#my roots are so grown out right now and it makes me feel hideous lol

[tem-o]

I havent been feeling very self confident lately so here’s some old photos where i felt hot

[reylo-solo]

Reylo neighbors

I had way too much fun writing this and I DEFINITELY got carried away, lol. Thanks for the prompt!

Read it on AO3.

➳ Say It With Roses

               The house at 515 ParkwoodCrescent was built in the early 1950’s. It had a beautiful widow’s walk and anenclosed porch, picture windows, a cobblestone walkway, and a lovely fenced-inbackyard, perfect for parties. It had also been vacant for two and a half years.

               Every morning when Ben Solo wokeup, he would take his cup of coffee and drag his feet over to his living room,where he would gaze sternly out the bay window and his eyes would always roamover the weathered ‘For Sale’ sign next door to his house. He would think tohimself, For Christ’s sake, is the placehaunted or something? He had seen any number of people get a tour inside bythe realtor over the last two and a half years, and not a single one had madean offer on it. They always left smiling, but it never amounted to a damnedthing.

Thecompany that oversaw the management of the lot consistently forgot to mow thelawn, and Ben consistently had to phone and complain to remind them. It drovehim insane. The picketed half-fence his property shared with that house waspristine on his end, but was peeling and hideous on the other side.

BenSolo was a perfectionist. He liked things to be just as he wanted them to be,no more, no less. He liked things to be kept tidy. 515 Parkwood Crescent hadnot been tidy in almost three years. So obviously, this was a big point ofcontention for him.

Untilone fateful morning when Ben’s alarm roused him from his deep slumber at 7:30.He all but fell out of bed, stretched, and put his comfortable sheepskin suede slipperson to walk downstairs to the kitchen. This time when he looked out his window,something was different. The ‘For Sale’ sign had changed. Now, it boldlyproclaimed ‘SOLD’.

“Holyshit,” Ben cursed under his breath, “it’s finally happening.”

Nowcame the anxious wait. Who had bought it? Was it a family? A single person,like himself? Would they be lazy, or proactive? Would they keep their lawn niceand orderly? Would they have children? God forbid they had a dog, whoever it was. Dogs always chewedup gardens, and Ben had a lovely row of prize roses along his side of the fencethat he would sure like to keep planted in the soil.

Therest of May went by quickly, with no signs of life next door. But Ben knew howthis worked. They would get possession on the 1st of June, and afterthat he would know who his new neighbour(s) would be.

Hehad grown oddly used to having no one living on that side of his house. Forinstance, he had enjoyed walking about naked with the blinds on that side open,because no one could see him, especially when he was upstairs in his room withits window that faced the vacant house. It would suck not to be able to do thatanymore, but if it meant the fence would get painted he supposed he should begrateful.

June1st came and went. There were no moving trucks that day, but Ben didspot an old Volkswagen car parked out front and some lights on inside thehouse. He wondered if he shouldn’t go over and say hello, but then heremembered that Mrs. Graham, who lived on the other side of his house, had donethat when he had first moved in, and he still kind-of resented her for it. No, he thought. I’d better give them a few days to get situated first.

By June 2nd, the moving trucks werethere. He saw them in the morning when he was going to work, and spotted some movingcompany workers laboriously hauling a heavy-looking leather loveseat into thehouse. But still no sign of the occupant(s).

Hedidn’t have to wait much longer, however. When he came home from work at 6:00on the dot, grabbed his briefcase from the backseat, and began heading up hiswalkway, he was surprised to hear excitable yipping getting closer and closerto him. When he looked down he saw a small blur of white and brown.

“You’vegot to be kidding me,” he grumbled under his breath. “A fucking dog.”

Indeed,the rambunctious little pup, with the brown spot on its rump and the streaks ofrust colour in its ears, was jumping up at Ben’s legs, stubby little tailwagging in pure euphoria. Ben looked down at the dog with unbridled distaste.

