all day, but she didn’t.

She slowly trudged into the academic building and into her class, wait. No. Nathan was in this class as well, how did she not realize that sooner? (y/n) ignored Nathan’s pleading stare and sat next to Victoria, hoping for some peace and quiet before class started.

“He feels awful you know. I know what he did was terrible but–” (y/n) shrugged her shoulders, cutting off Victoria’s plea.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m done,” (y/n) whispered.

Victoria glanced to Nathan, giving him a pity look before turning her attention to the front of the class as it finally began. Maybe she and Nathan could try again later.

The class was boring and dull. All Nathan could think about was how to make it up to (y/n). For over a year now he had been trying to get closer to her but each time he talked, everything just blew up in his face.

The bell for the end of class finally rung, Nathan quickly shoved all of his things into his bag before trying to talk to (y/n). She was almost out the door now. So close. Nathan maneuvered to be right in front of her, using his arms to block her from leaving before talking to her.

“Wait, just stop for a second. Look, I feel real–” Nathan spoke, regret spilled from his lips.

(y/n) glanced around the room for a moment before ducking under one of his arms and leaving, using his height to her advantage. Nathan blinked for a few moments before leaving the classroom and trying to find a sight of her but (y/n) had quickly disappeared into the crowd of rowdy teenagers.

“Fuck,” Nathan whispered to himself.

The crowd slowly began to disperse as teenagers found their next class or left the building but there was still no sign of (y/n) anywhere. Nathan groaned and slowly walked back to his dorm to try to figure a way to talk to (y/n).

(y/n) on the other hand, was holding her breath as she watched Nathan walk past her hiding spot and to the dormitory building. She stood out of the spot and started to walk to her own dorm when she bumped into Kate Marsh, she was an absolute sweetheart.

“Hey, (y/n). I heard about what happened. Are you alright?” Kate asked.

(y/n) brushed her hair back stressfully, she didn’t even know where to begin in what was wrong at the moment. So many things. Too little time.

“Yeah, I just… I didn’t expect him to do that. I’m kind of thinking of giving up drawing,” (y/n) mentioned.

Kate’s eyes widened slightly but that didn’t stop her from pulling a brand new sketchbook from behind her back. (y/n) was slow to grab the item, she had been thinking about not going to Blackwell anymore because of what happened.

“Well, in case you want to pick it up again. You can use that. Okay? Maybe things will turn out alright?” Kate offered.

(y/n) gave Kate a genuine smile before gesturing to the dorms, “I’m gonna head to my room for the night. I’ll see you later.”

Kate stepped out of the way and watched as (Y/n) carried the sketchbook naturally and quickly walked to her dormitory. But what she didn’t know was that all of the girls in the dormitory building had a little surprise in store for her.

(y/n) rubbed her eyes tiredly and walked through the main door of the dormitory to see all of the girls crowding the hallway bearing gifts of the art variety; sketchbooks, pencils, markers, etc. She jumped back lightly at the picture in front of her.

“Um, hey?” (y/n) asked akwardly.

Max was the first to walk out and grab one of (y/n)’s hands, guiding her to the center of the hallway to talk to everyone. (y/n) wasn’t normally very social but with the girls that live in the same building as her? Quite close.

“The video of Nathan burning your sketchbook is everywhere… we just wanted to do something nice for you,” Max said.

(y/n) smiled gratefully and took more sketchbooks from her neighbors. She knew that they were only trying to help but how could someone draw if their muse didn’t want to be a muse? It was difficult to find someone else.

Max grabbed half of the gifts from all of the girls and followed (y/n) into her dorm to put all of the gifts on her desk. She didn’t know if she’d even fill these out at all considering that her will to draw was drained because of what Nathan did…

“Oh, I get it… Nathan was your muse…” Max set everything down, taking a seat on (y/n)’s bed before continuing with her thought, “That’s why you’re not drawing… he gave you the will to draw…” Max gave her friend one last smile before approaching the exit of the dorm. “Oh, before I forget, Warren had something to talk to you about. He’s In his dorm.”

(Y/n) stared at all of the art supplies given to her a few short minutes ago. It was stacked high on the desk, about to topple over. She was happy that her friends cared so much.

Without much thought, (y/n) walked to the boys’ dormitory building to visit a friend. Hopefully, she wouldn’t run into Nathan. She just needed to be careful.

(y/n) walked through the main door to the dormitory building and made a beeline for Warren’s room, she didn’t even bother with knocking on the sophomore’s door and just let herself in. She didn’t want to be caught by Nathan again. She was not ready to face him.

“Warren? Max, said you wanted to see me?” (y/n) called out.

The younger student quickly popped out of his desk chair and strolled up to (y/n), arms spread out for a bear hug. He was the most touchy of the group of friends she had, which was perfectly fine. (y/n) gave him a soft smile before slowly closing the gap and letting him hold her fragile form.

“Everyone said you were having a hard time and then Nathan… I’m sorry. Maybe everything will be better soon?” Warren apologized sympathetically.

(y/n) could only shrug lightly before slowly pulling away, letting herself become comfortable in the small room. But the thought of being in the boy’s dormitory, where Nathan lived, was peaking from the back of her mind. Warren stepped out of her space for a moment before grabbing a pack of oil paints from his desk and slowly handing them to (y/n); cautious to not scare her.

“I got you something, you said that you’ve been wanting to try oil paint for a while now, right?” Warren said.

Though, she wasn’t sure when or if she’d be able to draw again, she appreciates the kind gesture. (y/n) slowly slipped the paints into her bag for safekeeping as she slowly gave Warren a small smile.

“Thanks, Warren… I think I’m gonna head back to my dorm… Sleep everything off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The younger classmate only nodded lightly and watched as (y/n) slowly walked out of the room to hide away for the rest of the evening. The events of the day were hectic and cruel, all she wanted to do was sleep it off and hope that the morning would be better.

(y/n) peaked around the hallway for a few moments before deciding that it was safe and leaving Warren’s room before heading toward the main entrance of the Dorm building, wanting to find her own dorm before Nathan caught onto the fact that she was even in the same building as him.

She breathed a small sigh of relief as she slowly started to pass the last dorm room and reached a hand out for the door when a pair of hands reached out from the last dorm and grabbed (y/n) to pull her inside.

(y/n) started thrashing in the arms of her unknown attacker as they placed a hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream out for help. (y/n) stiffened as an exhale slowly reached her ear, causing her to shiver and listen closely.

“Stop squirming, It’s just me.”

(y/n) roughly shoved Nathan away and faced him, her back pressed against the door. She stared up at him with a confused stare, why did he basically kidnap her? What for? He was fidgeting with his fingers nervously, he was scared to what will come next.

Her eyes were red and puffy from crying all day. The last thing she wanted to do was face the cause of her sorrow. Nathan Prescott, prestigious figure of Blackwell Academy… he was flustered by her mere appearance. He felt guilty about what happened this morning, he felt lower than low. To make it up to (y/n), Nathan wanted to get something for her… all she needed to do was open it.

“What do you want, Nathan? I should get back to my dorm, it’s late,” (y/n) said resentfully.

It was not late, but everyone knew that (y/n) usually liked to return to her dorm after school and relax instead of partying like all of the other kids on campus.

Nathan took a step back to grab a wrapped box before presenting it to (y/n), a red hue was covering his features. He had never really apologized to someone, this was a first for him. Luckily, it was in the comfort of his own room and not the courtyard for everyone to see… again.

“Open it, please. This is my way of saying sorry… I… wasn’t thinking… I can be reckless and irritable…” He apologized.

(y/n) stared up at Nathan with an unknown look, she was not sure if she should take the gift. It could be anything, right? But Nathan didn’t go around giving just anybody random gifts… Maybe he really just wanted to try to redeem himself?

(y/n) ran a quick hand through her hair before making the mistake of glancing into Nathan’s eyes for a split second. His gaze was soft and pleading as he held the gift in his hands, his breath shaking only in the slightest from the nervousness of being near (y/n) once again; so soon.

“Fine… But if this is a joke–” (y/n) started to threaten but Nathan cut her off by carefully handing the recklessly wrapped gift into (y/n)’s paint-covered hands, their fingers brushed together lightly. The action quickly sent jolts of electricity through her and Nathan’s veins but neither person said a word about what they felt, too scared.

“It’s not. Promise. Open it,” Nathan said.

(y/n) sighed lightly but gave him a half-smile before slowly opening the present before her hands run over the cover of a brand new sketchbook. Did he buy her a new sketchbook? She slowly let the wrapping paper fall to the floor so she could look at the sketchbook as whole, quickly glancing through the paper and the little accessories attached to it. (y/n) didn’t say a word as she discovered the feeling of the new gift.

“I was angry and scared… Not about you or anything you did or said… I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I would never dream of doing that,” Nathan apologized.

(y/n)’s smile brightened as she realized that this was the sketchbook that she had been eyeballing for months now. She wasn’t able to buy it because it was far out of her price range for a sketchbook, but this one was special. It even came with pockets and sketching pencils. She glanced up and slowly placed the sketchbook onto his desk to grab both of his hands in her gentle grip.

“Nathan… I-” He was quick to cut her off, paranoid that she was going to yell at him like just about everyone in his life did. He was too used to it by now.

“I know that this will never replace what I did to your last sketchbook and I didn’t realize that I was your… Your muse. But I’m hoping that this will be a star–”

(y/n) reached her hands up to grab Nathan’s face to slam her lips onto his, surprising him surely. Nathan flailed his arms for a few moments before deciding to rest his hands; one on the door next to (y/n)’s head and the other tangled in her hair. Nathan slowly relaxed into the motions, pressing his body closer to (y/n)’s.

Nathan tugged on (y/n)’s hair as he deepened the kiss, eliciting a soft moan from (y/n)’s lips. Before Nathan could ponder on the small action further, she bit down on his bottom lip. She wanted him to know how long she had been wanting this kiss to happen.

Nathan felt the same way, but before things could escalate, (y/n) softly slid her hands from Nathan’s face down to his chest to lightly push him away. She didn’t want things to go too far tonight.

“I forgive you… I was never angry at you for what you did, just sad. It hurt to see my muse destroy my work but maybe you can help me?” (y/n) asked.

Nathan didn’t say a word as he launched himself to his bed, propping his head up with one of his hands as he brought one of his knees up; turning to the side to face (Y/n). a small smirk ignited his face as he says the simple line that made (y/n) burst out laughing.

“Draw me like one of your french girls.”

(y/n) ignored her phone as it lit up with a few texts from Warren and Max, both worried. But she couldn’t be bothered with the sweet scene in front of her.

Maybe everything would be okay?

(y/n) glanced up from her sketchbook to get a quick glance, the growing confidence in him caused Nathan to send a small smile her way.

Yep, everything was going to turn out okay. Her muse was still hers, this time with his knowledge.

Nathan liked the idea of being a muse, it felt foreign but fitting.

