#also yes I just woke up sore and cranky as shit but still

[natsarrownecklacx]

Seeing so many fics now not have many comments but so many notes really frustrated/ saddens me :/

people deserve to be told their works is good, that silly line they threw into the third paragraph referencing that show / movie was noticed, that they did not waste their time working on free entertainment for us.

It’s just so frustrating to click into a fic with a good few hundred notes and the only comments are “part two” or “tag in next part” cause like? How about some appreciation for what we already gave you before you start asking for something else that you’ll probably just disregard aswell?

[laddieseddiemunster]

Sick Lost Boys x Reader

I might write a Paul fic later cause I’m in a big ‘Paul’ mood.

David

it’s hard to even tell when he’s sick. he doesn’t want to seem ‘weak’ so he just sucks it up. it’s not like whatever sickness he has is going to kill him, but he could feel like absolute shit and he won’t say a word to you about it. the only way to tell if he’s sick is his voice would sound strained or raspy. 

when you do find out david will deny it. there is no way he’s going to come out looking like a baby. he finally admits it after he realizes blood as a bitter taste with his sore throat. he’s so pissed about it that you start to think he’s upset with you. then david has to explain himself because he doesn’t want you to think he’s angry with you. 

when you find out you immediately want to pamper him. at first he refuses, but on the inside he wants to be cared for. david just doesn’t want to admit it. but sometimes even david needs to be babied. 

the minute he lets you take care of him you go all out. when he wakes up you bring him breakfast (technically dinner) which is soup and some hot tea. he’ll complain that the tea is too or sweet, but you make him drink it anyway. while he’s sleeping during the day you’ll go out to get him some medicine. david would complain about the taste and smell but takes it anyway. you’re both surprised it actually worked a little since he’s a vampire.

believe it or not but david actually gets a little depressed when he’s sick. he hates feeling vulnerable and the bitter taste of the usual delicious blood just puts him in a terrible mood. the ‘food’ he lives for doesn’t taste the same anymore. it’s not even worth eating without the taste. david’s already feel horrible and the loss of taste is the icing on the cake. 

since he’s so down in the dumps one way to make him feel a bit better is…well yes sex but also cuddles can do the trick. david will never cuddle you if the boys are around, but if you’re alone with him and he’s sad about something a nice cuddle will make him feel a bit better. like i said before even david needs to be babied sometimes. 

Dwayne

he’s pretty calm about it. out of all the boys dwayne is the one that gets sick the most, so he got used to taking care of himself. he’ll go get medicine for himself and stay in the cave more instead of going to the boardwalk with the boys.

the only bad part about that was he forgot to tell you that he wasn’t going to meet you at the boardwalk like he said he was. so when you went to the boardwalk you saw david, marko, and paul but no dwayne. you decided to ask david where he was and he told you he was at the cave, but he left out the part about dwayne being sick.

so when you got to the cave the first thing you saw was dwayne cuddled up in one of the bedrooms taking a nap on the bed. he never naps during the night, so you knew something was up. especially when you saw the cold medicine on the table next to him. 

when you woke him he explained to you that it was another one of his colds, and that he meant to give you a call but forgot. the second you heard that he was sick you offered to make him some soup, and stay with him for the rest of the night. dwayne refused. it’s not that he didn’t want your company, it’s just he didn’t want you to get sick. he’d feel super guilty if he got you sick, and you were stuck in bed for a week.

the more you begged him to let you stay and take care of him the more he caved in. eventually he cracked and let you stay. dwayne can’t go too long without your company, but he kept it to a minimum. he didn’t cuddle you like he usually would when you two were alone, and he wouldn’t kiss you even if you gave him the pouting face. it was killing him just as much as it was killing you. he loved giving you as much affection as you wanted, but he knew he couldn’t for the better. 

sooner or later he cracked and let you kiss him and cuddle him. it was killing him to see you sad, so he gave in. even though dwayne gets sick a lot more than the other boys he actually recovers pretty quickly. before you know it he was back to normal. and somehow you didn’t get sick along with him.

Paul

biggest. baby. ever. 

when paul gets sick it doesn’t have to be a bad cold or just a sore throat. he’s going to act like a baby either way. he rarely gets sick so when he does it totally kills his mood. his usually happy smile turns into a frown until whatever sickness he has goes away. he gets so cranky when he’s sick that even the boys know not to go near him.

paul tells you that he’s sick right away. well sort of. he told you, “baby, i’m dying.” and that obviously made you confused and concerned. you weren’t too concerned that he was going to die though. he could’ve just woken up on the wrong side of the pole and that’s why he was upset. when you asked him what was the matter he responded with “the dead are coming after my throat.” then it clicked.

the thing about paul is he doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of himself when he’s sick. he’ll just lay in bed and whine. he thinks medicine is for the weak, and he’ll refuse to take it. you’re going to have to be the one to get him medicine. you’ll have to force him to take it, and he only agreed when you told him you’d buy him a new record. he didn’t even drink half of it before spitting it out and complaining that it tasted like moldy socks. you rolled your eyes when he said “you’re still buying me a new record right?”

paul won’t ask for your affection he’ll demand it. he’s feeling so lousy that all he wants is a nice cuddle and kiss. you already know that if you refuse he’ll just whine and pout more than he already was before. it’s not good to deny what paul what’s because he somehow always finds a way to get what he wants. 

the second you let him kiss you he won’t let you go. paul knows that if he lets you go that you’ll probably be stuffing medicine down his throat. he doesn’t mind if you make him soup, but he’ll act like he does so you can feed it to him. for some reason he really likes it when you feed the soup to him. you end up getting sick along with him.

Marko

with marko it really all depends how bad the sickness is. if it’s not a bad one then he won’t even bother telling you because to him it’s not that big of a deal. if it’s a bad one then he won’t even have to tell you. just by the look on marko’s face says it all. he’s not depressed he’s full on angry. blood doesn’t taste the same, he feels horrible, and on top of that he can’t get too close to you cause you could catch whatever he has.

knowing that he can’t get too close to you because of this dumb cold that he has makes him more upset. he’ll try to get you to just give him a small hug, but you refuse the second he lets out a cough. marko will whine and complain about it but he knows it’s for the better. 

marko actually prefers taking medicine over playing the waiting game. he wants the cold to go away as soon as possible, and if that means taking some nasty liquid then he’ll do it. marko will cringe when it enters his mouth but he’ll suck it up, and keep his mouth shut. the second the medicine kicks in he’s trying to kiss you and hold you. but you have to remind him that just because he feels better doesn’t mean the sickness is out of his body. 

taking the medicine and eating the soup you give him is one thing, but if you tell him that he has to stay home in bed he’ll tell you that you’re crazy. he doesn’t care how sick he is there is no way he’s missing a day at the boardwalk with the other guys. no matter how hard you beg him to stay home and rest he’s not going to. the only way marko will stay home is if there’s something in it for him. 

if you offer to pamper him while he’s sick there is no way he’s going to refuse. marko loves being babied by you. he’s usually the one to spoil you, so when you start taking care of him he’s not going to stop you. even if the cold isn’t bad the minute you start pampering him he’s not going to tell you to stop. he’s enjoying himself so why should he?

the only time he’ll regret the pampering you gave him is if you get sick along with him. that is a high possibility, but he tried to prevent it as much as he could. but he can’t go too long without you close to him.

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (Part 12)

A/N: I altered the timeline & updated the last chapter w the correct weeks!! sorry for any confusion that causes. I need to be accurate or it’d bother me lol 

ALSO: end the stigma surrounding miscarriage/infertility. your feelings and experiences are valid. 

Tw: miscarriage, cursing, slight spoilers for the episode “200”

word count: 4.4 k

masterlist

series masterlist

“It was a Thursday, no I guess technically it was a Friday since it was 3 am. You woke me up, poking my shoulder gently until I stirred. 

“This is going to sound weird but did you...?”

I was groggy and sore and cranky. It was 3 am, and you woke me up. Of course I was annoyed. My back was killing me, “Spence, what?”

“Did you pee yourself?” You whispered, and I laughed. 

“What? No?” 

That’s when I shifted to roll over and face you. That’s when I felt it. It was like a freight train hitting me. I was dizzy and nauseous and could suddenly feel every part of my body aching. 

“Then, t-then what’s this?” 

You threw the covers off of us. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so scared. 

I just stared at it. Our gray sheets darkened. I had no emotions. No instincts. No movement. You’d think I’d have an intuition of what I needed to do. My maternal instinct would’ve kicked in, or I guess it wouldn’t have because I was no longer a mother. 

I don’t know how I didn’t wake up earlier. I keep wracking my brain for a reason why I didn’t wake up. Why did you have to wake me up? Why didn’t I just know? I should’ve just known. I should’ve had a feeling, but I didn’t have any feelings. Because that’s what shock is. It’s nothing. It’s staring at everything and feeling absolute nothingness. 

It’s weird to think that that night we went to bed, laughing and chatting and snuggling close to each other. It’s weird to think that we had no idea what was coming. We were living in ignorant bliss. It’s sad that that was our last night we spent together as a whole family unit. I wish I knew about lasts before they happened, that way I could savor the moment. Soak it all up. Bask in the warmth of you. 

We fell asleep as we usually do did, you spooning me from behind, one hand on my belly the other on my back. You whispering that you loved me, you hoped I slept well; me telling you that the papaya sized thing in my uterus would make sure that I did not sleep well. You’d laugh, your breath would tickle my neck, then I’d laugh, and we’d finally calm down and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

That’s the last time we fell asleep like that. I wish I knew. I would have appreciated the little things. I would’ve appreciated the way you rubbed little shapes on my skin, the way you dealt with me needing no comforter because I was always hot and sweaty, even though you run cold. I wish I could go back and appreciate every one of our lasts, just so I could hold onto those memories a little while longer. But I guess I’ve held onto them long enough if I’m giving them all back to you. 

Speaking of, what is your item for this letter? Go ahead. Go look. It isn’t going to be what you expect.”