“Bo! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

Ben’shead snapped up at the sound of a human – female – voice. A petite brunette waslaunching herself off the porch of 515 Parkwood Crescent, rushing down thecobblestone walkway, crossing over into Ben’s yard, and scooping the pup upinto her arms. Ben was stunned into paralyzed silence.

Shewas young, not far into her 20’s, with lively eyes and a sun-kissed, bronzecomplexion. Wherever she had come from, it had been warm there. Freckles weresplashed across the bridge of her nose, a few dabbled along her cheekbones. Hersmile was 10,000-watt; so bright and intoxicating in nature. She had her hairpulled up in a bun and she wore a ragged old tank-top and camo cut-offs. Shehad a touch of periwinkle paint smeared across her left shoulder and dirt underher fingernails. She extended a hand to Ben.

“Hi,I’m your new neighbour, Rey.”

Benswallowed, surprised at just how dry his throat felt. He shook her hand firmly.

“Myname’s Ben. Nice to meet you, and your, uh, dog.” He said the last word with justthe right amount of sour inflection.

Reyblushed lightly. Ben could feel his own face warming significantly.

“Yeah,again, I’m sorry. He slipped out right when I opened the door. He really likesmeeting new people.”

“Howcute.” Ben muttered.

Thetwo spoke for a short while. Rey told Ben all the minor details he couldpossibly want to know. She had grown up in London as an orphan, and had justfinished travelling the world with a photography scholarship. Apparently shewas world-renowned, but Ben had never heard of her. She was doing a lot ofrenovation work to the house and couldn’t wait to “put down roots here”. Benhad been as cordial as he possibly could be. In truth he didn’t mind listeningto her speak. Her accented voice was intoxicating. But eventually her spellbroke when little Bo took to barking at a biker riding down the street,squirming in his owner’s toned arms.

“Ah,you’ll have to excuse me. I need to get him back inside before his little heartjust can’t take the excitement anymore. It was really lovely to meet you,though. I hope we can talk again soon over the fence someday!”

Bensmiled stiffly, eyeing Bo with a healthy amount of wariness. “I’m sure wewill.”

Thetwo parted ways. After that their contact was minimal for a couple of weeks.Ben was busy with work and was out of the house six days out of the week (onthe seventh he stayed in his man cave watching terrible movies on Netflix inhis pyjamas, smoking one premium joint at around 5 p.m. – his special secrettradition to thank himself for getting through the week without killinganyone). Rey, on the other hand, clearly remained busy on her renovations. Benwould see lights on in the house into the wee hours of the morning, and if hewent outside on his deck and listened closely, he could hear muted hammeringnoises and soft, echoing music playing from somewhere inside the house. Hecan’t say he wasn’t curious about what she was doing in there. The interior ofthe house was beautiful wood and tile, with a stone fireplace, and crown moulding. It was a mid-centuryantique-lover’s dream. Surely shewasn’t making the mistake of trying to modernizeit?

Theymet once more in the evening on a Tuesday, when Ben was on his knees along thefence line, pruning his roses. Rey walked by with a heavy-looking camera bagslung over her shoulder and a binder full of papers in her arm. She gave himthat dazzling smile of hers, which made his heart actually skip a beat, on herway by.

“Evening!”she chirped. “Your roses are absolutely lovely. I’d love to have a garden likeyours someday!”

Hesmiled back, somewhat awkwardly. Ben’s smile was usually quite crooked innature; kind-of goofy-looking but in a charming way, like when a dog ‘smiles’.

“Thanks…”he replied belatedly.

Shewas clearly in a hurry. She unloaded her burdens into the backseat of her carand drove off somewhere. Ben went back to work, the look of her smiling faceburned in his brain for the rest of the night.

Reyhad barely been living next-door for a month when The Incident happened. Oh, it was a doozy, in more ways than one.

Benwoke up that morning and sauntered to the kitchen in his slippers and plaidflannel pyjama pants. His hair was a chaotic mess – he had tossed and turned alot in the night; June was turning out to be a hot month, and the fan in hisbedroom couldn’t keep up with the heat. He was just barely awake. He nearly forgotto put a fresh K-cup of breakfast blend into his Keurig. That would have beendisgusting.