#nathan prescott #nathan prescott x reader #Life is strange #Life is strange x reader

159 notes · View notes

hangukincharms · 4 years

Text

Drawn to You

Word Count: 5147 Genre: Fluff, Fan x Idol Interaction Summary: You are an art student drafting a portrait of Wonho at a well-known café. Cross-Posted: AO3 as xKrypton_Bliss

E V E N I N G // A Seoul Café Sitting in a well-known café, you scroll through photos of Wonho on your phone to study his facial expressions and his exact anatomy. Your foot shakes idly now as you have gone past the blushing-in-embarrassment phase to more focused on seeing how the jawline is shaped, the turn of the tip of his nose, where his cheekbones land, and the subtle upturned corners of his mouth. With a nicely weighted and balanced mechanical pencil in hand, you begin to lay down the basic foundations for the three-quarter angle of his head, hoping to capture his essence truly. You have come so far now as an art student, and this was your last art project for university right before you graduate. You have already been taking commissions here and there, but only so few due to your overwhelming schedule with balancing your part-time job, school, and some sort of semblance of this thing called social life. After some time had passed, you managed to get a base sketch down along with some shading and details. It is still a little rough, but it has gotten more refined. A stroke of a loose hair here, maybe a shade there. No, it does not look right. You erase with a bit of frustration. You do not realize that the café has emptied quite a bit and it is darkening a little outside. "Your drawing is wonderful." A woman's voice startled you out of concentration. You snap your head up and see a short older woman carrying a tray with used plates and cups. She smiles sweetly, which seemed a bit familiar in some way to you. "Oh, uh, thank you!" you stammered, feeling embarrassed someone has actually seen your drawing before it was done, and it was a K-pop idol no less. Your cheeks heat up. "It's still far from being done…" You tuck your hair behind your ear out of nerves and pick up your hot chocolate to sip on. "I think it's wonderful," she repeated. "You did a great job capturing my son's personality." You choke on your drink and cough. "Y-your…" "Yes," she smiles proudly, her eyes becoming crescents. "Hoseoki is my son." Your eyes widen in disbelief. That embarrassment that finally ebbed away came back in full force. Now you have to figure out how to explain why out of all people, you decided to draw her son for the final project. You need to figure out why you could have not chosen someone else for this project. Anyone else at all! She sets the tray down on the table next to you. You look around and see maybe one or two people left in the café. You really did not realize how late it was. She sits down across from you. "What made you decide to draw him, dear?" she asks softly. "What do you like about him?" That was a question you dreaded to hear followed by another question you really did not expect. You take a deep breath and explain that the drawing was for a school project that focused on portraits but with a twist of concepts and imaginations. You told her idea of a light and dark concept. Everything has to be hand done and colored for it to be accepted. Right now, you are just going through the first stages of rough drafts. "That sounds very interesting!" she says with intrigue. "But — " she smiles again and leans in a little closer to you. " — you haven't told me why you like him." You were hoping you explained in detail too much so she would forget that question. Your cheeks feel warm as you bring the sketchbook close to you. "Uh, I-I — " A phone rings. Not your ringtone though. She looks down at her apron and finds her smartphone and picks up. "I am so sorry, excuse me — hello?" You breathe a sigh of relief. Many thoughts race through your mind. I just met Wonho's mom. I thought her café closed. Is this even her café? Is she working at a different café? Why did I decide the one time I draw someone outside my apartment, it had to be related to someone who works here! You shake your head back into reality so you did not want to take any more precious time away from his mother who has so kindly sat down with you and chat, which you totally did not expect. "Okay, I will see you soon." She hangs up and puts the phone back into the pocket of her apron. "He's on his way!" "Huh?" you hum in surprise. "I mean — Forgive me — I — who is on his way?" "My son. He is coming by to visit." Now is your chance for escape from even more embarrassment. "Ahh, okay, well…" you begin to collect your belongings. "I don't want to be rude while you wait for your son to arrive — " "Oh, please! Stay! I insist!" She gives you a look that only Asian mothers do that I wish I could describe. "You won't be bothering us if that is what you're afraid of. I'm always happy to meet any Monbebe and he is too." Your eyes widen by each word landing in your ear. "A-a-are you sure?" "Yes! Now sit down!" she politely urges. You did not realize you had gotten up from your seat in your rush to leave. You feel so rude to deny her, so you obey and bow to her in apology. Since you know she would not let up, you begin to explain the qualities of Wonho as you have seen him in variety shows and Vlive: charismatic, selfless, cute, cares very much about other people, making sure no one is left behind, in tune with his emotions… the list was endless. There was so much to list that it felt like you lost track of time. You really wanted to let his mother know how at least one fan of his feels about him so she could feel proud. For a little while now, you felt this strange sensation that you have been brushing off that someone was nearby you. Now that you have begun to run out of words, the feeling has become stronger. You cautiously eye to the side and slowly turn your head to see a plain grey sweater at your eye level. You look up hesitantly and see an all too familiar face of your bias, beaming down at you —the Wonho himself. Your heart beats painfully against your chest as your eyes widen. How long has he been there?! Did he hear everything I said? Do I sound crazy? Oh, God, I hope he didn't stand there for too long. Why did she not say anything? Such a sweet lady, she just smiled the whole time with light in her eyes. Ahhh, I should've listened to that gut a long time ago! "Hi," he greets sweetly. The upturned corners of his mouth have become much more prevalent with his smile while showing off his pearly whites. You draw in a shaky breath. Your hands begin to work on attempting at anything to hide your sketch from his eyes, albeit very clumsily. You fumbled with closing the sketchbook, flipping your phone over so the backside is shown — crap, it has his PC in it! You shove it under your arm. Feeling a shift in movement, you see Wonho move next to you and sits down between you and his mother, phone in hand to check the time and sets it down, watching you curiously with a hint of amusement. “Ah — h-how are you?” you stuttered, with your arm hastily crossed in front of you, resting your chin in your hand. “I’m doing fine,” he replies with a relieved sigh as he sweeps his hair back with his fingers. “I just got done with dance practice for our comeback.” He smiles again. “How are you doing? What's your name?” “I-I-I’m doing okay…” You say as you trail off, making sure to cover your face with your hair, looking down. "My name is Y/N…" "Nice to meet you, Y/Nssi," he beams. "I'm sure you already know who I am, but I am Wonho of Monsta X. I see you have already met my mom." He bows politely. "Yes, nice to meet you too." You return the bow meekly. You look back up at him to smile politely and notice the beads of sweat glistening along his forehead and the side of his face. A stark contrast against his black hair. You are surprised at how casual he was in front of you, a fan, for this. Does he not know he could kill you in an instant if you let him? (Nah, you were already dead before it started.) As you become lost in thought on how this is even reality right now, he and his mother chatted away, probably something about their days recently. You are trying not to be rude and listen into the conversation, but the unexpected starstruck really hit hard with you. Normally, if you are prepared to meet someone who is in some ways well-known or famous, you would not be a bumbling mess. Your own personality shines much more brilliantly and naturally. If this was a fansign, you would have ample time to calm down, even before the meet up — at least, that is what you would know from what you have seen on social media. You did not want to treat Wonho like he was on a pedestal or some kind of god. Geez, but this was far too soon and too unexpected! You come back to reality when you realize a hand was waving in your face. "Are you still there?" Wonho asks. "Hm?" Your eyebrows quirk. Oh, that is right. Wonho is still there in front of you. Wonho is still there in front of you! "Did you want to see my arms?" he asks with a chuckle. "You were staring really hard at them." "Eh?" You spaced out and did not know you were burning a hole through his arms. "A-ah, no! It's okay! I'm okay — " "Oh…" he slumps in his seat, eyes looking down. "So you don't want to see them…" He looks back up to you with puppy eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat as you have realized what you said. "N-no! I don't mean that! I mean, like, you don't have to show them to me. Only if you're comfortable." He laughs. "It's okay. I'm not offended. I knew what you meant." He winks playfully. "It's getting a little hot for me in here anyway, so do you mind if I take off my sweater?" Your nostrils involuntarily flare and your heart quickens. You shove that thought to the dirt. Now that he has been here for a while, you are trying every way to calm down and treat him like a normal human being. "No, I don't mind." He smiles and nods. You look away and out the window to the busy street as you hear the shuffling of fabric next to you, chin resting on your hand. You noticed it was just a little too quiet at the table despite his movement. "Where's your mom?" He chuckles. "You didn't hear?" He must have realized you were spacing out. "She went back to finish up cleaning and busting the tables." "Ah…" "So she was telling me how talented you are at drawing." "Oh…?" "And I kind of want to see it for myself." "Uhh…you sure? I'm not that good…" "Hey." "Yeah?" "Why won't you look at me?" You freeze. Do you dare mention that your face has been beet red and the mere thought of looking at him in the flesh with no sleeves is just going to kill you? "I'm embarrassed," you say, settling in that word alone. You feel him leaning closer to you. "Embarrassed?" You nod your head. "Whether your drawing looks good or not, I'll still love it all the same," he assures softly. "It's okay that you drew me." You close your eyes and sigh. Wanting to get this over with, you slowly turn your body back around and see him in a loosely fitted white tee with his sleeves partially rolled up. His arms are magnificently big, but in their relaxed state, it is not so bad; not as intimidating as you thought. He flashes his pearly whites at you, his eyes disappearing. "Ah… There's a face I want to see." You exhale out of your nose in half amusement and relief and give a wry smile. Sure, you are sitting in front of Wonho right now, but you are becoming more relaxed to his presence, arms and all. You slowly unveil your sketchbook and your phone peeks out, his PC in full glory. "Is that your favorite one of me?" he gestures to the PC. "Well," you begin, tilting your head to the side as you glance at it. "It's the only one I have of you out of all the albums I have." There is still a part of you that finds talking about all of this weird, especially talking about it to him, but you have to go along with it since he asked. "Oh, really? Did Minhyuk take over your photos?" he jokes. "Actually, that's what happened," you laugh. "Almost every album, it's him!" You relax just a little more. "I'll make sure to scold him for you." He winks. Gathering the courage, you shuffle out your sketchbook to be in front of you. "So, you wanted to see my drawings?" You glance up at him… in the eyes for those extra courage points. He nods. You shift the sketchbook over to him and flip through the pages, whether it was a work in progress or completed. You explain details of each concept drawn and what classes they were for. Sometimes, half of the drawings were for fun as you explained different styles and techniques to hone your personal art skill. You sometimes take a peek at him to see his expression and it seemed deep in concentration with some amounts of awe, indicating to you he was sincerely listening and genuinely interested. Your body loosens up even more. In between the flipping of pages, Wonho would ask questions about you, like how did you get into traditional art, what type of music do you listen to when you are working, how do you juggle between university and social, work, and home life. At one point, he even asked about your dating life. "I… don't really have much of one," you state flatly. "Oh, is that so?" His eyebrows raise in surprise. "Yeah, too frivolous. It makes me lose concentration on my work. I don't have as much time for it as other students do. It's quite a time investment. They won't understand why art is such a big passion of mine, so they'll just eventually leave me anyways." You look over to Wonho who seems to be baffled, yet sad. "I'm okay. I'm not hurt by this. I've accepted it." "Not a single soul would understand?" You chuckle. "Not even one." You flip the page. It lands on the partially finished portraiture of Wonho. You completely forgot about it and your body tensed up. You begin to slowly pull the sketchbook away from him. "Ahh, this isn't finished — " He stops you by holding onto the other side of the sketchbook, slowly pulling it back to him. "Oh, no, we're not gonna be shy here." You are still holding onto it, except it is slowly slipping from your fingers. You feel your grip shaking a little. Meanwhile, you look at Wonho, then down to his grip. Not a single struggle. Not wanting to tear your possession, you sigh. "Fine." You suddenly let go and the book jerked into his hand. You turn away again with your chin resting in your hand once more. He chuckles and you feel a gingerly pat on your head. You turn back to him in bewilderment, but he was already looking deep into your drawing. You turn your body slightly towards him to analyze his expression. Does he like it? Does he dislike it? Does he — "My mom was right. You really did capture me so well…" "I… I just, you know, uh…" You scratch the back of your head. "It's really well done. I am kind of jealous of this Wonho because he looks better than me!" You laugh. "What? No! You've always looked amazing, inside out, no matter what!" Whoops. That was too much, you thought. "Oh, no, I'm sorry, that was frank of me." You shrink into yourself out of embarrassment. "Hey, it's okay," he says gently. "I like hearing that from Monbebe, because, well, it gives me strength to keep doing what I'm doing." He pauses and lowers his eyes. "I'll admit, even if I look strong like this — " He tenses his muscles. " — I'm not always strong for myself when I need to be — are you okay?!" "Hm?" You look at him in confusion. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be okay?" "Your nose is bleeding." "Oh, is it?" you say nonchalantly. You take a napkin nearby you and wipe the blood off as best as you can. You ball it up without looking. "Okay, so you were saying that we're your source of strength?" "Does this happen often?" he says, eyebrows furrowed. "Hm?" "The nosebleed." "Oh, no, rarely." He stiffens and reaches forward to console you, a look of worry etched into his face. "We need to take you to the hospital...!" "Oh, no, no, no, it's okay. I'm fine. Don't worry about it." You wave your hand dismissively. You know exactly why your nose was bleeding and it happened when he tensed his wonderfully sculpted muscles right before you. Seriously, how is he so casual about this? "How are you so casual about this?!" Wonho exclaims. "Shh, it's okay!" you whisper. You realize you are closer to him than normal, then noticed that your hand was covering his mouth. Your head tingles in panic as you try not to jerk your hand away, but slowly move it off of him as you blush. "I'm sorry." You look up at him in earnest. "But, please, do not worry about me. Tell me about how Monbebe is your source of strength." "Hoseoki!" You and Wonho both turn to the source of the voice. His mother looked primed and ready to leave with her tote bag hanging on her shoulder. He gets up and goes to her. "Is this bag too heavy for you?" he asks, checking the weight of the bag. "Silly boy, it's fine! Your mom may be old, but she is still strong." He comes back to the table and you were preparing to leave yourself as that seems to be your cue. Your sketchbook, pencils, erasers and sharpener are all back into their spots in your messenger bag. He picks up the sweater and puts it back on. "Hey, I'm sorry. I'll have to take my mom home now," he says. You might have heard a lace of sadness in his voice. "It's alright. It's no worries!" You smile. "You take care of her." "It was nice meeting you and getting to know you, Y/Nssi." "It was nice to meet you too, Wonhossi." A flash of sadness reflected in his eyes. Or did it? Both of you and his mother said your goodbyes and bowing as you all leave the café. You begin walking in the opposite direction from them, going back to the apartments that are close to the café but also the university too. You immediately reminisce on what just happened in the span of an hour, wondering if you had gone to this café more often and actually stayed longer, would you have met Wonho even sooner? You shake your head. It does not matter now. You were just happy to have met him once and that is that. Not to mention the feedback of the portraiture fueled your eagerness to finish the draft sooner, so you could make a real painting out of it. Especially now that you had a glimpse of him and his personality in the flesh, you could add that depth to your piece. //////////////////// 2 M O N T H S L A T E R // University Arena

