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maybe-your-left · 3 years

Note

BITCH I AM DEMANDING A FLUFFY PART TWO TO KYLO FORGETTING OUR DATE OKAY?!

I WANT SWEET AND NASTY MAKEUP SEX

HAHAHHA YESSSSS. here is part one of Kylo forgetting our anniversary.

“Hey.”

You sighed into the phone, slumped on the cool leather couch. The TV blaring before you, but you didn’t listen to what was on. It had been two weeks since you kicked Kylo out, the only communication shared were clipped texts and stale ‘Hi’s’ and ‘Byes’ when he needed to pick up clean clothes.

“Hi.”

Kylo took in a slow breath, you could practically feel the air hit your face. So close, yet so far, “Are you gonna be home today?”

“Yup.”

“Cool, I’ll be there at 12 during lunch. I have some shit to grab.”

You bit back sniffling, “Okay,” your voice cracked. “I’ll be here.”

———

You scrolled through your emails, waiting at the kitchen counter for him to show up. You'd applied for some jobs a few days ago if this was really the end of you two. You needed a job, there was no way you could afford living in the penthouse and at some point, Kylo would want it back.

It was in his name anyway, the only thing you really owned without his help was your laptop.

Fingers crossed you'd find something, you haven't worked in almost five years. You didn't need to with Kylo, and he urged you to not work. He wanted to take care of you, provide for you, help you in any way he could. But now, you were left high and dry, not even a single bank account in your name.

You swallowed back another round of tears, no.

No more tears, you'd get through this. You had family who would help, friends that supported you and wanted you to be happy. Even his mom, not that you'd stoop that low, was willing to help you.

It would be better to just cut all ties to him since there was a slim chance he would want to be back together.

You still weren't sure, you missed him. Terribly, barely sleeping because his presence was gone. Jumping towards your phone whenever it rang, hoping it was him on the other side calling to make it up to you.

But the man was stubborn, angry that you kicked him out.

Claiming that his accusations were valid, which wounded you further.

A light knock on the door drew you away from your wallowing, you took a shaky breath before whispering a faint, "it's open."

Kylo walked in slowly, dressed in his work clothes. A button-up, white, with his suit jacket and tight dress pants. His hair was getting longer, the harsh lighting of the kitchen showed a sheen of grease coating it.

And the bags, the bags under his eyes were darker than normal.

A part of you was smug over his appearance.

But the rest of you ached, fighting against your baser instinct to run towards him. So he could take you in his arms while you bathed him in kisses, mourning over the time spent apart.

"Hello," he nodded stiffly towards you. Not making eye contact as he shut the door. Kylo fiddled with the strap on his shoulder, his duffel bag hanging limp. Empty, ready to stuff more things inside before he ran away to whatever place he was staying.

"Hey," you croaked, eyes flitting back to your laptop. Biting your lip as you read through rejection after rejection, no one wanted you. The gaps in your resume were too long, your diploma meant nothing since you had zero experience.

Kylo's shoes scuffed the floor, sniffing loudly before he looked at you.

"I was going to grab some more things," he glanced towards the staircase, "All my stuff is at the dry cleaners right now, I've worn these pants two days in a row."

"That sucks."

He hummed, "Okay," backing away from you slowly. You watched him walk towards the stairs, back tense and straight. His hands were tucked into his pockets, something he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable.

You used to make him comfortable.

Now you just agitated him, even though it wasn't your fault you two were in this mess.

You stayed quiet as he rummaged around upstairs. Doors opening and closing, drawers slamming shut, you briefly heard swearing but you couldn't make it out. You hadn't thrown his stuff away, keeping everything organized. Right down to the hair products that he had left.

Color-coded and alphabetical by the sink.

His footsteps echoed to a stop, maybe he was considering kicking you out...

"Have you seen my black sweater?"

You stilled, his black sweater... "Nope."

A huff in annoyance, "The one that has the hole in the front, from when it got caught while we were in Niagra? It's not in the closet."

That's because I hid it, you thought. You'd been sleeping in it for the past week, it smelled like him and enveloped you like his arms used to. No way you were giving it back, call it a sacrifice of your relationship.

You listened to his slow descent to the kitchen, duffle now stuffed with clothes. He eyed you suspiciously, rolling his tongue along the inside of his cheek. Coming dangerously close to your seat, he angled himself behind you. A little to the left, but enough for him to spy on your computer screen.

"You're applying for jobs?"

You slapped your laptop shut, he didn't need to snoop.

"None of your business, Kylo."

He shrugged, looking up at the ceiling as he replied, "Might be good for you, to get out of the house."

"Mhm."

"You'll want to apply to multiple places," he stepped around you, opening the fridge for a brief glance inside. Spying one of his protein shakes that you hadn't thrown out, wasn't expired yet. Kylo cracked it open and took a small sip, "You won't be able to afford this place with entry-level salaries."

"Yes," you snapped at him, "I know that."

"Just trying to help, (Y/N)."

You climbed off your stool, moving away from him to curl on the couch. Already on the verge of tears, "You aren't helping, you're just being rude."

"Well, it's rude of you to steal my shit when we aren't together anymore."

That made the waterworks start, muffling your sniffles with your fluffy blanket. You tucked yourself away, desperate to disappear. Maybe when you woke up, everything would be back to normal, or you could wake up seven years earlier to avoid ever meeting him. Save yourself from the heartache that was tearing you apart from seam to seam.

You listened to the echo as he walked towards you. Huffing when he saw your shivering form, "I don't know why you're crying. I haven't been staying here for two weeks, we clearly aren't together."

"Whatever, Kylo," you whispered, voice breaking as you took in a wet breath, "Can you just leave?"

"Sure."

------

"I can't afford to stay there mom," you whimpered into the phone, you were stalling in your car. Parked in the garage of the apartment, you had been to an interview. Realizing the pitiful reality of your life, you had already begun to sell your designer clothes. Gucci purses, red bottoms, Tiffany earrings, Cartier bracelets, you name it. Anything that could help you create a bank account was sold off.

"Have you talked to him at all? Kylo wouldn't leave you high and dry, if anything he would pay for you to get an apartment."

"I don't want his help," you hissed.

A pause, "It would be humiliating to ask, I know he's expecting it. After the talk about jobs, he's just been waiting for me to cave and sacrifice my dignity."

"I'm just saying it wouldn't hurt to talk with him, I know you both have been avoiding it after the fight. It could bring you both some closure-or better yet-get you guys back together so I can get some grandbabies."

"Goodbye, mom."

You huffed as you hung up, slamming your head back into your headrest. Maybe you could sell the car, people would pay top dollar for a gold Porsche. But the title was in Kylo's name, birthday present, any money you'd earn would belong to him.

You pulled up your text thread, the last messages sent were from three days ago. He left you on read, you texted him goodnight after a few stale messages about your day and when he could come and move some furniture out. Kylo had gotten an apartment on the upper east side, right by his office. You checked the old Zillow listing, it was huge and ridiculously expensive.

Enough room for him and a new girlfriend, you were certain he was already fucking someone else. With how cruel he was with you, not even trying to make amends. Probably his secretary, she was always a slut. Showing off her tits to him, even when you came to visit. Kylo probably bent her over his desk the day after he left, just because he could.

You swallowed your pride, it was now or never.

Kylo, I think we need to talk.

Send.

Let's see how long it... oh?

What happened, I'm at work right now.

Quick, maybe he got the notification on his laptop.

Could I swing by the office?

Right now?

Yeah.

Typing...

I have a shareholder meeting at 2, make it quick.

You sped towards his work, determined to get there before he changed his mind and banned you from coming. You were shocked he even agreed, maybe he was having a rare good day.

Or forgot that you two were broken up.

After parking, you jogged into the building. No need to say hi to anyone, it was embarrassing enough to be the ex-girlfriend visiting. At least you were dressed up, people wouldn't think you were in the poor house, yet.

You smiled coldly at his secretary, not bothering to tell her what you were here for. Despite her stuttering about him having a meeting at 2, she was totally fucking him. There's no way she wasn't, a man like him can barely go a day without sticking his dick in something.

Whipping open the door, you were met with the uncomfortable silence that blanketed his office. Curtains were drawn, lights on the dimmest setting, the only noises were the door creaking and his fingers typing.

Like he was punishing the words, Kylo was good at breaking keyboards with his aggressive emailing.

You cleared your throat, watching as his eyes briefly flickered towards you before moving back to the screen. Okay, you walked slowly towards his desk. Pulling out a chair as quietly as possible, the leather squeaking when you sat.

Kylo let out a long sigh, leaning away from his screen. "What is it you want to talk about?"

With a harsh swallow, you fiddled with the hem of your skirt. Anything to avoid his penetrating gaze, "I just wanted to talk about, you know."

He blinked, face blank, "Use your words, please. I don't have time to fuck around, I have a business to run."

"I-I-I"

"Spit.it.Out."

"How come you never apologized?"

Silence.

Kylo's jaw clenched and unclenched, leaning back in his chair slowly. Staring directly at you, "This conversation?"

"Yes, I need to know."

"What good is it doing us now?"

"I don't know I just-"

"What are you hoping to gain from this?"

"Kylo-"

He huffed loudly, "I don't have to answer you anymore, we aren't together."

You slammed a fist on his desk, rattling a few pieces he had decorating it. Standing on your wobbling legs, "Listen to me, you can be an asshole all you fucking want but I deserve answers."

Kylo narrowed his eyes, standing slowly before you. His form towering, making you feel even smaller than you already felt. Crawling to his office for closure, and instead, he wanted to argue with you about the necessity of the conversation.

You watched his palms lay flat on the polished wood, crinkling papers he had strewn about.

"If you're here for money, just fucking say it."

"I am not here for-"

Now it was his turn to slam the desk, "Bullshit! You're here to fucking grovel because you don't know how to take care of yourself. Can't even get a second-rate job!"

"You're the one who insisted on taking care of me!"

"So you think it's okay to demand money when we aren't together? Selling off all the shit I bought you to pay the power bills?"

You gaped at him, "I would never."

"Shut up," Kylo spat, leaning further across to be nose to nose, "You forget that I have your email linked to my laptop. I can see every pathetic message about pawning what I worked for. What I provided you, fucking ungrateful."

"How dare you sneak through my email!?"

"It's not sneaking if I have the passwords, darling."

"You can't fucking do that," you pushed away, arms folded while you glanced around the room. All your pictures were gone, more proof that showed he was erasing your existence, "At least I'm not already fucking someone..."

"Excuse me?"

You spoke over your shoulder, "You heard me."

"Are you seriously accusing me of that," Kylo scoffed, "When that's what got us into this mess in the first place?"

You shrugged, "How long have you been fucking her, did you march to her place after I kicked you out?"

"(Y/N)."

"I'm a big girl, I can take it. Just tell me the truth, because there's no way you'd just abandon me if there wasn't someone else."

"(Y/N)."

You spun on your heel, snarling with a finger in his face, "How many women have you replaced me with? Huh? Or is it just your slut of a secretary-"

Kylo flipped his desk, everything crashing to the floor. You screamed as he began to throw items to the walls, tear books off the shelves, kicking his chairs to the ground. Anything he could get his hands on he attempted to tear apart.

"Enough!"

Heavy breaths.

"I'm not fucking anyone else! Are you fucking serious? All I've fucking done is work! Trying to just fucking move on but nooo," he faced you now, cheeks red and puffing. A few tracks of tears streaking towards his jaw, "You-you just have to be right, and have to be the victim of all this when it's both our fucking fault!"

Kylo paced away from you, running his fingers through his hair before crouching down to the floor. Cradling his face in his hands while he took in shaky breaths, "I fucking missed you, so much. It's all I thought about, but every fucking time I came back you ignored me."

"Kylo-"

"No, you fucking iced me out. I could barely speak to you and I wasn't going to do anything over text."

You succumbed to your tears, there was no way to hold them. Choking as you wiped away the floods, "I-I didn't m-mean to, you weren't talking to me Kylo. How was I supposed to r-react?"

Now he was crying, hiccuping in an attempt to steady his breathing and push through it like he always had. But he couldn't stop the tremor in his voice, "You could've told me you loved me or forgave me. Anything would've been better than this."

"Why do I have to be the one to apologize, I'm not the one who forgot our day and manhandled me in the tub! You were drunk, rude, and horrible to me, I deserved an apology."

"I know," he sniffed, "I tried to-the first few times I came back for clothes. But you hid from me."

You nodded slowly, pacing your way towards him. Unsure of how he'd react to you touching him, but you needed to be closer. You shuffled to his side, sliding your back against the gray wall to the floor.

"We've never been good at apologizing."

Kylo sat on the floor, mirroring you against the wall, "At least before, you didn't kick me out. Force me to crash on a couch, you know I don't fit on couches."

You chuckled softly, not wanting to smile at the visual.

"That's why our couch was custom," he laughed too, dull and humorless, "Because I kept sliding off."

"Yup."

Both of you swallowed, throats clicking in unison. Kylo shuffled in a more comfortable position, looking out at the clouded sky that peeked through the shades.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry."

A breath, "I never meant to miss our day, and I thought you were finished with me. I should've just spoken to you instead of drink, but that doesn't mean much now."

You hummed, "Thank you."

"I can write you a check," he sighed, "So you can get another place and still keep whatever's left of your collections."

"You don't-"

"I know I don't."

Kylo wrote you a check for half a million dollars, not looking at you when he ripped it from his checkbook. He mumbled about the bank may be needing to call him to confirm it, just have them call my office number.

Sending you off without another word.

------

Your new apartment was cute, small, perfect for you.

Light and airy, none of the fixtures were black or red. Hues of pink, coral, green, and blue danced around the rooms. Your couch was velvet, just because you wanted it to be. With an abundance of pillows and candles on every surface, you could fit them onto.

Your bed was a four-poster with a dreamy white canopy, soft and cloudlike bedding scrunched up from however you left them. No one was running around frantic to make the bed, or straighten the blinds, or draw the curtains, it was just yours.

The check was cashed with little fuss, you tried not to cry about it. You dropped off the old house keys at Kylos office, along with your car keys, there was no need to keep the Porsche. You weren't living that life anymore, you could buy your own car now! And it would be yours, it was too hard to drive the gift everywhere.

Kylo told you to keep the car when he found the keys, but you ignored his messages. He wouldn’t understand why you wouldn’t keep it, but that was his problem.

You sighed into your couch, looking at the TV nestled next to the bay window. Imagining where you could squish more houseplants… you already had an abundance but it wouldn’t hurt.

Your phone began to vibrate on the coffee table, startling you as you scrambled towards it. Oh, it was Kylo, odd.

“Hey?”

“Hey.”

“Uh,” you stood from the floor, scratching your cheek as you walked. “What’s up?”

He cleared his throat, “I saw you got a place, wanted to drop off a housewarming gift.”