He was much calmer than he was before. The numbness had returned. He felt kind of okay actually. He felt like that was the last bit of emotion he had left. But then again, he felt that way in letter four. He felt that way in letter seven. He knew it wouldn’t last, but he was determined to savor it, grind through the last few letters while he was still numb, then hopefully decide what to do while his head was clear. 

He reached in, surprised at what you had chosen. 

“Yes, this is definitely not what you expected. I’m sure you expected another baby memento, or maybe an ultrasound picture. But like I said, all the baby stuff is gone. And I’m keeping the ultrasounds. I’ll mail you copies, I promise. And unlike you, I don’t make a habit of breaking my promises. 

Now to anyone who doesn’t know PG, this little stuffed unicorn looks like it was for the baby. But when you know her as well as we do, you know it was for me. Penelope decorates her desk with trinkets and light-up frogs and flower pens because they help her see the bad. They make it easier. By giving me this, she was giving me something to protect me from the horror I would have to face. And for a little while, it actually worked. I hope it’ll do the same for you.”

He laughed, an honest, genuine, laugh. He held the stuffed thing in his hands, leaning back onto the bed. It was white with rainbow hair and a glittery purple horn. He remembered when Penelope brought it in the room, delicately placing it on your bedside table.

“She’ll need this, and so will you,” She said. Spencer just nodded and watched her disappear. 

“I will spare you the grisly details, Spence; you were there. I will just mention the main ideas. 

As I sat there, staring at the mess that had formed in front of me, you got up. You were visibly shaking as you turned on the lights and called an ambulance. Your face was gray. I’ve never seen it that color. I couldn’t focus on anything except you and the pain. God, the pain. It radiated from my abdomen, up into my heart and festered there. It was a different kind of pain, unlike any I’d ever experienced before. Then came the adrenaline, pumping through my body at an insane rate. Then I felt foggy, like I was watching what was happening to me on a tv screen. It was the closest thing to an out-of-body experience I’ve ever had.  

You knelt down next to me, holding my torso. We didn’t speak. We didn’t cry. We were both in shock.

I don’t even know what you said to the people on the phone. I assume you told them what you had already diagnosed. You told them the truth: I was miscarrying. 

It still hurts to say. I still have a hard time saying the word out loud. “Pregnancy loss,” “Spontaneous abortion,” “Miscarriage,” none of the words feel right. None of them feel like they accurately describe what happened to us that night. 

They put me on a stretcher, and that’s when it became real. I was crying, holding your hand so tight I thought I’d cut off blood supply. My other hand was on my torso, and I was begging whatever Gods are above to feel a kick. Just one little kick, or shift, or movement.

I didn’t. 

You stayed strong for me. You always were so good under pressure. You told the EMT every detail of my health history, while I was a blubbering mess. You called Hotch. You called Emily. You called my dad. You kept it together. You did everything right. God, Spencer, even from that very first day when I paid you to do my paperwork, you always did everything right. You’re the good one. You put nothing but good karma out into the world, so why do you keep getting bad karma back?

It’s ridiculous really, because we did do everything right. I took my prenatals and only drank water and green smoothies and I ate sweet potatoes and legumes and kale chips. I resisted the urge to eat nothing but Baja Blasts and Big Macs. I’m honestly angry. I’m angry because you and I, two good people, don’t get to have a baby, but some of these unsubs we encountered do? What kind of logic is that? What kind of world allows that to happen? What kind of God? A really shitty one, that’s who. 

Eventually they literally peeled you off of me in the ER. They had to make sure I wasn’t getting an infection, and that I had—God I can’t say it. They had to see if they needed to help me through it, if you know what I mean. They did. I had to get a d&c. 

I spent most of the time sobbing at the nurses. They all just held my hands and smoothed my hair. I begged for you, but they said no. I argued with them. I said I needed you there next to me. I didn’t want them to hold my hands and smooth my hair, I wanted you. But they insisted that the room had to stay clean. Eventually I was all cried out and they put me under. 

When I woke up this unicorn was next to me, staring me in the face and letting me know our friends were there. They knew. They had my back. This stuffed thing would help me face the bad that was coming. It would protect me. 

It was about eight. You pulled your chair up next to me, your hand in mine, head on my bed. I felt like shit. That’s the only way to put it. Anesthesia makes me nauseous as is, couple that with the night I had? I felt awful, and I felt it everywhere. 

When I woke up, you stirred too. Your eye bags were deep and dark, you still had on pajamas with some unknown fluids on them, and your hair was a wreck. 

I ran my hands through it, a force of habit, “Hi.”

“Hey,” you croaked. 

Our eyes met, and we both just fell apart. Tears spilled over so easily. We were two broken hearts in one hospital room. 

You crawled into the bed with me, making sure to be gentle and not hurt me, “Is this real life?” 

“Yeah, Love. I’m afraid it is,” you whispered into my hair. 

“I-It doesn’t feel like real life.”

You sighed, and shifted so we were both sitting upright, your arm around my shoulder, “I know. I wish it wasn’t.”

“W-What happened? What did I do? I th-thought I did everything right?”

You kissed my tears on my cheeks, “You did. You couldn’t have done anything to stop this. It was a chromosomal abnormality, trisomy sixteen.”

“What does that m-mean?”

“It means she had three copies of chromosome sixteen, which makes proteins in the body. She never would’ve—“

“Stop,” I said, not harshly or mean, just a sad moan, “I don’t want to know.” I took three shaky, deep breaths, trying to calm myself down, “I-I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, there’s nothing we could’ve done. We’ll get through this, together, I promise.”

“I promise,” I said, and you kissed my temple, arms wrapped around me tightly, as if you could physically hold me together as I fell apart. You held me like that for a while, before we both fell asleep again in that teeny tiny hospital bed.

The unicorn wasn’t the one who protected me that night, it was you. You protected me more than I ever gave you credit for. I wish I could’ve stayed strong for you, the way you stayed strong for me. Thank you for that, Spencer. I mean it.”

Spencer got up from bed and felt lightheaded. Realizing he hadn’t eaten yet, he grabbed a mess of junk from the fridge and sat on the kitchen floor up against the dishwasher. The metal of the appliance was cold against his back, the ground below him was hard. It just felt right. 

He did keep his calm the whole time. He never cracked, not until the end when he cried with you. He spoke calmly and quietly when the team showed up. Garcia cried more than he did. Emily said she was on the next flight, ready and willing. Your dad didn’t say more than a few awkward and sad words. Morgan looked terrified. Hotch had his eyebrows knit together, as if with enough thinking, he could make the situation away. JJ stood silently, knowing the feeling, but not mentioning it. The only time he wavered was when Alex held him; the tears reached the surface but never spilled over. Everyone just circled around him, trying to protect him from the scariness that he’d face outside of their bubble. 

The nurse came up to him, telling him you were out and okay. It was a chromosomal abnormality, nothing could’ve prevented it. With some rest, you’d be okay physically, but mentally it would be a long road, for both of you. He nodded. The world felt like it was spinning. He couldn’t think straight. The walls seemed to move in around him, even as he stood still. 

“Reid, it’s mandatory. Four weeks. Minimum,” Hotch said, Spencer not hearing a word of it. 

“O-Okay. Fine, whatever. I just, I need to see her.” 

Derek reached out to stop him, “You know she isn’t going to be the same, kid.”

Spencer shook him off, “I know.”

But he didn’t know to what extent. He didn’t know that you’d still look pregnant, because your belly doesn’t automatically deflate. He didn’t know that your grieving process would be different from the way it was after Emily’s fake death. How naive of him to not realize that he’d grieve differently this time too. He thought he’d want to cry and talk and eat blueberry pancakes, just like last time. He didn’t realize that when a piece of you just suddenly stops being a piece of you, it’s jarring. It's the five stages of grief all at once and in the wrong order. It’s crying at a Pampers commercial and being angry when you see new moms. It’s people giving you soft looks of pity everyday. It’s lonely. It’s sad. It’s the worst heartbreak one can imagine. In short—it really fucking sucks. 

Spencer had no idea just how much it really fucking sucked. 

He saw you there, your skin drained of its warm color and tired, and stopped in his tracks. What would he say? What would he do? How would he approach you? How would he tell you that half of his heart just left his body? 

Rossi was the one who saw him stop at the threshold of your door. He saw Spencer pace back and forth, still in bloody pajamas. He saw Spencer stare at you, hands balled into fists like he was ready to fight the powers that be. 

He came up behind him, placing a kind hand on his shoulder, “Spencer, listen to me.”

Spencer didn’t react, he just kept staring at you, “I had a son, with Caroline. He died the same day he was born. I know what this feels like, Kid. I do. Trust me, it’ll get easier. I promise, but only if the two of you lean on each other.”

Spencer nodded dumbly, still not really processing anything around him, but with a nudge from Rossi he entered your room. He found his way to the bedside chair. 

“Hey, Y/N, I know you can’t hear me. The anesthesia hasn’t worn off yet. I just want to—no need to tell you that I love you. I’m not mad at you. I’m heartbroken, but here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Remember how fast that narrative changed, Spence? 

We got home from the hospital that night and I grabbed a tub of ice cream. I figured losing the baby counted as ‘one of those days’. I thought we would eat in silence and it would make it all okay, like every other day. 

When I pulled it out, you scratched your head, “Not tonight. I’m tired.”

I nodded, feeling heavy and sore and weak, “Okay, see you upstairs?” 

You nodded again, and I put the tub away. I figured you were going to talk to the moon for a while, and I was going to let you. 

I fell asleep almost immediately, you never joining me. 

I got up and you were on the couch, making some lame excuse of how you were reading and must have fallen asleep there by accident.

“You okay today?” I asked you. 

You shrugged, “We won’t be okay for a lot of days.”

I knew you were right. It was a stupid question to even ask. I nodded. 

“How do you feel?”

“Sore, weak, empty. Like I need to sleep more.”

You tucked my hair behind my ear, and kissed my cheek. 

“I love you,” I said, and you responded with, “Love you too, I need to shower.”