You had finished your graduation ceremony at the university and was walking out to find your friends and family in multiple places. You have been pulled by various friends to have photos together, posing for the cameras or taking selfies that were in abundance. It was very crowded due to having to graduate with 2,100 other graduates as well. You eventually find your family and closest friends and they showered you with bouquets, a beautiful flower crown, and balloons. They all hug you tightly with congratulations and love. Your father pats you on the head and smiles with pride. Your mother holds your hand, not wanting to let go of the child she had raised who has now graduated university. Another round of picture taking and selfies begin with those closest to you. "Y/N!" You crane your neck to look for the voice of whomever is calling you, but see no one. "Y/N!" This time, it is closer. You look around again, thinking the voice has given you misdirection. "Y/N." You turn around and see another male graduate you are familiar with, but more as a classmate. "Oh, hey, Yoojin! We've finally made it!" "Yeah, finally!" he exclaims. He clears his throat. "Listen, someone is here looking for you." "Who?" "I don't know, but you'll have to follow me." "Oma, I'll be right back," you call out to your mother. "Child, where are you going — " "I'll be right back!" Your mother huffs but has no choice but to let you go. "Okay, Yoojin, let's go." "Take my wrist so we don't get lost." You oblige. Both of you are bumping into everyone everywhere you go and it does not get any easier when you run into people who were in the same department as you and wanted pictures. The same goes for him as he was in the science department. As both of you push by, the crowd becomes less and less dense, leaving a few people scattered by the edges. Most of them are families with professional photographers. By this time, you were able to let go of Yoojin's wrist and walk normally. "I am so sorry I had to drag you out of there," he pants. "But apparently, this person is really eager to see you." "If they were so eager, I'm surprised they didn't fight the crowd," you chuckle. You follow him until the pavement meets the grass. There was a walkway that was heading up to one of the gazebos around the front. "He's waiting for you there." "You're not coming with me?" you ask, surprised. "What if I get kidnapped?" "I'm… sure he's harmless, but just in case, I'll wait here." A thud was felt in your chest. You look to the structure. You cannot really see anyone, but if you squint hard enough, you might make out a silhouette. However, the gazebo's intricate design makes it difficult to see. You begin walking as Yoojin looks on after you. The crowd's noise becomes fainter with every step. The only things you hear now are the birds chirping and the clacking of your heels. As you get closer to the gazebo, you become more hyper-aware of your own heartbeat. You slow to a stop just about 10 steps shy away from the entrance. You take deep breaths to calm your nerves as you play with the academic stole around your neck. You can do this. Just get it over with , you thought. If something bad happens, Yoojin is there. You look back and sure enough, he is still watching you. Gathering your strength, you brusquely walk on and into the entrance. You look around and find someone sitting on the left side of you all in black with a beautiful and abundant bouquet seemingly slipping slowly out of his hand. His head hangs low and his black cap prevents you from seeing his face. Is he… sleeping? You hesitate to step any closer to him. "H-hello?" you call out gingerly. "Are you okay…?" You see the bouquet slipping out of the last finger and you lunge forward to catch it — just in time. In turn, you feel a hand gracing over yours. You snap your head up and slowly, he reveals his face to you. He grins. "Hi." You gasp loudly, making sure the next step was not a scream because that would alert Yoojin. "Wo… Wonho...!" You set the bouquet down on the bench carefully and step back, hands covering your gaping mouth. He pushes himself out of the seat and straightens up. Your eyes cannot stop following him. He takes off his cap as you take on what he was wearing: a tie, dress shirt and skinny fit dress pants complete with a black leather jacket that happens to have a dark red lining on the inside. There also seems to be a subdued color on his dress socks too, matching the inside of his jacket. One thing was different about him. His hair is blond this time, styled like that of Beautiful era. He picks up the bouquet and presents them to you. "Congratulations, Y/N," he says softly. You stare at the flowers as he hands them off to you. You close your eyes and inhale their aroma. "It's so… beautiful," you say breathlessly, looking back up at him. "Why… how come you're here?" "Ah…" He puts his hands in his pants pockets and looks around. "After that night, I wasn't sure if I wanted to leave you. I really wasn't sure about anything. But there was one thing I was really sure about: it's that I like you." Your eyes widen. Are your ears deceiving you? You shake your head. "I'm sorry, you — ?" "I do like you, Y/N," Wonho states. "If — " He lowers his gaze to the ground. "If you're okay with that." Silence falls on the both of you. You have become speechless, awestruck even. This was someone who was your bias for so long, and to stand here, in front of you, admitting to you that he, an idol, likes you… you pinch yourself. You look at him and see he is chewing on his lips nervously. He must have been thinking about this. "I…" you begin. His eyes snap to yours in earnest, eager to listen to anything you have to say. "I am a fan," you declare. "You… are an idol. Is this going to be okay?" "If they have anything to say… I will shut them down. I have done so before. I won't hesitate again." His eyes flashed ice cold for just a split second before returning to the warmth it held. You look between his eyes in bewilderment. He seems very sure of this. He does not seem swayed by any future problems it might hold. He steps closer to you and begins playing with your softly curled hair. He smiles warmly. "So, now that you have more time, and I hope it still isn't so frivolous to you," he begins. "Will you go out with me?" ////////////////////

W O N H O ' S P E R S P E C T I V E // Leaving the Café

(Disclaimer: this will have the majority traditional Asian perspective, so if something seems off or weird to you, this is a very typical thing, as it is with me and almost all of my Asian friends' traditional parents. Please do not take offense.) As he and his mother walk away from the café, Wonho turns his head around to see her, only to find she is no longer there. He sighs with some amount of regret that he had no way of contact with you at all. "Hoseoki, it looks like you were having a lot of fun with that girl," his mother comments. "I have fun with any and all Monbebe, Oma." "Yes, but not as much fun as with her." He shrugs lightly. "My son, your mom may have bad eyesight, but she can see how much you like her," she says in a serious tone, eyeing her boy. "You know you won't be an idol forever, so sooner or later, you will have to settle down, get married with a good wife, and maybe have some grandchildren for me." "Oma!" Wonho's eyes widened in shock. "This is too much too soon!" His mother laughs heartily. "But make sure she is a right fit for you too. Oma doesn't want you to rush either. Oma only wants you to be happy." She pauses. "She seems like a very lovely girl, who is passionate and isn't afraid to pursue what she wants. She is in some ways like you, but has her own charms." "H-how do you know all this?" he asks. "It's only for an hour and it seems you know more than I do." "Oma always knows more." She smiles as she rubs her son's back. "Try to reach out to her again." He sighs in defeat. He realizes she is right. He does like her passion and the dedication she has to her craft, which he can relate to when it comes to his music and fashion. Nothing can hold their creativity back and that gave him a spark. To him, she is grounded in her goals and aspirations, just as he was. He wants to know more about her. He hopes he can. //////////////////// Throughout the rest of the month, Wonho came by the café more often than not to see if she was there in the evening, working away on her project. Unfortunately, to his dismay, anytime he was there, she was nowhere to be found. He tried to appear sometimes in the morning or afternoon as long as his schedule allows, but she was not there either.

His hopelessness grew, and his regret and guilt became stronger as he fell into his bed in the Monsta X's dorm. In the moment of his last drop of desperation, it hit him. He remembers that the portrait of him was her final project. Finalproject. Her graduation project. He shoots up out of bed to find his phone on the charger. He looks up the university website near the café and scrolls through to find the graduation date. He checks it against his schedule to see if he is able to attend. He grins.

#kpop #kpop scenarios #wonho fluff #wonho #lee hoseok #monsta x #monsta x scenarios #art student #fan x idol interaction #wonho scenarios #fluff

40 notes · View notes

raysofcrosby · 5 years

Text

HOMETOWN PT. 3

"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦." – 𝙎𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙝 𝘿𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙣, 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧

𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 (𝘹)

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥: yes and no

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴): just some angst (ofc) and bad language!!

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 7,059

𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺: give me back my hometown by eric church

𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰: i did with you by lady antebellum and what if i never get over you by lady antebellum ( like deadass on an epic repeat plz check out these songs!)

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: if you haven’t read the first two parts, you can find them here and here! okok so this has been rough to write bc i couldn’t figure out how i wanted it to end and whatnot. but it’s done and i’m actually lowkey sad lmao. but don’t worry the angst has come to an end :-) also s/o to @freddiesandersen for showing me ‘what if i never get over you’ bc that song played a huge part in this finale!! ok enjoy :-)

He was dreaming. He had to be dreaming.

There was no way that you were sitting across from him in the diner right now. Maybe he’s not even here right now. Maybe he’s sitting at a table at the reunion, drunk off his ass and just imagining that the two of you were here. Yeah, that’s it...this was all a dream. Josh blinked once, twice and then shook his head as if this entire situation was some shitty etch-a-sketch drawing he could erase. But he wasn’t coming back to his dream reality– he was here, at the diner, this was real.

Which meant you were real.

“This wasn’t exactly how I planned this going…” You said, talking to yourself as you brought the shake towards yourself and took a sip.

He continued to just stare at you and if you didn’t already find it scary, you’d laugh a little bit. But you understood how he was feeling. Hell, you contemplated turning right back around the moment you found him here, but you had a plan, and dammit, you were going to woman up and face your past. Yet the moment you sat down in the booth, it was like every word you’d saved for this very moment over the last 10 years had just dissolved and you were left with a blank slate, which was fucking terrifying. What the hell were you supposed to say to the boy who single-handedly broke your heart 10 years ago with a few measly sentences?