Crisisavoided and with a fresh, aromatic mug of hot coffee in his hand, he wanderedover to his window. The sun had just come up, and the morning sky was streakedwith pink and yellow. A rose gold palette of natural beauty. Speaking ofroses…what was wrong with his roses?!

Heblinked and rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to wake up completely. Rich, darkdirt was scattered across his freshly-trimmed lawn, interlaced with shreddedrose petals, leaves, and a couple whole stems, dug out from their home in thesoil. And there, in the midst of it all, was a little white dog butt with abrown spot along the back.

“Areyou fucking shitting me right now?!”Ben bellowed. His coffee was instantly set down and forgotten about.

Bo,having heard Ben’s outburst from the garden, lifted his dirt-stained face up,floppy puppy ears perked towards the noise. When Ben emerged shortly after,still bare-chested in his slippers and PJ pants, with a look of dark fury onhis face, Bo froze in terror, completely unsure of what to do or where to go.

WhenBen got close, Bo suddenly rolled onto his belly, short little tail tucked inshame as much as it could be. Ben bent down and picked the dog up by the scruffof its neck. Bo couldn’t even meet Ben’s eyes.

“Whatthe hell, dog?” Ben snarled. “I can’tfucking believe this shit. It is 7:30 in the goddamn morning, and you’re goingto hurl this crap in my face? I don’t fucking think so…”

Heswiftly moved down his walkway and over into Rey’s yard, carrying the dog allthe way, tucked at his side. His slippers didn’t really make a veryintimidating sound effect as he stomped up the stairs and across the porch toher front door – which she had painted bright red for some fucking reason. Bright red. Fuck. How original. Ben’sknuckles rapped hard on the painted door.

Noanswer. The lights were off inside, but her car was most certainly parked outfront. Nope. No. He was going to get mad at somebody, goddamn it. The dogdidn’t count.

Hepressed the doorbell repeatedly and kicked at the door until finally, finally, she emerged, one eye shut tothe brightness of the morning, hair falling out of its messy bun, wrapped in anold threadbare robe that was much too big on her.

“Whatis going on…?” she mumbled, slowly registering the very angry half-naked manwith a very nice chest she was now facing. “Bo?”

“Yourfucking dog tore up my roses,” Ben growled, holding the dog up so she could seehis face, smeared with the evidence of his crime. “And I have to beg thequestion: what the hell was he doing in my yard at 7:30 in the morning?”

Reyblinked, colour quickly fading from her face. There it is, Ben thought poisonously. There’s that ‘oh, shit’ look I wanted to see.

“I-Iswear I don’t know…there’s a doggy-door out to the backyard. He must havegotten through the fence somehow, I—”

“Well.That fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” Ben spat. “Meanwhile my garden is destroyedbecause you think it’s fine to let him go out without a leash any damn time hewants!”

Rey’sexpression instantly soured. Her eyes narrowed and her chin stuck out.

“Ican assure you he won’t do it again,” she chewed out bitterly.

“Oh,you’re damned right he won’t,” Ben argued. “Because he’s not going to be letout without a leash until he gets his little digging habit under control,right?”

“Howdare you tell me how to take care of my dog?” Rey snarled, taking Bo roughlyfrom Ben’s arms and setting him down at her feet. Bo whined, blatantlyuncomfortable with the situation he had created.

“Wellclearly someone has to!”

“Whydon’t you piss off? Why do you even grow roses? What kind of soft-side bullshitis that?!”

“Whatare you fucking talking about? I’m not allowed to grow fucking roses in my own damn yard?”

“I’mnot allowed to let my dog go outsidein my own damn yard?!”

“Listen,I’ve been here a lot longer than you—”

“Oh,yeah? It shows!” Rey gestured to her facial area, even tugging down on onecheek, clearly suggesting dark circles and eye wrinkles.

“Ohdoes it?!” Ben yelled.

“Yeah,it does!”

Theirbanter was ended by the sound of Mr. Johnson shouting from a couple housesdown, reminding them both of the lovely, peaceful neighbourhood they calledhome:

“Shut the fuck up!”