Now there is a distinct difference between ‘love you’ and ‘I love you.’ Losing the ‘I’ loses the intimacy. It removes yourself from the statement. You removed yourself from that statement, and from me. 

That first day we talked a little. We mostly cried and you watched me sleep. But then suddenly it was like you didn’t want to talk about it. You didn’t want to share a bed. You didn’t even want to look at me. You didn’t want to be in that place. I don’t blame you, Spencer, I don’t. I didn’t want to be there either.

I understand why you blamed me. We needed to blame someone, because no way could life be that cruel to a person. I blamed myself for the loss for a while too. No matter how many times people said “it’s not your fault” it still felt like my fault. I still feel like it’s my fault, like maybe I could’ve done something to prevent this. It doesn’t matter how many support groups or therapists tell me I can’t blame anyone. How can I believe that when the person who means the most to me in this world feels like it I’m the only person to blame?”

He sighed. He never wanted to blame you, but some part of him did anyway. It was easier that way. If he blamed you, he wouldn’t have to blame himself like he always did. But, sometimes there is no one to blame but life itself. 

“Emily showed up that next day. She came in, in all her black bangs glory and held me. She had ice cream with me. She let me cry on her shoulders until I couldn’t anymore. She watched cheesy tv with me and distracted me with stories of her varied lovers in London. She supported me the way only a best friend could, the way I wish you did. Then she had to leave; London calls. And Derek took her place. He would come by when he could, usually with takeout that I couldn’t stomach. If he couldn’t come by, he’d always text or call. He always checked in, which I appreciated, but every moment with them was a moment spent wishing I was with you. 

You. For the first week or so, I saw you everyday. We even went to the beach, but when we came home? I tried to talk but we usually didn’t. More accurately, I spoke, and you stared at me. Then you started coming less and less and returning fewer and fewer of my calls. At the end, I think I saw you maybe once every other day, just for you to come and grab clean clothes or paperwork. God, everyone did your job except for you because you were too busy doing your real job. The job Hotch told you to take a few weeks off from. The job that I actually did take a few weeks off from, because my body was in disrepair. 

It’s not fair to sit here and tell you that you didn’t cater to my every grieving need correctly. It’s not fair for me to tell you how to grieve either. I respect what you did, Spence. I respect that you poured yourself into work. I know it isn’t fair that I wish you spent half that energy on us. But you know what actually isn’t fair? The way I’d tell people “we lost her,” but you’d say “Y/N lost her.” You know what wasn’t fair? The fact that you ran away from me and hid away in your apartment, doing God knows what with God knows who, after we promised to lean on each other, to heal together. You refused to do it. I wanted to. I tried to. I reached out. I called. I texted. 

But, I’m getting ahead of myself now. You still have three letters to go.”

Spencer glanced over at the box. It was nearly empty, just three stray items and three stray envelopes staring at him. He remembered the minute he set foot in that place, he felt the same way he did before he entered your hospital room. Frozen. Fear. Trepidation. 

Everything looked foreign. The walls that were once a saturated blue color looked grayer. The mug on the counter didn’t look like it was his. The pictures on the walls were of foreign people from a foreign land. The bed didn’t look like his bed. He felt like he was living on a movie set, where everything was a prop and everyone was a fake. 

He tried to stay. He went into that first night with the intentions of laying next to you in bed, watching tv, rubbing your back, and giving you water to make up for the amount of tears you shed. He really, honestly, tried, but the first thing he saw when he opened the front door was that picture of the two of you from Rossi’s house, holding up the onesie. Then he made his way into the kitchen, where the ultrasounds were pinned to the fridge with smiley face magnets. Then he went upstairs and passed the nursery. 

It had barely been started; all you’d done was paint it a soft, sage green. 

“This color is called ‘Soothing Sage’,” You said, handing Spencer a roller, “I sure hope this soothes her, because if she’s as active outside as she is inside, we have a problem.” 

“It will soothe her. That’s why I love green,” He said, grabbing the roller and starting to paint, as you sat on the floor trying to untangle Garcia’s homemade jungle animal mobile. 

“I thought you liked purple.”

He smiled, “ I do, but green brings balance and harmony. From a color psychology perspective, it is the great balancer of the heart and the emotions, creating equilibrium in the body. And from a color symbolism perspective, green is the color of growth, spring, renewal and rebirth.”

You laughed, “My favorite color is teal. What’s the color psychology for that?”

“Teal is a blend of blue and green, so naturally it combines both blue's tranquility and stability with green's balance and harmony.”

“I like it, I like it, how about orange? What does that mean?”

“Orange? Well, it’s bright and brings feelings of excitement, enthusiasm, and warmth—“ He cut himself off, turning from his almost done wall to find you eating more chips, “Stop distracting me!”

You put your hands up in surrender, “You’re too easy to distract Reid.”

He smiled, paint already all over him, as you spent the rest of the afternoon talking about what rocker you should buy and where the other painting Garcia made should hang. 

When he passed the room, the walls a pretty green, mobile in the corner over a few stray Ikea boxes, he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t act like everything in that place didn’t make him want to scream into an abyss. He couldn’t play the dutiful boyfriend. He couldn’t walk around and not feel haunted. He was being haunted, not by the past, but by a future that should’ve been. 

He tried to explain it to you, but you two were on different pages. Hell, you were reading two different books that were in completely different languages. Communicating became impossible, and if he’s being honest with himself, he was kind of happy that it did. It made it easier in the moment, but worse in the long run. 

“I miss us. I miss you. I miss her. I know we never met her but I could feel her. She was strong, definitely a soccer player. Maybe she would’ve had our recessive athletic genes. She was part of me, and I loved her from the first time I threw up. I could tell she loved you. She moved whenever you spoke to me. She loved to rustle and shift when you laid on my lap and whispered to her. She was a daddy’s girl. That’s what you deserved. I’m sorry my body couldn’t handle it. I’m sorry that I couldn’t even do that right. I’m sorry couldn’t be what you wanted or what you needed, especially when you were all I ever wanted or needed. I don’t know how many more ways to show you that I’m sorry.

You left me the day we lost her Spence, I know you did. I lost you and her in one fell swoop. How do I cope with that?”

Spencer put the letter down, cradling the unicorn in his hands. He didn’t need you to apologize anymore. You’d done enough of that, so did he. He stopped being angry and bitter and spiteful the second you told him to go. You yelled at him to finish packing his bags and get out, since that’s clearly what he wanted.

That wasn’t what he wanted. He was just lost. He was confused. He felt like nothing had a purpose anymore. He understood what Gideon said in the letter he left him all those years ago. He questioned everything he thought he ever knew. He wanted to view it as a lesson, something he could learn from, but the hole in his heart wouldn’t let him.

He had every intention of coming back to you when he was ready, but when he finally was, you shut the door. He lost himself the moment he lost her, and that made him lose you too. How’s he supposed to cope with that?

Part 13!

---------

Taglist: @l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings @ajwantsapancake @andiebeaword @boiled-onionrings @frnks-stuff @icantevenanymore1 @mellifluouswildbluebells @rottenearly @sammypotato67 @blushingwueen @peaxhyjaes @justanotherfangurlz @juniorgman187 @mbowles23-blog @blameitonthenight21​ @goldentournesol​ @rainsong01​ @thelifeofadumbbitch​ @swimmingfishwobblersludge @youre-a-wallflower-charlie​

[peachymhaechan]

“You know, you have pretty good taste.”

Genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst I suppose, travel!au

Pairing: Hyuck x reader

Warnings: language, my guy

A/N: i’m uploading this after junior year is finished, hell yeah!! also, happy birthday my full sun, we all love you so much!! unrelated but im trying something other than bullet point scenarios for once?? who IS she

   It was four in the morning, the sun wasn’t out and the birds were not chirping. Instead, the sun was in the process of rising and all that could be heard was shitty airport music and the overpowering sound of airplanes taking off. The people passing by you were an odd mix: some passing layover time by getting drunk off their asses, some hustling to the next gate, some excited to go on vacations (Example that everyone has seen before: that middle class family of four headed to Disney World with matching Mickey and Minnie Mouse T-shirts with their names on the back) or see their families. You, however, happened to be in the group of people who had just finished vacation and were now back home, and dreadfully so. Who would want to go back to the boring and mundane after being at the beach with a group of friends for two weeks? 

   Taking your time to pick up your luggage, you stopped in the bathroom to pass time, as you wanted to avoid the initial rush to at the baggage claim. The first ten to fifteen minutes at the baggage claim were the worst because you had to deal with cranky tourists, crying babies, and overly loud people talking on the phone. After it felt like enough time had passed, you went to the baggage claim for your flight and waited to pick up your suitcase. It was black, with a hard exterior and no really notable qualities other than a yellow tag with your personal information written on it. 

   The bags all went around the conveyor belt a few times and you finally spotted your bag. Well, what you assumed to be yours; it was the exact same suitcase with a yellow tag, so there was no real need to be suspicious of anything or doublecheck the tag. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a boy who appeared to be your age grabbing a suitcase that matched yours to a T. He looked tired, like he had been running nonstop and was extremely exhausted, so you thought of complimenting his choice of travelling bags but stopped yourself. Just as you were about to leave, you felt a pair of eyes on you so you turned and found the boy with the same suitcase staring at you. He blushed at being caught but still gave you a small smile and bowing his head in a sleepy greeting. You did the same to him, giving him a small wave and saying, “You know, you have pretty good taste,” and gesturing to the bag. 

   He chuckled cutely, the noise making you blush immediately, and said, “You too.” With that, you both went on your merry ways, not thinking anything of the encounter or the fact that neither of you checked the damn tags to see if you took the other’s bag. Plot twist: you grabbed the wrong bag. 

   About one hour later you closed your apartment door behind you, slipping off your shoes and collapsing onto the couch. You threw your phone onto the charger and placed it onto the coffee table and as soon as your head hit your pillow, your eyes shut and you fell into a deep slumber, your body trying to get rid of the major jet lag. 

