Right- the drunk/over-caffinated reylo round-robin is happening this Saturday (may 23rd, 2020).
Sign up by commenting OR reblogging with the name you’ll be participating under AND your time zone.
The variety of timezones/the number of people who want to play will ultimately determine the rules for this thing.
Roughly I’m figuring five sentences per person. If it’s less people we go 2-3 rounds for one story. Tons of people just one round. Order will be randomized by myself and then posted so you’ll know when your turn is and nobody’s stepping on each other.
MUST READ: Writers Must be fairly drunk, or blazing on caffeine if you don’t do booze- the point is for this to get WEIRD/Ridiculous. NO DRUGS- we want to get through the story in a reasonable amount of time, not wait twelve years for the next piece lol (sorry). Anyone can play, no writing experience necessary- just bring yer booze.
STORY STIPULATIONS (so far):
No (permanent) character death. Endgame/pairing must be reylo (crackship-like taunting by the characters is fine but they should probably hate whoever they briefly hate-shacked up with if it happens lol). Alcohol/drug use allowed. Please DO exacerbate already over-dramatic personality qualities! 😆 Smut is allowed, BUT: if you start smut, you must begin and end it in your turn- this isn’t an excuse to cyber with strangers *shakes old lady cane*. No colluding with whoever comes before or after you- that’s no fun!! STANDARD COMMON-SENSE RULES APPLY: i.e. do not be a douche nor say things you know are douchey/rl terrible- hiding behind a character won’t save you, you’ll still get banned from the game and this blog and probably the fandom.
PASSING: Passing will be allowed, but you still must post with the word “PASS” and a photo of a shot of whatever you’re drinking- yes, you have to take a shot if you wuss out of your turn!! Failure to post a photo of your pass shot on your turn will result in you being banned for one (1) game, so...you may as well just write something!
I think that’s covered enough for now. More later once we have a roster.
Jessika Pava has been Rey’s best friend for the better part of a decade. Side by side, they fought together alongside Rose through the great beauty pageant debacle, survived the infamous Summer we don’t Talk About, carved initials and sloppy stars into the ancient concrete pilings down at the wharf. Jess knows Rey better than anyone else, and that is why Rey finds herself so spectacularly spinning her wheels one quiet January morning as the pair open together, sun not yet up over the skyline to fill the café with weak winter light.
“Look Jess, I don’t even want to go in the first place.”
The shorter, snarkier woman shoots a dismissive glare over the pourover bar before pointing at Rey with all the authority of a chief justice.
“Absolutely not.”
Rey huffs a sigh and turns back to the till she’d been counting as Jess launches into an (obviously rehearsed) tirade.
“You cannot just skip the company party Rey.” There’s a whirr as Jess pauses just long enough to calibrate grind settings before continuing. “We have to go and stunt on every other location. It is tradition.” Rey rolls her eyes and closes the till drawer, only mildly startled to find Jess glaring at her from the other side of the bar when she looks up. “If you don’t go who’s going to steal all of the toothpicks for us?” A noncommittal shrug. “If you don’t go, who’s going to eat all the free buffet crab?”
That does give Rey pause.
“I just don’t feel up to it this year,” a half truth. Jess raises one eyebrow and saunters over to unlock the café door as Rey continues. “Anyways, everyone has a date this year, I don’t want to be the only person showing up without a plus one.” There’s a scoff from the other side of the café, quickly followed by the familiar bite of Jess’s derision.
“Showing up without a plus one is a million times better than bringing some shithead boy who’s only going to dump you on Valentines Day, Rey.”
(Jess is right and that only makes it worse.)
“It’s been almost a year. You’re coming and we’re finding you a date.”
And that is how Rey gets roped into what is easily the worst scheme anyone in the café has ever come up with.
It starts, unsurprisingly enough, with Jess adding Rose to the plot as soon as their diminutive friend clocks on for her midshift. Rey groans as the two women conspire together, shooting conspicuous glances her way from the front of the café as she works on a series of pourovers.
“Well aren’t you in a stellar mood this morning?” One of their regulars, a beautiful, aging woman by the name of Leia teases. Rey just offers half of a smile and pushes a stray lock of hair out of her face with one hand as she adds a little more water to Leia’s pour.