“H-“ Josh cleared his throat, bringing you out of your thoughts, showing that he too was nervous about being here with you. And you didn’t know whether or not to be offended by that or grateful because you weren’t alone. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey yourself,” you replied, sliding the shake back to the center and nudging it more towards him with your index finger. “Want a sip?”

You watched as he eyed the delicious drink, your heart hammering in your chest and hoping that he’d accept it. Maybe it could be the peace offering to start off the conversation. He reached out of it, resting his fingers on the base of the glass. “Strawberry?”

Instinctively you smiled while letting out the breath you’d been holding. “With one scoop of vanilla. Wouldn’t order anything else.”

A corner of his mouth turned up as he brought the glass towards him and took a sip from a separate straw. His eyes were trained on how much of the drink he was taking in, while yours were trained on him. And all you could think at that moment was– He remembered.

Josh could groan in relief right now from how delicious the milkshake was. But instead, he just focused his eyes on the inside of the glass and took a few sips. He couldn’t believe that you remembered the shake the two of you would always share. Yet again, he never forgot either. It’s what deterred him away from anything Strawberry flavored for the last 10 years. At first, it hurt too much to even look at something without thinking about the explosive break up, right here in this very booth. But as the years went by, like all things, it got easier and easier and before he knew it, avoiding it was like walking down the street.

“You know,” He sighed, pulling away from the drink and pushing it back towards you. “This is the first one I’ve had in, God…so long.”

“Really?” You asked, bringing the glass back to you and using your straw to stir it around. “Strawberry is your favorite, though.”

“Yeah well, it didn’t really bring up good memories, so.”

Shit. He thought that sounded too harsh, right? He didn’t mean for it to come across as aggressive as it did– it just kind of…slipped out. He immediately looked at you and felt his throat tighten a little. You weren’t making eye contact with him. Your eyes were focused on the milkshake, just staring into the glass, not even stirring it anymore. He fucked up and he knew it. “So uh, life! How’s life?”

You shrugged your shoulders, keeping your gaze on the glass. Your brain was still trying to process the tone of his voice when he had basically implied that your breakup was the reason he no longer drank Strawberry milkshakes. “Fine, I guess. A lot can happen in 10 years.”

“Yeah…it can.” He replied, sinking down into his seat as he tapped his fingers on the table. He was trying his best to take you in without getting caught; still in disbelief about just how grown up you’d come to be. And that’s when he saw it.

The ring.

At that very moment, Josh could feel his stomach drop into the bottom of his shoes, but he couldn’t even begin to understand why he had that reaction. As far as things were considered, neither of you belonged to the other, so what was it to him that you were marrying another guy? Why was it that picturing you in a white dress, making vows and dancing to your dream first dance song with someone that wasn’t him…was making him feel so hurt?

“That’s a uh…” he cleared his throat and nodded at your hand. “A pretty ring.”

Nice job Josh, that’s a good way to ease into the conversation, he thought. But why was it any of his business to ask further questions about your fiancé? Were you two even friends anymore?

He watched your eyebrows furrow as you looked down at your hand, only for them to soon relax before you looked back up at him. “Thank you, it was my Grandma’s.”

What dude proposes with your own Grandmother’s ring? He thought only for another thought to intervene about just how much your Grandmother meant to you and how romantic and meaningful the gesture would mean. “So who’s the lucky guy?”

He mentally groaned. That could have been said in a less cringe-worthy way.

Your eyebrows furrowed again as you brought your hand up to your face, twisting the ring around your finger. Only then, did he see you begin to blush. “Oh no,” you shook your head, laughing. “I’m not engaged.”

“Oh!” His own eyes went wide before he nodded his head. “Well, that’s good.”

“It is?”

“Well I mean, uh…” He could feel the foot he shoved into his mouth travel further down his throat as he gulped. “Yeah, I don’t know what I mean.”

He kept looking between you and the table, unsure of how you were going to react. And when you just smiled and shrugged, he felt a heavy weight lift off of him.

“I actually always wear it on my right hand when I go to events like this,” you sighed, switching the ring to your opposite hand. “But yesterday, Amy had the bright idea of me wearing it on the left. ‘That way people won’t know you’re still miserably single’ I believe is what she said.”

Josh laughed. “She said that?”

“Oh yeah, but you know her. She’s never had a filter.”

Josh shook his head and let out a relaxed laugh as he watched you fiddle with the ring. “Well has it been?”

“Has what been?”

Josh regretted asking that first question because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to come up with a different question and turn away from the awkward moment he was no doubt, creating. “Being single? Has it been miserable?”

You stared at the ring a little longer before looking at Josh and nodded. “I mean, I’ve met a lot of great guys and I’ve been on dates but nothing ever just felt right, you know?”

Josh knew, hell he fucking knew more than anyone else how you felt. There was a reason why he hadn’t been in a solid relationship since the two of you broke up and it was because nothing ever felt as right as it did when he was with you. The countless hookups and one-night stands held nothing against his years with you and that scared him to death. He wanted the whole shebang one day– wife, kids and a house with a dog or two. But he was terrified that he’d never find that with someone else, who wasn’t you.

“Of course you wouldn’t, Mr. Professional Hockey player,” you joked, shaking your head and letting your hand fall onto the table. “What about you? Any prospective Mrs. Andersons cross your path?”

He knew he could go two ways with this. The first, lie straight through his teeth, play along with your joke and say that he’s found one or two. The second was to tell the truth and open a door to the conversation that the two of you no doubt, both wanted to have, but terrified of doing so. “Nope, not even close. It’s been 10 years and I haven’t really been able to find someone who makes me feel…” He stopped; realizing that a simple ‘No’ would have sufficed and just shook his head. “Never mind.”

An awkward silence fell over the table and you couldn’t help but think about every moment over the last 10 years that you hoped Josh had grown up and was able to own up to your break-up. That by the time the two of you would reunite, things would be easy to talk about. You’d get a fairytale ending without well…the happily ever after standing by his side. But that was not the case. Instead, you got a half-empty milkshake glass, awkward silence and Josh barely able to keep eye contact with you.

You couldn’t help but think that maybe chasing after him was a mistake and his silence wasn’t helping you think any different. “I think I should–“

“Well as I live and breathe,” Mrs. O’Donnell walked up to the booth with her signature friendly smile on her face. “Is that you, Y/N?”

You put on your best smile as you turned to face the elderly woman. “Hi, Mrs. O’Donnell.”

“Oh sweetheart, don’t just greet me. Come give me a hug!”

You stepped out of the booth, thankful for the distraction as you hugged the woman who was like your own Grandmother. “You always give the best hugs, Mrs. O’Donnell.”

She pulled away and cupped your face, keeping her friendly smile on her face. “Gosh, just look at you. You were always such a pretty girl, but you grew up to be a stunning woman.” She turned her head towards the kitchen. “Hal! Hal get out here!”

You shuffled back into the booth, looking at Josh who has his attention still on the table. “What is is Diane?” Mr. O’Donnell replied, coming through the kitchen door.

“Oh shush with the tone and look who’s sitting over here.”

Mr. O’Donnell looked over in your direction and smiled. “Diane, who do you think made Y/N that milkshake?” His eyes moved over to Josh and he walked over. “But this strapping young man, I’ve yet to see. Look at you! Win a Stanley Cup, bring it home and then never come back?”

Josh laughed and stood up out of the booth giving Mr. O’Donnell a hug. “Sorry sir, life’s just been…hectic.”

“Oh cut the shit,” Mr. O’Donnell said, pulling away from him and wagging his finger at him. “You come home more often from now on, okay? You, and the rest of the boys. Who else is going to keep this place in business with their monstrous orders?”

Josh just laughed and nodded sitting back down in the booth. “Oh, will you look at this?” Mrs. O’Donnell smiled, walking three booths down and coming back with a picture frame from the wall, in her hands. “I almost forgot this was added onto the wall.”

She put the picture frame down onto the table in between both you and Josh and your stomach sunk. “Look at the two of you. Gosh, I can’t even remember how long ago this picture was taken, but I do know it was in this very booth!”

“10 years ago…”

“10 years…”

You and Josh looked at one another for a split second before turning your attention back to the picture. It was a picture of the two of you, obviously, with a milkshake sitting in the middle of the table and both of you leaning across the table with smiles on your faces. It’s funny. Josh remembered a lot of things about that fateful day where the two of you broke up– but he didn’t remember Mrs. O’Donnell taking this picture.

He knew it was from that day because, in the picture, you were wearing his Knights shirt, the same one you’d leave on his front porch three days post-breakup and the one that he buried in the bottom of his dresser drawer, never to touch again. He stared at the younger version of himself and wanted to do nothing more than to reach into the picture and yell at him for being such a douchebag. Or at least warn him for what was to come.

He looked at you, trying his best to read your expression. You were never really good at shielding your emotions and that was something he remembered and was now extremely thankful for. Because this could be his way to find out just how you felt about seeing him again…about the break-up, 10 years later. Yet, he didn’t know how to feel once he saw the sadness in your eyes…or at least he didn’t expect him to punch him in the gut as hard as it did.

“You two were the cutest things,” She smiled, picking up the picture frame and looking at the two of you. “It makes my heart happy to see you two sitting here together again, and in the same booth too.”

“We’re closing up in about 15, but you’re more than welcome to stay here. We can just clean everything up and then leave the keys with you so you can lock it up and–“

“No, no uh…” You cleared your throat and pushed the milkshake back towards the center of the table. “That’s fine. I think we’re good here, right?”

Josh furrowed his eyebrows, as he looked at you, both confused and a little bit angry. There was nothing ‘good’ about anything. You hadn’t even had a conversation! “Actually–“

But you were already standing up and giving the two O’Donnell’s warm hugs. “I’ll stop by before I leave again, grab something quick.”

Josh felt like it was all happening again, you leaving him there in the booth with a goodbye and nothing else. He pushed himself out of the booth as you walked out of the door and looked at the couple. “It was nice to see you both again.” He smiled.

Mr. O’Donnell nodded and walked off back into the kitchen and Mrs. O’Donnell grabbed the glass off of the table, grabbing onto Josh’s arm before he could leave. “Josh?”

“Yes, Mrs. O’Donnell?”

Her gaze went off towards the door before returning back to him and immediately he knew what she was going to say. “Girls like her don’t come around often. Now, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but what I do know is how good you were together, friendship wise and relationship wise.” She turned the picture frame towards him and put it into his hands. “It’s not a coincidence that the two of you found your way back here.”

Josh swallowed and looked down at the smiling faces of your younger counterparts. His eyes lingered on your smile and he felt something that he hadn’t felt in a long time– warmth in a place within his heart that nobody had ever been able to reach. He looked up from the picture and nodded. “Thank You, Mrs. O’Donnell.”

He turned away from her and ran out of the door, stopping on the sidewalk and looking out in the parking lot for you. He spotted you halfway across the parking lot, making your way out to the street. “Y/N, wait!”

“Go back inside Josh, please.” You replied, keeping your back to him, but he wasn’t oblivious to the emotion in your voice. You were crying…or at least had cried since you left the diner.

“Y/N, please we need to talk.”

“I don’t want to.”

He could feel the frustration from the last few hours begin to bubble up inside of him. “That’s why you came here, isn’t it? To talk about what happened?”

You had reached the street corner and stood beneath the street light, keeping your back to him and subtly wiping your cheeks. “Just forget it, Josh, it was a mistake, okay?”

“No, I’m not going anywhere because I want to know why you came all the way here, leaving the reunion early. I know you had people you wanted to see and catch up with. Hell, you liked more of those people than I ever did. And yet here you are, away from your old friends and the party to talk to me and you run away…again.”

You kept silent as his steps grew closer and his voice louder. “Stop shutting me out, Y/N. You don’t get to do that, not when you came here to find me!”