   The sun shining through the window and warming your skin woke you in the middle of the afternoon. Deciding that the amount of sleep you had gotten after getting home would be substantial enough for the time being, you got up and started to unpack. Laying the suitcase on your bed, you opened it up and it took you a second to realize it, but boy oh boy were you shocked. 

   That was not your suitcase. 

   How did you know? Well, because the last time you checked, you didn’t wear boxer briefs, especially not ones with lipstick kisses all over them. 

   “Fuck. Shit. Ass. Piss,” was all you could say as you closed it back up and went to check the tag tied around the handle. Lee Donghyuck, the name read, with a phone number scribbled next to it. You went into the living room to go and text the ever mysterious Lee Donghyuck, when the screen was illuminated with a text message from an unsaved number. 

   Hey Y/N, this is Lee Donghyuck from the airport. We had the same bag, remember? Well, I think you’ll find out pretty soon if you haven’t already that we have each other’s bags. Let me know when you’re free so we can swap, please!

   Sighing a breath of relief at the fact that at least the boy was polite and respectful about this awful situation, your fingers started moving over the keyboard to send a message back. 

   Hi Donghyuck, this is Y/N! I’m free all day, where would you like to meet up? We can go to a coffee shop by my house if that is okay with you. If it’s too far, no worries! We can just find somewhere else to go :)

   Not even seconds after you sent the message, Donghyuck sent a response asking which coffee shop you had in mind, and to send him the address. You happily obliged, wanting nothing more than to sort out this mess and get your stuff back. 

   Alright sounds good, I’ll see you there in about an hour !!

   It had almost been time to meet up when you started to head to the coffee shop you guys planned on. It was a little hole in the wall, mom and pop place that had stolen your heart (and money) ever since you moved to that little neighborhood. The best drink on the menu was their caramel macchiatos, the warmth from the beverage warming you to the core on the coldest winter days, and the ice in the cold version cooling you on the hottest summer afternoons. 

   The little bell above the door rang when you walked in, and the barista at the counter gave you a warm hello. “Y/N, how was your trip?” Jaehyun, the fulltime sweetheart and halftime barista, asked you, immediately making you your usual. Taking a seat at your normal spot by the window, you flashed him a grin and said, “Amazing. It felt so good to get away and worry about nothing other than putting on more sunscreen.” The tall boy handed you a steaming cup and before he could say anything else, the bell rang again. 

   Your eyes drifted to the door and you found yourself staring into the same eyes you had stared into earlier. Donghyuck stood in the doorway, not as recognizable, having changed from that morning. Rather than wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, he donned ripped jeans, a loose sweater, and clean sneakers. Rolling your suitcase right behind him, his eyes scanned the room for you, and you could pinpoint the exact moment he saw you. 

   “Y/N?” he hesitantly called, walking towards you. Jaehyun retreated to behind the counter, leaving you two to it. “Yes, hi, hello!” you confirmed, waving hello to the boy and finding yourself in shock when your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him running a hand through his faux golden locks. 

   “Ah, I’m sorry we had to meet like this,” he sheepishly told you, rubbing the back of his neck. He took a seat across from you, changing the view you normally got in your spot. Never in all your experiences at the shop had something or someone changed the view you had: the window to the outside, showing the little alleyway and any locals walking to some of the other shops. It came to you, then, that maybe you didn’t mind a bit of change if it was that cute. 

   “Oh, I don’t mind, really. I’m glad it happened with someone as respectful as you, though. You never know how people can be nowadays,” you said, taking a sip from your drink. “Would you like something to drink? Jaehyun is really good at what he does,” you said, nodding over to the barista who stood behind the bar, seeming bored out of his mind. 

   “Hmmmm…. what would you recommend?” he asked, stealing a glance at the bit of froth that gathered above your lip. 

   “The caramel macchiato is what I normally get. Both iced and warm, its great,” you said, gesturing to the beverage in your cup, a small smile on your face. 

   “Alright, then. I trust you. I’ll take a large caramel macchiato...” 

   Once Jaehyun had made the drink and refused any payment (and gave you a wink from behind Donghyuck, thank God he couldn’t see that), you two chatted for hours. The sun was starting to set before it dawned on you that you had been there for almost three hours, stomach sore from laughter and cheeks burning from smiling. Talking to Donghyuck felt like talking to an old friend, despite knowing him for less than twenty-four hours. In the short time you had spent together, you gathered that he was a sweet and caring boy, as he took care of his younger friends and his younger siblings, but that didn’t stop his whip-like tongue from throwing out witty remarks any time an opportunity arose. His sense of humor was very similar to yours, and his interests were the same as yours, so you two had endless topics to discuss. 

   “Oh my God, what time is it?” you asked, falling out of your stupor and dragging your gaze away from the boy’s beautiful curled lashes and the way they rested upon his cheekbones. You heard Jaehyun dramatically yawn behind the counter, causing you to roll your eyes as Donghyuck checked his watch and said, “It’s almost nine o’clock, I’m about to miss the next bus to get back to my house.” 

   “Well, I guess we should be leaving, then. Good night, Jaehyun, thank you for everything! The macchiato was great, as always.” You both stood up and gathered your things, switching suitcases and checking the tags this time just to be safe. You both shuffled out of the shop, sending a smile and a wave over your shoulder to the barista before standing in the middle of the doorway. 

   Standing there, you weren’t sure what to do or say, but then Donghyuck spoke up. “Thank you for agreeing to meet up with me, I appreciate it. A lot of people nowadays would have just mailed it to me or something, so I’m pretty grateful that you met up with me right away. Oh, and you’re pretty nice, too, so, um... maybe we can meet here again? If that’s okay with you, of course.” There was a crimson tint to his cheeks and you found it outright adorable that the boy blushed at the thought of seeing you again. 

   “I’d love that, Donghyuck! Thank you for not being a serial killer or something and recommending your house instead,” you told him, trying to lighten the atmosphere around you two and succeeding when you heard a little giggle escape his lips. “You really should be going now if you don’t want to miss that bus,” you said, giving him a smile. 

   “Yeah, you’re right... text me when you get home safe, okay? I feel terrible that I can’t walk you home.” He kicked at a rock on the ground, a small pout forming on his cherry red lips. 

   “I will, don’t feel bad! Have a nice night!” you exclaimed and, feeling particularly bold, leaned up to place a feather-light kiss on his already dusted cheeks. The seemingly outgoing boy froze on the spot, skin heating up and eyes widening and watching you pivot and wheel your suitcase away with energy in your step. 

   As soon as you got home, you flung yourself down on the bed and let your actions sink in finally. The memory of kissing his cheek made you all giddy and start giggling, before inevitably squealing into your pillow. Remembering what he told you before you were ever so adventurous, you pulled out your phone and sent him a quick text. 

   Okay, I’m glad you made it home safely! :)

   A few seconds later, you received another text, not giving you any time to recover form the first one.  

   Would you like to hangout tomorrow? If you’re available, that is! 

   Fingers flying over the keyboard and heart leaping out of your chest, you sent a reply right away. 

   I’d like that a lot, Hyuck

[sweetnestor]

12 Days | Chapter 2

Two guys that lowkey hate each other are forced to walk in each other’s shoes in order to learn a lesson.

***in collaboration with @themarkiplierexperience

lmao soz its not actually x reader we’re just desperate for attention haaaa

previous

“I really think you overworked yourself this time,” said a soft, yet clear female voice. “Maybe you should have slept instead of working at the office all night.”

Tom wasn’t sure how long this girl had been speaking. All he knew was that he was in a car with her, and she was driving him to… he didn’t know where. Probably missed that in the midst of all the panic. He barely even got a look at her, so he turned his head to the driver and, well…

He recognized the shiny black hair that faded to a vibrant pink. Her side profile was oddly familiar. This was Bella, right? The girl who the people at “the office” were talking about. Tom knew her from somewhere, he just couldn’t pinpoint where. For some reason, he had to look at her until he figured it out.

She noticed his staring and glanced at him before turning back to the road. She seemed very concerned for this Ethan guy. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Yes, actually. I think I switched places with your friend and I don’t know where I am or how to switch back. That’ll land Tom in the hospital for sure. He didn’t need to be locked away in the psych ward, he just had to find out how this happened. In the meantime, all he could do was go along with what this girl was saying.

“I-It’s probably what you said,” he replied, breaking the gaze. “Overworked myself.” He pulled out his - or Ethan’s - phone and one look at the lockscreen made it click.

Bella is his girlfriend.

“Yeah, next time,” she continued, “let’s not go right back to editing after a convention. I know you’re passionate about YouTube, but you need a break just as much as anyone else does. And besides, Mark has two editors for a reason, Kathryn could have taken over if you were really that exhausted.”

“Right, got it.” Tom hesitated. Maybe he could still play off being disoriented from the panic attack. “Um, love… do you happen to remember my, my passcode?”

She chuckled. “Is it not your thumbprint, my dear?”

Well, shit. Now I’ll never know who’s body I’m possessing. This is useless, I’m stuck-

Again, it clicked. Tom pressed the button, mentally kicking himself. Before he could dig around and find more information, the car came to halt in front of an apartment complex. Was this the place Ethan shared with Bella?

He got out of the car and followed her into the building. This was so strange, he shouldn't have been here. He was supposed to be in his own body, on a plane to Atlanta.

“Chamomile?” Bella offered as she unlocked the door to the apartment.

“Yeah… please,” Tom replied.

While she dove into the kitchen, he looked around at the place. Things were scattered here and there. However, he noticed 2 large plaques on the wall and went to look at them.

They were identical play buttons in large frames, one was silver and the other was gold. They both read “Bella Santiago, Congratulations for surpassing ______ Subscribers.” The silver was for one hundred thousand and the other was for one million. This girl was popular on YouTube, apparently. Tom didn't quite understand that.

Wait. YouTube. Pink hair. Blue hair.

Tom gasped just as Bella approached him again, this time with a mug of tea. She raised her eyebrows at his miniature burst.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

You interviewed me. I know you.

“Nothing,” he replied as he accepted the mug.