Your face scrunched, balancing the phone between your face and shoulder. Popping a potato chip in your mouth, “Why would you do that?”

A sigh, “Can you just buzz me in? I brought wine…”

“Whatever.”

Kylo came in with a tight smile, dressed in some black joggers and a gray t-shirt. He looked like he just rolled out of bed, not his typical look on a weekday. He held up a brown paper bag, Whole Foods on the label.

"You went to Whole Foods?" you raised a concerned brow.

"Nope," he set the bag on your kitchen table, eying the plants and crystals that littered your living room. A few magazines were strewn around on the surface, "I had my secretary do it."

You glared at him, which he noticed before shaking his head rapidly, "New secretary-not the old one. His name is Brady, he's very nice."

Kylo stood with his hands in his pockets, glancing in every direction as you approached the bag. Humming when you began pulling out the goodies he had, as promised there was a bottle of wine. Your favorite, along with a set of glasses.

A clear purple tinge, almost vintage looking. Some of your favorite fruit, he blushed when you held them up to his eyes. Mumbling how you never had enough of them in the past, and it was their season.

Now you were blushing, finding some red velvet cupcakes. Packaged beautifully, and a small vase in the shape of a kitty. You placed it on the table, looking at it over and over. Biting your lip as you waited for something to happen.

"I like your place," Kylo croaked out, "It's very bright."

You chuckled, "You're just used to your eyes straining from all the red and black decor."

He hummed, walking down your hallway. Glancing indoors that were left open until he made it to your bedroom. You heard him groan when he saw the white sheets and canopy, Kylo whistled for you.

Obediently, you pranced towards him, taken aback when he was sprawled on your mattress. Facedown with his face in your pillow, groaning like he was trying to wake up from a good dream.

"I fucking forgot how good you smelled," he moaned out, looking over at you lazily, "What would I have to do to get you to make out with me in here?"

------

LOL, this was long, but I'll do a part three if you would enjoy the rest of their reunion.

TAGGING: @finn-ray-nal-beads @onlykyloscenes @candycanes19 @historyandfandoms50 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @ghoulian13 @mrs-kylo-ren @millenialcatlady @relationshipwithmybed @dancingmicrobes @wayward-rose @contesa-lui-alucard @daydreamsofren @insufferablelust @ohdamnadamm @mariesackler @caillea @safarigirlsp @jalexunderthestars @shesakillerkween @glassythoughts @zimmermansbrat @not-the-teen-witch @jynzandtonic @roanniom @celestiasin @glassbxttles @cornmousequeen @driversmutbucket @blowthatpieceofjunk

Here is the link to my Mega Masterlist for all your stalking needs...

#adam driver #adamdriver #kylo ren #boyfriend kylo ren #modern kylo ren #part two of our angsty part one #my writing #maybe-your-left

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dirty-urie · 3 years

Text

Little Brendon

Second Person

Brendon x Female Reader

PFTW Era

Fluff(ish) Oneshot

PG-13? R?

3.6k Words

Warnings In Order of Appearance: real person fic, language throughout, arguably slight smut, minor dirty talk

Author's Notes:

1. I don't know how I got this idea or what possessed me to actually write it, to be honest, but I had fun, so I guess that's all that matters.

2. Posting this in honor of the anniversary of the show I went to on the first leg of the Wicked tour, which was technically yesterday, but this fic wasn’t done yesterday, so here it is now.

“Awww, little Brendon,” you gush at the computer screen.

“Please tell me you aren’t looking at pictures of my penis,” Brendon says, walking into the room.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Not that your ego couldn’t use a little bruising, but no, I’m not cooing at your nudes. Merch wants you to sign off on the final photos of the Beebo plush, and look how cute he is!” You shift the computer monitor so he can see what you’re looking at.

“Why are you going through my email?”

“You always ignore emails from Merch, and I like looking at all of the new Panic designs!”

“Babe, I work ten hours a day; I don’t want to do anything I don’t have to. Merch will use whatever designs they think will sell well. They don’t actually need my approval. Those sign-off emails are just a formality.”

You pout. “I know, I know. I won’t go through your email anymore.”

“Good,” he says, relieved. "I wouldn’t want you to discover all the messages from my mistresses.”

“You’re a jackass,” you call, flipping him off as he leaves the room with a smirk.

***

“I’m gonna miss you,” you pout, leaning against the door frame to your bedroom.

He kisses your forehead and puts another pair of sweatpants in a suitcase. “You can’t wait for me to leave. You get to have the girls over, watch all your shitty movies, and you won’t have to deal with my dirty underwear or noisy video games in your nice living room.”

You take the t-shirt he’s about to pack out of his hands and throw it on the bed, pulling him into a kiss. You slip your hands under the waistband of his pants to grope his ass. You pull away. “Mhm, that’s what I thought. I don’t ever have to deal with dirty underwear because you never wear any.”

“Hey! Don’t slut-shame me! You love having such easy access to this body.” He gestures to his body with a strange flailing arm motion.

“You know what? You’re right. I can’t wait for you to leave.”

He side-eyes you. “Well, in that case, you won’t want the present I got you.” He shrugs, refolding his shirt.

Your eyes light up, and you go kiss him again. “Have I ever told you how much I love you? Because it’s a lot. Enough to justify a really nice present,” You say after he pulls away.

“That’s what I thought. I guess you’ll get your present after all. Close your eyes,” Brendon says.

You close your eyes, and he hands you something soft. You open your eyes, and it’s Brendon’s likeness in plush form. He’s wearing Brendon’s tour outfit with a gold jacket over a black tee and black leather pants.

“Little Brendon!” you exclaim, seeing the toy in your hands. “Aww, it’s even got your lips and little eyebrow scar! Thank you, babe.” You kiss him and then Little Brendon. “Now I have someone to keep me company while you’re off getting bitches on tour.”

“Oh, come on, babe,” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes, “they’re not bitches, they’re groupies.”

You smack his arm affectionately and then push him onto the bed to crawl on top of him. “Maybe you should practice for the groupies. Wouldn’t want you to kill their rockstar fantasies because you’re out of experience.”

He flips you over and rolls on top of you, nipping at your neck. “Out of experience? What, pray tell, have we been doing every day for the past two weeks, if not building my experience?” he asks with disbelief, punctuating each point with a bite or kiss. “Remember when I made you come twelve times in one hour before I let myself come? Or when we fucked on the roof of my studio when the neighbors were out of town? Or when you fucked my ass with that new toy, the one that vibrates?”

“Shit, shit, point taken,” you moan, grinding up against him while he bears down on you.

His phone pings, and he slows his hips to grab it from the side table. “Fuck, Zack’s out front. I’ve gotta go.”

You grab the front of his shirt and yank him down for a deep, dirty kiss.

He’s reluctant to pull away, but his other love is calling. Tour, that is, not Zack.

“Okay, let me up, loverboy. I’ll help bring your stuff out to the car,” you tell him.

“Thank you. Most of my instruments and stuff are already with the guys, but I’ve still got two suitcases and a backpack.”

You both stand up, and he grabs the suitcases, leaving you with the backpack. “You’re not gonna readjust, rockstar?” You ask, eyeing his tented sweatpants.

He shrugs, “My hands are full, and it’s nothing Zack hasn’t seen before.”

“You just like showing off,” you accuse, and he smirks a little and winks because you’re not wrong.

You walk him to the car and give him a final goodbye kiss. “I love you to death. Knock their socks off, babe.”

***

Without fail, the one-week mark hits you like a truck. You’ve had your fun with girlfriends, and you’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet, but your bed is empty, and it’s weighing on your chest. Even the puppies seem a little more glum without Brendon.

You feel silly, but finally, after two nights of crying yourself to sleep, you give in and grab little Brendon from your dresser and cuddle up with him.

***

Two weeks later and you and the real Brendon are half-asleep, snuggled up against each other in the nicest hotel room in Houston. You can only spend two nights with him, and you refuse to let him go for even a second more than you have to. Which he did not appreciate when he had to use the bathroom, but it’s his fault for leaving you for so long.

“Baby, I’ve got an interview, but I’ll bring back breakfast, and we’ll eat in bed, okay? I’m really sorry,” He whispers apologetically, peeling away from you.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s what you have to do to pay the bills. Can you hand me Little B? He’s in my purse,” you ask, and Brendon obliges without comment, probably just happy you’re not crying.

You fall back asleep with the little guy in your arms.

Brendon knows it’s irrational when he comes back three hours later at 8 am, and he feels a tiny twinge of jealousy at the plush you’re cuddled up with. However, he feels it is not irrational that he’s upset when he climbs into bed with you, and instead of immediately clinging to him like always, you just clutch Little Brendon harder. Almost as if protecting the toy from Brendon.

“Y/N, I’m back,” he whispers in your ear, half-hoping you’ll throw the doll on the ground and roll over to make burning hot love to him for 12 hours straight. That’ll show Little Brendon. Well, no, it won’t, he has stuffing where his brain should be, but it’ll show him on principle.

You do roll over to throw an arm across him, but you still have little Brendon tucked under your other arm.

Brendon decides to call this one a draw.

“Did you bring food?” You mumble.

“Of course, darling. I’ll do anything to spoil you. That’s one of the perks of having a driver’s license and sentience.”

“…What?”

“Nothing. I’ll get your food.”

He insists on feeding you and rubbing your feet, and letting you watch whatever you want on the hotel TV. And it’s just because he wants to take care of you while you two are together. Definitely no other reason. He certainly feels no joy at the sight of Little Brendon lying discarded on the nightstand. Point Real Brendon.

After the day of pampering, it pains you when you check the clock, and it’s time to leave. “Alright, I’ve gotta head out, B. I can’t miss my flight,” you finally say, changing from Brendon’s T-shirt into real clothes.

Brendon thinks about protesting, but he knows better. You have your own life apart from him, and he respects that.

You cram your stuff in your overnight bag and give your goodbye hugs and kisses to Brendon. Then you kiss Little B before throwing him in your purse. You think you see Brendon scowl at your new companion, but you were probably just imagining it.

***

“Surprise!” Brendon shouts as he opens the door.

“Babe! Thank god I sent the strippers home early,” you joke as he sits next to you on the couch.

“Shit, I missed the strippers?”

“You fucking goof,” you laugh, playing with his hair. “What are you doing home early?”

“Nicole needed to come home for some emergency with her house, so I figured I’d charter the plane and zip down with her and Zack to spend the night with my beautiful wife.”

“God, that must’ve cost an arm and a leg, B.”

He shrugs, “Nah, we were only in Portland anyway, and it’s easier than finding a new bassist on short notice. This way, Nicole and I can be back for the San Jose show tomorrow night, and I get a whole twelve hours at home with my girl and my puppies.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad it worked out for everyone. Especially me,” you say, shifting to sit in Brendon’s lap.

You two finish up the episode you were watching before you insist that he comes to bed because he’s overworked and jetlagged. He’s sleepy and doesn’t need that much convincing, but he tries to put up a fight anyway.

“I only get a little bit of time with you; I don’t want to spend it sleeping,” he complains.

“This is the hardest I’ve ever had to work to get you in my bed,” you respond, yanking him to his feet.

His eyes light up, and you shake your head. “No, sir. We’re not having sex. You’re getting at least seven hours of sleep in your own bed with the love of your life, and then you’re going to take a shower, make me breakfast, and give San Jose the show of their lives. You’ll literally see me again in two days when I come to the LA show.”

He bites his lip, still trying to lay the seduction on thick.

“No! Bed! Or I’m making you sleep in the guest room!”

He sighs, trudging along behind you to the bedroom.

“Um, babe, I think you forgot to kick out your mistress before I got home,” he says, gesturing to his side of the bed where little Brendon is tucked into the comforter.

You scowl playfully. “Oh, shush you. Where else should I put him while making the bed?”

“I don’t know, but letting my replacement sleep in my spot feels a little on the nose.”

“He’s not your replacement, baby.”

“Really?” Brendon asks, picking up Little Brendon and getting into bed, “because” he sniffs Little Brendon’s head, “I’m pretty sure Little Brendon is wearing my fifty dollar cologne.”

You blush, “Okay, well I take him everywhere, and I didn’t want him to smell, and it’s not like I could use any of my perfumes…” you taper off, realizing that you may have given yourself away with the ‘take him everywhere’ line.

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything else before clicking out the light.

“Hey, Brendon?” You ask quietly.

“Mm?”

“Um, what did you do with Little B?”

Brendon clicks on the light. “Ah-ha! J’accuse! You’ve replaced me!”

“I just don’t want the dogs to rip him up and then leave me to clean up stuffing all morning!” You defend yourself.

“Well then, you won’t mind me putting him up on the dresser.”

“Of course, I won’t mind.”

Brendon puts Little B on the dresser and goes back to bed, so imagine his surprise when instead of waking up tangled in your arms the next morning, he’s not even touching you on the king bed. Instead, you’re hugging Little Bastard with your nose buried in his fabric hair.

Little B’s smirk taunts Brendon as he storms out of bed to make his damn wife breakfast. His damn wife.

***

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you whine, rubbing your hips frantically.

“Come,” he commands. “Let me see that pretty mouth fall open as you come all over our bedsheets, pretty girl.”

The angle on your clit is perfect, and the image of him getting off on your phone right along with you pushes you into bliss, and your orgasm rocks through your core. You know you’ve affected him when you hear him grunt as come rolls down his fist.

“God, babe, you’re incredible, from a completely different country, fuck, a completely different continent, you still turn me on like crazy,” he admires.

“I could say the same about you. I came so hard just from getting to hear and see you.” You tell him before accidentally dropping your phone. “Shit, sorry, my fingers are a little wet.

Brendon would normally just be admiring the soaked panties he’s getting a glimpse of, but instead, his attention is drawn between your thighs for a different reason.

“Were you getting off by humping Little Brendon?!”

“It’s not what it looks like, okay?” You say, picking up the phone. “He’s the perfect firmness, and he’s way easier to manage than a clunky pillow! It’s purely physical!”

Brendon scoffs, “I’ve bought you thousands of dollars in sex toys, and you turn to him? In our marital bed? I’m being cuckolded by polyester!”

“Brendon, it’s a stuffed animal, not the pool boy. You come back from England in three days, and you can fuck me however you want. Y’know, because of your functioning dick, tongue, and fingers?”

“Just as long as I don’t come back to find you rimming the stuffed tiger from Calvin and Hobbes,” he teases with a smile.

“Hm, is degrading Winnie the Pooh out of the question, too, then? because if that’s the case, then I’ll need to find different plans for tomorrow evening.”

He gives you a pointed look, feigning seriousness before cracking a grin. “Alright, alright, thank you for the orgasm. I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he says before blowing you a kiss before hanging up.

“That plush better count his days,” Brendon mumbles to himself before falling asleep.

***

“Do you want me to go with you to the store?” He offers.