You whipped around and faced him, not caring if your eyes were still letting the small tears fall. “I didn’t think it’d still hurt!” You yelled, a small sob escaping from your throat. “I-I thought that maybe I was over it all. That 10-years was long enough f-for me to get over how you broke me into pieces, but it turns out the joke is on me,”

You lifted your arms, only to let them drop to your side again. “Seeing you at the reunion was like every good memory from our relationship flashing in front of me like a movie.” You wiped beneath your nose and shook your head. “But seeing you sitting in that booth again…it was like reliving that day. Only this time, it somehow hurt a whole lot worse.”

For the first time, you took into account just how close Josh was to you. He was standing maybe two steps away from you and you could smell the hint of scotch from his breath and feel the heat radiating off of him. He looked like he wanted to say something and the struggle behind his eyes was showing just how badly he was fighting with himself on whether to stay silent or speak up.

When he didn’t say a word, you just nodded and laughed. “Figures you have nothing to say Josh. 10 years later and yet you still act like you’re 18-years-old,” you turned away from him only to turn right back around, thinking of more to say. “I hated the fact that our breakup ruined me as bad as it did. I’ve met great guys, guys who would make amazing boyfriends and amazing husbands. Who’d treat me right and who’d listen to me and not jump to conclusions, but I can’t allow myself to get attached to them.”

“Do you want to know why Josh? Why I can’t allow myself to open up and care for these amazing men?” You walked towards him and shoved a finger into his chest. “Because of you. Because you basically attacked me with accusations of holding you back that day in the diner. When all I did was give myself, my hopes and my dreams, for you– and you go and switch it around on me.”

You shoved him back with your whole palm, the tears stinging in your eyes as he allowed you to hit him. “I hated you for making me feel like that. I hated you for making me so scared of opening up to another man because I was terrified that somehow, even if the situation was nowhere near as similar– it’d end the exact same way.”

Car headlights caught your attention and you sniffled, wiping your eyes as the car pulled up. “Y/N L/N?” The driver asked through their rolled down the passenger window.

“That’s me,” You said, adjusting your jacket and opening the back passenger door. You turned back to Josh and looked at him through teary eyes. “Why did you have to come after me?”

He just stared at you, not saying anything, so you shook your head and sniffled again. “Goodbye, Josh.”

Josh stood there, frozen in place as he watched you get into the car and drive away. When the car was far enough away, he clenched his fists and screamed into the night sky. Once. Twice. Multiple times before he even felt a slight weight lift off of his shoulders, only for it to crash right back down. You were right there, pouring your heart out to him and he wanted to reach out and take you into his arms so fucking bad, but he couldn’t get himself to move. He couldn’t even get himself to speak.

He ordered an uber back to the school, not bothering to go back inside and see if you had rejoined your old classmates. Instead, he got back into his truck and drove away from his own personal hell. Part of him wanted to just get up and leave, he had the opportunity to do it, and had, by all means, fulfilled his promise to his friends by attending the reunion. Yet he couldn’t ignore the feeling inside of him that was telling him to stay.

And so he did. Pulling up into the driveway of his childhood home, he sat in the car and stared off at your parents’ house just two doors down. Were you inside? Would your parents remember him? God, did they know how bad things ended all those years ago and hate you now? Pulling the keys out of his ignition, he got out of the car and opened the back door, grabbing his suitcase and closing it soon after. He walked up to the front door, hoping it wasn’t too late and that his parents weren’t asleep yet. Then he’d have to hear the lecture about forgetting his copy of the house key back at his apartment in Columbus. He felt a sense of relief when it was his mom who answered the door and no sooner than she opened it, was he in her arms, giving her a hug.

“Oh!” She said, obviously caught by surprise, returning his hug just seconds later. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Damn it. Now he was wishing that it was his dad who answered the door instead. He should have known she’d read him like a book. “I saw Y/N.”

He could feel her stiffen but keep him in a firm hug as she rubbed his back. “How did that go?”

He could feel his right foot begin to shake as he got anxious and he knew that he was only moments away from his emotions taking over. He took a shuddered breath, holding her a little tighter. “It really fucking hurt.”

“Josh, I need you to be honest when I ask this, okay?” The more she rubbed his back, the more he relaxed into her embrace and with one shuddered inhale, his exhale was a small sob– the first time he’d ever remembered crying about your break-up since it happened. She pulled back, bringing a hand to cup the right side of his face. “Do you still love her?”

When he looked her in the eyes he could hear your words echoing in his head and how bad the guilt from what he did to you 10 years ago was weighing him down. “It doesn’t matter Mom, she hates me.”

She gave him a small smile and brushed back the hair out of his face. “Oh Josh, I don’t think she could hate you even if she tried.” She sighed and patted him on the cheek, nodding into the house. “Come sit down and tell me what happened. Your dad is out in the shop.”

And just like that, for the first time in a really long time, Josh loved being home. He knew he missed both of his parents, but talking to his mom about you and telling her what had happened at the diner with his friends, the reunion and ultimately your blowup on the street– he felt a little bit lighter, but that lingering feeling was still sinking him down. But perhaps telling his mom everything was the best thing because she was able to give him a perspective. Not your full perspective, of course, but a female perspective in general. Plus it helped that she and your mom were best friends, so she had some insight on how your life has been the last 10 years.

As he stared up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom, he couldn’t stop thinking about what she had told him. How after College you had gotten your dream job in Detroit– only a mere three and a half hours away from him.

How you tried dating and ended up dating a really good guy a few years back, one that your parents thought was going to propose and how you broke it off with no reason, at least no reason to them.

How you were doing pretty successful in the said job and that your parents were shocked when you had requested to be transferred to Toronto out of the blue just last month.

He learned of your life of the last 10 years, one that sounded like you’d reached every dream he knew that you had and he was happy for you, he really was. Yet the one thing that perhaps was bothering him the most, was that you were in Detroit this entire time. You had been so close to him, yet so far. If he had known, maybe he would have reached out and talked about things sooner, invited you to a game. And maybe things wouldn’t have been like this. Maybe you’d be civil towards each other, friends even. You wouldn’t have screamed at him in a parking lot.

And he couldn’t help but think on the happily ever side that maybe, just maybe if he knew you were so close, he would have reached out and the two of you would have cleared the air and ended up back in one another’s arms again. But that’s exactly what it was: a fairytale, and unless you’re the Royal Family, that shit didn’t exist.

He sighed and his eyes, already adjusted to the darkness of his room, wandered over to his dresser that was no doubt still full of clothes he hasn’t touched in years. He couldn’t help but wonder though, if the one thing he had hidden in there was in fact, still there. Pushing himself out of bed, he felt his joints ache in ways that no 28-year-old’s joints should and he walked quietly over to the mahogany dresser. Using the flashlight on his phone, he propped it up against a picture frame and opened the second drawer.

As expected, it was full of old t-shirts he hadn’t worn in years, including the one you’d given back to him. He pushed them all aside, flipping them up as he looked for it, but it wasn’t there. He sighed, thinking maybe that it was in the third drawer. Flipping through old shorts, again, he came up empty. His eyes settled on the top drawer and he mentally cursed himself for being such a typical boy. Opening it, he flipped through the countless pairs of boxers and briefs, coming to a stop when he lifted up his old, favorite Stewie boxers.

He smiled and picked up the black velvet box, opening it to reveal the golden chain with the matching locket and charm of his number, nestled inside. The very same one you had dropped onto the table in front of him 10 years prior before telling him to ‘have a nice life’ and walking out of his life, seemingly forever. He didn’t even have to try to be able to remember the day he gave it to you.

The locket, one his mom had helped him pick out, was a gift for your 16th birthday and an early 1-year anniversary present. His mom had picked out her favorite picture of the two of you to go on one side and he left the other side up to you. That Christmas, coincidentally, the clasp on the necklace had broken and he took the opportunity and told you he’d get it fixed for you. And he did, but when he gave it back to you at the old park, it was wrapped up in a small box, this black velvet box, and had an additional charm on it– his number.

Up until the moment you left it on the booth table that night at the diner, you had never taken it off. And besides seeing it on display in a store, Josh had never seen it anywhere else, but on your neck. Which is why, when you gave it back to him, he put it back into the box and shoved it in his underwear drawer. Not wanting to see it because it only reminded him of how much of a jerk he was to you.

Seeing it and holding it now though, was a whole different story. While he was easily reminded of the way you looked at him and the sound the locket made when it dropped against the table– all he could think about was the way your eyes gleamed when he’d given it to you the first time. How excited you were about printing out the perfect picture for the other side. The way you giggled when you noticed the added charm on the chain and told him you’d ‘wear it forever.’

Since he arrived back in town, even though most times he wasn’t really aware of it, you were on his mind. Just like Tucker said, this place held so many memories, everywhere he went, he swore he could see younger versions of the two of you there too. It’s been 10 years. 10 years of pointless hookups, miserable nights spent drinking away a pain the alcohol was never able to touch, and even the joy of winning the Stanley Cup couldn’t ease it. Yet, it only took him 10 minutes of being back in the town he tried so hard to put behind him, to realize that you were it.

You were the one thing he’d been missing all of this time. The ache in his heart, he could never seem to fix. The reason why every failed attempt at trying to fill a void with mindless sex never worked out. You were his person. His endgame. His, once in a lifetime, girl.

You were it for him and he still loves you.

──

The next morning, working off what little sleep he had gotten, Josh greeted his parents, ate his moms cooking while downing a cup of coffee or two and then raced over to your house. He had hoped that by the time he knocked on your front door, you’d be awake and maybe even answer the door, but that wasn’t the case. Your mother greeted him instead and gave him a hug, a reaction he was surprised to receive– which possibly meant that you hadn’t fully disclosed why your relationship ended so long ago.

After cordial greetings with her and your father, Josh asked if you were home. His heart sank the moment they told him no, that you were out and about. But when he asked if they knew where you were going and your mother told you, a sense of hope rose within him.

You were exactly where they said you’d probably be which only made his hope grow a little more. You had your back turned to him, sitting on the swing set on the old park that overlooked the lake where he had kissed you for the first time.

Your park.

He took deep breaths trying to calm his racing heart as he made his way over to you, unsure of how to greet you when he got close enough. Should he say hi? Jump right into a conversation? Maybe just turn around and call it a day? He came to a stop only a few feet behind you and watched as the wind whisked a few pieces of your hair behind you. Your shoes were dragging in the woodchips, keeping your swing in place, but giving yourself small pushes every now and then.

With each second he stood there, he could feel his heart rate begin to rise. But he was going to do this. He needed to do this. “It killed me,” your swing had stopped and your body had perked up at the sound of his voice. He cleared his throat and took another deep breath, closing his eyes only for a moment before returning his gaze back to you. “Seeing you at the reunion…it killed me. Hell, even thinking about running into you at the reunion killed me.”

“Josh…”

“No, Y/N,” His voice was raised, a sign his emotions were taking over. So he did what you and his mom always had him do: close his eyes, count to ten and take three deep breaths. He opened them again to see you with your back to him still and he had to admit, he was disappointed. “You had your turn to talk and I listened, now it’s my turn.”

“It killed me, the thought of seeing you and actually seeing you because I know how bad I fucked up back then,” He exhaled, feeling his chest quiver. “I know how bad I hurt you when I suggested that you were trying to drag my career down, but I was 18 and a total fucking idiot.”

“I’m not making excuses, understand that. Back then I had the NHL draft, London putting pressure on me to stay, I was trying to figure out what my family thought was best…and you. I had to think about you and what would benefit our relationship the best to where we could both follow our dreams. It killed me to hear that you didn’t apply to UBC, Y/N because I knew that was your dream school. You’d been wearing your dad’s old hoodie since you were 9 and suddenly, you didn’t apply?”