She chuckled. “Come on, cariño. Let's go lie down. Or… would you rather I just take you home?”

So this wasn't a shared place. Why were there two bedrooms, then? Tom was very confused, and that was already an understatement.

He had to find out more about Ethan, and where exactly they both were, so Tom decided to let Bella take him ‘home’ after he finished his tea.

It didn’t have any calming affect on him. It was even worse when Bella leaned in to kiss him when she walked him to the front door. Tom instinctively leaned back in shock, his eyes wide. He was the boyfriend.

After that awkward interaction, Bella unlocked the door for him, since Tom left Ethan’s keys at the office. His girlfriend didn’t seem too pleased when she left, but there were other things to think about at the moment.

Tom wandered around the apartment, glancing at all of Ethan’s belongings before pulling out his phone again. With a press of a button, it was unlocked again, and Tom began to properly snoop through this guy’s social media. What kind of life was this Ethan person living? Besides having a hot girlfriend and an office job, of course.

Instagram name: CrankGameplays. Still don't know his surname. Bio: “I scream at the video games.” Helpful. Tom scrolled through Ethan’s profile, only seeing the face that he now owned. Although, the first picture he saw was of him wearing a red wig, making a silly pose with a woman with black hair. He’s seen worse. The next one that caught his eye was of Ethan posing in front of a huge screen. His head covered most of it, but Tom could make out the words: Markiplier’s You're Welcome Tour.

So… he's a comedian? Is he in an improv group?

Tom left that app and went to Twitter. Ethan's profile was mainly a bunch of tweets with links to YouTube videos. Did he do this alongside the office job? Or… was this the office job? He tapped on one of the links.

“What is up my cranky crew? It's Ethan from CrankGameplays, and today we are back with ‘Little Nightmares!’” said the real Ethan in the video.

Growing impatient, Tom skipped forward a few minutes, only seeing the guy play some horror game. That's all this 45 minute video was. He looked at other videos of his, and they were all the same. Playing video games. This is what he did for a living? Tom had so many questions, but most of all, he just had to know how to contact the real Ethan.

He went back to Twitter and searched his own handle. As expected, there were no new tweets. Of course he couldn't send a direct message to this account either because they weren't following each other.

Tom went back to the homescreen, thinking. If everything in his actual schedule went according to plan, then his actual self should be in Atlanta right now. So if he was still in the States, then that meant he had his America phone…

~

The only reason Ethan had decided to play along, to 'take the role' as Tom was that, well, he had no choice. It was either pretend he was Tom and nothing was wrong or spill the beans and risk getting put in the hospital for a week. Also, the car was at least a way out of this hotel room that was increasing his anxiety by the minute.

He'd underestimated the severity of his sickness though. He was sure he was hungover now, judging by the way he couldn't stop sweating and the way his stomach kept flipping. He stepped into the car with every intention to make them turn around and take him home, but was knocked out as soon as he felt the unusually comfortable leather seats. So much for going back home.

He woke up long enough to stumble onto a plane with the help of Harrison, completely in a daze that he couldn't quite shake. "Jeez Tom, you fat lard," Harrison mumbled as he carried the majority of Ethan's weight.

Ethan was barely able to groan in response.

He was nudged awake a little while later. "Come on, you've got to drink this," Harrison whispered as he shoved a glass of water into Ethan's hands.

His sight was blurry, but that glass of water was a sight for sore eyes. His cotton mouth was horrendous and his throats felt raw and scratchy. Two pills were shoved into his palm. Without even asking what they were he popped them in his mouth, finished off his glass, and fell right back asleep.

He woke up once more while on the plane, approximately 40,000 feet in the air on its way to Atlanta. The light streamed in through the half open window next to Ethan, effectively blinding him as Harrison sat down in the seat next to him.

"Rise and shine sleepy beauty! Up for good now, or have you still got some sleep left in ya?" Harrison clapped his hand onto Ethan's knee.

Fuck, so it hadn't just been a bad dream.

"Jesus Christ, why are you yelling?" Ethan mumbled, covering his eyes with his palms as he stretched.

"I'm not, you're just still bombed from last night," he snickered.

Ethan groaned, he doesn't even know who this guy is, much less why he's on a plane or where he's going. "How much longer?" He murmurs, eyes still squinting as the sun beamed onto him.

"We land in 20 minutes. You slept through a 4 hour flight, there's no way you're getting any sleep tonight."

Ethan's blood ran cold. 4 hours?! The flight to Maine is almost 5, where the heck was he going?

"Oh good, you're up." A blonde woman walked into the room and sat in the seat facing him. "Feel any better?"

"Uh yeah, yeah. Guess I just needed some more rest," Ethan tried his best not to stammer, how would Tom act in this situation?

"I bet, you were hitting those drinks pretty hard last night," she laughed as she pulled out her tablet.

"Yeah, my bad," Ethan chuckles nervously. He can't help but wonder if he looks as nervous as he feels. Can they hear how fast his heart is beating?

"Alright, so here's the plan for today. We land in about 20 minutes, then you and Haz can stay in your hotel rooms for about an hour or so. You've got a meeting with the Chaos Walking crew at 3, so be down in the lobby by 2:30. After that you've got a few interviews at 5, they shouldn't take very long though. Dinner afterwards and then we’ll be back on the plane by 10." The words flowing out of her mouth just served as a smack in the face for Ethan. He's going to do what and go where at what time?

"Uhh," the blank face on his face pulled a laugh out of 'Haz', is his name not Harrison?, and the woman in front of him. "Run that by me once more?"

"No need, as long as Haz knows the schedule you'll be fine. I'll be there too," she said with a shrug. Ethan slowly began taking in her features as she and Haz began discussing something about the schedule.

Shoulder length blonde hair, curled at the ends. Blue eyes, a pair of glasses resting in her hair. She didn't look like she was taller than Ethan, although it's had to tell from where he's sitting. A name catches his interest. Olivia. She must be his agent or manager or whatever those people that tell you what to do are called. She seemed nice.

Ethan spent the last 10 minutes of the ride staring at his shoes.

Another rush of anxiety passed through him while exiting the airport, he was getting used to these. Holy shit, was he going to have to interact with all of the fans waiting outside? Sure, he's interacted with fans in the past, but never on a scale this large outside of a convention. He didn't even know what Tom's signature looked like!

"You up for a few pictures?" Olivia asked. Ethan shook his head, no, not in a million years. "Figured, you look a mess."

Well thanks. The security guards pushed past the group of fans outside, the look on Ethan's face a mixture of excitement and terror. So this is what being swarmed feels like.

The car ride was quiet, Harrison and Olivia chatted the whole ride while Ethan was just content to look out the window. He calmed down a bit, feeling ok for the first time all day. Harrison led him up the elevator and to their rooms.

"Oh, by the way, here's your phone," he said right before Ethan walked into his room. "I grabbed it back in LA before we left. I'm surprised you haven't asked for it yet," he said with a chuckle.

"Ah, thanks," Ethan nodded at him, mustering up a small smile and quickly locking the door behind him.

As if on cue, the phone in his hand started to ring. The panic that runs through his body is cut short, that's his phone number! “Hello?” He answers, still not used to the sound of his voice.

“Hello!” Tom said, nearly jumping at his own voice. “Hi, hello!” He was so antsy about what he would hear on the other line that his mind immediately went blank. What was he supposed to say now?

There was a silence then, an uncomfortable one. Unsure of what to say Ethan blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “Is this… Ethan’s… body?” Stupid, what kind of question was that?

“That depends,” he replied slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully. “Is this… is this Tom?” His heart was beating unnecessarily hard.

“Uh, yeah?” Ethan let out a sigh of relief, “I'm not crazy right? Something really fucked up is going on, right?”

“Definitely.” Tom leaned forward in his seat, trying to form any sort of coherent sentence. “God, I have so many questions… I - er, how the fuck did this happen?”

“No fucking idea, god this feels like a nightmare, no offense,” Ethan whispered before he made his way to hide in a closet. “Just kinda woke up in a strange hotel room in someone else’s body. By the way, thanks for the killer hangover. I was sweating and slept the whole time I was on that plane ride dude.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “A hangover is probably nothing compared to what you were shooting up last night. Yeah, I saw those needles in your pocket. I swear to god, I thought I was high when I looked in the mirror.”

“...You mean my epipens?” Ethan wanted to laugh, this fucker really thought he'd just be shooting up in the office? Yet another reason to hate Tom Holland. “Anyway, hi nice to meet you. Ethan Nestor, professional screamer and deathly allergic to peanuts at your service.”

Tom covered his mouth. “Sorry, mate. My bad… Er, hi, I’m Tom Holland, professional actor and still very confused as to what happened to us.” Wow, he felt like an asshole.

Professional actor, what a narcissist. Professional screamer sounds way cooler anyway. Ethan laughs, “Well don't be too humble now.” Was Ethan actually salty about Tom taking pride in his work? No. Was he still salty about Bella’s googoo eyes for him? Hell fuckin’ yeah.

“Hey, my acting was able to save your ass and have a panic attack to get the day off from your job,” Tom shot back. Yes, the panic attack was real, but it did buy them some time. “If I was still at… your office place, then we wouldn’t be here trying to figure this out.”

“Well I'm not even a professional actor, and I'm able to pass as you no problem?” Ethan shot back. There's no reason for this to be happening, he should be playing nice. It's not like it's Tom’s fault this is happening, but Ethan can't help himself. “Some ‘career’ this is,” he continued, kinda regretting what he said but also kinda meaning it.

Oh god, Tom swapped lives with a grade A asshole. What did Bella see in this guy? He shook his head, trying to bring back the main focus of this conversation. “Okay, you can sit there and take jabs at me, or we can try to… switch back…? And then we’ll never have to see each other again. Take your pick.”

Ethan hesitated, he still had more to say that's for sure, but Tom was right. This wasn't getting them anywhere. “Whatever, something had to have happened at the convention to cause all this,” Ethan said with a sigh as he racked his brain for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.