“No, baby, enjoy some of your time at home. I’ll just bring my other husband for emotional support.” You toss Little Brendon in your purse.

“I remember when I was your emotional support at the grocery store…” Brendon starts, looking off into the distance.

“Yeah, me too, and you were terrible. You hated it. Rest assured, I’ll make you come back to the grocery store another time, but right now, I’m being nice because you just got back from tour. And you still have the dishes and the vacuuming to do.”

“Aye, aye, captain. Don’t let the paparazzi catch you smooching Little Brendon while I’m at home doing your dirty work,” he calls as you leave.

“No promises! He’s very tempting!”

***

“You never snuggle with me anymore,” Brendon pouts after you reject his advances in bed.

“It’s August, and you’re hot,” you complain, and he gives you a suggestive look. “Not that kind of hot, Casanova. I mean two minutes in, and you’re sweating all over me. It’s uncomfortable.”

“You snuggled with Little Brendon when I was gone!” He accuses.

“Yes, because I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping with something in my arms, and Little Brendon doesn’t sweat, or snore, or wake me up in the morning with his cock pressing into my thigh, or bicker with me about how I choose to sleep,” you explain, annoyed. Brendon looks genuinely upset, so you soften your face. “When the temperature isn’t in the triple digits, and we don’t literally stick together when we touch, we can cuddle. Okay?”

“Fine.”

***

“Bogart, hey buddy, look at this toy for you to chew on. Bite, bite, bite, kill,” he says, throwing Little Brendon to Bogart.

Bogart sighs and rests his head on Little Brendon like a pillow.

“First my wife and now my dog,” Brendon shouts, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Okay, this has gone on long enough,” you tell him, alerting him to your presence in the doorframe. “Sit,” you order, pointing to the couch. “Brendon, you’re jealous of a toy,” you state bluntly.

He blushes and grabs his stuffed enemy. “It’s not about the toy,” he finally admits.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“It’s just,” he struggles to find the right words, “I love touring. I love seeing all the different cities on my days off, meeting fans, partying with different bands, and most of all playing shows.” He takes a deep breath. “But I also love you. I love waking up with you, going out to dinner, watching you get off on my thigh, and just getting to be near you. So when I have to be away from you to tour, sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, and seeing you do the things I want to do with you with the stupid Beebo plush instead, kept bringing all of those feelings to the forefront” he confesses.

“Oh, B, of course, you made the right choice. I love you, and I miss you when you’re gone sometimes, but I love our life. I love getting my independence when you’re gone, visiting you on-tour, watching you do what you love, having super hot reunion sex. So yeah, sometimes I just wanna squeeze you and smell your cologne and kiss your little face, but I’d never want you to sacrifice your career for that,” you say. “You wanna know why I like Little B so much?”

“Because he’s so good for humping?”

“No,” you laugh, “well, yes, actually, he is. But it’s because he reminds me why I spend some nights alone and hop on dreadful red-eye flights every few weeks and have to hook up with my husband on a fucking bus. So you can put on this dumb gold jacket,” you fiddle with Little Brendon’s jacket, “and perform the songs you worked so hard on for hundreds of thousands of people, and then sell thousands of these dumb little dolls so we can live in a multi-million dollar house with a home studio and a heated pool.”

“So you’re not replacing me with the puppet doll?” He asks.

“Well, maybe a little, but sometimes you feel so intangible. Even when you’re here, I know you have other, more important obligations, so it’s nice to have something constant,” you laugh, “and I think Bogart feels the same way,” you say, pointing to the dog who is curled around his new friend protectively.

***

“You’ve created a monster!”

“Have not!”

“You were the one who gave him Little Brendon!”

Brendon’s eyes dart to the floor because you’re right.

Bogart grew attached to Little Brendon faster than you did and now gently carries the toy with him wherever he goes. If you try to reclaim Little Brendon, Bogart growls and snarls.

“It’s kind of cute, I guess. He’s protecting his daddy,” you say.

“Then it’s your fault for putting my cologne on him,” Brendon retorts.

“Ugh, fine,” you concede.

“Oh look, he’s dropped it,” Brendon points out.

At first, you think it’s a good thing, but you both recognize the look Bogart’s giving.

“Go, Bog! Get it!” Brendon cackles as the dog pounces.

“Oh no, you don’t, bad dog,” you scold, snatching the toy away. “If you wanna hump something, I think Zack’s coming over tonight, but we don’t do that to mommy’s things.”

Brendon’s still laughing his ass off, and you shoot him a dirty look. “C’mon, babe, you’ve blue-balled him,” Brendon says, pointing to the sad-looking dog.

“Bogart is fixed and doesn’t have balls, a characteristic you two will soon have in common if you don’t stop giggling like a ten-year-old,” you threaten, and he, wisely, shuts up. “That’s what I thought. And if anything, this is just vindication for me because I told you Little Brendon was good for humping, and you dismissed it,” you tell him.

“Okay, fine, there was a brief period of time when I was irrationally jealous of a toy,” he admits. “But I think you should get another taste of the real thing before you decide who’s the better lay once and for all,” Brendon says, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Brendon!” You lightheartedly protest in his arms.

***

You’re lying on his chest contentedly as he strokes your arm. “You wanna know what I miss the most about getting to cuddle with you when you’re touring? Something Little Brendon doesn’t give me?”

“Hm?”

“Your heartbeat. Feeling it under my head or under my palm. Especially if we’re lying together for a while. I love how it slows and steadies the longer we’re with each other. So comforting.”

***

Little Brendon is sitting on your bed with a card that says, “Squeeze me!” on the front. You squeeze the plush, and you immediately recognize Brendon’s heartbeat coming softly from the chest of the toy. You smile and pick up the card.

Hey, baby! It reads, I’m no doubt missing you on the second leg of tour right now, but if you really need some comfort, I hope this’ll do. The recording lasts about an hour, and I made sure it got down to my resting heart rate before it stops. I’m sorry for being a jealous dick about a stuffed animal, but even my possessive lizard brain wants you to have something to make you feel better if you’re ever stressed or upset. (And now that the Beebo plushies are officially for sale, you can rest easy knowing yours is special)

xoxoxo,

Brendon

#why did i write this?#brendon urie fanfiction #Brendon x Reader #my own work #brendon urie #panic! at the disco #panic at the disco #brendon urie smut #brendon urie fluff

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btsslowburnfic · 3 years

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The Arrangement Chapter 11

Series Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter Summary: You and Yoongi each share a little of your fucked up pasts

Previous chapter here

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The two of you entered the studio. Yoongi headed for the desk chair. "You can take the couch."

You gave him a bottle of water and pulled the gimbap out of your purse, handing one to him.

"Thanks. Now do you see why I don't go to those meetings?" He began to tear the wrapping off the gimbap.

"Yep. That was brutal. They literally just read off of the PowerPoint slides." You took a bite of your food.

Yoongi scrolled through his phone. "We should go shopping tonight. The stores will be packed tomorrow and Sunday."

"I don't mind. I can just go tomorrow or something."

He looked over at you. "I don't do crowds. Let's go tonight."

You sighed, it was clear you weren't winning this argument. "Sounds good. What time will you get done with work today?" You asked, glad some of the negativity was fading from him.

"I need to do some producing. But I'll try to take a break at 7 and then we can go shopping."

You almost died a little at how normal and domestic this all sounded. A small part of you wanted your life to be so different from the fucked up life you had experienced as a child. This could be your life. This could be it. It's fake. I don't care.

"OK sounds good." you finished up your sandwich. "I'm off to continue answering questions that people could easily look up online."

"Better you than me," he said.

You stuck your hand out for the sandwich wrapper and sighed. "Yep. It’s definitely not work befitting Min Suga genius." You teased as you exited the studio.

Yoongi smiled and turned around to face his computer. What the fuck was happening? Two days in and he had already bought you towels and was getting ready to go grocery shopping with you. Might as well skip to the wedding at this point, he thought jokingly. At least then someone else would have bought the towels for you.

---------------

Yoongi picked at his cuticles, his alarm was set to go off in a few minutes. He had done some mixing, but for the most part he ended up writing. He had been very inspired lately for lyrics. Usually it was the beats that came more easily to him and he had to seek out experiences for his lyrics. But lately he had so many feelings and experiences just itching to come out.

He was worried after that night at the bar that you would distract him from his job but so far he had found the opposite to be true. He was thinking about you less because he knew you were in the office or the apartment. He wasn’t wondering what you were doing all the time. Not that he cared. Not that he had thought about you all the time. And it was nice to have someone answer emails and calls, and deliver coffee.

He turned his alarm off preemptively and stood up. He exited the studio. There was no one left on the 14th floor. That wasn’t unusual. He stopped by your desk. It was totally empty. He frowned. How could a person the same age as him have only 2 bags of belongings he wondered. He took out his phone.

YG: What’s going on with Ms. [YLN] work laptop? I see it hasn’t arrived yet. She needs it immediately to help coordinate my collaborations. Additionally, she needs appropriate stationary.

JW: Of course Mr. Min. I will follow up with the IT department immediately and let you know. As for the office supplies I can provide her with some basic stationary immediately. If you require personalized stationary the lead time on orders is 2 weeks. I can send a link to have you/her look over it.

YG: Thank you Jiwoo. Please do that.

Satisfied with himself, he put his phone back in his pocket and headed over to the elevator. He got in. A girl he recognized as Alice, Jin’s main stylist was already on. She had a make-up train case with her and seemed irritated. He gave her a nod of acknowledgement and noticed the button for the 18th floor was already pushed.

They both awkwardly stood in silence for the short ride.

The elevator arrived at the 18th floor. Yoongi gestured to her to exit first. She did and headed down the other way towards Jin’s apartment. He must have some event tonight Yoongi thought as he went the other direction to his apartment. He walked in, just realizing he hadn’t been home since yesterday morning. He sighed. It wasn’t unusual for him to spend days at a time in the studio. The first thing he noticed was that his apartment smelled like coffee and girl. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was just different.

He continued into the living room and looked around. There was a light on in the kitchen and a half-empty pot of coffee. He could see a light peeking out from under your bedroom door. He took out his phone.

YG: I’m home. I’m going to grab a shower first and then we can go. You don’t have to stay holed up in the bedroom.

He walked upstairs, put his phone on the charger, and showered.

You woke up from your nap right at 6:58. Yoongi hadn’t struck you as the type to ever get home from work early so you hadn’t worried about being ready right at 7. You checked your messages and saw where he had texted you as well as Jimin. You pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt and headed out to the living room.

JM: 2 pm. Meet me in the lobby of the 6th floor. Bring a tank top and leggings so you can try on clothes over them. Also I HATE YOU WE WERE THERE UNTIL 5 OMFG

YN: Sorry sorry XD I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks again!

Yoongi emerged a few minutes later wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and looking like a damn snack. “Hey.” He walked over to the kitchen and opened the cabinets to check the ingredients. He looked back over his shoulder, “Seriously, I meant what I texted, Make yourself at home. I'm never here anyways."

You moved over to the barstool. "Thanks. I'm just so used to sharing small spaces with lots of people I don't really take up a lot of space. The coffee is fresh by the way. I had a cup before napping just now."

Yoongi didn't really respond, opening up the refrigerator. The two of you were surprised to suddenly hear yelling and screaming in the hallway.

"What the hell? "Yoongi asked, shutting the fridge and walking over to the front door. “Not again," he muttered under his breath. It sounded like a woman yelling. The blood in your veins ran ice cold, your tongue slowly turned to lead. You heard the front door open and felt dizzy. Suddenly you were in an apartment with Suho and there was screaming. You took a deep breath. No. No. That was years ago. You were in Seoul. You were safe. There were guards here and Yoongi was here. Yoongi? You shook your head, looking around. You started to panic again.

The woman had stopped screaming. You heard the voices of two men and slowly staggered out towards the hallway.

"What the fuck Jin?" you heard Yoongi yell.

"I know. I know. She's just difficult."

"Your girlfriend is a fucking asshole." You heard a girl yell. You recognized her as Alice. She was pulling her make up case down the hallway and crying hard.

"Alice I'm sorry. You know Lin is a little crazy. She didn't mean any of the stuff she said." Jin pleaded with her.

Alice was sobbing as she pushed the elevator button. "Tell yourself that, jin."

You didn't want to stare. You felt wrong watching all of this happen but you were also numb at this point, almost experiencing it as though you were outside your body.

Yoongi breathed in sharply. "Just go home Jin. But this is the second time this week. She needs some anger management classes or something." Yoongi looked over and saw you standing there, peeking around the corner.

"Enjoying the show?" He said irritated.

You snapped back to reality and shook your head. You weren't nosy. You had been scared and didn't want to be in the apartment alone. Yoongi got on the elevator with Alice, leaving you and Jin in the hallway.

" Goddammit," you heard Jin say as he walked back to his apartment.

You stood there for a minute replaying everything that had just happened. You took a few deep breaths. Suho wasn't here. You were fine. Yoongi was fine. Apparently Jin had a crazy girlfriend. Alice was Jin's stylist. And Yoongi thought you were a nosey asshole. Great.

You didn't feel like you could go back to the apartment right now so you decided to head out for a walk.

-----------

"You don't have to come with me. You don't even know me." Alice sniffed. "I know how to ride an elevator."

Yoongi shrugged. "Your name is Alice. You've been around for 3 years but became Jin's main stylist a year ago. You are hopelessly in love with him and his new girlfriend suspects. Tell me I'm wrong."

Alice sniffled, her silence acting as confirmation. Yoongi observed so much, quietly watching his coworkers over the years. “This is embarrassing.” She sniffled.

" You should file a complaint with the HR department. She can't just scream at staff members."

"I'm just a stylist."

"Well I'll be filing a complaint. Her loud yelling is fucking annoying." Yoongi put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels.

Alice laughed a little at that. "Yeah. She's fucking mean. They've actually been dating on and off for years. She yells at Jin too and he always just takes it. That's why she screamed at me tonight. She called him a worthless idiot for like the 500th time and I finally just snapped and told her to shut up."

Yoongi pressed his lips together. He never would have imagined that Jin was being verbally abused. He suddenly felt bad he had been so short with him a few minutes ago.

The elevator arrived at the 7th floor where several of the girl's dormitories were. "Rest up. She's a bitch." Yoongi said to Alice as she got ready to exit.

"Yeah, thanks. Sorry I've never really talked to you before."

Yoongi shrugged . "It's fine." He pushed the door close button and back to the 18th floor. He had been so surprised to see you standing there. He didn't think you'd be interested in gossip, you had seemed so mature.

He walked back into the apartment. "Y/N I'm back. Are you ready to go to the store?"

Silence.

He sent a message to your phone and heard it ping from the countertop.

Shit.

--------------

Yoongi walked outside. It was a little cold out. He tried to tell himself he wasn't chasing after you or looking for you. He was just out stretching his legs. If he happened to run into you, fine. But if not, fine. He reasoned that without your phone or wallet, you had to be nearby. He had left a note for you in the apartment just in case you got back before he did.