Theyboth stopped, chests heaving, angry eyes never leaving the other’s face. It wasat this point Ben realized that, oh – Rey sleeps naked.

Thethreadbare robe she had so thoughtfully put on before answering the door washardly cinched at her waist, creating a very deep-V neckline that showed Ben alot more than he had been expecting to see. It only made it more eye-catchingwhen she crossed her arms like that.

Hecouldn’t help the sudden flush in his face. He was the first to break theirstaring contest, and he wasn’t proud of it. Rey had only a second to appreciateher victory before she too realized why she’d won. With a soft gasp she hastilytugged the collar of her robe closed. Now she was vibrantly blushing too, andshe also looked like she wanted to slap him, which in all actuality she hadevery right to do. But she didn’t, and in the moment she couldn’t quiteunderstand why.

“Keepyour dog on your side of the fence,” Ben grumbled. Most of his fire had diedout by now. He jabbed an accusatory hand at her side of the fence in questionas he descended the porch steps. “And for fuck’s sake, would it kill you topaint it?”

Thetwo carefully avoided one another for the next week, always checking out thewindow before daring to go outside. Ben watered his garden in the morning, Reymowed her lawn in the evening. Bo didn’t escape again. He didn’t even bark. Bensaw Rey out painting her side of the fence one day, but he didn’t dare go outand say anything about it. And it went on like this for a whole, painfully longweek. Until the first fault in the ice cracked to life.

Itwas a Saturday morning. Rey was always gone on a run on Saturday mornings, andBen left for work at 9:00. This morning though, when he opened his door at8:57, he had to pause in the threshold. For there, right outside his door andawfully close to the toe of his shoe, was a small potted rose bush,freshly-grown and healthy, with one small, deep-red bloom on top.

Mystified,Ben picked it up. Amidst the leaves and (this was no doubt done on purpose)thorns, there was a small piece of folded-up paper. Fine stationary, made ofsoft natural paper, and written on the outside of the fold in fine, flowyscript, was his name.

Muchto the (likely) chagrin of the sender, he only received one particularly nastyprick on his ring finger when he reached in to grab it. He sucked on this as hebrought the plant inside and set it down, before opening the letter addressedto him.

I’m sorry my dog toreup your roses, and I’m sorry I didn’t apologize in the moment. I should have.You were right to be angry. Bo feels really, really bad, and so do I. Just soyou know. I bought this at the Farmer’s Market and I thought you could maybeplant it and start fresh. If you don’t want to that’s fine. I understand yourroses were “one of a kind”. I hope you’ll keep this little guy alive, anyway,even if you don’t forgive us. – Rey & Bo (your apologetic neighbours)

Benwould be lying if he said the note didn’t make him smile a little bit. He setit fold-down atop his piano, and admired the little rose bush. Its leaves werea vibrant, lush green, and it was covered in buds. He flicked a leaf andwatched it tremble. He grinned. It would do just fine in his garden.

Hekept coming back to that little rose bush all day long. At work he’d catchhimself doodling, something he rarely did anymore, little sketches of roses inthe margins and bright, dimpled smiles. The plant was a sign of surrender;asking for a truce. Would he give in? Well, yes, he would. It hadn’t taken himlong to come to that conclusion. In all honesty, over the duration of the weekhis anger had faded. Once he had cleaned up his garden he noticed that thedamage wasn’t as extensive as he thought. He could forgive it, he supposed.

Buthow could he let her know it? It just didn’t feel right to him to go over toher house and offer her a plate of store-bought cookies, because lord knows hecouldn’t bake them himself. It felt fake, derivative, and cheesy. “Hey, it’sall water off a duck’s back! Here’s some Pillsbury crap on a plate!”

Itwas 3:36 in the afternoon when the idea struck him. The Grand Gesture. The wayhe was going to let Rey know all was forgiven. He had been inspired bysomething she had said the other day; her words floated back to him as though comingout of the ether of a dream. And suddenly he couldn’t wait to get home. Ofcourse, he’d have to make a couple stops along the way, pick up some suppliesand the like. He planned it out to the last detail, effectively wasting thelast hour and a half of work. And when it was finally time to leave, his deskchair had barely stopped spinning before he had left the building.