“Right,” Tom agreed. “I remember seeing you. You were with Bella when she interviewed me. Do you think something happened there?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, I didn't feel any different afterwards when I was with Bella in the bathroom… Nothing felt different until the next morning?” Ethan was stumped. The convention went about like every other convention he'd ever been to. What made this one different?

“In the bathroom?” Tom repeated with a chuckle. “Quite an eager beaver, aren’t we?”

“Oh my- no, not that way! God you British and your awful humor,” Ethan stifles a laugh as he rolls his eyes. “No, if you must know, you literally gave my girlfriend an anxiety attack and I had to calm her down in the bathroom.”

That changed things. Tom didn’t know how to react at first. He didn’t know much about anxiety attacks, even after experiencing one himself not that long ago. “Shit. I’m sorry, man. Did I say something to make her… like that?”

“Sorta, it was mostly just the whole situation? I don't know, she's fine don't worry about it. Just, careful what you say, okay? She's been through… a lot.” Ethan's face and mood dropped. He missed Bella. A lot.

An awkward silence filled the air. He wasn’t good with things like this, he didn’t know how to console people with a tragic past, if that’s what Ethan was implying about his girlfriend. “Well,” Tom began, “she seemed… relatively normal when I was with her just now. She was worried about you. Actually, you had a few people worry about you.”

Aww, they care. “Yeah, they're great…” How many awkward silences are gonna happen throughout the duration of one phone call? Ethan didn't know what else to say. Thankfully, he didn't have to.

“Tom, are you back in the closet?” Harrison called out. “Didn't think you'd be back in there again,” he joked. Shit, how did he get in? Hadn't he locked the door?

“Uh, yeah, gotta go Tom, I'll call back later?” Ethan said wondering what happened to the so called hour of a downtime he was promised.

“I - alright,” the real Tom replied, feeling the sinking sensation in his stomach. He barely made out the sound of his friend’s voice on the other line. Now, he had to go on without him for the time being.

“Ok bye,” Ethan replied. Back to the real, bizarre world.

______

tag list: @marie-is-in-the-dark @beardedsteveslut

______

next

[thepatricktreestump]

Dangerous: Patrick Stump fanfic

A/N: Not going to lie, I’ve gotten a ton of smut requests in my inbox lately… So be ready for a lot of that coming soon. Also a reminder that I’m starting school again so that means my schedule’s going to be really weird, sorry guys. Hope you enjoy this one…

Anonymous said: Hi! Could you do a Patrick Stump X Reader where the guys are teasing him about the reader always faking her orgasms and when he gets home he gets really dom with her? Thank you

*Reader’s POV*

Sunlight slowly filtered in through the blinds of the bedroom and you heard your boyfriend hum softly beside you, placing a light kiss on your forehead. Flashes of last night swirled in your mind. It was his lips so sweet and his hands on your body and the way he was so gentle, so kind, so caring. It was his kiss and getting lost in his eyes and holding onto him so tight and shedding the layers of your clothes until it was only the two of you. It was late hours of the night when you were still exploring each other’s bodies, trying to savor each inch of skin, pausing to catch your breath before going at it again. There was nobody else you would rather be with. He stirred slightly, then sat up as if to leave, and you sleepily grabbed ahold of his arm. “Patrick,” you mumbled, yawning halfway through his name.

“Yeah?” he chuckled, amused.

“Where you going?” you wondered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and sitting up as well. The two of you had a long night yesterday, barely getting any sleep, and both of your bodies were sore by the time you woke up. You didn’t complain though, Patrick was always so good to you, and even though you lost a couple hours of sleep and you felt sort of shitty the next day, it was always worth it.

“To the studio,” he laughed. “Remember? I have a job?”

“But I want you to stay with me,” you whined playfully. “Just a couple more hours.”

“I have to go, baby,” he argued. “But I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

“Okay,” you sighed, laying back in bed and closing your eyes.

*Patrick’s POV* When Patrick arrived at the studio, he wasn’t prepared for what followed. “Hey Pat,” Pete smirked when all the boys had sat down around the table, taking a break from recording for a little while. “You uh, have an eventful night with y/n yesterday?”

“Shut your mouth,” Patrick narrowed his eyes. He was cranky from not getting enough sleep last night, plus, he was talking to Pete, who was known for being quite the antagonist when it came to picking an argument. “You’re just making shit up.”

“I might be, but the hickeys on your neck speak for themselves,” Pete snickered.

“What?” Patrick’s eyes went wide, self-consciously covering his neck with his hand.

“Yeah, it’s hard to lie when there’s obvious evidence,” Joe chuckled.

“How’s she been treating you anyways?” Andy raised an eyebrow.

“She’s been treating me just fine,” Patrick grumbled.  “Why such sudden interest in y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Andy shrugged. “I mean, it’s your first girlfriend in a long time.”

“Yeah ‘Trick. How are you holding up?” Joe gave a playful jab at his side. “You haven’t kissed a girl in ages. Is she too much to handle? I’m sure she’s been around plenty of times before.”

“You’re still an amateur,” Pete laughed. “What’s going to happen when she finally wants to do the do?”

“We’ve done the do plenty of times,” Patrick muttered. “And it’s honestly none of your business.”

“Woah! Hold up! You’ve fucked y/n?” Pete’s eyes lit up.

“I’m pretty sure it would be the other way around,” Joe teased. “I mean, she definitely tops.”

“Shut up,” Andy stifled a laugh. “I need to know his answer!”

“Yes, I have,” Patrick admitted shyly, although more agitated than embarrassed. “Now will you drop the subject please?”

“Woah, not so fast,” Joe insisted. “You said you’ve had sex before, but how many times?”

“I bet she’s the one to initiate it,” Pete snickered.

“Hell, she probably has to teach him what to do,” Andy rolled his eyes playfully.

“Do you think he can even get her to cum?” Joe asked.

“Nah, she probably just fakes her orgasms,” Pete chuckled.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Patrick finally shouted, banging his fists on the table angrily. “That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about, and what we do in our spare time shouldn’t concern any of you.” He shoved himself away from the table, marching out the door, extremely frustrated.

“Hey ‘Trick, come on. We’re just playing,” Joe tried to get him to come back, but Patrick shook his head, still furious.

“You’re all a bunch of dicks,” he spat, grabbing the handle of the door. “Learn to take a hint and fuck off.” He slammed the door shut, leaving Andy, Joe, and Pete completely shocked. Patrick didn’t get angry often, and to see him this riled up over something was rare.

*Reader’s POV*

When the door swung open and your boyfriend walked in, you were extremely confused. You were on the couch, reading a book, relaxed, dressed in sweatpants and a comfy bra. “You’re home early,” you raised your eyebrows. However, as soon as you saw the anger in Patrick’s eyes, as well as the way he shut the door angrily and stomped over to where you were sitting, being home early was obviously not the problem. “What’s wrong?”

Patrick didn’t even give you another second to speak before he crashed his lips against yours, pushing you back into the couch, straddling your hips, kissing you passionately. Your eyes went wide, surprised by his sudden urge to do this, the way his hands gripped your arms and how he shoved you back into the cushions. “I’m going to fuck you so good,” he whispered in your ear, giving you chills as his lips trailed down your neck. He had never been that dominant and you had never seen him so angry. He was usually always hesitant and slow and calm. Not that you were complaining though. This was actually really hot. You had never seen this side of him before.

“Damn,” you moaned as he unclasped your bra and began kissing down towards of your breasts, massaging the other in his palm.

“Quiet sweetheart,” he instructed, hands trailing down to tug your sweatpants and underwear off at the same time, discarding them towards the floor. “I’m in control this time.”

“Fuck,” you mumbled, sitting up, trying to unbutton his dress shirt and miserably failing. Your hands were shaking and you weren’t thinking clearly. You fumbled with the buttons before giving up and tearing it open, shedding the fabric off his chest and tossing it towards the floor. “Naughty girl,” he clicked his tongue, gaze wandering towards the mess of buttons and fabric on the floor before flickering his eyes back up to meet yours. “I guess you’ll have to make it up to me then, won’t you?”

“Shit Patrick,” you exhaled, trailing a hand down his body, catching your breath. “What brought this out of you all of a sudden?”

“I just really need to fuck you,” he murmured, impatient as his lips connected with yours again, kissing you as you unzipped his pants and then tugged down his boxers. “Please.”

“I’m all yours,” you reassured, watching as he climbed on top of you, lips moving down your body, finally pushing into you, earning a loud gasp. “Oh god.”

“You’re so good baby,” he mumbled against your skin, hands on your back pressing you closer towards him, pushing you into the couch cushions with each thrust, going deeper with each inch. You started moaning, scratching his shoulders with your nails, barely hanging on. He smirked. “Going too fast, babe?”

“No,” you barely shook your head. “Perfect.”

“Good,” he smiled. “Because I think I could start getting used to this.”

“Fuck,” you bit down on your lower lip and tried to suppress a moan as you got closer to your climax. “I’m close.”

“Cum for me then,” he whispered, thrusting even harder. “I want to feel you.”

“Goddammit,” you gasped, his voice in your ear triggering your orgasm, his movements slowing as he drew closer. It wasn’t long before he came undone too, both of you exhausted and gasping for air, him turning over and holding you in his arms, the two of you laying on the couch.

“You’re so good y/n,” he murmured, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“What the hell was that all about?” you chuckled, still confused why this happened so fast and so sudden.

“Pete and the boys were being assholes,” he shook his head. “Said I didn’t fuck you good enough and how you’ve had better and stuff. I needed to prove them wrong.”

“Patrick,” you frowned, holding his head in your hands, placing a kiss on his lips. “You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. Not even me. You’re already amazing.”

“You’re too kind,” he rolled his eyes.

“I’m being truthful,” you insisted, giving a soft smile.

“Yeah, well I do believe you owe me a little something else,” Patrick gave a sly smile, eyes darting to the mess of fabric identified as the dress shirt that still was left on the ground.

“And you call me the naughty one,” you smirked.