You hadn’t made an effort to turn around to face him, which Josh couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But he wasn’t going to question it, he wanted to get out everything he needed to say…even if it turned out that you had blocked him out the entire time.

“I was 18, I was naïve and selfish and I attacked you over something I had no knowledge of because I was stressed, insecure and I didn’t want to think that I was the reason you weren’t following your dream when I was able to follow mine. It was fucked up and I know that now and I’m so fucking sorry.” He took a deep breath and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Hell, it’s been haunting me for the last decade, Y/N.”

“You know how we were talking about relationships? And you said I fucked you up? Well, I guess I fucked myself up too because I haven’t been able to even consider a relationship with a girl since you. I’ve had meaningless sex, drank myself into blackouts– hell even winning the Stanley fucking Cup wasn’t able to fill the void you left in me.”

He swore he could hear you sniffling, that or it was just his imagination getting to him. He didn’t want to make you cry, that was the last thing he wanted. But maybe, he thought, maybe it was a good sign because that meant you still cared. You still felt the slightest way that he did.

“I want to get married. I want kids. Two, three, six– I don’t care, but I know I want a family. I want a dog, a beautiful house in a city I love– hell maybe even a cliché ass white picket fence. I want it so fucking bad, I know that I do. But the thing is,” he took a few more steps closer to you, wanting to make sure you were hearing what he was saying. “I can’t seem to find a single person that gives me a feeling like you did when I was with you. All of that stuff? It’s you. In my 10 years of being single, you’re the only girl I ever saw that happening with.”

This time he was sure you were crying. He didn’t know if you knew how close behind you he was, but he could see the movements of your hands coming up to your face to wipe your cheeks and your sniffles being carried through the summer air.

“I know about Grayson, my mom told me. She said that your parents thought that the two of you were it– that he’d propose and you’d get married. That you seemed…” he took a deep breath, not wanting to imagine you marrying someone that wasn’t him for it hurt too damn much. “That you seemed happy and in love, but that you broke it off and never gave them a reason why. But I think that you do and I think that I do too.”

“You couldn’t go on with him because somewhere in your heart, whether it be deep down or right there on the surface, you knew the truth. That it’s been 10 years and somehow, you still haven’t forgotten about me or all of the times that we had and it scares you.” He walked up to the empty swing beside you and dug into his pocket, bringing out the black velvet box with your necklace inside. He placed it down onto the empty seat and backed away. “It scares you that you still love me…just like I still love you. It’s been 10 years for me too Y/N and I swear on everything…I’ve never been able to forget you. You’ve still got my whole heart.”

As he stared at your back, he could feel the weight from holding everything in begin to lift off of his shoulders. That was it, that was everything he had to say and now all he had to do was wait and see if you said anything back. Seconds went by and you hadn’t even looked at the swing beside you to see what he had put down. He sucked in his bottom lip and nodded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts as he went to walk away.

He turned back and took a deep breath, deciding to say one final thing. “I leave tomorrow night to go back to Columbus. I know that you don’t owe me anything, especially since what happened was all my fault…but I’ll be at the diner around 1:30 tomorrow to grab something before I head off...”

With one last look, he nodded his head and turned away from you, walking all the way back to his car knowing that he did all that he could. If you wanted to talk to him, you knew where he’d be. And if you didn’t show up, he’d know that it was time to start putting effort into moving on.

But God, he really hoped you’d show up.

──

Another night of restless sleep had Josh looking like a zombie that afternoon when he walked into the diner and headed over to all too familiar booth. Not even the three cups of coffee with his breakfast this morning could have masked just how late his thoughts about you and whether or not that you’d show up, had kept him up.

Mrs. O’Donnell had greeted him with a warm hug and a strawberry milkshake with two straws already placed on the table. He didn’t know what she knew, but if there was one thing he was grateful for, it was how hopeful and positive she was that this thing…whatever it was, would work out between you two.

He had ordered a basket of fries to munch on as he repeatedly checked his watch and grew more anxious as the time neared 1:30. Maybe it wasn’t smart, suggesting that she come to the diner– maybe he should have picked a different spot. At least, that’s what he was telling himself so he didn’t have to face the only truth– that she didn’t want to come because there was no way she could forgive him or even see herself with him after everything that happened.

He was halfway through with his fries and the whipped cream on the shake was starting to melt when he looked at his phone again.

1:40.

The bell above the door rang out, but he didn’t turn around. No matter how much he wanted it to be you, he knew that there was no chance that it could have been. The place was packed and he was sure that it was just another table leaving or another family coming in for some food for the day.

He sighed and popped another fry into his mouth before taking a sip of the milkshake, letting the taste linger as if he was drinking it for the last time. When he went to reach in for his wallet to grab some cash, he saw someone place something in the middle of the table. When he looked at it, he saw that it was the black velvet box, opened…and empty. His head shot up to see you standing there, wearing that old UBC sweatshirt and your hair tossed up and out of your face.

Peeking out from the collar of your sweatshirt was a gold chain and though he couldn’t see what hung from it, he knew was it was. The empty box told him.

You took a deep breath and sat yourself down, unwrapping the second straw and plopping it into your shared milkshake, tossing the wrapper off to the side and looking up at him with a small, but hopeful smile. “Third time’s a charm, right?”

#josh anderson #josh anderson imagine #josh anderson oneshot #columbus blue jackets imagine #columbus blue jackets oneshot #columbus blue jackets writing #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl oneshot #hockey imagine #hockey writing #hockey oneshot #oof i didn't proof read so yikes #my writing

211 notes · View notes

evanstandefensesquad-blog · 7 years

Text

Paper Moon Part 15

MB - @thecountessakasha - back again. I hope you’re ready for Part 15! There’s no smut, it’s literally all fluff, so apologies in advance.

I’m going to tag a couple people who I’ve told about this and my really special love who keeps betaing this for me @evansscruff - thank you, darling.

A/N: Bucky and Steve end up at a venue that has a 40s night and meet an OFC, Melissa Rose, a singer in a local club. They both are smitten by her, and start to vie for her affections. They end up finding out more about themselves in the process.

This honestly started out as maybe a one shot but as I got going, I decided it’ll be chapters. How many? No frigging idea. This is my absolute first time writing a fic of any sort and yes I did base the OFC on myself. I hope y'all enjoy.

Word count: 3300+ because I am a wordy bitch.

Warnings: FLUFF to the Goddamn max. Gonna rot your teeth. Oh, and cussing. Like always.

STEVE’S POV

To say that the past few months were rough would be an understatement. Word got out about Bucky and me; and that, of course, led to word getting out about Melissa, Bucky, and me. It was strange; there was almost no animosity aimed at him and me, but just as she predicted, there was plenty aimed at her. People had taken to the Internet and the airwaves to voice their opinion of the “old” woman whom they decided was “ruining Steve and Bucky’s happiness” by “insinuating herself” between us.

Hate mail piled up at the club for her. She quit checking it altogether. Bucky would always gather the multitude of envelopes and go through them to sort out what was important and what was trash. Let me tell ya, her recycling bin has been packed full.

People would pop up at her shows to heckle and ridicule her. Finally, the owner raised the ticket prices and added extra bouncers which helped. Though on the plus side, more people came to actually see her perform. She wowed every single one of them. There were rumors of other places looking to steal her away, but she had vowed to never abandon Club Onyx. Or the owner. He’d been far too good to her and she appreciated it more than he would ever know.

The fact that she’s stuck with us is astonishing to me. And every day I fall deeper because of it. She’s so much stronger than she thinks. Not to say there haven’t been some rough patches. Her depression took over, and at times we couldn’t even get her to speak. There were days upon days when she just refused to get out of bed. Pretty sure she’s upped her rum intake. Even now she’s rarely, if ever, seen outside of the club without Bucky unless it’s to come to the tower. But for the most part we’ve really weathered the storm.

I think the biggest change has been with Bucky. He’s no longer chomping at the bit to take every mission he can get his hands on, trying to keep his mind on anything other than his life. He’s actually been turning down those offered to stay with Melissa during this tumultuous beginning.

For the first time since coming back from Wakanda, the light has truly returned to his eyes. And it’s her. Well, I mean it’s probably me, too. Us. But I really think it’s Melissa more than anything. She’s changed him. Made him more comfortable in his skin. Shown him that there’s more to “Bucky” than just “The Winter Soldier”.

He’s taken to staying at her place more and more. So have I, just not quite as often. It’s not like I get as many opportunities to turn down missions as he does. Part of the mantle of being Captain America, as Natasha is fond of reminding me.

I spend every moment I can with the both of them. Usually at her place. Not because we’re unwelcome at the tower. Far from it. Everyone would like it if we came around more often. They all really like Melissa. Especially Nat, Wanda, Clint, and Sam.

She finally got to meet Thor and was practically gushing about it. She couldn’t stop asking him questions about Asgard, what it’s really like there. She knew all the myths, of course. And how often do you get to meet a god? He in turn, is quite taken with her. Much to Bucky’s dismay.

It’s amazing the effect she has on people. She puts it off as the “southern thing”. Like she’s a novelty. As if that’s the only reason everyone here just adores her. That’s a piece of it, sure, but not all. She’s simply … captivating.

The night after Melissa first came to the tower, we had everyone out to the club to see her perform. Her nerves were on edge all day long.Because of that Bucky and I tried everything we could to keep her calm. She ended up going for a walk, alone, to clear her head. She puts so much pressure on herself.

A good bit of time had passed but Melissa still hadn’t made it back. I was starting to get really worried. Bucky suggested that I head back to the tower to make sure everyone was ready for the evening and that he’d go look for her.

He found her instantly, of course. She’d gone to a little park she discovered one of her first days in New York. It’s a place she and Bucky like to go when they need quiet and anonymity. They’ll put on hoodies and sunglasses and do their best to hide from the world and just sit in the middle of the park, right on the grass. Most times, they don’t even speak. They just exist there in that moment.

Bucky had gathered her up and walked her back to the apartment. The night went off without a hitch and the club received a boost of publicity due to our attendance.

I’ve noticed a change in myself as well. I’m sure Bucky and the others have seen it. I’m not as reckless. That’s the main thing. The idea of not coming back to the two people I love more than anything in this world is a very sobering thought indeed. The mere notion that I would irrevocably hurt them by not returning from a mission is too much to bare.

There are selfish reasons, too. To never be able to look into her dazzling green eyes again, or his shimmering blue ones cuts me to the core. That I wouldn’t be able to touch them, to see them smile, hear their laughter, or the noises they make in the heat of passion is like a stab in the gut.

My world revolves around them. Melissa and Bucky. My twin dark muses. Mes deux muses sombre, as she would say. They hold my heart in their hands. I am nothing without them and I strive every day to show them what they mean to me.

It’s to that end that I’ve decided to surprise them with some gifts. The first one is a simple thing; a sketchbook full of little drawings of the two of them doing mundane activities. Some are individual. Snippets of our everyday lives. Melissa lying in the middle of the living room floor, sheet music strewn around her, forgotten as she buries her nose in some book about Irish peat farmers. Bucky draped across the sofa, headphones on, feet kicking away to the beat of a “new to him” song that she’d turned him on to.

Some are of them together. Bucky is sitting crossed legged on the floor with his back against the overstuffed recliner while Melissa’s legs and arms are wrapped around him as she’s perched in the chair. His head tilted and resting against her thigh as they binge watch House of Cards, discussing what they’d like to do with Claire and Francis. The pair of them in the little kitchen, dancing and singing while they cook dinner for the three of us.

Once I snuck up on them in their little park and sketched them there, laying back on the grass, hoodies and sunglasses on. I watched their chests rise and fall with their breathing, wondering what they’d talked about, what they had been thinking about. Melissa was unaware of my presence, but I’m sure Bucky knew. You can’t fool the super soldier senses, after all.