Y/N,

Hey. Sorry for all the loud drama. Jin's gf sucks. Text me. You still owe me jjigae.

He walked through one of the little parks that stood between the skyscrapers and the river. He figured he would do a short lap and then head back. He hated the cold, he thought again as he rubbed his hands together.

"Yoongi?" he heard a voice. He looked over at the swingset and saw you sitting there.

"Hey," he walked over. "You left."

"Sorry, I needed some fresh air." You responded as you watched your breath form in the air.

Yoongi took a seat on the swing next to you. "Yeah. Sorry about that. Jin's girlfriend is apparently awful."

"Yeah. Poor Alice. I met her the other day, she seemed so sweet."

“How do you already know so many people?” Yoongi wondered aloud. He had been there for years and barely knew anybody.

You shrugged, “I guess bartending made me good at talking to people.”

“How did you get into it?”

“Bartending? Well I wanted a job where I could work nights so I could also have a day job. And the money was really good.”

“That's always your main job criteria?” Yoongi said flippantly.

Rude. “That's a little mean but yea. I'm the main adult who has to support my two siblings and I've had to since I was 20 years old. I had to drop out of college so there's not many options. I haven’t had the luxury of choosing jobs that I might actually be interested in.”

Yoongi felt like such a shithead. “Sorry. That was a dick thing of me to say. You’re right, it would be nice if you could have the ability to do a job because you like it. Not because of the money.”

“It's OK. I'm just sensitive about it.” You looked off in the distance at the river.

“You should be proud. When I was 20 I wasn’t able to even support myself, let alone take care of anybody else.”

You shrugged. “I’m sure you could have if you had to.”

“No. I’m telling you. When I was 20 I was on my own. And I was homeless because I couldn’t support myself. So the fact that you actually made it work while taking care of people is pretty amazing.”

“Thanks. And wow. I had no idea. That sucks. I’m glad you’re not homeless anymore.” You looked over at him. You never would have guessed. You just assumed he had always been well off.

“Right? That would suck.” Yoongi agreed, glad you weren’t turning his trauma into a big deal. “Yeah, I got discovered by a talent scout and BigHit brought me to Seoul and set me up in one of the dorms here.”

“Wow. I got discovered by some rich asshole with dimples in a bar, who I thought was running a sex-trafficking ring.” You joked. Yoongi laughed, while gently swinging.

"While we’re sharing our tragic backstories, that's actually one of the reasons I came out there." You began. You figured if Yoongi was willing to share some of his fucked-up ness you could do the same. "In the hallway. I didn't want to be alone. People yelling and screaming puts me on edge. I wasn’t trying to be nosy" you thought about how to best phrase what you wanted to say next. "I was raised in an environment where that happened a lot. Yelling. Screaming. And things got very violent, very quickly, in our house."

Yoongi sat next to you on the swings listening intently to your confession. He never would have guessed that about you. You seemed so well-adjusted." I'm sorry that you grew up in a place like that." He said, carefully studying your face." And I'm sorry that Jin's girlfriend caused you to be uncomfortable. I had no idea or I wouldn't have said anything to you about being in the hallway"

"it's OK. Well, I mean, it's not ok what happened to me, but it's over now. Thanks." you looked over at him. He was blowing on his hands. "Are you cold?"

"Yes, it’s freezing out here"

You scoffed, “It's a little cold. Here," you stood up and put your hands around his before he could object.

"How are you so hot?” He asked, enjoying the furnace of your hands.

“You know I look in the mirror every day and ask myself the same question.” You replied with a straight face. Yoongi wrinkled his nose causing you to laugh. “Come on. I don’t want to get fired for letting you freeze to death.” You pulled on his hands to get him off the swing. “Do you still want to go shopping?”

“Yep. I have the list in my phone. Since we’re already out let’s walk to the real grocery store. The BigHit store has an ok amount of things, but not as much as an outside store.”

“Ok, I need to go back and grab my wallet.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But I--”

“You’ve seen my apartment. Don’t argue with me.” He started to walk back towards the city center.

You sighed. Yes. He was super rich and you weren’t. “Fine. But I am doing this under protest.”

“Your protest is noted, come along, assistant. I’ll let you carry the bags.” NEXT CHAPTER

@lidda @anpanman-sonyeondan @firefairy1 @cuteipat @sugaslittlekookies @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny

#bts fic #bts scenarios #suga x you #yoongi x you #yoongi scenarios #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts suga x you #suga x y/n #yoongi imagine #bts writing #suga bts #bts yoongi #bts au fanfic #bts fanfic

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angelwars11 · 3 years

Text

ℝ𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕪 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕟𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙

I have found myself getting more and more interested in roleplaying and I've been finding A LOT of roleplay and collab writing partners, so much so, that I’ve created this post just for searching for serious partners of any kind! So, let’s get started!!

About me:

I can RP almost anything—angst, fluff, AUs, NSFW, dark angst, mpreg, fandom stuff, OCs, you name it—for hours, and I am good at keeping them going for weeks. I can also do multiple RPs at once! I’ve mastered the skill XD

I’m in the Eastern time zone

Sometimes I might go MIA because of school, but I swear I'll always come back within that day or the next day to respond. Sometimes I have mental breaks—and that's okay—so if that happens, please be patient with me. It doesn't normally happen, but it happens right 😊

I can roleplay with any gender partner (I don't have a preference and I don't care if you are a boy, girl, or etc)

Requirements

Be literate. I get that English isn’t some people’s first language and that’s TOTALLY fine with me! 😊 Spelling and grammar mistakes happen guys! I make them too all the time! But I am starting to tell the difference between you just not caring to you actually making an honest mistake❤

Be able to write in multi-para! That means NO ONE-LINERS PLEASE!

Write in third person only! (Except in thoughts, which need to be made in ITALICS!)

Be active. Yes, I know you have a life outside of RP. So do I. Yes, I also know time differences are a bitch, loll. But don’t give me a one-sentence reply once a day, or go missing for days at a time with no warning. If you are the type of person to do that, please do not ask to roleplay with me if you'll just leave me hanging (that's happened to me enough times already dammit 😢)

I really prefer to use apps other than Tumblr because Tumblr’s DMs suck balls and we all know this (I can’t see when you are typing. You can’t see when I am typing. And I absolutely do not receive a notification when you have responded) so big no-no. I currently and only roleplay on Discord!

I also loveeee to copy and paste my roleplays into a google doc, share the doc with my roleplay partner via email, edit the roleplay into a story format, and post it online (Via Ao3). I will ask you in advance if you are interested in doing this IF and only IF you want to. ALL of my partners have all said yes to this interesting and very cool offer, so I assume everyone will, but I will ask if not anyway. (I only will roleplay with those who would like to do this or don't care if I don't credit them and I can post it anyway. I'd like to credit you, but if you tell me you don't care then I won't if that's your choice😊)

Edit: sksksk, almost forgot this important crap!! My personal indicator style that I use during roleplay are these two symbols // and @ my username or this >> Now this // with this @ (my username) next to it means that you are done with your response! (Send this after your response) sending this notifies me that you are finished much easier fashion!!

This >> means that you are continuing your response (because Discord has a word limit, so you might have to split your response into 2 or more sections, depending on how long it is)

All 'out of roleplay' conversation stays in parentheses! (Like this)

Please tell me ^ THIS ^ is understandable!! If you need a demonstration, just ask (especially if you are unfamiliar with Discord)

Minor do’s:

MxM relationships— male x male (platonic or romantic) I ONLY DO M X M relationships

Roleplay multi-characters!!

Roleplay genres I do

Any genre (except straight horror. I need to get back into that, I haven’t written straight horror for eons)

Story roleplays- detailed plot, fandom canon characters or self-made OC character bios, serious roleplay partner, roleplay continues for a while until it reaches the end)

Fantasy roleplays- I sometimes do this! This has to do with princes, princesses, royalty and whatnots!

Normal roleplay/modern - based on real life, so no magic, powers, or anything like that

War roleplay - I have wanted to do this for a while! I have an idea down already but will need a partner for it that really knows World War 2. Anyway, I am willing to do any IRL war from the past (American revolution, Civil war, WW1, WW2, Vietnam, or the Pacific War)

Action roleplay - are like action movies, with a mission and a certain goal (Spy stuff like James Bond, that would be fucking cool to write!)

Sci-Fi - fiction with imaginative, but is more or less plausible, such as settings in the future, futuristic science and technology, space travel, parallel universes, aliens, and paranormal abilities

Drama roleplays - contain drama, such as accidents (great angst or dark angst material) cheating, kidnapping, traumatic events (earthquakes, tsunamis, forest fires, makes great angst material)

School roleplays - This includes college, high school, or any level of school (I will only do high school or college, makes good romantic material)

Tropes I do

Baby fics, mpreg, enemies-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, first kiss, mutual pining, slow burn, soulmate AU, ABO, canon divergence, established relationships, fix-it fics, hurt/comfort, sickfics, pregnancy fics

Minor do not’s: I am very tolerant, but I have learned over the past two years that there are some things I do not like. (It’s a shortlist, don’t worry)

This has happened A LOT to me lately and I needed to move this little pet peeve of mine to the very TOP of this list. PLEASE...please, please, please, do NOT ask to roleplay with me and completely not help or barely help come up with an idea or have me do most or all the work, and then ghost or never show up again to continue the roleplay. It makes me sad that people keep doing that to me😭 It's quite annoying and very rude, especially if you don't tell me beforehand, you just disappear!

I do not roleplay OC/Canon characters (sometimes it depends, but that's a big IF) I only do OC / OC characters or Canon/Canon. Again, NO OC/Canon characters.

No one-liner roleplay partners. That is a massive 'roleplay' pet peeve of mine and I can’t do it!! I am a very tolerant person, but please, if you want to roleplay with me, please be able to write multi-paras (multi-paragraphs) and/or are willing to at least TRY to write the latter. You can do short paragraphs, but give me something work with, that's all I ask😊

MxF- reason, I haven’t done it in forever and I’ve lost my touch with this specific romantic relationship. BUT I can do platonic stuff between male and female characters. And I can do background MxF characters. Some relationships I do go all out on shipping, but I probably won't roleplay. Just don’t ask me to do a romantic relationship, please

Character x reader- Don’t ask me to do this. (That’s it)

I DO NOT MIRROR ROLEPLAY!! Do not ask me to. The roleplay style is so annoying to me because it's repetitive! I can't do it. I only roleplay where one person continues after the other person! (Edit: OKAY OKAY, so I've decided to try and learn how to mirror roleplay and do a mix of mirror and the style that I am more comfortable with to see if I can do mirror roleplay too! I'll edit again after a while for an update on how that's going for me😂)

I do not roleplay with rude people (people who are very restrictive and aren't kind/understanding)

Like a mentioned before, and I have to repeat this because people don't seem to understand this: If you like the roleplay style where you are restrictive and only want to control ONE character the entire time and don't like it when other people write for them, even in the most minor way, like; opening a refrigerator or a simple head turn, then please don't roleplay with me. I can't do that because it makes my responses shorter and my responses are always long. It makes me feel bad if my writing partner makes long responses and I am restricted and can't.

My fandoms: (Will be updated as I remember them. Btw, these are just ships or fandoms I will roleplay, okay!) (If the fandom title is highlighted in green, this means I've watched it already and I understand the lore and stuff. If in yellow, this means I haven't finished it yet and I don't really remember the lore just yet. If in red, means I need to watch it again. Ships are highlighted in purple)

Star Wars: The Clone Wars ✨ (I am very lit in this😏)

Voltron: Legendary Defenders (*cough* Yeah I know… 😂) (Pairiings: Klance only. I also do platonic Lance and Keith as well with other characters!)

Marvel - freaking nerd in this fandom, so I know pretty much everything!🤩 (This also includes the X-Men)I have a lot of favorite characters in this fandom! That includes, but not limited to; Loki, Thor, Tony, StevexBucky, Peter Parker (bi or poly Peter💜💙💖) Miles Morales (bi Miles💜💙💖), T'Challa, Erik Killmonger, MagnetoxProfessorx)

DC - need to get back into it, but I know a lot (favorite ships in this is Jason x Dick Grayson, Batman x Superman, Dick x Wally, and Tim Drake x superboy)

Supernatural - ack!! How could I forget about you after posting this?! Lolllll😂 I'm sorry baby! *coughs* Yes, I would like to roleplay and write this with anyone (Destiel, Sambriel, etc)

Naruto - I've watched Naruto, Naruto Shippuden, and I am watching Boruto. (NarutoxSasuke, KakashixObito, KakashixIruka, BorutoxMitsuki, BorutoxSarada)

Yuri on Ice - already watched this (never roleplayed before)

Attack on Titan - ErenxLevi, JeanxMarco, ErwinxLevi, ReinerxBertold

Dragon Ball Z - GokuxVegeta (Gogeta), FutureGohanxFutureTrunks, OlderGotenxOlderTrunks

Haikyu - (there are multiple romantic pairings or platonic relationships I like here)(I need to watch the show again from season 2 and onward or even start from the very beginning, so give me time here!)

Free! - RinxHaruka (<< my favorite!!), SouxMako, SouxMako

(Future choice, coming soon) - My Hero Academia: BakugouxDeku, TodoxDeku, KirixBaku, TodorokixBakugou

Sherlock BBC - (favorite ships are: JohnLock, MycroftxLestrade, sherlockxMoriarty)

9-1-1 FOX - so much platonic and romantic material here, it's perfect! (Most favorite ship is EddiexBuck😍 romantic and natural disaster angst potential here)

9-1-1: Lone Star - (Favorite ship: TKxCarlos, beautiful natural disaster angst and romantic potential here!)

Avatar the Last Airbender (and Korra) - SokkaxZuko, sometimes AangxZuko, SukixTylee, SukixMai, KorraxAsami

Maybe Percy Jackson XD Might needa watch the movies again for that

The Arcana (Mobile video game) - This is the ONLY possible and must-do OC/Character thing I will friggin do, and with only Asra or maybe Julian! MxM only!!

Thank you so much for looking!!! Again, I only roleplay on Discord! If you are interested in roleplaying me, just DM me on Tumblr and we can get down to business on these things:

1. What's your timezone?

2. Are you able to do multi-para?

3. What is your roleplay style? (What is your indicator 'that you are done or continuing' style? If you even have one)

3. What genre/AU/prompt/trope do you want to roleplay?

4. OC characters or fandom? If fandom, which one?

5. Romantic or platonic?

6. Anything you don't like to roleplay?

7. Are you interested in posting this roleplay in story format with me as my co-author?

8. What's the story plan? (You need to contribute to this please and thank you❤)

9. What's your discord?

Extra stuff: (I need to add this now because people have shown me that I need to add new rules and whatnot)

1. Do not ask to roleplay with me without a detailed/semi-detailed plot in mind. I don't roleplay stories that don't have short plots (meant for One-shots/short stories) or detailed plots for long roleplay. Also, do not try and make me do all the work and think of the plot!