“Come on,” he insisted, tracing circles on your back with his fingers. “We have plenty of time. I mean, I did get off work early.”

“You’re dangerous,” you chuckled. “And the best part?”

“Hmm?” he raised an eyebrow, curious to find out.

“I’m the only one who knows,” you grinned.

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

CS Does VS part 3 CS-VS-NYE

Rating M

Words 4.1k

ao3      ffnet

A little New Year’s Eve fluff and smut in the CS Does VS verse at the request of @deathbycaptainswan. I hope you enjoy it, sorry it wasn’t complete by NYE.  Emma and Killian find themselves sidetracked while getting ready for the Storybrooke NYE party. Thank you @laschatzi for your beta assistance!

                                                      ~♥~

It was just after ten in the morning and Emma was lazing in bed still, but she really needed to get her ass in gear if she was going to help Mary Margaret prepare for tonight’s festivities as she’d promised.  Instead of Granny’s, there was going to be a New Year’s Eve bash at Emma’s parents new home. They’d moved out of the loft as it became more and more crowded with the littlest Nolan’s toys, and his constant zooming around in his walker.  They were going with a potluck style, which Emma found a questionable choice given that these were fairy tale folk, and they were always at Granny’s to eat.  However, given that she was raised in the land without magic and still couldn’t cook for shit, she decided to keep her mouth shut.

Killian had taken Henry and David out to sail at the crack of dawn today at Mary Margaret’s behest, partly for a boys bonding day, and partly to keep them out of the way during party prep. Emma was a little jealous that they got to be out on the open sea. She cringed at the thought of how many things she might burn, and decorations she might ruin.  Yes, she had magic in those hands, but said magic had yet to prove beneficial in anything domestic.   

Despite the long day and evening ahead of her, she was most excited for the after party.  She needed to prepare for that as well.  First things first though, she thought, sending a quick text to her mom to let her know she was on her way.

-.-

“Good morning, princess,” Regina laughed, sensing Emma’s less than enthusiastic demeanor.  “Excited for a day of domesticity?” She stood at the counter working on floral arrangements, with flowers the color of what had to be magic.

“Hey, I can do this.” Emma’s voice didn’t come out quite as confident as she’d hoped, and Regina and Mary Margaret burst into laughter.  “Wow. Thanks for the support, mom.”

“Oh sweetie, I don’t mean anything by it,” Mary Margaret smiled at her outraged daughter.  “You are excellent at many things.” Wiping her hands on her apron, she made her way over to her daughter to give her a hug.

Rolling her eyes, Emma took off her jacket, rolled up her sleeves and asked where to start.  

Mary Margaret pointed her in the direction of a table full of sparkly silver and teal decorations.  “I want a vase on each of the tables,There are a bunch of 2017 banners that I want placed throughout, the streamers can go on all the bannisters, the mantle and anywhere else you can hang them from.  We will have balloons too, which the boys are also picking up.  Oh the table cloths are folded on each of the buffet tables, put those out first-”

“What the hell are you two gonna do?”

“I’m doing it,” Regina snarked, “after these flowers are done, I have to get back home and bake a thousand lasagnas.”

“I am making all the desserts for tonight, unless you’d rather trade? I can decorate and you can bake?” her mother offered, already knowing what Emma’s answer would be.

“Fine,” Emma huffed, setting about her tasks. The three women worked on their own, while maintaining a conversation about all the latest happenings with the newest members of Storybrooke.  Each day revealed more and more residents from the land of untold stories.  

Several hours and a lunch break later, they’d finished the last of prep.  Mary Margaret stood smiling at the room around her, hands clasped in excitement.  “It’s been so long since I’ve hosted a ball,” the longing was clear in her voice, “and while this isn’t a ball, it is going to be a grand celebration, with everyone in the kingdom welcome to attend.”

Hearing her mother use the word kingdom, Emma wondered just how much the bandit princess missed life in Misthaven. “It’s going to be amazing,” Emma agreed, putting her arm around Mary Margaret’s shoulder.  

“You think so?”

“I do, family, friends, and Regina’s thousand lasagnas, how could it not be amazing.”  Emma giggled at her mother’s nervousness, royalty weren’t supposed to worry what the kingdom thought, yet here stood her mother worried over how the town of Storybrooke would like the party.  

Smiling at her daughter’s assurance, she turned to Emma and squeezed her in a tight hug, “Thanks for your help.  Now go home, relax for a bit, get all dolled up and we will see you tonight.”

Emma didn’t have to be told twice, she may’ve slept in, but she was tired of party prep. She still had an hour or two until Killian and Henry would be home, so she decided to head home and pamper herself and ‘get all dolled up’ as her mom said.  

She took her time in their en suite shower, shaving and trimming up every part of her body, she conditioned, exfoliated, and moisturized. Throwing her hair up in a towel, she decided to paint her nails and toenails in a shade of polish called candy cane red. As she read the color on the label she thought back to Christmas Eve, when Killian had taken her shopping.

“Henry is going to stay with Regina for Christmas Eve, and we will have him tomorrow for Christmas,” Emma had told her pirate. “Got any ideas what to do with all this time?” she asked, holding his hand across the dining table where they’d just finished breakfast.

Killian’s eyes brightened, and a grin split his face, just before he spoke words that Emma had not seen coming. “Let’s go shopping!”

Her mouth dropped open, looking at him as if he’d grown a third nipple... on his forehead. She’d found out over the last several months just how much her pirate loved to shop, but shopping over sex… what?

Killian burst into laughter. “Well of course that too, love, but let’s head to that mall of yours as well, I would love to buy you some more of Victoria’s secret, sinful scraps of lace.”

Standing up, a perturbed look marring her face, she pulled Killian up in front of her, “Are we getting old? Well you are old, but is our relationship old? We have an empty house, and the first thought you have is to go-”

Killian shut her up with a blazing kiss. The kind that didn’t leave any question in her mind about his intent. “Christ Emma, you think I don’t wish to have you every moment of every day? You have lost your mind, darling.” He thrust his hips into her showing her just how much he wanted her right this moment, his grip on her arm tight.

“That’s better, pirate.”

“You get mean when you desire a good fuck,” he said gruffly. Sliding hand and hook over her backside, he grasped her legs lifting her onto the table.  

“Can you blame a girl?”

“I guess I can’t, I’d get cranky too if I couldn’t have me.”

“Shut. Up. you cocky-” she was cut off when Killian brought a finger to her mouth to shush her. Her eyes widened at his audacity.

“Don’t be mean, Swan,” he warned her as he started to unbuckle his belt. “Or I might not feel obliged to give you what you are sorely lacking.” He smirked that infuriating smirk that sent liquid heat running through Emma. Dropping his pants to his ankles, he stood there proudly, cock at attention, because of course he was freeballing.  

“Is that right?” Still sitting on the table she leaned back on her elbows, and brought her feet up to the edge, then splayed her legs wide, revealing that she had no panties on. Killian audibly swallowed, and she could see the wrecked look that took over his features.  “I don’t think you’re in any position,” she reached out to stroke him, “to deny me a goddamn thing.”

He surged forward, leaning into her space, looking darkly into her eyes, “Too right, darling. Christ you are warm.”

“Maybe I’ve been thinking of you since I woke up this morning.” She gasped when he drove two fingers into her. “That feels so good, but it’s not what I want.”

“Tell me what you want, Emma, what you need.” She could feel his words on her face, and tensed at the heady growl in his tone.  

“I need,” she wrapped one hand around his hook, her other hand around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him. She bit down on his lower lip tugging at it before, letting go to finish, “your cock, Killian.”

He didn’t wait another moment, much to Emma’s delighted relief, plunging into her until he was buried balls deep.

“Like this?”

“Yes,” she exhaled, still clutching onto his hook and neck, “Yes, just like that.” She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feeling of being joined with him. He didn’t disappoint as he fucked into her fast and hard, she pulled Killian down further, touching her forehead to his, feeling the need to be connected anywhere they could be.

Fuck, she thought as she finished up her nails. Emma had way too long to wait before she and Killian would be home from the party, for thoughts of those activities to be filling her mind now.

Once her nails were done she took the time, that she usually never had, to curl her hair. After applying her makeup she went to her drawers for the finishing touches. Fingering through the lace and satin she thought about which one would drive him the most wild.  

Killian arrived home later than he had planned, the boys had lost track of time, and didn’t start the sail back to port on time.  “Emma, I’m home,” he called out, “I know I’m late, sweetheart, but I promise I’ll be at flank speed getting ready.” Jogging up the stairs, he called out to her again, and even though the streets of Storybrooke had been calm for awhile, he still felt an inkling of worry blossom when she didn’t answer.

“I’m right here, babe, there’s no need to yell,” her voice came out low and silky.  

“Sorry, love,I…” but his words died in his throat when he turned around to see her sitting on the chaise lounge in the corner of the bedroom. She sat with her back propped against the arm, legs bent and crossed at the knee following the curve of the chair, and perfect golden curls surrounding her face. He took in the darkened makeup around her eyes, noting that she was wearing more kohl than he, brought out by a thick layer of mascara, framing her gorgeous green eyes.  Her lips were painted red, and she was sucking on one of those spicy and sweet confections, the red matched her lips.  “You’re not ready, won’t your mother be expecting us in a few minutes?”

“My dad just dropped you off, I am sure she expects you to primp and preen like you always do. And I promise you, Killian, I am very ready.”

“It’s not easy to look as devilishly handsome as I do, darling, it does take some work.” He licked his lower lip, his tongue peeking out at the corner as he moved toward her.  Killian removed his jacket and tossed it to the foot of the chaise. He watched her continue to suck on her candy, watching her throat as she swallowed. Kneeling down beside her he ran his hook over the smooth edge of her bodice, causing her to shiver.  “I like this one, then again, I like all of them.”

Emma had chosen the silver satin bow teddy. With a tie at the valley of her breasts, it was a simple but sexy number, all he needed to do was untie it, and it’d fall away, as easy as unwrapping a gift.  Smiling at him, she reached out her polished fingers to rub his ear, a spot she knew to be sensitive on her pirate.  Running her hand across his scruffy jaw, she cupped his chin, “I like it too.”