The other gift is much, much bigger. It’s really a gift for the three of us. I’ve purchased an old brownstone in Brooklyn and am having it renovated into a single dwelling. This dual residence life is wearing on us. We need our own place, private, away from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan and the tower. Melissa needs to be able to detach herself from the club. She’s finally gotten the hang of the subway, so I feel confident she’ll be fine with the move. As for Bucky, he’ll be over the moon. He’s been wanting to move back home. And now I can give that to him.

Tony has decided to throw me a big birthday bash this weekend, so I’m going make the announcement then. Probably doesn’t make much sense for me to be giving gifts on my own birthday, but like I said, this is for all of us.

I can’t wait to see their faces.

BUCKY’S POV

I feel like the luckiest man alive. How I ever was good enough to deserve the pair of them, I’ll never understand. Steve, all the hell he went through to bring me back. He fought the world for me. Not many people can say that about their lover. I am his forever.

And Melissa. My beloved Angel. Her love has forged me into the man I am. The one I was meant to be. The longer I’m with her the harder I fall. She believes in me. I cannot explain what that means, how that affects every action I take.

I’ve been spending more and more time with her, staying at her place. I should really just move in with her. She’s suggested it several times and each time I brush it off; I feel like I’m imposing. But I feel far more comfortable at her apartment than I do at the tower. There I feel like a visitor. Not a true part of the team. At her place, it feels like home. Especially when Steve’s able to stay with us.

Melissa and I like to take care of Steve when he’s around. The missions wear him down so we do our best to help him relax when he’s home with us. It feels good to care for him again, like I used to when we were young.

One of my favorite parts about spending so much time with her is having someone to just be with. We go for walks, we do the shopping, we take in movies, we cook meals, we explore the city. She does try to keep herself incognito, because of everything. I dare someone to try something while I’m around. It’s mundane and domestic and I fucking love every second of it.

No missions, no emergencies. Because of her I feel like a normal person. I’ve even been more comfortable about showing my arm in public. Melissa’s not afraid of it and she always, always makes sure that’s the hand she holds.

She sees herself as undeserving of both Steve and me. Especially after all the shit we’ve been through recently; she feels like it’s all her fault. Oh, but she’s wrong. So very wrong. She deserves the goddamn world on a silver platter. And I aim to give it to her.

I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out a way to show her what she means to me. How she’s helped me, how deeply I’ve fallen for her.

Pieces of my life from before have been coming back periodically, and something I’ve discovered recently is that I can play piano. Not only can I play, I’m actually quite good. I’ve been sneaking downstairs to the club while it’s closed with handfuls of her sheet music to practice. Steve has caught me a few times. He must forget that he can’t sneak up on me. He’s never interrupted or bothered me, merely observes, more than likely sketching.

There’s a point to all this. I have quite the surprise for her. I want to play for her, with her. I can’t sing for shit, but I don’t need to. It’s her voice everyone wants. She’s the real star. I just want to be a part of it, to back her up, support her. And it calms me, I really enjoy it.

I’ve been working on one song in particular. I’m going to spring it on her at Steve’s party. By chance I heard her singing it in the shower one morning. She likes to practice there; the acoustics are phenomenal. The piece makes use of her smokey, lower vocals. Mmmm, her voice is like Tupelo honey. I am awestruck every time I’m blessed to hear it. The lyrics themselves, well let’s just say I can picture her saying these things to me and Steve.

I’ve got something for Steve too, of course. It’s hard to think of things to give him, the man who sacrificed everything he had, everything he was, to save me. But I know what makes him happy, what centers him. Anything art related. Anything.

So, with the help of Tony and Natalia, I was able to get a private tour of the Museum of Modern Art for Steve, Melissa, and myself. The card with all the arrangements will be hidden in a whole shitload of art supplies Melissa and I bought for his upcoming birthday.

And well, since we can’t resist, Steve and I have also conspired to give her a gift from the both of us. One we know she’ll appreciate more than anyone else probably ever would. We’re going to give her each one of our dog tags to wear. The originals. We … acquired them from the Smithsonian. Like they would refuse Captain America anything.

If it seems overly sentimental and nostalgic, well, tough shit. I think Steve and I have earned that right. Melissa will understand the significance. She’s a military brat coming from a long line of veterans stretching all the way back to the Revolutionary War. She gets it and I honestly don’t care if anyone else does. Just thinking of her wearing them makes me heart soar.

I love discovering little things about her. I love how she leads me to rediscover things about myself. I love watching her and Steve together, even if it’s just them doing something as simple as lounging together on the floor, books on history surrounding them as they pour over the words. Their heated discussions will go on for hours; I learn more from listening to them than I ever would reading on my own.

The way she looks at him when she doesn’t think anyone is watching her. Him doing the same. The way she’ll sit still, posing for hours on end for him while he draws or paints her. Most times it ends up with her teasing him mercilessly until he drops his tools and quiets her with passionate kisses.

And oh the way we all seamlessly flow into one another in the bedroom. Sometimes with heated, fiery, gnawing need. Sometimes with giggles and laughter until we can’t take it anymore. It has never felt so natural, so right.

I love these idiots more than I could ever express. I would be lost without them.

MELISSA’S POV

My boys, my beloved boys.

I can’t believe they’re mine. I can’t believe they’re still with me after six months of insanity. Six months of all the hate and worry and stress. I can’t believe Bucky has given up missions to stay by my side. I can’t believe Steve continually professes his love for me. I can’t believe they put up with all my baggage. My anxiety, my depression, my health issues.

Without even realizing it, I have fallen head over heels in love with them. Happiness, something that has always been elusive in my life, is now a constant. Which of course leads to the occasional panic attack, since my brain can’t wrap itself around the notion that I deserve this happiness and likes to construct various scenarios where I lose one or the both of them. Either on a mission or from them simply growing tired of me and leaving.

Nightmares haunt me every now and then, my fears manifesting themselves in my subconscious. I’ll thrash and sweat and full on cry until Bucky finally wakes me. He’ll hold me tightly to him as he waits for me to calm down, all the while whispering to me how he’s here, he’s real, he’s not going anywhere, how much he loves me.

One such incident happened when both Steve and Bucky were home. It must have been a particularly powerful one as it nearly sent Steve into a panic before Bucky explained what was happening and showed him how to deal with it. It took the both of them to bring me back around that night.

Bucky puts up with my shit every time we leave the apartment. Hiding myself under hoodies and sunglasses and baggy clothes. He understands. He was at that point himself not long ago. God, he takes such good care of me; he always makes sure I’m comfortable with it all, that I feel safe, loved.

And the way Steve dotes on me, I’ve never had someone so attentive to my each and every desire. Sometimes before I even know what they are. He has a knack for knowing exact what I need when I need it.

Things like that. Dealing with me on days where I couldn’t even function inside my depression. Nights when my anxiety was so high I would just drink myself into a stupor and couldn’t even perform.

And through it all they’re still committed to me. Because of that I’ve taken on my own mission. To keep them happy any way I can. To give in to every whim or wish they might ever have. If it’s in my capacity to do, then it’s done. Period. No questions asked.

These two, I know they have something up their sleeves. They may be super soldiers but they’re shit at keeping secrets. Something fishy’s going on. And Nat! Oh my god, she’s been teasing me to no end about something she knows that I don’t.

She and I have become quite close. Oh, she is fiercely protective of me, too. I adore her. And Wanda and Sam and Clint. They’ve been so, so great to me. The other members of the team have as well, but these guys. Well, let’s just say they’re by far my closest friends here in the city.

I’ve got news for my two big boys. They’re not the only ones who can be sneaky. I’ve got something up MY sleeve. With Steve’s birthday party coming up, I’ll make some time before we leave to give them their presents. I want it to be special, something just between the three of us.

Of course Bucky and I went overboard on our joint gift. We have a tendency to indulge Steve quite often. I’m not sure all the art supplies we bought are even going to fit into the area we’ve cleared out in the living room for his makeshift studio. Oh well. I’m sure he’ll deal just fine. I can’t wait till he sees what we’ve done.

As for my gifts to the pair of them, I hope they’re comfortable wearing jewelry. I didn’t get anything fancy, or gaudy. That’s just not our style. With that thought in mind, I’ve I found a pair of matching stainless steel cuffs. They’re small, like a little bracelet, but you attach them with screws. And I hold the screwdriver.

On the inside of Steve’s I’ve had engraved Mon Soleil. Bucky’s sports Ma Lune. My Sun and My Moon. My two very large, powerful, all consuming forces.

The light and the dark.

Watching them together is one of my major addictions. I love catching each of them looking at the other. It’s like they have a silent language. They’re always in sync. Whether it’s cleaning the apartment, binge watching a show, or when we’re in the bedroom. It’s like they have one mind.

They speak often of having claimed me. Getting me before anyone else could. Snatching me off the market. As if I was even on the damn market to begin with. It always makes me laugh and shake my head. But, if they’ve claimed me then I’ve done the same to them. They’re mine and I will defend that claim all the rest of my days.

I’m with them to the end of the line.

Tagging:

@alievans007 @buckysbackpackbuckle @justareader @anice-1 @hardcollectiontrashworld @always-an-evans-addict @mewsiex

Thanks everyone!

#mb posts #my fic #paper moon #bucky x ofc x steve #bucky x ofc #steve x ofc #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut #thecountessakasha #polyamory

3 notes · View notes

tsfrbss · 7 years

Text

Paper Moon Part 15

MB - @thecountessakasha - back again. I hope you’re ready for Part 15! There’s no smut, it’s literally all fluff, so apologies in advance. And don’t worry, their saga will continue.

Word count: 3300+ because I am a wordy bitch.

Warnings: FLUFF to the Goddamn max. Gonna rot your teeth. Oh, and cussing. Like always.

STEVE’S POV

Bucky had gathered her up and walked her back to the apartment. The night went off without a hitch and the club received a boost of publicity due to our attendance.

I can’t wait to see their faces.

BUCKY’S POV

I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out a way to show her what she means to me. How she’s helped me, how deeply I’ve fallen for her.

I love these idiots more than I could ever express. I would be lost without them.

MELISSA’S POV

My boys, my beloved boys.

On the inside of Steve’s I’ve had engraved Mon Soleil. Bucky’s sports Ma Lune. My Sun and My Moon. My two very large, powerful, all consuming forces.

The light and the dark.

I’m with them to the end of the line.

#submitted #submission #story sunday #thecountessakasha

0 notes

reylofanfictionanthology · 3 years

Photo

TO FIND YOUR KISS - AUTHOR REVEALS!

Here are your authors for this year’s exchange!

To Find Your Kiss collection on AO3 | Treats Masterpost

GIFT FIC MASTERPOST

- Reap the Stars by XarisEirene for abbytheatre08

He will be remembered, and they will not.

Call him The Light Bearer and Joy Giver. Call him He Who Loved and Laid Down His Life. Call him Ben.

- we are question marks that hang above the endless unexplained by LittleLostStar for AlwaysEverlark

- Eighty Bucks Says Sweetheart by strangeallure for Amoreusou

Ben likes puzzles. Rey needs help with a bunch of them. Good thing it's a slow day at the office.

- Seldom Visions by SpaceWaffleHouseTM for Andrina_Nightshade

- The Dyad by Lady_of_Haven for aneighthdomain

- The Delegation by Vivien for aNerdObsessed

A humanitarian delegation from Naboo arrives at Niima Outpost. Rey is skeptical, to say the least.

- Saudade: The Love That Remains by shipperofdarkness for AnneAnna

Saudade (n.) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost; "the love that remains"

In those first few weeks, everything had been muddled in a haze as the Resistance tried to rebuild all that had been lost. Rey had buried herself in the work. It’s what she’d always done. Don’t think of your parents, don’t think of waiting, scavenge and repeat.

But it’s different.

Her parents hadn’t wanted her.

He had.

Her parents hadn’t loved her.

He had.