“Oh yeah, just the best.” The older woman laughs and types out a quick text before turning her attention back to Rey.
“Does it have anything to do with what Jess and Rose are whispering about up there?” A sly smirk, and Rey thinks on the scruffy looking gentleman who frequents the café alongside his wife, eyes sharp and smirk sharper.
“Unfortunately.” Rey slides the finished pourover across to Leia with a shake of her head and begins on the next one (Ecuador, for a harried looking man across the café) . “They’re scheming to find me a date to the company party this Friday.” She doesn’t bother to stop the sigh that spills from her lips, and in turn Leia doesn’t bother to hide her sympathetic smile.
“Would a date really be so bad?” Feeling very much like a trapped rat, Rey shrugs, and huffs a smaller sigh when the same piece of hair falls back into her face.
“Not necessarily, I just don’t think they’re going to find anyone in three days.”
And she certainly wasn’t about to take a boy hastily selected by her friends off of some dating app (an idea Jess had floated only to have immediately shot down). Leia’s smile is vaguely razor lined, but Rey doesn’t dwell on it as she stands in a breeze of designer perfume before adjusting her scarf.
“Well best of luck, do keep me posted.”
Rey just manages one lonely smile and a roll of dark eyes.
Later that day, when the three of them stand together around the firepits outside the pub two blocks down from Rey’s apartment, gloved hands curled around frosted glasses, Jess pins Rey with a sly stare.
“So we spent today coming up with a battle plan.” Rose laughs and takes a sip of her cider as Jess continues. “Since we’re working on such an accelerated schedule, we’ve decided to break the plan into three phases.” This is it, Rey thinks as she woefully takes a sip of her IPA and stares up at the lights that twinkle down indifferently from the awning above them, this is what’s finally going to drive her insane.
“Phase one:” Jess grins, glass empty and eyes bright as she levels her stare at Rey from across the fire. “Select a minimum of ten boys fitting your type from any of our haunts for your perusal.”
“Alright.” Rey interrupts, brow furrowed and one cold hand propped on her hip. “I do not have a type.”
Both women raise their eyebrows (Rey knows her lie has been seen through).
“You absolutely do.” Jess deadpans.
“Tall, tired, tattooed.” Rose quips, checking each attribute off on her gloved fingers. “Bonus points if they’re pierced, double bonus points if they have a quick wit, and unlimited experience points if they’ve got a big d-”
“Point taken!” Rey cuts her off, cheeks pink (and not just from the cold anymore).
“Anyways.” Jess interjects, ever the executive. “After you select a handful of contenders, we enter phase two.” Rose gathers their empty glasses before dipping past Jess to grab another round, and if that hadn’t been enough to pique Rey’s suspicion regarding phase two, the glint in Jess’s eyes alone certainly was. “We cycle them through the café on your midshift. It should be busy enough that you don’t have to talk to any one contender for too long, and seeing them in a workplace environment gives you a very convenient excuse to duck out of the conversation should you need to.”
Rey wonders if there’s anyone available to cover her shift.
“I’ve already keyed the whole café in on this, so no, there’s no way for you to get that shift covered but nice try.”
Well, there goes that thought.
“Once you’ve met all of them, we’ll narrow it down to two, and then you will meet each one individually for an actual coffee date while Rose and I close.” The fires leap, Jess grins, and Rey wishes she could melt right through the asphalt.
The morning of Rey’s midshift dawns cold and clear, the kind of day where ice crystals dance in the weak winter sun. She does her makeup to the tune of Rose’s favorite band, hips swaying in the bright tiled bathroom as she blends her eyeshadow. There’s no denying the fact that she still resents Jess and Rose endlessly for parading their (seemingly endless) litany of boys through the group chat, however the five she’d (reluctantly) narrowed it down to are cute, and had been on her radar for a while now.
So she’s only a little irritated at the prospect of having to speed meet the boys tonight.
An optimistic outlook that lasts only until the first one sits down across from her at bar, opal studded septum ring flashing in the warm café light.
“You’re Rey?” He asks, as if there’s really any other possibility.
“So I’ve been told.” A smile, and then:
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
But before she can even begin to answer, the blond in front of her (Bala? She’s about 80% sure his name was Bala) is already off on a tear.