2. I do not roleplay OC roleplays where I am roleplaying someone else's pre-made OC character for many reasons. I want to make my OWN OC character. Okay.

3. Do not ask to roleplay with me if you aren't interested in editing and posting this story on Ao3 after it's finished. I like to post my roleplays as fanfics! You need to be at least interested in trying this method post-roleplay or you have done this before and like this method like me! I don't roleplay just to roleplay. I roleplay to write because I am a writer!

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jtsfavslut · 4 years

Text

Stages [3/6]

Description: In which a girl goes through six stages to realize and accept the fact that her marriage is going downhill.

Stage Three: Guilt

- Stages 1

- Stages 2

Description: Grayson’s back to his usual self, making you feel guilty for ever doubting him.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 12k+

Over the course of a week, Grayson’s been acting like his old self, making you feel bad for judging him and for doubting him.

He’s been coming home early after work and taking you out to eat, then coming home and watching a show together. He was right. You had nothing to worry about.

“Baby I don’t feel like going out tonight,” you pouted from the couch as he came down from the stairs wearing a black tee and some grey joggers.

“We don’t have to, we can stay in.” he said and placed a soft kiss on your lips while standing in front of you.

“Yeah? I’ll go order some pizza,” you smiled grabbing your phone from beside you.

“Pineapple?” he asked and you nodded your head, he sat down next to you, picking up your legs and placing them on your lap.

“Mhm,” you hummed and quickly placed the order on the Dominos website and placed the phone back down.

“So Gray, I got something to tell you,” you said after a couple of minutes of silence.

“What is it?” he asked not to take his eyes off the screen.

“It’s serious,” you said, hinting for his full attention.

“Ok, I got this email from Vogue Magazine, and they want me to write for the Retail section of the magazine.” you smiled. You got the email yesterday and it took you an entire day to process it. You’ve been wanting to work for Vogue for a long time, and it’s not everyday a position is open. So them offering you this position meant a lot.

“Baby, that’s great. You’re going to take it right, you literally went to college for this,” he said with a smile making your heart swell.

“Obviously. They said they saw some of my articles for Wakeheart, and said I’m just what they’re looking for.” you smiled and he leaned up placing his lips on yours.

“We should celebrate shouldn't we,” he mumbled against your lips before moving them along your jawline and neck as his hands roamed your body.

He placed his knees on each side of you and his hands on the couch, holding himself up above you so he wasn’t crushing you.

His lips felt so good against yours, but leave it to Dominos to interrupt.

“The day I’m trynna fuck you, is the day they deliver the quickest,” Grayson groaned after tipping the man and closing the door making you laugh.

“I wanted pizza anyways,” you jokingly shrugged, getting up from the couch to grab a slice.

“Oh wow, seven years and she chose me over pizza,” he joked making you shake your head.

“I chose you over pizza. My stomach however, chose pizza. It’s called finessing the system Grayson.

“Well, me and my stomach both choose you.” he said with a smirk as you rolled your eyes.

“Always so sexual jeez. Just eat your pizza,” you said and he laughed.

“Can I eat you instead?” He asked and you rolled your eyes and walked away with a pizza slice in your hand.

“How bout’ later, I'm enjoying this pizza,” you shouted from the couch eating your food.

“Baby, I’m sorry for not trusting you,” you said out of nowhere as you and Gray were chilling on the couch.

“Princess don’t apologize. I should’ve told you I was busy, and not act distant,” he told you kissing your forehead. But something felt off, and you felt a little guilty for not believing what he was saying when you knew he was honest.

“I know, but still,” you pouted, playing with his long chocolate brown hair.

“Hey, hey. Forget about it,” he said and started kissing your neck, you immediately moved your head to the side, giving him more access.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?” he smirked, making you swallow thickly.

“Yeah,” you breathed as his hands roamed your body stopping at your hips as his lips kissed your jaw and neck.

You felt yourself clench around nothing as he cupped your clothed heat.

“I think we’re gonna need these off aren’t we,” he said and stopped whatever he was doing, hooking his finger on the waistline of your biker shorts, pulling them down with your underwear.

You slightly gasped at the feeling of two of his fingers being slammed inside you.

“You like that, pretty?” he asked and you nodded your head due to your words being caught up in your throat.

“I wanna hear you angel,” he said and you could hear the smirk within his voice.

“I do, I love it Gray,” you moaned, clenching around his fingers causing a groan to fall past his lips.

“Fuck this,”

(I’m sorry, somehow I’m not able to write smut anymore :/)

“Oh god I’ve missed this,” he breathed out as loud deep breaths fell past your lips.

“Me too,” you whispered and got up from the bed throwing one of Graysons tee shirts on.

“Where you going?” he asked as you began to walk towards the door.

“Kitchen, I’m hungry,” you replied standing by the doorway.

“You always are,” he chuckled, making you laugh.

“Yeah, well. You want anything?” you asked and he shook his head so you just walked away.

You grabbed a few fruit roll ups and sat in the kitchen island for a few minutes since you didn’t like eating in your room, and thought about everything that has been happening for the past few months and weeks.

You still did not know what to think of the scattered lipstick stains on Grayson’s shirt. Maybe he greeted someone who wore red lipstick?

You had enough of this. You thought Grayson didn’t deserve for you to be judging him while he’s only working. (Yeah, working his dick inside someone else you dumb bitch)

Finishing your snack, you threw away the wrappers and grabbed a bottle of water and walked back to the room.

From the hallway you heard him talking on the phone. Grayson was loud, even when he was trying to whisper.

Your curiosity got the best of you, making you hear something that your heart did not want to listen to.

“Listen love, I only fucked her so that she would stop doubting me, and lay off of me,” he spoke carelessly not knowing you were around, you walked closer to the door where you could see him but he couldn’t see you.

But that’s not what hurt you. What hurt you was the way his eyes shined when he said those three words.

The way his face showed he meant every word he said.

And that’s when you realized.

When you realized that he didn’t look like that when he said it to you.

He did, at first. That was until a few months ago.

When you realized the way your wedding picture on his dresser was dusty, like it hasn’t been cleaned in months.

Along with his wedding ring that he stopped wearing months ago.

Only you were too blind and obvious to realize that.

His love for you had slowly been dying, and you knew it.

You knew it, and decided to push it to the side. Thinking it was your mind playing tricks on you.

But it wasn’t. It was just letting you know what was coming your way.

It was letting you know that Grayson Dolan was no longer yours.

Stages 4

Tags: @angelgrayson @rhyrhy462 @333dolans @vinylhazza @foxglovedolan @dolanissues @mercurygrant @persistence-ofmemories @dolansficsandpics @blindedbythelightt @kinkygrays @pineappledols @the-evolution-of-stupidity @evergreendolan @beatement-l @graydolan12

#Stages #Grayson Stages #grayson #grayson bailey #graysonbailey #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #Grayson x reader #grayson blurb #ethan dolan #Ethangrant #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan blurb #dolan #dolan twins #dolan fandom

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uswnt-owns-this-homo · 4 years

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What A Time To Be Alive (Lindsey Horan x Reader)

a/n: so I was planning on having this out like a lot sooner, alas, schoolwork wrecked that idea... I got the title idea from a TikTok (Yes I’m very ashamed)... thank you for the prompt!

prompt: hi! could you do either emily sonnet or lindsey horan (doesn't matter which one u pick!) x fem where they're just doing cute stuff together in quarantine? i love your work! :)

It’s only my first week of quarantine and I’m going crazy. Between my insane work schedule, and Lindsey’s tournament, on top of NWSL training, we’ve barely seen each other. We’ve been focusing on ourselves, staying at our own apartments, which is where I so happen to be. I’ve been staying here, not wanting to disrupt Lindsey’s routine, or to throw her off her game. Which I now greatly regret. As soon as the virus hit, I wanted to bring some things over to Linds’s house, and hang out there, just in case, but avoided asking for fear that it would distract her. She’s been under a lot of stress, with Em’s upcoming move, and the recent SheBelieves Cup. But now I wish I would have sucked it up and asked her.

I’m getting ready for another day working at home, calling in for some takeout and coffee for breakfast, putting on a sweatshirt of Lindsey’s and pulling my hair into a simple ponytail. I set up my laptop in the living room and grab my phone, planning on calling Lindsey later. I’ve just sat down and opened up my laptop when I hear someone knocking at my door. Damn, this delivery boy deserves a big tip, that was fast. I grab my wallet and start to pull out the money, opening my door, only to be greeted with Lindsey, instead of my takeout.

“Look, I know they’re saying to stay by yourself, isolate, but I’ve missed you these past few weeks and wanted to come see you,”

I drop the money before I launch myself at her, going up on my tiptoes and cupping her face.

“Linds, thank you, so much. We can hang out here, or at yours? I just got takeout and coffee, so we can eat?”

She laughs and nods.

“Yeah, we can chill here, I’ll stay the night maybe?”

I pretend to think for a moment and she slaps my shoulder. I laugh.

“Well, we could do that, or we could go over to yours later, and maybe then we can see Emily during quarantine, that is if you’re cool with me hanging for it?”

She beams and picks me up. She swings me a bit and sets me down, She clutches at my Thorns sweatshirt and kisses me. Not like a gentle, “I haven’t kissed you in forever” type kiss. No, this is a full on “How can you get what I need so easily” type gig. I grin and wrap my arms over her shoulders, feeling the muscle underneath near perfect skin.

“Now I see why the firm wanted you, Y/N, you’re a freakin’ genius!”

“God, I missed you,”

I scoff and blush, taking her hand and pulling her to the couch.

“Okay, you sit here, I’ll make you a latte, or whatever it is, and you can just sit here and look good,”

She nods and grabs the remote while I go to make her a coffee. The doorbell rings right as I’m finishing it up, and I quickly walk to see Lindsey thanking the delivery boy, and paying him, my money still on the floor.

“Linds, I know I did not just see you pay that delivery boy,”

She grins and bends down to grab the money off the floor, handing to me and taking her coffee.

“Okay, then you definitely didn’t just see that, right?”

We make our way to the couch and divvy up the food, slowly drinking our coffee and talking about what has been going on. We finish and I grab her arm, pulling her down to where we’re laying on the couch, her big spooning me while I grab my laptop.

“Okay, so I technically have work today, but I only have one conference, so I’ll just work here until I have to get ready for that?”

She nods and gets a Netflix movie up and running, turning the volume down low enough to avoid distracting me. I slowly but surely make my way through the mountains of emails and work, letting out a sigh when I see that I need to start getting dressed for a client conference. Linds sits up and I smile, kissing her gently on the cheek.

“Okay, this should take half an hour, maybe an hour at max, and then I can get a bag together for you and Emily’s?”

She grins and gives me a kiss, nodding her head and going back to her movie.

“Yeah, babe, no problem, I’ll just hang,”

I smile and go to start doing my makeup and to put on my dress shirt, not bothering in nice pants, leaving me in just my boxers. I walk through the living room, making sure Linds sees me before I quickly make an iced coffee. I go to my set up in the kitchen, making sure I have all my files and everything that I need.

A call should only last up to an hour. So, why did this one run close to 2? I groan as the stubborn client finally hangs up the call. Linds comes up behind me and gently rubs my shoulders, laughing when I sigh.

“I swear, you’d think they’d treat me better if they want me to take their case,”

She gently pulls me around, placing her hands at my waist and gently swaying, my head tucked under her chin and my arms up around her shoulders.

“Well, they obviously don’t know how awesome you are, or how cool, or pretty, or caring, or a whole lot of other mush that is definitely going to be used as blackmail later,”

I chuckle and detach myself, shaking out my stiff muscles and heading towards my room. I make quick work of packing, putting in a week's worth of shirts, pants, and some slip on shoes, as well as a couple dress shirts, and one pair of god forsaken dress slacks. I get some necessities and also grab the switch, looking at Lindsey, who’s taken perch on my bed, scrolling through her phone.

“Right, this quarantine, I’m getting you back on the switch, no if’s, and’s, or but’s. It’s happening, and I don’t care about the vow you have to the team. We’re playing the new Animal Crossing or else,”

She just looks up and shrugs. I finish gathering everything and throw it into my duffle, grabbing my keys and pulling Lindsey with me into the kitchen.

“You and Em have bad coffee, so I’m taking that, and then I thought I could stop at the store and grab some baking stuff, maybe some paints, or something?”

“Yeah, sounds good b. Em is going to the store later though, so we can either ask her or have her get that stuff,”

I nod and we walk down to the car, hauling my laptop and work bag. I put my stuff in my car and Lindsey gets in her car. I wave and get in the driver’s seat.

The quarantine with Emily and Lindsey is going great. We’ve painted… everything. We got a hold of Emily’s shoes, and painted them Orlando colors, kind of as a final send off for her move. We painted some clothes, and the best one yet. Emily’s face. She fell asleep first one night, and we couldn’t resist. We (Lindsey) painted her up as a clown… She was not a happy camper when it wouldn’t come off, leaving her with huge red splotches on her face.

Today is Bake Day. Emily and I have been trying to get Linds to play smash bros with us, to no avail. So, we’ve compromised. Today Lindsey and I are going to bake, while Emily stays away from the kitchen (to this day we still don’t talk about the Thorns Cook Off Fiasco), and then tomorrow we will have the mario bros switch tournament of the ages. I double check the cookie recipe before getting out the flour, sugar, and other things that we need.

“Ah, shoot, Linds, the butter is supposed to be softened,”

Emily bursts into the kitchen, laughing maniacally.

“I read somewhere that if you put butter under your armpits, It will heat it up to room temperature!”

She swipes the butter before we can stop her, thankfully doesn’t take it out of the wrapper, and shoves both sticks under her arms. I groan, go to the fridge, grab a beer, and push her gently.

“Okay, you’re definitely going to leave, get tipsy, and for the love of preath, put the butter down,”

She continues to laugh, but does as I say. She slowly unearths the butter, squeezing it and whooping.

“Ha! It did soften! So I was right. I think I deserve a ‘oh thanks Sonny, how kind’ don’tcha think?”

I roll my eyes, shove the beer into her hands, and take the butter. She walks off into the living room and I turn to Lindsey, who has a look on her face, her nose scrunched up, eyes watery.

“Hey, you know she’ll be back to terrorize us at every chance she gets.. This isn’t going to change much, except maybe there will be less pit butter around,”

She laughs, coming and giving me a hug.

“God, how do you always know what I need to hear?”

I smile.

“Well… you have kind of a really expressive face, and I’ve known you for years,”

We quickly set about mixing all the ingredients, everything going well until I go to put the eggs in, only to be hit with a huge handful of flour. I slowly turn to look at Linds, who’s grin drops.