And in his wake, the wound had split Rey’s soul to the bone, like the scar she’d given him all those moons ago. It's a blessing. And a curse. And all she has left. It’s the love that remains.

- i don't want you like a best friend by irridesca for anopendoor

But Rey can’t really be upset—and she is totally, unequivocally not upset—that Ben's bringing someone because, well.

She is, too.

- Love is Weakness by crossingwinter for bittersnake

“He’s someone I found on my recent trip to Corellia,” Rey replies placidly, her face practiced in its boredom. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Love is weakness,” her grandfather reminds her, the way he has for years. It’s why he doesn’t love her. He will not be weak. It’s why she doesn’t love him, either.

- in sickness and in health (with health being less likely) by thehobbem for BlueButterflyKisses

Deciding to spend the rest of their lives together is the easy part for both Rey and Ben; the trouble is in how to propose.

- Snowed In by darlingreadsalot for Blueyedgurl

- Curses, Comforts and Capybaras by Andrina_Nightshade for Bombastique

Arrogant CEO bites off more than he can chew when he angers a witch... And suddenly finds himself transformed into a capybara. Can kindhearted wildlife rehabber Rey Niima help him break the curse?

- To Heal a Broken Soul by Reykenobi68 for Cat2000

Ben survives the fallout of Exegol, but his connection to the physical world is in danger. Rey tends to him as she searched for a way to heal him.

- holding me like water in your hands by literallynoonecares for Ceallaigh

After Hux finds out Ben killed Snoke, Hux encases Ben in Carbonite. Rey refuses to let Ben stay frozen forever so she mounts a rescue.

- Like a Thief in the Night by firelord65 for chagrins

Their bond won't let them be alone. At least this time it's the middle of the night and they can't get into a shouting match.

- The Chance by darknessvisible for Crysania

- Awake by QueenOfCarrotFlowers for cuddlesome

Something inside him is awake, and something inside her is about to wake up.

An alternate interrogation scene.

- darkness rises, and light to meet it by politicalmamaduck for czechia

After the throne room, Jedi Ben Solo and Kira Ren meet again a year later.

- Not Quite a Fairytale by Crysania for DarkMage13

Rey lets a stranger use the phone of the café she works at late one night. It changes the whole course of her life.

- The Canvas of Your Skin by tearoomsaloon for darlingreadsalot

She was incapable of touching him without drawing blood, it seemed. Lines like vermillion paint streaked where her fingers sketched down the contours of his face, his back, and now his chest.

In which a Force bond is splintered, a resurrection goes wrong, a kiss is forgotten, and two almost-lovers avoid speaking for the better half of a year.

- You Won't Escape Me ('Cause I Set You Free) by DarkMage13for DoorKeeper9

“W-What are you doing?” She would have been more irritated if she wasn’t shivering.

Kylo rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to let hypothermia kill you.”

“S-Stripping me is not going to kill me? That makes n-no sense.”

Rey needs a kyber crystal and Kylo is trying to prevent her from getting into more life-threatening situations. It's definitely not because he cares about her. Nope.

- Fleeing the Storm by Padawan_Writer for driverfever

But her suitor and revolutionary Hux won’t give her up so easily. Hounded by revolutionaries and falling in love, Rey and Ben must use all their wits to flee Paris and make it to England.

- Equal Measure by misszeldasayre for dustoftheancients

- Benimina Solo's Late On-Set Force Ability by MissCoppelia for Evangel10n

- Splatter by DoorKeeper9 for expendable

“You’re Palpatine’s girl,” he says coldly.

“His chief of staff, yes.” Rey’s eyes narrow. “And you have your hand on my ass, Kylo. Kindly take it off.”

“Or what?”

AKA powerful corporate rivals Kylo and Rey put the hate in love/hate.

- The Haunted Mirror by AlwaysEverlark for FangirlintheForest

When Rey travels to UK to attend the reading of his grandfather will, a grandfather she didn't know existed until that very moment, she finds a house, and a old story that will haunt her...

- i'm your secretary by OccasionallyCreative for firelord65

- and they danced across the sky by chagrins for flipflop_diva

When he was still a child, he constantly watched the blue butterflies as they danced in the sky.

But that’s another life. Another world. Another time. Another, another, another.

And Kylo's no longer a child.

No. He welcomes the darkness now. Embraces it.

- Finding The Answer by Cat2000 for FrenchMartiniPlease

Rey pines for Ben Solo…so why does her soulmate mark always drain of colour whenever she gets close to him?

- Almost Unforgettable by maq_moon for HopeRebel

It'll take the combined efforts of gumshoes, a flatfoot, a washed-up Hollywood starlet, and more to get to the bottom of this bad business. In the end, these things always come back to the beginning.

- The Curl of a Sigh by okpianist for irridesca

- and they were roommates by myownlittleinfinity for Lady_of_Haven

When Ben loses a bet to his roommate, Rey, he has to eat her out for 30 days.

- torn away from you (my heart is broken) by bittersnake for lakerose

The Force binds more than minds.

- 3 Days in Vienna by anopendoor for Like_A_Dove

- If You Take Me flipflop_diva by literallynoonecares

Rey sighed wistfully as she watched her two friends lean in toward each other as they danced, their lips meeting and melding together as they seemed to become one person instead of two separate beings. She had seen them kiss so many times, but this kiss … it was special.

“I just want someone to kiss me like that,” she mused softly to herself, her eyes not leaving her friends.

“I could make that happen if you wanted.”

- Confidence and Desire by MBlair for LittleLostStar

“Stay afraid, but do it anyway. What’s important is the action. You don’t have to wait to be confident. Just do it and eventually, the confidence will follow.” - Carrie Fisher

- Love brightens even the most monstrous parts of ourselves by Lutrosis for LRRH17

- Your Sweetness Comes With Sugar on the Side by AnneAnna for Lutrosis

- Allegories, or Allusions to Real Life by czechia for maq_moon

- We’ve Met Before by PoliticalPadmé (magnetgirl) for MBlair

Rey and Ben meet, move in together, get engaged, and marry.

- Invite the Wild In by thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily) for midwinterspring

(The ancient Sith had some interesting rituals.)

- Purim Party by Lorelei713 for MissCoppelia

- The Banished Heart by stellardarlings for misszeldasayre

On Rey of Niima’s nineteenth name day, Jakku gains a new wizard.

- The Smuggler's Bride by tmwillson3 for MyJediLife

- Annabel Lee by driverfever for myownlittleinfinity

- with my body i thee worship by yodalorian for niennathegrey

- the losing game by KoreRosemarinus for no_big_deal

- standing right in front of you by reylotrash711 for notkellymarie

- the good, the bad, and the smuggling by Priestly for OccasionallyCreative

It’s like his dad used to say: bounty hunters are nothing but trouble, kid.

- Whatever our souls are made of...his and mine are the same by writergenie for Padawan_Writer

Ben and Rey meet only after Kylo has defected from the First Order and returned to the Resistance and his mother. Will the dyad still find a way to be?

- You're My Dark Princess by Evangel10n for persimonne

Five years after the defeat of the First Order, Rey is no longer the woman we knew. Having no war to fight, Rey turns to contract killing. Not quite a bounty hunter, no, an assassin is not that honorable. She no longer relies on the Light side to guide her or the Dark, not claiming either side. She is a completely different person, lost, angry, numb. One day she is hired to kill a man she knew intimately, but he doesn’t remember her. What is she going to do? She has two choices here, kill the past or save a man she thought was dead.

- They say that only the dead have seen the end of war by Juulna and Annaelle for politicalpadmé

A Force Ghost Ben/Rey love story, with a side of rebuilding the galaxy.

- Cicatrix by cuddlesome for Priestly

Getting cut up by Rey on Starkiller awakens something in Kylo.

- I Will Always Be With You by Ceallaigh for Prix

She carried his child. The tiny spark of light woven with darkness, just like her. Just like his father.

—————

The world has gone dark More times than you Or your mother Or your grandmother Can remember. And every hurricane That was meant to be The end of it all Had instead ended In sunshine again.

So believe me When I say; You will survive this And the next one too.

World’s End—Nikita Gill

- all my daydreams are disasters by persimonne for QueenOfCarrotFlowers

- on what ground I was founded (when I first saw you) by midwinterspring for redbelles

Kylo dreams of Rey after the Battle of Crait. And the yearning is mutual...

Some Force Bond dream smut inspired by "Shrike" and "NFWMB" by Hozier.

- Last Summer by Abbytheatre08 for Reykenobi68

- The Long Way Home by VR_Trakowski for reylotrash711

In the aftermath of Exegol, Ben and Rey are divided by misunderstandings. It will take time and danger for them to work things out.

- Under the moonlight by Takekurabehime for shariling

- Fallen by Reykenobi68 for shipperofdarkness

Prompt: Devil!Ben and Angel!Rey or Angel!Ben and Devil!Rey. How do these two on completely opposite sides fall in love and defy worlds to be together?

- come away with me by HopeRebel for silentfleur

Rey owns a tinker shop, but her life changes when she meets Ben Solo and is cursed by a witch. Not necessarily in that order.

- A Picture of Me Without You by the-reylo-void (Anysia) for SpaceWaffleHouseTM

"I suppose I'd somehow struggle through / But I'd hate to picture myself without you."

- Lips Raw With Love by MyJediLife for stellardarlings

Their kiss on Exegol wasn't their first kiss...

Nor would it be their last.

- Everyone Makes Divine Mistakes by no_big_deal for Takekurabehime

- Glitter & Gold by aionimica for TearoomSaloon

- To kiss like lovers do by FrenchMartiniPlease for the-reylo-void (Anysia)

- Snow Turns To Rain by aneighthdomain for thehobbem

“I’m not sure,” he said finally, shaking his head. “I’m happy...” he said, and she tensed a little, so he continued, “with my work. I’m glad I’m doing what I love, but....”

“But?”

“But it wasn’t the only thing I loved.”

- Change the Dance by expendable for theresonatinglight

- Meet Me in the Woods by FangirlintheForest for thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)

- permanent calligraphy (your name on me forever) by theresonatinglight for Thursdaygirl

- show me the stars. by shariling for tmwillson3

“Now that’s the truth,” says Poe, who Finn invited about half an hour ago to keep him company.

“People have bad taste, I don’t know what to say.” Huffing, Rey scrolls through her phone with more intent. “Neither of you are helping me, anyway.”

“What’s the problem?” says Poe.

“Rey thinks her hot neighbor hates her —”

“He does hate me.”

“ — When really he’s been flirting with her for the past, oh I don’t know, how long have you lived there?”

- I realized that I need you, I wondered if I could come home by Blueyedgurl for VR_Trakowski

Rey is doing exploration work for the Resistance, searching for force sensitive planets so any force sensitives that they find have a place to train.

One day, midflight she finds a slip of paper with the elegant scrawling words of the ones that came before. The ones that she found when Ben still roamed the galaxy.

When she lands on a dark and barren planet she is forced to face the feelings she thought she buried.

- Shadows of the Moon by dustoftheancients for walkingsaladshooter

The hallways got darker, the corridors grew longer. Shadows stretched across the walls. The ghosts of Breha Manor grew each night.

Rey clutched her necklace. Ben met her gaze.

And every night, there was weeping.

- show the way (the world could be) by niennathegrey for writergenie

When the tension threatens to boil over and a desperate plan goes awry, Rey begins to wonder whether there really is a line between light and dark after all.

(Stars do burn brightest in the blackness of space.)

- why don't we go (somewhere only we know) by LRRH17 for XarisEirene

- renewed, transfigured, in another pattern by midwinterspring for yodalorian

Rey mourns on Tatooine while Ben is stuck in the World Between Worlds. But neither of them are alone, and blue butterflies light a path back to each other.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction anthology #rffa writers #reylo fanfic #reylo fic #to find your kiss #master post #mod post #photo edit

131 notes · View notes