“My buddy and I are in a really sick Prague Rock band. We play The Cantina on Wednesdays, you should definitely come through, as long as you don’t mind a pit.”
It takes everything in Rey’s power not to roll her eyes.
“I uh,” Bala grins and throws what she’s sure he must think is a subtle glance down towards her cleavage.
She hates Prague Rock.
“Well,” the man across from her just barely brings grey eyes back up to her own in time for Rey to deadpan her (obvious) excuse, “looks like I’ve gotta start my till shift.”
The next two are wholly uninteresting; any points they may have earned with their high cheekbones and the admittedly nice linework of their tattoos entirely overridden by the vacancy behind their eyes. Which is fine, Rey thinks as she absently counts the till with about two hours left in her shift. She’d been lukewarm on the plan to start with anyways, and no date was undoubtedly better than some boring ass boy who couldn’t even carry on a conversation without absently glancing at his phone screen every 0.02 seconds.
(Or at least that’s what she was telling herself).
She’s taking her break on the patron side of the pourover bar, pushing a technically expired salad around its compostable box and watching the lunch rush die down when it happens: the single most attractive male she’s ever seen in her entire life walks into the café. Like clockwork, Rose whirls around from her spot at the till to mouth Rey look at him in the same second that Jess sets her kettle down with entirely too much force and leans over the bar to hiss,
“Who the fuck is that?”
He’s three people back in line, head of dark, softly waving hair standing substantially taller above the rest. There’s something vaguely familiar about him, but Rey cannot quite bring herself to focus on that when her whole body suddenly feels magnetized, drawn inexorably to this dark man and his heavy eyes on the opposite side of the café. It’s truly a shame, Rey thinks as she throws out her salad and bemoans the scant seven minutes left in her break, that she’s only wearing coffee stained jeans and an old band shirt. He looks like one of the in and out business men that flit around this part of town anyways, Rey consoles herself as she goes back to the lukewarm energy drink Jess had handed her at the start of her break (it’s not like he was going to linger in the sunny confines of the café).
Which is why she’s so surprised when a rich baritone jolts her out of her stupor a few moments later with a polite: “Is this seat taken?”
Well, Rey thinks to herself as she inhales a little too sharply for one pm on a Wednesday (fire in her bloodstream and magnets singing in her wrists), Rose and Jess are going to have a field day with this. But that thought is pushed from her mind almost as quickly as it had entered, driven by the rational half of her brain demanding she shake her head.
“Ah, no. Not at all.” The mystery patron grants her a small smile and discretely tugs the legs of his slacks up before perching on the barstool beside her (how a man as massive as him managed to perch is entirely beyond Rey). There’s a half second of companionable silence as Rey desperately tries not to slurp on her sugar free drink and the man beside her unlocks his phone with a sigh before Jess stomps over, freshly ground beans in one hand and smirk firmly set in place.
“You’re the Colombia, right?” The shift captain chirps as she folds the pourover filter with practiced hands. Beside her mystery man nods, only to blush at the tips of his ears when Rey catches his quick glance her way (her heart stops). There’s still technically three minutes left in her break, an opportunity Rey would usually take to make communion with the dirty little alleyway cigarette graveyard between the back of their building and the defunct diner next door, but this time (perhaps compelled by the pink still tinging her neighbor’s ears, or the jump of her heart in her throat when it remembers how to beat) Rey stands up to shrug her apron on with an almost grin.
“Don’t worry about it Jess, I’ll take care of it.”
At this, the man looks up from his phone screen, and it’s with no hesitation that Rey grants him a smile as she slips behind bar. Brows nearly lost in her hairline, Jess shoots Rey a thumbs up just out of their patron’s sight before sauntering away towards till, clearly pleased with the development. Rey only shakes her head at her friend’s antics and begins the first pour, shoulders heavy with the weight of the man’s stare across from her.
“I’ve never seen you in here before.” The words are out of her mouth before Rey can reflect on how painfully awkward they are, embarrassment outcompeting attraction. By the time she’s finished with the sentence, the twenty three year old wants nothing more than to melt into the grubby tile beneath her.
No such luck.
“Yeah,” a rustle as Rey can only assume he removes the heavy wool of his jacket, “my mother frequents the place, I figured I should stop by and see what it is she loves so much about it.”