“Wait, lemme get this straight, I mean, not straight, cause I’m not, you know what I mean, you just threw flour at me?”

I hear her whisper a “oh fuck” before she sprints for the living room.

“Sonnett, you grab her or so help me!”

I hear rustling and struggling and grin widely as I carry the bag of flour into the living room where Emily has Lindsey pinned to the floor, dodging her flailing limbs.

“Son, you don’t understand! She’s gonna get me, oh god,”

I cackle, upending the whole bag of flour over them as Emily’s eyes widen.

“Y/N, DO NOT.. THIS IS CARPET!”

I just shrug.

“Looks like payback’s a bitch, isn’t that right Linds?”

She coughs and nods. I grin.

“Okay, I’m going to go finish the cookies, you two can sweep, right?”

Sonnett looks ready to argue, but Lindsey just nods.

“Yes, babe. Of course, babe,”

I laugh.

“Come on, I’ll help, then we can finish them,”

We make quick work of cleaning up the flour before I stop dead.

“Linds, I forgot to add the flour to the cookies before I dumped it,”

Emily bellows with laughter.

“Looks like we’ve got two options… floor flour, or weird flourless cookies, nice Y/N,”

So it turns out that floor flour cookies aren’t that bad. The three of us (Lindsey and I, plus Emily playing her switch in the kitchen) ended up scraping together enough of the flour to complete the cookies. I grab one as I tug Lindsey down onto the couch, handing her a cookie and kissing her cheek.

“Okay, next step is Animal Crossing, Mama needs crazy shells Linds,”

We sit there for a few hours, losing track of time as Lindsey drapes her arm over my shoulders, our legs entangled.

“This bastard! I cast that pole perfectly, the dumb fish,”

Lindsey took over for me a couple hours in. We’re fueled by coffee and cookies.

“Hey, Linds, when’s the last time we heard from Sonny?”

She just shrugs and keeps playing. I look at the clock and see that it’s 4:45.

“Hey babe, it’s like almost 5, we should probably go to bed,”

She sighs but shuts down the game, handing me the switch and giving me a peck on the cheek.

“I don’t even know where I am babe, this is why the switch is bad… we lost like 4 hours,”

I laugh.

“I’m sure you’ll be saying that when the little animals sing to you… I’m not tired yet, you wanna paint Sonnett’s face again?”

I’m pretty sure the whole apartment complex can hear her screaming to the mirror the next morning, trying to scrub the clown makeup off for the second time… The rest of the quarantine is going to be good, I can just feel it.

#Lindsey Horan x reader #Lindsey horan imagine #uswnt imagine #emily sonnett #lindsey horan #quarantine shenanigans #they do em

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miah-pooh · 3 years

Text

Open Part 1

A/n: Hey Guys, this is a new series I started, at the moment I will be Updating the story everyday till I'm done with this series I know in the ‘Open Series Masterlist it says it has three Chapters but the is more to it. But enjoy Part 2 Will be up tomorrow at 11:30 am Eastern time

Warning: Language, Sexual tension(maybe?)

Word Count: 2.4k

Chapter 1

After graduating from UA High School and being one of the top students in your class you were offered a position as a sidekick to the number one hero in America. Once you were sure you were leaving you met with the girls from class to tell them and of course it was water works involved. But they end up helping you pack things and say your last goodbyes to them. It’s been seven years since you left Japan, and three years since you were titled the ‘Youngest Pro Hero’ in America. You were currently in a meeting with your PR manager and assistance going over things, she was talking but you were zoned out not paying attention to what she was saying till you heard the name Deku. You sat up in your seat “wait what was that about Deku again?” “ He emailed you about helping him in an investigation that they're having trouble with, he was wondering if you could fly back to Japan this weekend to go over everything, it seemed like something really big he didn't give any information about what it was about. Saying he would give you the files as soon as you agree to help with.” “ Tell him I’m in and clear everything on my schedule for today so i have time to get ready for my flight and get me the first flight to Japan tomorrow morning, A get me a hotel for two weeks. Text me all the information when you're done” you say as walking out of the office, your PR manager and assistance were staring at each other with a confused look on their face. You were walking to your car thinking about all the possible things that could be so important to call you for help. ‘ Maybe the League of Villains is back or All for one is back, planning something.’ You arrived home and started packing all your necessary things and putting them in your suitcase, you packed your two hero suits and a couple of clothes to last you two weeks for the time being. Once you were done packing your suitcases you moved all three bags to your front door. Ding You picked up your phone seeing your assistance sending all the information for you flight and the hotel Camie - Flight will be leaving at 5:50 am and I emailed Mr.Deku back saying you'll be there as soon as it's around 7 or 8 in their time zone. He emailed you back saying he will have someone there to escort you to different places. Is there anything else I need to do? Y/n- Yes can you have a car ready to pick me up to drop me off to the airport, and you have the rest of the week off till i get back. Be safe and text me if you need anything Camie - Done and Thank you but me and Erika were kind of worried when you walked off during our meeting, are you sure everything is okay Y/N? Y/n - Yes im fine it’s just been so long since i been back home but that all it is thank you for checking on me though. It was the next morning and you were getting ready for your flight, you put on some black tights with a red hood that had your hero logo on it and some black and red shoes. You pack a carry bag to keep with you and throw some extra clothes in there if you don't have time to change if anything was to happen. You got a text from your driver's assistant telling you he was outside, you grabbed your purse and carry bag while he put your luggage in the trunk of the truck. On the way to the airport it was quiet and you were on your phone checking the news and somehow the news got out about you heading to Japan. ‘The media is always on my ass and in my business.’ you thought.You finally arrived at the airport and it was 5:38, you put on your hood and some sunglasses so you wouldn't be noticed. You were walking to your private room, you were stationed to stay till it was time to go, you got a couple stares and a couple of fans losing their minds about running into the Number one pro hero but other than that it was pretty smooth. You rested a while in the private room till your flight was announced about to leave, you boarded the plane and went straight to your seat and got comfortable for the 14 hour flight to Japan. You finally arrived in Japan. You made your way off the plane to the front of the airport to wait for your ride but were greeted by many fans and paparazzi that heard you would be coming to Japan. You instantly put on your sunglasses and hood to have a little privacy. “You must be Y/H/N? I'm Deku's assistant Murai. It's a pleasure to have you back here. I’m here to pick you up.” “Yes and it's a pleasure to meet you too but please call me Y/N. '' Murai nodded his head “let me get your luggage for you” he grabbed your luggage and put them in the truck while you made your way inside the truck. When you made it to the hotel you packed all your stuff and took out your hero suit for tomorrow, you pulled your computer out and emailed Deku letting him know you made it in town and you would be staying in your room for the rest of the night. You were exhausted from the time difference and decided to rest till tomorrow . The sun was shining brightly through the white curtains lighting up the room. You rolled out of bed and went to take a shower and got ready for the day, while brushing your teeth you checked your email and were instructed to wear your hero suit and meet at the current number one Hero agency which was Deku. Going through your suitcase to see which hero suit you would wear today, out of the three you pick the black leather jumpsuit with red claw markings in certain places. You made your way down stairs to the lobby and met Murai to take you to Deku’s agency. Once you made it to the agency you were greeted by Deku himself. “Y/H/N it’s so nice to see you again. How have you been?” “I've been good, how are you, number one hero of Japan?” Deku blushed and started walking inside the building with you by his side following him. “I’m good, how is it being the number one hero?” “It’s a lot but I still manage it. What about you?” “It’s fine, stressful but what else to expect when you have millions of people depending on you.” You nod your head in response to deku “ I understand that, how's everyone else? I haven't seen them in forever?” “Maybe you could ask them yourself” he says smiling as he opens a room door with all your old classmates. Everyone turns around all eyes on you. All the girls run up hugging you at once while squealing in excitement while the boys look around confused as to who was here. Of course Bakugou wasn’t interested in it till Deku walked past the group of girls telling the rest of his old classmates “It’s Y/N, she backs.” Bakugou's eyes instantly got bigger as he heard your name come from Deku’s mouth. After you left unexpectedly Bakugou was heartbroken but Bakugou would never admit that outloud. Kirishimi screamed “You have the number one hero of America here in Japan?!!”. “Y/N it's been so long since we saw you.” Momo says “How do you leave high school hot and come back hotter than before” Mina says while circling you to get a good look at you. You giggled at her comment “How is America and how does it feel to be number one?” Uraraka says. Everything was going so good, you were talking to your friends you left and haven’t seen in seven years and they still remember you after all these years.” Y'all idiots done aweing over the number one hero of America?” Bakugou says while getting up walking out the room, everyone once again had a confused look on their face including you. Back in highschool you and Bakugou were inseparable, after the first encounter with Bakugou, It was another day in school and you were training when Aizawa paired you up with Bakugou and he completely lost his shit “You expected me to train with some dumbass that not a challenging me.” Aizawa simply ignored Bakugou outburst cause at this point he was used to it and he knew what you were capable of. “You done bitching about me not being a challenge because i can show ” you say while walking to the field, Bakugou walked towards you with a large grin on his face towering over you “You wanna say that again to my face you little shit” His breathed hit your face sending a shiver down your spine “I said are you done BITCHING about me not being a challenge because I can show you better than I can tell it” You say with a grin on your face. Before Bakugou could respond Aizawa said “take it out in your training and whoever gets the other down first wins” The class had to stop training to see Bakugou and you fight. You walked to the other end of the field stretching and getting into your fighting stance, Bakugou did the same, “Start” Bakugou ran up to you throwing a right hook which you easily dodged and returned to him that put a little distant in between the two of you, it took Bakugou off guard at first but he that didn't stop him. He used his blast to him towards you screaming “DIE” it was impossible to dodge that so you took the hit and was pushed back to the end of the field. You got back up running towards Bakugou throwing hits left and right, you had the upper hand in the battle till Bakugou used his left leg to kick you but you grab his leg and twist it causing him to fall and hit the ground, he got back up grabbing your arm that still had a hold on his leg and twisting it behind you back cause you to wince at the pain in your arm you quickly kicked his right leg cause him to loss balance and fall over but with you, his grip on your arm was loose enough to yank your arm from his grip and to grab his arm and pin him to the ground with your knee on his head while your right hand had his right arm in the air “ Tap out Bakugou” was all you said “tch . Aizawa called out to the both of you announcing “Y/N wins” walking off back to the building. You got off Bakugou and started walking to the changing room. As Bakugou got up and watched you walk off he couldn’t help but notice how you always bite back at anyone that tried to down talk you including him and from that day Bakugou knew you were different from the rest and he had respect for you. Deku started to talk saying “ We should head to the conference room now” Everyone made their way to the conference room to discuss what you came here for in the first place. Deku had a seat for you to the right of him while he presented to everyone what they were here for. “You all are probably wondering why I called you all here in regards to the current investigation about the missing civilians that mysterious returns with their quirks either completely wiped from their DNA or on the verge of losing their quirks. I asked Y/N to help us with this investigation because back in American she had to deal with a similar problem like this and I feel like we needed her help with this.” “You damn Deku, you think we couldn’t handle the damn situation on our own without Miss America's help.” Bakugou says. Todoroki spoke “Bakugou were on a limited time and need this to come to an end before this leads to something bigger than it already is.” “Tch” was all he said Midoriya passed out a manila folder to everyone he had assigned everyone a specific area to patrol and unlucky you were paired with Bakugou. He went over everything that happened since the beginning of the Investigation. Throughout the whole meeting you felt someone's eyes burning holes in you while you tried to pay attention to the information, after the meeting was through everyone made their way out the conference room and went about their business. Before you could even process what you were doing you stopped Bakugou in the hallway, he turned around “Tch what the hell you want Miss America?” “ I want to know why you are acting like that.” “ Why does it matter to you anyways” he snapped as you stood there in shock and decided to bite back “Cause I care about you dumbass” “Apparently you don't if you didn't let me know you were leaving Japan to be a Pro hero in America.” “is that why you’re acting like this” “and if i'm and what are you going to do about it? Huh?” he said while walking off. You were heated from the small argument that just happened between you and Bakugou. During patrol with Bakugou you didn't speak to one another at all. It was an awkward energy between y’all till he spoke again “ Why didn’t you tell me?” you looked at him and figured he was talking about you leaving “ Figured you didn’t care cause we had just graduated and was on our own” Bakugou stayed silent at your response “tch, your right about one thing, but you could've still told me, left and became the ‘youngest number one hero’ and come back like nothing changed and expected me to be all buddy buddy with you.” You continued to walk and ponder what he just said. You had no response so you shrugged your shoulders.

Part 2

#bnha series #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader

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brilapse · 3 years

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MAN actually fuck the Canadian gov

prepare for rant I'm sorry

TL;DR for rant below: I'm now unemployed and incomeless because of stupid government workers :)

I was on EI Sickness Benefits on sick leave from my job because well, I've been having a hard time, my anxiety and PTSD was getting bad because of the stress from my job, we were understaffed, therefore working 3 hours overtime involuntarily everynight because there would still be people waiting in the phone queue at 6:30 when we closed, so no new people could call in, but anyone who called in before 6:30 and was waiting in queue for an agent, they would stay waiting in queue until they were all taken care of (which is dumb bc every other call centre I worked at closing time, anyone still waiting had to call back the next day AS IT SHOULD BE) so yeah, being understaffed, busy as fuck all day, back to back to back calls, no break inbetween, being forced to clear the queue 3 hours past closing time every night, management being toxic AF, and the company we outsourced HR for, which I can post about now cause I ain't an employee and more GENERAL FUCKING ELECTRIC BIG ASS FORTUNE 500 COMPANY taking advantage of us, made so many changes that fucked our job up, not giving a CRAP the shit we went through for their mistakes and their problems, it was just a shit show.

ANYWAYS, my sickness benefits ran out after 3 months, and I was either forced to go back to work there or quit with no pay. I spoke with my doctor and she said well, you cannot go back to work there, it is detrimental to your mental health, and I will attest to that. I called EI about extending my sickness benefits for a bit while I apply to other jobs because I cannot go back to work, and they said we cannot do that but hey did you know if you have a doctor's note from your doctor stating that you are able and ready to work just not at the job that you are currently at, we will pay you out regular EI benefits? And I was like awesome, that's great, I don't have to go back to work there while looking for another job and I quit LIKE MY DOCTOR TOLD ME TO AND LIKE THE GOVERNMENT EMPLOYMENT INSURANCE CENTRE TOLD ME TO. GREAT! All you have to do is apply and send us your drs note. Okay awesome I can do that!

