Pairing: Author!Kylo Ren x Reader
Word Count: 1,319
Warnings: something, I don't know. In the words of my friend "if there's no warning, is it really worth reading?", so here you go, a warning.
Summary: Y/N is a freelance journalist who goes to her favorite coffeehouse every morning to work on her column. When she gets there one morning, the last seat available is one next to a handsome man who immediately grabs her attention. She asks to sit there and upon further conversation, she learns he's much more than a stranger.
***
Your cheeks are flushed from the cold, the frost having bitten them on the way to your favorite coffee shop to work for the morning, as you usually do during the week. As a freelance journalist, you get to choose where you work, and you change the location seasonally. During the summer, it's on your balcony, with your big comfy outdoor loveseat and a cocktail, and in the late autumn, it's here in your favorite coffee house at the big, oakwood table in the corner.
Once you're safely inside, the warmth flooding your skin and your senses, making your eyes water a little at the shift, you pull off your hat and unwrap your scarf before starting toward your usual spot. You notice that the coffee shop is way more crowded than usual, and by the time you get to your favorite spot, someone is already there, and the only seat left in the entire coffeehouse is right across from him.
You immediately notice how handsome this man is. His jet black hair is styled perfectly in waves that frame his face, and his broad shoulders are clad in a tweed suit-jacket. His thin-framed glasses are balancing on the bridge of his nose as he's slightly bent over a few copied papers covered in handwritten notes in multiple colors. A laptop rests open in front of him, sitting next to a nearly full cup of coffee.
You approach slowly, not wishing to startle him as he looks very focused, and bring your closed hand to your mouth as you clear your throat. He looks up quickly and when he sees you standing before him, he straightens up and offers a kind, but confused smile. "Hello, can I help you?" he offers, and you look quickly to the empty seat.
"Um, yes, actually, I was wondering if I could sit there? It's the, uh, last seat in the house." He doesn't even bother to look around, and simply nods, gesturing toward the empty chair for you to sit down. You thank him and hang your laptop bag on the chair, and once you sit down, your friend, a barista at the shop, walks over and shoots you a look as she's on her way over. She knows that you come here every day and sit in the spot that this handsome man is currently occupying, and the words 'oh my god' as well as 'he's cute' are written all over the expression she makes as she approaches.
"Is there anything I can get for you?" She chirps once she's next to you. You glance over to his cup and notice he's ordered a latte. "I'll have a vanilla latte, please." She glances over to the drink, tracing your thought process, and once she's responded with a quick, "I'll get that for you," she winks as she turns toward the counter. You blush slightly, wondering why you would do that.
The man across from you was still working diligently, though you noticed throughout the exchange he would glance up at you curiously. Your face would get hot whenever his attention was on you, and you couldn't tell why.
You pull out your notebook, finally, and your favorite pen so that you can put aside this strangeness you feel and get to work. You've always preferred to write your first drafts on paper. It helps you write more thoughtfully. Though, after a few minutes, your coffee is set on the table before you and as you're taking a sip, the man sits up again and looks to you.
"What's your name?" he asks. You put the cup down and smile, tilting your head to the side. He wants to talk to you, and your heartbeat quickens immediately once you realize that.
"Y/N," you tell him. He smiles and looks toward his papers.
"I knew I recognized you from somewhere. I read your weekly column in The Post. Good work." You blush as you take in his compliment. It's not often you meet readers face to face. "I especially liked the one about that author who doesn't show their face. You reviewed their book really thoroughly, and you thought really deeply about the symbolism. I agreed with you about most of it." You pause and feel a little defensive. You worked on that review for days, and you read every page of that book at least 4 times to pick it apart. It's your favorite book, after all.
"Most of it? What do you mean?" He's not smug, though you feel he's a little too sure about his opinion as he describes the connection between two supporting characters that, apparently, "everyone missed". "And how do you know this, sir?" you quip, expecting him to tell you he's some pompous english literature major over at the university.
"Well, miss, I know because I wrote it." Your heart drops, and so does your jaw. He tries to control the expression on his face, as it's stuck somewhere between a grin and some sort of shyness. He's never told a reader, or anyone at all, his real name in relation to his writing. He's always gone under a pen name and he's never done a single interview in person. However, a few weeks after he released his first book, someone of high importance picked it up on a whim, liked it, and spread the world. Overnight, he was a bestselling author.
"Y-you're John Ogden?"
"Well, yes. But my real name is Kylo Ren." You feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest. You've fantasized about meeting the person behind the book that changed your life, the characters you love so dearly, the plot that completely shattered you, and the insight that turned your mindset upside down.
"You're lying," you rationalize. There's no way he would just.. tell you who he is, is there? "Why would you tell me who you are? Your name??" He smiles and averts his eyes to what looks to you now, like a manuscript.
"I liked your review. A lot. I figured, if anyone deserves to know who wrote it, they should be the one person who actually got it." You blush and try to control the grin that's threatening to take over your features.
"So.. is that.." You look to the papers sprawled on the table. He looks up to your eyes you bashfully. He nods slowly and you feel your chest burst with excitement. You've been waiting two years for him to release something new, but you wouldn't dare risk asking him for a peek.
"Don't worry, it's being released soon. It took a while to get it.. fleshed out." You tilt your head in confusion. He's always said that writing comes very naturally to him, so you can't imagine what would stall him, well, until he tells you. "It's a romance." You blush, though you don't know why. The look on his face tells you he knows, though.
"Who's the lucky lady that got to be your muse?" You ask timidly, trying to sound less invested in the answer than you really are. It would be cliché for you to admit to yourself that you had fallen in love with him through his words, but in all honesty, that's about the best way you can describe the jealousy you would feel if he told you there was an inspiration for his first romance novel.
"I'm not sure yet. That's why it took so long." You both giggle, you a little more out of relief than anything else.
"Hopefully you won't have to wait to find out too much longer." You say as you bring the edge of the coffee cup to your lips. He smiles at you and there's a brightness in his eyes that makes your heart sing.
"Yeah," He chuckles and sips from his own cup. "I think she'll appear somewhere unexpected."
***
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