That admission is enough to prompt Rey’s gaze to rise off of the steeping coffee and onto his eager eyes. Which was a mistake, obviously, as in order to do that she had to come face to face with the way his charcoal button up stretched over the broad plane of toned shoulders (her heart doesn’t stop this time, but instead hammers against her throat as if trying to escape right into his hands). He’s staring back hotly, sable eyes lit up like Vegas signs and it’s all she can do to keep from overfilling the filter.
“My name is Ben.” The now named man rushes, mouth stumbling over the syllables even as he leans in from his spot on the other side of the bar.
“Rey.” She replies, throat dry and hands suddenly shaking as he smiles.
Ben stays for the better part of the next hour, patiently waiting from his spot on the bar as Rey bounces around the café. When they speak, his voice is incredibly soft for someone so physically imposing, and Rey finds herself leaning closer and closer each time they trade words (she watches him speak like a scholar reads, mapping out the movement of his lips as if memorization could help her transpose them over her own). In fact, she’s so wrapped up in their quiet conversation that Jess and Rose manage to slyly usher the last two boys on their list out of the café without even ordering. The weak winter light slowly starts to fade, gone a pretty shade of dusty pink by the time Ben finally rises from his stool.
“Heading out?” Rey asks, drying her hands on the edge of her old apron. The disappointment in her voice is obvious, and for a second she almost wishes she had made some attempt to mask it, but that thought melts away as quickly as frost on the hood of her car with Ben’s next words.
“Yes, for dinner with my mother. However, if you’re interested, I’d love to take you out for a drink once I am done with that.”
Ben blushes before allowing a shy smile to bloom across his face and she is wrecked.
His location of choice, a bar far too fancy for Rey and her friends to frequent, is a dimly lit number in the arts district called the Caldera. She stands anxiously outside in the fluorescent streetlight, watching cars pass under the softly falling snow (fingers cold, nose colder). The last four hours cycle endlessly in her mind, explaining briefly to Jess and Rose what had just happened, the mad dash to get all three of them to her apartment so an outfit could be selected, the glee on her best friend’s faces as Rose solemnly handed her the tube of Lucky Lipstick.
All to culminate here, on the corner of F and 5th, watching perfect snowflakes collect on the patent leather of her heels. She’s five minutes early, and the seconds pass with all the urgency of lazy summer days spent drinking on the lake. Her fingers trace the edge of her phone where they’re shoved deep into the cloistered warmth of satin lined pockets, and Rey’s halfway through convincing herself to call Jess and bail when the same rich baritone from the café curls over her shoulder.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long?”
He’s just as striking as he’d been in the café, the shoulders of his dark wool coat dusted with flakes so fine he almost seemed to glitter in the canned city lighting. Ben smiles softly, edges softened by the old fluorescents and the way his cheeks had gone pink with the cold (Rey thinks that he is maybe the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, like one of the old marble carvings her high school art teacher had waxed so poetic about).
“Oh no, not at all.” A smile that sends her (lucky) red painted lips curling up at the corners to dimple, and then Ben is offering her his arm as they sweep through the feathery snow and into the warm confines of the bar.
Their table is one tucked neatly into the corner of the establishment, opposite the huge floor to ceiling windows and set at the center with a candle who’s flickering light send the shadows gathered underneath Ben’s cheekbones dancing. Rey sets her purse down beneath her chair and shrugs out of her coat, only to have Ben take it before she can drape it over the back of the lacquered wood.
“My mother would disown me if she knew I’d made you hang your own coat.” The crinkle of his eyes in unmistakable, and Rey wonders after the woman who’d so clearly shaped the man now sitting before her.
They spend the rest of the evening talking in meandering paths about their childhoods (Ben’s: spent following his mother across the country as she blazed political trails. Hers: a long war story of foster home after foster home and the certainty of never being in one place for too long), and sharing stories of their much more recent years. As the night wears on, Ben’s smile only grows more open, and by the time he’s sliding the bill across the table so as to keep Rey from even touching it, his eyes are brighter than any of the neon lights that flicker from outside.
“I’d love to see you again,” he murmurs as they cross the dark washed hardwood towards the door and inevitable cold (Rey feels her entire body come to life, the spaces between ribs singing with something profoundly right).