I did that. Got a call today saying I was being DENIED because the note wasn't specific enough, the note said "Brianna is able to return to work but not in the same capacity as her previous job" Apparently it needed to say something like " ME DR BLAH NLAH FORCED BRIANNA NOT TO GO BACK TO WORK BECAUSE SHE WOULD DIIIIIEEEEEEEE, SHE CAN WORK ANYWHERE ELSE THOUGH"

And I was like????????????? I wasn't told my note needed to be specific like that, I wasn't told any guidelines, THREE OF YOUR AGENTS AT THE EI CALL CENTRE told me I would just need a drs note saying j can't return to work at where I worked. And she was like oh yeah hahahahah we have a problem with agents telling people stuff like that, and I was like that's not my problem????? Train them better. YOU ARE THE GOV. THEY MAKE 55 000 A YEAR AT A CALL CENTRE!!!! I MADE HALF THAT AND HANDLED PEOPLES TAXES AND PENSIONS IN THE UNITED STATES. NOT EVEN CANADA.

anyways so I was like ugh fine whatever, I can get a more precise drs note right now, what's your email to send it to you? Or do I just upload it the same way I did the first one?

YOU KNOOW WHAT DIS BITCH SAID??? OH NO SORRY. YOURE DENIED. I CANT TAKE A NEW DR NOTE. You have to appeal my decision and attach the new drs note on the appeal. Which btw can take 2 weeks to oh only 8 MONTHS!!!! :) :) Oh and we only accept appeals BY SNAIL MAIL YOU CANT UPLOAD IT LIKE NORMAL EI.

So yeah, here I am now jobless and income less because of the stupid fucking government :)

I mean Im applying to a bunch of places but who knows how long I'll be before I get a job? If my anxiety and PTSD was getting bad before, I'll lose my wits by the end of this week :)

#mine #personal #me #my post #my life #myself #canada #EI #government #stupid #rant #venting

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allthelittlelostgirlsgrowup · 4 years

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Love is History

*taps mic* is this thing on? (I stole that from Obama. He was still in office last time I posted my writing).

So fun thing I did - write an angsty sequel to Love is Fiction. If you’ve never read it, it just got over 300 notes this past week. I figured it was time to dust this off from my drafts and complete it.

I hope you like it and my voice sounds similiar to the last election year when I put this out. Honestly I’m so different now and I think this captures the changes I’ve gone through and the way I view relationships now opposed to four years ago.

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters.

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing.

She thought she’d never write their break up.

“What’s the history?” Belle squints her eyes, nose crinkling as she watches Emma. Belle has been Emma’s ‘Editor’ since college. Now more official. She gets a paycheck, as Emma gets advances from a publishing company that started as a small mom and pop establishment. In the last four years, this little wagon wheel of a company is now a fleet of office buildings all over the US.

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

Belle keeps her eyes on Emma, relaxing the tension in her face and suppressing a smirk. They’re at a bit of a stalemate here because Emma isn’t sure what more info is needed and Belle isn’t sharing her thoughts at the moment.

“Emma, I knew their history. They finished book 3 in a ‘happily ever after’ kind of way. What underlying issues could have brought them to this point? Why did Alysandra leave?” Emma considers the question. Why did she decide to destroy the happiest relationship she’s ever written? Why would a character who fell madly in love just change their mind? “Maybe, ask yourself why you left.”

-/-

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed.

Emma flings her keys across the kitchen island, kicking her heels off in a huff before stomping over to her bar cart. She pours his favorite whiskey into the anchor-etched old fashion glasses he got her one Christmas.

“History is a stupid word” she grunts to no one but a tilted glass, muffling the sound as the amber liquid meets her lips a second after. She’s taken up talking to herself these last few months. The first four were spent crying and avoiding her reflection. The loneliness finally set in one night and she made herself her own best friend. So she asks her best friend ‘why did you do it?’ as she feels the tension in her shoulder blades ease. Why? Why did Emma Swan leave Killian Jones seven months ago?

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

-/-

The nightmares finally stopped and she no longer wakes with a startle when she finds her bed bare of him. Its been 216 days. She’s cried herself to sleep at least 180. She’s been broken before, boys have left in more ways than one, and she has managed to wake up one day finding herself less damaged than all the others. Today might be that day for the Killian Jones saga.

Today is they announced the upcoming film and casting begins in a few weeks. She knows she needs to finish this novel, but she hasn’t finished much. She barely finishes lunch on most days, barely finishes a thought that isn’t dripping in Killian. It’s been seven months and he is everywhere, in everything. She thought progress was a slowly-operated escalator but she was finally on her way.

And then the congratulation calls come through. Text after text, email, voicemail and she’s sure in a week or two, she’ll get a card from Mary Margaret. She sorts through them looking for something she’ll never find and she has to rewind.

She left him. It wasn’t mutual and it wasn’t obvious. He had no clue. All the calls and texts he was going to send her were sent months ago when he was breaking down in voicemails and begging her to just tell him she was okay.

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She doesn’t leave the apartment again until the 245th day. It is easy to stay inside with the modern advances in technology. People will bring literally anything to your front door. Except, maybe inspiration. That she has to go out and find.

She finds herself in Harlem. The Harlem Public Library. She has to get back to her roots. Sure, this isn’t Storybrooke, and no, she’ll probably never meet a pair of eyes as blue coconut as...but her work needs her to find a way to write.

She thinks of his face.

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again.

“I left because I had to.” She looks at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. That’s the only statement she’s made to anyone, herself included. When her friends, her agent, her editor, and her heart ask, she tells them she had to.

She makes her way through her apartment, recounting the moments, hours, days leading up to it. There are very few things her mind makes enough sense to share. Everything else is so convoluted, so tangled up in self-loathing and years of agonizing loneliness, the average person wouldn’t get it. Some days, as she’s matured and healed, she finds even she has trouble understanding it.

There’s not a day that goes by she doesn’t spend half of it feeling nothing but regret. That’s the healthy part of her, the well-adjusted adult who grew from the little lost girl. She’s sane enough to know she threw away the best relationship she’s ever had. She’s sane enough to know she saved him from future hardships with her.

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career.

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Nice of you to finally answer your phone.” She can hear the glare in Regina’s voice. “You know you pay me to do this right? Not the other way around. Get your money’s worth, why don’t you.” Emma rolls her eyes as she packs her laptop in her messenger bag.

Regina Mills is a fierce woman, as charming as she is aggressive. She can pretty much get anyone to do anything she wants. Emma doesn’t practice in the ways of the force, but she’s certain Regina knows a Jedi mind trick or two, and as her agent, that comes in handy.

What doesn’t come in handy is her tie to Killian. Regina’s husband Robin happens to be Killian’s cousin. Emma avoided Regina’s calls for months after the break-up, afraid she’ll have to answer the same question she’s been asking herself all afternoon. Once she finally started accepting calls again, it seemed Regina had moved on to bigger and better things: A movie deal.

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?”

“This isn’t money related, so much as a word of warning.” Regina’s tone doesn’t seem as sass-filled as before, so it’s clear she’s not the one wielding the threat. She actually sounds a bit sympathetic. “Belle and I pulled straws to see who got to break this to you, and I, unfortunately, pulled short this time around.”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden.

“Killian just moved to NYC.” Like ripping off a band-aid. Emma braces herself for pain, but is met with an absence of feeling altogether. Her knees buckle and she finds purchase against her kitchen island. “Emma?”

“When?” She whispers.

“Just a couple of weeks. He took a job with the NYC public libraries, he’s actually doing really well and has just approached Belle with an idea to get the youth excited about writing. There’s a chance you’ll run into him at the office, so I just...we both thought a heads up was necessary.”

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.”

-/-

She thought about leaving the country. At the very least, the state. She is overwhelmed, without a question just so damn overwhelmed. She has gotten so used to tears these days, she’s a little shocked she didn’t cry the minute she heard his name.

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later.

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/- “Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today.

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR.

7:45 pm

“Sorry, I’ve been reading all day.” she hasn’t talked to anyone for another two weeks. She does this far too often to still have a support system. Emma’s not sure she’d pour the same amount of effort into anyone who went radio silent every other week.

“We had a meeting at 2:30.”

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly.

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“We just did, I’ll see you in thirty minutes. Open the door.” Sure, she’s a small, sweet, meek-looking woman, but what most people don’t know about Belle is she could slay dragons with pure determination alone. In a battle of wills, she's even got Regina beat.

Emma peels herself off the sofa for the first time since noon, snuggie falling to the floor as she heads for the shower. If Bella can make the journey to her apartment, Emma can at least shower. Sure enough, 30 minutes later she’s greeting Belle at the door, a pizza in hand.

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle.

“Yeah, just...the creative process. Ya know.” Emma trails off as the hug ends. Of course, she’s not okay. ‘Okay’ people don’t stop answering their phones for weeks, they don’t stare at blank pages until their vision blurs. They don’t behave this way. This was her first shower in days.

“He was in the office yesterday,” Belle says after a long silence, just a full 3 minutes of her studying Emma from head to toe. Do her eyes just scream ‘Killian’ every time someone looks at her. “He said he called to congratulate you on the screenplay adaptation.”

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called.

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off.

“Let me finish.” Belle opens the pizza box, sliding it toward Emma. “I think you should take a vacation. Get out of the city for a while, maybe visit Storybrooke, since you know he��s not there to run into.” Emma grabs a slice of pizza, not sure when she last ate but too preoccupied with the idea of leaving the city for a while. She ran to NYC. Now she’s running back to Storybrooke. Is he just going to chase her back and forth?

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

God only knows what compelled her to do the exact opposite of what Belle suggested and show up at the publisher’s office. Probably the same thing that led her to the Harlem library a few weeks ago. She bought a new outfit. She realizes she’s barely even worn jeans over the last eight months, and now she’s in a dress and heels like she has an interview to work here. She’s wearing makeup and perfume. She’s trying her best to cover up and signs of the wreck she’s been for months.

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him.

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Swan?” no one calls her Swan. She’s paralyzed. What did she think was going to happen? How did she think she was going to react? When she paced around her apartment for three hours this morning, did she think she was going to just be okay? He would be here, he would see her and suddenly everything would be okay? “Emma…” He tries softer, less shocked, more timid.

This is the moment. In every love story, angst finds its way in, rips the reader’s heart out and although they’ve been bleeding for chapters now, they can feel nothing at this moment. Time is still, the lights are dim, and all we see is Emma and him.

He looks like himself, just more professional. He’s in well-fitted gray slacks, a navy dress shirt, his hair is longer though. He’s got more scruff on his neck than normal. His eyes are too blue, truly, for anyone to notice another inch of him. They stare at her, the same shade that’s been haunting her dreams, and she still struggles to define it. Everything. They’ve always been everything, no matter if it’s more cotton candy than blue coconut.

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

It’s suddenly so quiet but so loud. She can hear her heart hammering in her eardrums. No one says anything for a long stretch of time, maybe 2 seconds, maybe 3 hours, she can’t be sure. She just knows there is so much said in the silence.

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating.

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?”

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?”

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about.

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

“Swan was a bright young writer once” Killian grins, wickedly. “Why don’t you attend the meeting. We’re talking about a youth writing program.” He’s obviously bating her. How dare she show up on a day he’s here and act like she didn’t destroy him…

“Sure” she agrees. Partly because she’s too stubborn to back down from a challenge, and mainly because she did destroy him and there’s that whole thing about masochism she recently discovered about herself.

Belle looks beside herself. Her eyes narrow and she puffs her chest for a moment before leading them to a meeting space. Two more individuals join them, laptops ready to jot down notes and ideas. Her meetings are only ever with Belle so, for Emma, this seems like red carpet treatment.

He has amazing ideas. He loves the idea of bringing an artistic outlet to the children of Harlem. He was always so much more than a shelfer. He was always a dreamer, with these brilliant, compassionate ideas for helping everyone feel less alone, more encouraged.

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye.

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness.

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break.

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion.

“So...when we uh, when we left off, you were telling me why they broke up.” Belle sighs, knowing how awful this is. Emma smiles, hoping it lets her off the hook a little. After all, Belle told her to leave town. Emma decided to torture herself.

“Right.” Emma takes a large breath in, holding it while she pulls out her folder. Only releasing once its in Belle’s hands. Killian is studying her like he has a Chemistry final to take tomorrow and she’s the only hope. “Alysandra left Atlas for his…” She’s said it to herself. She’s made hints to others, but Killian has never had a clue. “For his own good. She’s derailed him from his journey. She’s made him less of a pirate, more of a…”

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

“She reduced him to a caregiver,” Belle answers from what’s written in the text. “Alysandra took over the journey of discovery. She was suddenly the main character.” Belle looks up at Emma with a look she’d only be able to classify as “delayed understanding.”

“In a story about Atlas, Aly becomes the focus. Everything he does, he does for her.” Emma can feel herself losing composure, eyes stinging with tears, throat drier than a desert. Somehow, someway, she finds her way to Killian’s eyes. “He wasn’t living for himself anymore. He had no purpose but to love her. And it was destroying everything.”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received.

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall.

She is less.

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before.

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone.

“Aly is an orphan” Emma explains and she can see his head start to shake, but she has to be firm. “Listen. She is not the strong-willed, rebel without a cause she pretends to be. Some days the sadness from being alone for so long stunts her. She spends hours upon hours laying awake wishing she could sleep forever. She can be a wreck, a mess, an impossible woman to love.”

Does it make it easier to talk about herself as if she’s someone else? She’s been doing it for so long, all the catharsis from writing herself into stories, just to unpack the things that plague her? Maybe she can have sympathy for anyone but her, maybe its the only way she can recognize how her behavior impacts others. Maybe the book is why she left in the first place.

“You make it impossible to love you, Emma.” She’s never seen his jaw trembling like this before. “And against all odds, through resilience and patience, I’ve found a way to do the bloody impossible. You can cover it up in characters you’ve based off of us, but this isn’t fiction. I was real. What we had...what we had was real. It wasn’t easy, but when you finally let me in, it was simple. We were happy.”

“You were happy?” She brushes tears from her cheeks as she shakes her head in disagreement. “Was it simple? To come home and find I hadn’t moved from my spot on the couch? Was that the ideal relationship you dreamt of, to see all of your energy, love, and time wasted on someone who couldn’t get themselves off the couch?”

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

“Did you now?” He seems so out of breath for standing still. “Or could you have possibly woken up one day and realized the weight of a relationship was what was pinning you to the couch. Was it that Atlas cared for Aly too much, or was it the expectation that Aly would have cared for him in return? Was breaking my heart easier than just trusting me with yours?”

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do.

“Maybe there were days you thought I was miserable” he kneels before her as the ocean finds its way to this office. His eyes are ocean blue, always changing hues depending on if the sun is shining, or a storm is brewing or they’re in the deep. “But you weren’t afraid I’d die that way, always miserable, no...some part of you thought I’d leave before I let that happen. That’s the orphan I loved. You were never a mess. You were a survivalist.”

So maybe that’s their story. Aly watched Atlas change his life for her, and realized he’s going to live to regret it. Did the last seven months hurt less because it was her choice? If he would have pulled the trigger, would the bullet do that much more damage?