Heknew that starting at 5:00, he had only two hours before Rey would be home forthe night after she stopped at the gym (in the short time she had been livingnext door, he had quickly taken note of her daily activities). He could pullthis off in an hour and a half, if he was quick and had no interruptions. Hehauled everything over to Rey’s front lawn and set to work.

Thankfully,the universe was smiling upon him for once and everything went smoothly. He hadsuccessfully started a garden for Rey, in front of her large picture window inthe front yard. He had carefully transplanted a shoot of his own prize roses,right in the centre, with a colourful array of flora and grasses all around. Tohim it looked magnificent, but a nagging voice in the back of his head keptasking ‘Would she even notice it?’

               When all was said and done, hiswatch told him it was 6:51. She would be home soon. He took this opportunity toplant his new rose bush in the spot where Bo had dug up the last one. He wasjust packing the dirt around the base of the plant when he heard her car pullup. He held his breath.

               Her car door shut. He heard herunlatch the front gate and re-latch it behind her. Then came the soft shufflingsound of her shoes walking up the cobblestone pathway…and then all soundsstopped with a sudden, loud gasp.

               Ben peeked precariously over thetop of the fence. She was standing halfway up the walk with her jaw slack, staringwide-eyed at the beautiful arrangement that had seemingly appeared in front of her house. She slowly walked up to it and bentdown to examine the flowers closer. Ben couldn’t see, but when she saw theroses, she grinned because she recognized them instantly.

               At this point, Ben realized heprobably looked like a total jackass, crouched and watching her from across thefence. So he stood up, brushed the dirt from the worn-out knees of his jeans,and cleared his throat.

               “You’re forgiven, in case itwasn’t clear,” he said. “Bo, too.”

               She stood up straight and turnedto look at him, that one-of-a-kind smile glowing like the moon in the sky.

               “You did this?” she askedquietly, her voice laden with emotion.

               Ben nodded. “I didn’t know howelse to say it…and I remembered you telling me you wanted a garden like mine,so I figured I’d help get you started.”

               “I love it,” she confessed. “It’sbeautiful, and it smells amazing.”

               “Well, good. I’m glad.”

               Rey sighed, shifting her weightto her left foot. She gave him an apologetic look.

               “I guess we’ve been lousyneighbours, huh?” she asked.

               “Uh, when the guy down thestreet has to tell us to shut the fuck up, I’m going to say yes, we have been,”Ben answered.

               Rey chuckled. “Woops.”

               “Woops.” Ben agreed with acrooked smile.

               Rey smiled back at him somewhatbashfully, fiddling with the wire of her headphones.

               “Would you like to come inside?”she asked quietly. “I think we could both use a drink, maybe. And…I’d like toget to know you better, if that’s okay.”

               Ben’s eyes widened. He had beenexpecting a hearty thank-you, maybe some joyful tears, but not an invitationinside – into her life. Before hisbrain could even formulate an answer, he was nodding his head yes and hoppingover the fence.

               “Careful,” Rey cautionedplayfully, “I just painted that.”

               Ben smirked. “I know, it looksgood.”

               “Thanks.”

               As he climbed the steps of herporch for the second time in his life, he found himself in a very apologeticmood. Heat burned high in his face, turning the tips of his ears a deep pink.

               “Oh, um…I also want to apologizefor, uh…well, the night of The Incident,I…I promise I wasn’t staring,” he mumbled, “at you.”

               Rey smiled warmly, and Ben didn’tmiss the way her eyes jumped down his body and back up again in one quick,scanning motion.

               “That’s okay,” she confessed asa sly grin spread across her face. “I just hope you don’t mind that I was.”

               Ben didn’t know what to say tothat, so he just grinned like an idiot and followed her inside without a secondthought. She had freshly-baked cookies on her countertop and no Pillsburycontainer in sight.