“Yeah?” She’s magnetized again, fingers drawn to his wrists where the cuff of his coat rides up to expose delicate lavender blood vessels.
“Yes.” A confirmation only driven more home by the fire in his eyes as he looks at her, an inferno Rey knows is mirrored in her own. “Where did you park?”
“Just down a block towards the Performing Arts Center.” A pause as Rey considers the magnitude of exactly what she’s about to do, weighs it against the way her fingers beg to be against his. “Do you have plans Saturday?” Ben’s smile is nearly blinding, but not quite as heart stopping as the kiss he dusts across her lips a few moments later while they linger beside her car.
Rey drives home in silence, windows rolled all the way down and fat, fluffy flakes whipping in through the cabin of the little four door. Her reflection watches with wild eyes from the corner of her rearview mirror, blush visible where it rides high on shimmering cheekbones even washed out by dirty yellow streetlights. It all hardly feels real, too whirlwind and perfect to possibly be true (she can’t help but reflect on all the first dates that came before this one, stilted and forced under the harsh lights of show venues or cheap diners). But it is, proof tingling against her lips in the form of his peppermint lip balm.
Wild, she thinks to herself halfway through turning onto her street. Really wild.
It’s a sentiment shared by Rose and Jess, who break into her room the following morning, smiles plastered across their faces and intentions painfully clear as they storm the gates. Still half asleep, Rey rises reluctantly from the mussed sheet of her bed and stumbles to greet them with bleary (but shining) eyes.
“You kissed!” Rose all but screams, diminutive hands coming together to hide her glee as Jess nods in approval.
“And it was good?” Rey cannot help her sly smile,
“oh, it was good.” The three of them share in jubilant laughter that echoes through the tiny one bedroom apartment, and in that moment not even the January chill can begin to bite at Rey’s fingertips.
The hours between Thursday and Saturday are spent in easy, near constant conversation with Ben. His texts are formal, grammatically flawless, and never fail to put a stupid smile on Rey’s face as she replies each time with her own, lazy grammar.
How’s the shift? He writes Friday with an hour and a half left until close.
good !
super super quiet
how’re u? how was work?
(He never responds, and Rey throws herself into sanitizing the counters to avoid overanalyzing the silence).
The café is, of course, nearly silent save for the music playing from Rey’s phone and the few voices that rise from their respective tables. Which is why, when the door opens with a squeak and a wave of cold air, Rey notices instantly.
“We close in five min-“
“Hey.” Ben’s dressed casually this time, black jeans and a thick winter coat that swishes when he walks and beads at the shoulders with melted snowflakes. Her smile is instant, and spreads so far across her face that for half a second Rey wonders if maybe she’s going to split right in two.
“Hi.” He’s leaning on the counter, all dark hair and day old cologne by the time Rey makes it up from the pourover bar, glancing secretively around the café the whole time before leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek. It feels a little like flying, carries far more weight than any gesture so simple has any right to (she’s not complaining though, not by a longshot).
“Sorry I never replied.” Ben looks just as dazed as Rey feels, and the brunette grants him an open smile as he continues. “The roads are incredibly bad.”
“It’s totally fine,” Rey assures, glad she hadn’t taken the time to worry over his uncharacteristic silence. “I’m glad you got here safe.”
“Me too.” Sable eyes stare intently into her own, and not for even one second does Rey doubt the sincerity of his words.
Ben picks her up from her house the evening of the company party at 6:00 sharp. Rey’s standing in front of her mirror when his text pings against the lockscreen of her phone, shoulders drawn up nearly to her ears as she critically eyes her outfit. The dress she’s selected is an objectively simple black number, cowl necked and jersey, the pliable fabric clinging to what few curves she had audaciously. Jess and Rose had forced her into a pair of strappy nude heels, the platforms more astronomical than anything Rey had worn in years (“your date is so tall, you have to!” Rose had wailed, one shoe in each hand the night before). The notification sends her heart racing, and it’s with shaky hands that Rey shrugs her cloth coat on to step out of her apartment and into the hall.