“I would have died miserable.”

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

This was the first time she was the one who left, and to quell the guilt of being her own worst nightmare, she forced herself to believe she was doing it for him. How many people have left her for her own good? How many times did she think that they were doing her a favor?

She’s been sitting motionless for who knows how long when Belle comes back. Killian is long gone but his words linger like those dizzy stars after a concussion. Her head is throbbing trying to make sense of it. This wasn’t just seven months spent believing the lie. Now she’s searching for the truth.

She gets anxious in monotony, like a stench in stagnant water, she is repulsed by the concept. She’s never wanted to do the same thing every day. She doesn’t want a picket fence, she wants…She does like a cute cottagey feel with a nice picket fence, she could…she could deal with a picket fence.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

There were times, she’d look at him fresh out of the shower, or in his sleep and he’d look so much younger, she’d wonder what their kids would look like. There have been times she’s searched her fingers as they moved across her keyboard and realized her ring finger would look nice with a natural stone set in some brass band. It was never anything he did that scared her. It was that she thought about more. The concept of more scared her, and the fact that she was greedy and foolish enough to want it.

Four years is a long time to not talk about marriage, but after they moved past her initial anxiety attacks over having a boyfriend, he never really pushed for much again. Moving in together was her idea. He kept enough stuff at her place and with Elsa moving abroad, it made sense to do it. That’s as far as she was going to take it. Another few years piled up and she was busy writing and he was busy being supportive of that, she recognized she was his sun. When he made sure she ate during the weeks she barely left the house, when he kept her house plants alive, when he did her laundry, reminded her to shower, and told her he’s proud of her too often to quantify, she knew she was his ship. An inanimate object, something someone can love so much and not receive the love back in return, and sure, he’s as silly as a pirate to believe a ship that holds itself together while he’s sailing on her loves him, and that’s just her role.

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

She started to get bitter and insecure. What is she contributing to this relationship? How is she making him any better? Has he even written many songs since they moved in together, has she gone to see him perform, has he performed? Some days she was so enthralled in her writing, she didn’t realize he wasn’t home all day. It was his day off and he was gone for longer than a workday. He could have been having an affair for all she knew. For all he did, he deserved to be having an affair, falling in love with someone who would be there for him, encouraging his dreams, and dedicating herself to him.

After that day, she started her drafts. Killian, you’re so much more than I deserved…Or Killian, your life paused the day you met me. And finally, after months, she left him with I need this to be over.

She’s a writer, a published author, an English major and an avid reader yet, through years and years of literature and just terrible romcoms, she never learned how to break up with someone. She never knew the words to say to him, so she said nothing. He called for three-five days, she’s not sure as she was in a sobbing-induced coma. He sent texts, he sent freaking carrier pigeons, and she locked herself in a hotel room with her laptop and her broken heart. Finally, an email came in.

Emma, I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart. Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is?

“No.” She glances over at Belle, she thinks to ask if she talked to him in the hall after he left, if he said anything, if he seemed ‘Okay’ himself but she settles back to a business mindset. Work is the only constant. “Aly left because she didn’t want to get left again.”

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.”

She hears his voice cascading down the ramp she’s sitting at the bottom of. It's been a week since Belle’s meeting and she made her way back to the library. Back to their roots. There’s so much history in this building, but the history she’s looking for lives within her. There’s a group of teenagers huddled together like they’re on a tour. Her fingers shake as she looks back down at her laptop.

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

His voice sounds increasingly close. She wants to look but if they lock eyes now, while he’s busy, she’s back to being the center of attention. Why did she come here? Does she want to get back to being the center of his attention?

“Swan?” her stomach flips violently. She really didn’t think this through. Her neck trembles as she cranes to look up at him. “Hi.” He clears his throat, the group of teenagers studying them closely from behind him.

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

“Emma Swan?” A young girl in the back pipes up. “You write Cap Zeph.” ‘Cap Zeph’ is a very popular Tumblr tag, Emma’s been told. She is now a mild-day D list celebrity with the news of the screenplay adaptation. She never published under her real name until this one, Killian’s idea.

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.”

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

“Yes, and Killian Jones worked there. He’s…evidently the inspiration. Hair as dark as night, eyes as blue as the sea he sails upon.” Every girl and one boy in the group glance at Killian, amorously. Still handsome as ever. He looks down, scratching behind his ear and chuckling dryly. She wonders if his throat burns the same way her eyes do or if this feels so natural he’s happy to fall back into it.

“Why don’t you all find some books to research personal voice from in the YA section, hmm?” He dismisses the group quickly. They share assuming glances and move to leave in pairs, surely gossiping on the way.

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay?

“What brings you?” Killian starts. He isn’t looking anywhere but her and the look in his eyes leaves frost on her flesh. His expression is so blank. She has no idea if he even wants her here after their last conversation.

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. “My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

“Christ, Swan. Stop it.” He grabs a seat across from her at the small bistro-style table she’s been working on. She closes her laptop to remove barriers between them. “I hated myself for a while. I thought maybe I should have never lost sight of who you were. You’ve always been guarded. I thought I had broken down some of your walls. I should have never assumed I tore them all down.”

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove.

“What about your walls?” Emma counters. She didn’t come for an argument, but Killian had trauma, he was damaged in theory, but always presented himself as such a well-adjusted, forgiving, kind, loving man. “Maybe you had to go brick by brick, but you knew they were there. I just watched you for years never act like anything troubled you.”

He laughs, loudly.

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it.

“Emma, my love...of course I was troubled. I still am. I drink far too much and try to solve all of my problems myself without anyone’s help.” He’s still smiling as he confesses.”Hell, I didn’t tell anyone we broke up for months and it wasn’t because I thought you were coming back. I just knew I wasn’t going to let anyone worry about me.”

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

“I spent an entire day at the marina grieving my dead brother, over a decade after losing him. Every time I went to leave and come home to you, I’d get upset again. I used to stay away until I could pull myself together.” His smile slips into something dark and Emma realizes all the ways they failed at communicating. “I loved you just enough to only show you my best parts. I never trusted our love enough to show you everything. And it’s not because you were sad every now and then.”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

“I think the term is ‘best-laid plans.’” His smile is back “Convince an author to fall in love with you, live forever. Only, with my luck, I get to read my heart get broken in the exact same way whenever I’d like. I was looking forward to your book, knowing I’d get to see us in love again.” She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

“It’s as much my book as yours.” She means that. When she first wrote the Cap Zeph short stories, she had no plan of publishing. Killian pushed for her to immortalize this, to believe in herself and sell it. When the first went well, he convinced her to meet with Regina. “I mean, you are the entire series, after all.” He shakes his head and sighs.

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

“I should get back to my writers.” He moves to stand and she wants to jump up, but she doesn’t know what words follow that. She writes fiction. It's why this book has been so damn difficult. Writing their personalities into a fantasy of pirates and fairies, that's one thing. Writing history is another. She can build on what has already happened. This in-the-moment dichotomy, will they? Won’t they? Can they make it work? It’s disturbing.

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured.

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history.

The screenplay would read ‘They share a look of longing’ and she’s not sure that’s how she’d describe it. ‘Longing’ seems more cliche and not nearly as descriptive as her quickening pulse would use.

This feels like a pivotal moment where she realizes that they don’t necessarily have to not be in love anymore. They could take a slow pace, like windchimes waiting for a breeze to bring them together. That’s all a Zephyr is.

“My number hasn’t changed.”

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am. Are you up? It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man.

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.”

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door?

“What's the escape plan this time?”

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart.

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it?

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Of course. I planned on seeing you no matter where I lived...I prepared for you to come into focus and the rest of my world to blur.” He sighs and she can hear his mattress settle as he moves. “I didn’t plan on seeing you in my library again.”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.”

They talk til 4am. She’s rethought every word she’s said these last seven months. She rarely moves without tension tugging at the back of her neck. Her thoughts are never clear and simple, not since she left. And here, in the darkness of her bedroom, with nothing but a familiar voice on the other end, she hasn’t second-guessed a word.

-/- She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word.

But he asks her out for drinks afterward and suddenly she’s all he’s focused on, laughing about old times, discussing the interesting twist in literature they’ve both read recently. She asks him if he’s written any songs and he beams brightly when he tells her ‘only recently, Love.’

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

“Are you dating him?” Belle watches her from the doorway as Killian moves down the hall to his meeting. They came to the office together this time, maybe a peck on the cheek occurred before his departure, and maybe Belle witnessed it.

“I don’t know.” Emma tries not to think logistically about what’s going on. It’s been 4 weeks, she’s written 8 chapters and Aly is about to find Atlas again. “For the first time since I started, I know how book 4 will end.”

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it's beautiful. From tragedy to triumph is the Captain Zephyr way.” Belle hands the work back to Emma with a sad smile. “What makes it different this time? True love always finds its way back to one another, but how do we know they won’t split up again?” Emma knows this isn’t about the novel. They haven’t yet gotten back together to split up.

Does she know they’ll never separate again? Of course not. Killian is dedicated, devoted like a priest to the cloth. She is very aware that his heart is not yet healed, but eager to love her all over again. A few dates and late-night phone calls don’t make forever a promise anyone could keep.

“We don’t.”

-/- He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph. “Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous.

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.”

It's the look on his face when he studies her apartment that makes her remember they broke up. As if she had forgotten months of trying to hold herself together, he reminds her that she broke him when his face floods with that loneliness.

“Killian...”

“This is a very nice place you have.” his eyes are darting from one corner to the next, lingering on the most significant differences. “So ‘New York’ it's almost as if you’ve never lived anywhere else.”

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls.

“It’s just a place to lay my head.” He glances back at her with something almost accusatory when he says “You’ve gone ahead and made yourself a home.” And it has never felt like that, not once, when she was hiding away, when she would run home to it.

This place, this city has always been a foster home she feels like she’ll get kicked out of if she gets too comfortable. It wasn’t like their home together. Their home felt like roots. Here she feels like an implant that won’t take to the soil.

“The designer furnishings don’t mean shit to me.” Emma moves to the bookshelf, all new and shiny but it's just a box to keep what matters most. “Only what I’ve come here with is all I care to take. She pulls out a few books, “Wuthering Heights,” “The Book Thief,” and “Emma.” She hands them to him knowing they were always his.

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand.

“What do you need to not resent this place? To know I have everything you left tucked away in all these new places?” she motions for him to follow her to the bedroom and he slowly drifts behind, setting the novels on the coffee table. Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“I only drink whiskey you like. I only sleep in your t-shirts.” she sits on her bed, reaching for his hand to pull him down with her. “I don’t know what we are, and I can’t promise you I’m not a tragedy waiting to happen. I just know that I haven’t been able to erase an inch of you.”

He kisses her then. It's not on her terms, and he has only ever waited for everything to be on her terms. So when he pulls her in, hand cupping the back of her head, mouth open and adventurous, she gasps.

His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer to him, her hands pressed flat against his chest as his tongue enters her mouth with desperation. She fists his shirt in her hands, pressing even closer to him as her tongue reacts in kind. It has been the longest year without him and he’s kissing her like they’re running out of time.

All at once they’re falling as he lays her down on her back, continuing to claim her mouth as his property. Her hands start moving, tugging and fumbling with buttons and zippers and just much too much fabric for her liking. When she moves for his briefs he tugs back from her lips.

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear.

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before.

-/-

They spend the next few months together and she bangs out the rest of the book in record time. Regina and Belle throw her a submission party. She dodges questions about their future and tries to focus on the book.

“So Aly and Atlas together again,” Robin questions her as Killian returns with a drink for the both of them. She knows he’s not talking about the story. Killian has been very careful to not assume much about their status. Both of them have just stuck to ‘seeing where it goes.’

But it's not like they just met six months ago. They have history, they have four years of standing together at parties and being a couple. Do they have the luxury of casually dating? If all happiness is fleeting, do they dive face-first in it or wade in the shallow end.

“I love Killian.” She says firmly. It’s never not been true from the moment she realized it, in a foreign library miles and miles away from home. He is not easily erased, and it has become glaringly obvious it will only destroy her to try. “I always have and I always will.” Killian’s eyes have never been so doe-like. She’s never been so bold.

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

“And I love Emma, if it isn’t ardently clear. She’s everything to me and I’m happy just to exist in her life.” He raises his whiskey to her and she follows suit like a gentlemen’s agreement has just been formed: To love one another without concern of what it means. As she takes a sip she realizes what everything means. He hasn’t pushed aside his dreams in the slightest this go around. He’s been focused and driven, ambitious and busy. Somehow, he’s still considering her ‘everything.’ Maybe what she thought was sacrifice all that time ago was really just love.

So they stay in love.

-/-

Another year goes by and the first film is set to release. Although Emma and Killian still pay rent at their separate apartments, they spend every night together. Sometimes it's downtown in Killian’s studio, and other nights it's in the heart of the city at Emma’s. Commitment isn’t measured by who gave what up. It has shifted to who stays. They both do, and every day they make the decision to stay, when it's 5 months since Killian has slept alone or 10 months since Emma had dinner without him. They stay together with one promise in mind. They love each other. And for as long as Love is Present, they will choose each other.

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters.

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing.

She thought she’d never write their break up.

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

-/-

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed.

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

-/-

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She thinks of his face.

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again.

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career.

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden.

“When?” She whispers.

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.”

-/-

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later.

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/-

“Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today.

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR.

7:45 pm

“We had a meeting at 2:30.”

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly.

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle.

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called.

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off.

“Let me finish.” Belle opens the pizza box, sliding it toward Emma. “I think you should take a vacation. Get out of the city for a while, maybe visit Storybrooke, since you know he’s not there to run into.” Emma grabs a slice of pizza, not sure when she last ate but too preoccupied with the idea of leaving the city for a while. She ran to NYC. Now she’s running back to Storybrooke. Is he just going to chase her back and forth?

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him.

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating.

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?”

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?”

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about.

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye.

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness.

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break.

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion.

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received.

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall.

She is less.

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before.

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone.

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do.

“I would have died miserable.”

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

Finally, an email came in.

Emma,

I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart.

Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is?

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.”

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.”

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay?

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. “My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove.

He laughs, loudly.

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it.

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured.

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history.

“My number hasn’t changed.”

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am.

Are you up?

It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man.

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.”

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door?

“What's the escape plan this time?”

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart.

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it?

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.”

-/-

She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word.

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return.

“You don’t like it?”

“We don’t.”

-/-

He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph.

“Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous.

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.”

“Killian...”

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls.

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand.

Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear.

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before.

-/-

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

So they stay in love.

-/-

#kenya writes #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #one shot #love is fiction #love is history #honestly #i forgot how to tag #I forgot everything #but I really plan on writing again #and I need to put myself out there #300 notes is a lot #oh this is definitely not beta'd #I own like ALL the mistakes and you know what #this might be one big mistake

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