It's a bitterly cold night, the kind that makes her skin prick almost instantly, and keeps a healthy layer of glittering frost spread out across the glossy finish of Ben’s car (it’s a Nice Thing, more expensive than anything Rey’s ever owned in her life and the fact only adds to her nerves). She’s barely out of the heavy double doors that front the main entrance to her apartment when Ben exits the vehicle, flawless in his sharply tailored suit to open the passenger side door for her.
“You look incredible.” He sounds maybe like he’s run a few miles, and if Rey hadn’t already had goosebumps running the length of her arms before from the cold alone, she absolutely would have on account of his voice.
“Thanks.” Ben licks his lips, exhales sharply (the air freezes as it exits to hang around his face) and opens his passenger side door with a soft smile.
If Rey had thought the outside of the car was intimidatingly nice, it had nothing on the inside. Black leather stretches out as far as she can see to set the pale curvature of Ben’s face into stark relief as they pass beneath the street lights. Her date steals little glances at her with every red light, eyes warm even under the spill of brake lights ahead of them (Rey feels like the line of Ben’s jaw, tense and twitching with something unspoken as he surveys her is an image burned into her bones, intrinsic and charred into the flat of her sternum).
She’s squirming in her seat by the time they pull up to the venue, a restaurant at the edge of town with a sweeping view of the city laid out in front of it. Ben puts the car into park with a deft move of one hand, and all Rey can think about is the expanse of black leather in the back seat.
“May I kiss you?” His voice is almost a whisper, just barely clearing the engine’s idle to notch the tension between them up even higher. All of the oxygen in the car vanishes at once as if an airlock had just been opened, and instead of a gasping reply, Rey leans in to slant her lips over his.
This kiss is entirely different from the one they had shared in the snow outside her car.
It’s the kind of kiss that feels more like a battle, all teeth and tongue and the feeling of Ben’s hand where it’s come to rest on the back of her neck. He kisses like a starving man at a feast, desperate and hungry, as if this is the last chance he’ll ever have to abate the clawing in his stomach (it strikes Rey, as they pull away, breathless and wide eyed, that she wants nothing more than to be devoured).
She doesn’t want to go to the company party, doesn’t want to exit the half light of the vehicle for the glitter and crush of her coworkers. The only thing Rey wants is the undivided brunt of Ben’s attention, feels the magnets in her wrists drawn to him even more strongly than those first few seconds at the café. Even the promise of free food and fresh crab isn’t quite enough to draw her out from under Ben’s palm (which has slid to rest at the junction of her clavicle and shoulder, thumb pressing lightly against the base of her throat).
“Do you want,” he’s watching her speak, and Rey wants desperately to know what’s running through his head as he inhales slowly and continues to study her lips, “to say fuck it go back to my place?”
Ben’s eyes snap up to hers with all the force of a round fired, the pressure of his thumb against her skin thrilling when he replies, “Text Rose and Jess so they don’t worry.”
(He speeds the whole way back, hand creeping a little higher up her thigh with each gear shift).
January turns into February (Rey manages not to get dumped on Valentine’s Day), February turns into March, and April comes pouring into the city with wet winds and the smell of topsoil. Ben spends most mornings curled around her, breath even warmer than the spring storms where it fans out across her shoulder. There are little reminders of Rey creeping into the stark utilitarianism of Ben’s apartment: plants on the windowsill and polaroids of them and their friends that shine in the light leaning up against the backsplash by his keys.
Rey watches her relationship bloom alongside the flowers planted along the path leading up to the café. Feels her own roots take hold a little more with each sly smile from Leia as she sits beside her son at the pourover bar.
Every summer saved makes sense now, ready to be poured all at once into Ben and the little world they were beginning to build.
dandylion-puff hat auf deinen Eintrag geantwortet “I wish you would rewrite The Cruellest Thing but from Hux's...”
I second this motion. I loved this fic. :3
@dandylion-puff
Would you prefer a rewrite in Hux’ POV, the epilogue in his POV or a completely new fic with Hux’ POV? All three options seem tempting ... but I’m not sure if I can write all three of them :3
If you’re going to turn this into a meme then you need to explain the joke to me okay? Otherwise that’s just mean.
sdygfdsh im sorry! i wasnt turning it into a meme, i have the xkit pokemon thing and, it can make pokemon appear just ANywhere on the dashboard including on posts. i just thought it was funny one of them showed up exactly on the apple he was eating somehow! @dandylion-puff