Her eyes positively sparkled, and he could smell the peppermint as she spoke to him. “Swan let me bathe first, I’ve been on the ocean all day,” he relished the hold she had on him, especially when she brought her other hand back to his ear rubbing the lobe. He groaned, closing his eyes and enjoying her touch.

“So? I love the way you smell when you’ve been sailing, salty, and manly. I love the way you taste as well,” she leaned in for a kiss, indeed tasting the salt on his lips, mixing with the mint on hers. Emma felt his other arm circle her body, his hand coming to rest on her ass, left uncovered by her teddy.  He squeezed it tightly, kneading at her pert flesh, soft and smooth. “I wanted to tease you all night, make you wait till we got home from the party, but then I realized I’d be suffering too.” She rested her forehead against his.

“You saucy little minx, why do you wish to torture me in a public forum?”

“It was more a crime of opportunity, we have to go to this party, I thought we would just wait till we got home, then I found myself thinking about last Saturday, and now I don’t want to wait.”

He pulled back from her, still kneading her bottom, looking into her eyes, “Very naughty, did you take care of yourself while you waited for me?”

Emma shook her head no.

“Hmmm, what shall I do with you?” He began unbuttoning his shirt, then stood up to untuck it and remove it. He handed it to Emma, pride swelling when she immediately brought it up to inhale his scent.

“Give me what I want,” she suggested, her tone growing needy.

“I don’t think I will. At least not just this moment, I believe I’ll tease you, by making you wait,” he smirked at the sudden pout on her face.  “I won’t make you wait all night, but I will have my shower… and you my dearest, you can wait right here.” He’d removed his boots and socks, unbuckled his pant and was now pushing them down his toned legs.

Emma’s mouth dropped open, chin almost to her chest. “What? Why?”

“I told you darling, I need to bathe, shame I’ll have to wash all of this,” he paused rubbing his hands down his chest, abs, and cupping his stiffened shaft in hand, “by me lonesome.” With that he dropped his boxer briefs, and headed for the shower.

Emma huffed in frustration, especially when she saw his shoulders shaking in laughter.  Cocky bastard, she cursed internally. For a fleeting moment she thought about freezing his shower water but decided against it, she didn’t want him to make her wait longer.

Killian hopped into the hot shower, still hard, and though it felt great on his sailing worked muscles, he made good on his original promise to get ready at flank speed.  Shutting off the water, he dried himself, then wrapped the towel low on his waist. Walking back out to their bedroom he was greeted by one of the most scintillating sights he’d ever had the pleasure to witness. His cock immediately shot back to attention, as he admired his Swan, legs spread over both sides of the chaise, heeled feet planted in the carpet, one hand caressing her satin covered breast, while the other languidly stroked between her thighs. “Started without me?” his voice came out gravelly.

“I got tired of waiting, I’ve already been waiting all afternoon,” she answered, not stopping her motions.  “Care to join me?”

He didn’t answer except to walk toward her dropping his towel. Kneeling down he leaned forward and moved her hand away from where he wanted to be.  He groaned when he saw her arousal through the soft material covering her.  “Gods, you are ready.” He pulled both her legs toward him so her back arched with the curvature of the chaise.  She smelled divine, and would taste even better.

Emma watched as he put each of her legs over his shoulders, treasuring the care he took, the soft touches, and sweet caresses.  He kissed along her right thigh while pushing the material to the side, then nestled into her center, causing her to cant her hips up toward his warm mouth.

He looked up at her from between her thighs, “Stay still love, let me take care of you.”

Emma nodded her head, unable to vocalize her answer. She was lost to the sight of his dark locks moving rhythmically, while his hand and hook held her in place.  

Killian breathed in deeply, appreciating her scent, before blowing gently over her center, eliciting a whine from Emma. He chuckled before setting back in, circling her clit mercilessly with his talented tongue.

Emma gripped the sides of the chaise, her head hung back in ecstasy, eyes trained on him.  She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. He was going to have her coming before he’d even entered her.  And though she felt the need to be fucked hard and fast, his adept tongue was addicting.  “God, Killian, almost, please, fuck.” She didn’t even have a coherent sentence to put together she just needed fucking release. She let go of the chair and fisted her hands through his hair, pushing his face into her center wantonly.

He growled against her when he felt her strong grip in his hair, his cock jumping at the show of dominance. He loved it when Emma was demanding and even a little rough.  He heard her whimper as he continued relentlessly. He knew the moment she let go, her legs going slack in his arms, and her grip loosening in his hair.  He flattened his tongue against her, carefully rolling it over her flesh, letting her ride through her orgasm. When her breathing calmed he pulled away, looking up at her wrecked state.  

“Get up here.”

He acquiesced, climbing on top of her, but not putting his weight on her. He leaned in to brush his nose to hers, “May I unwrap you now?”

“Yes, please. Killian?”

“Yes, love?”

“Have I ever told you that I love your fucking tongue?”

“Not in so many words, but the way you come when I’m indulging tells me as much.” He slipped his hand under the bow of her bodice, finding her peak stiffened, needing his attention. He pinched her nipple before rolling it between his fingers. Lowering his head he pushed the fabric away and sucked her into his mouth. He flicked his tongue against her pebbled flesh, before lightly biting her.

“Killian!” He sent a spark throughout her body when he bit at her. She could feel his rock hard length against her thigh, and longed to have him driving into her.

He switched to her other breast, knowing he hadn’t hurt her. He laved the same attentions on her, while untying the bow covering her. The satin fell away, revealing her perky breasts, flushed pink with desire, he slipped the garment, now barely more than a sash, from her body, taking a moment to marvel at her beauty. He dipped his head down to kiss her, feeling love coursing throughout his body, he couldn’t help but mold himself to her, “Gods I love you, Emma.”

Emma brought her hand to cup his cheek, looking into those eyes she couldn’t imagine not waking up to every morning, she wondered how he could go from sex god to heartwarming lover that quickly.  A tightness rose into her throat as she looked into his adoring gaze. She saw all the things that she’d needed her entire life, from every person that should’ve been there for her, and she saw them all in this man’s eyes. “I love you too, Killian.” Her voice shook with the height of emotion that she felt. She cupped the back of his head and guided his mouth to hers. She kissed him deeply, wrapping her arms around his torso she centered him to the cradle of her thighs, when she could feel his length against her she rolled her hips, urging him to take her. She’d wanted it hard and fast, but with one look he’d melted her, and she wanted it slow and gentle.

Killian reached between them to line himself up, rubbing his head through her wetness first, he was able to slide in smoothly. “Mmmm, you don’t know how luscious you feel sheathing me.” He surged in for another kiss while slowly withdrawing before sliding home again. He let Emma, who had both her hands on his ass, set a luxuriant pace, enabling her to appreciate the push and drag of every inch he had to give her, making sure to grind against her on each downward thrust.

Emma broke their kiss to breathe for a moment, her mind swirling with emotion, and her body buzzing with sensation. She felt as Killian continued to blaze a trail of kisses along her jaw, and down the column of her throat.  He was sucking just lightly enough to not cause a mark, but just barely.  He had his left arm propped by her head, to maintain his balance and some of his weight, right hand running through her hair, all while maintaining a perfect pace, bringing her to the edge of bliss once again.  She got lost in the feel of his length buried deep, and the way he spread her causing a pressure that bordered pleasure and pain.

Emma was there at the edge waiting for him, their hands and hearts a flurry of movement. “Let go, love,” he whispered into her ear.

“Come with me, Killian.” She held her body tightly to his, moving together as one to reach that ultimate high.

“Aye.”

Emma let herself fall, not wanting to hold the edge any longer, and she heard Killian call out her name through her lust addled haze. The warmth blossoming within spread throughout her body, right out to her fingertips.

Killian came the moment he felt Emma’s walls squeeze his cock, the rhythmic pulsing pulling forth all he had to give.  He could feel their temperature rise, like they were radiating heat between each other.  He called out her name, unable to keep quiet in deference to the pleasure that shot through him.  

“Emma,” he whispered, looking at her as they both rode the high.  He weaved his hand through her curls, and leaned down to kiss her again.

“Killian,” she whispered back, smiling lovingly at him.  She laced her arms around his neck as he kissed her senseless.  She relished just lying around making out with her pirate, especially after he’d thoroughly ravished her.  Unfortunately, they did have somewhere else they needed to be.

“You taste minty and sweet, I love that taste.”

Emma giggled, “It’s from the candy cane, want some?”

“I prefer tasting it this way,” he said, as he dove in to kiss her again.  He wanted to lay with her all night, and enjoy a quiet evening at home, but he knew they were expected at her parent’s home. “As much as I would love to lay here all night…”

“And makeout,” Emma finished for him.

“Aye, as much as I would love to lay here all night and makeout.  I suppose we should be getting ready.”

“You’re right, want to help wrap me back up? I haven’t decided what to wear yet,” she told him, as she sat up, and they both walked to the en suite to clean up. Emma gasped when she finished washing up and actually saw her hair in the mirror, “Well this won’t do.” She combed her fingers through it, trying to tame it back down.

“It’s a little wild love, it’s very becoming.” He leaned over her shoulder, sweeping the golden curls from her neck with his hook, and kissed behind her ear. He’d have her again right now if they didn’t have this damn party to attend.

“Uh, this is total sex hair, Killian, I can’t show up like this, then they would know exactly what held us up.” Finally fixing her hair back down into the soft curls she’d started with, she reapplied her lipstick that was half smeared around her mouth, while the rest stained Killian’s kiss swollen lips.  “You might want to clean that up a little,” Emma indicated to his mouth in the mirror.

“Not my color?” he deadpanned.

Emma laughed, “Come on, let’s get dressed, get this party done, come back here and makeout all night.”

“I love a good plan, Swan.”

She threw on the red and white, lace and fur Santa teddy under her black and white cocktail dress while he applied his signature kohl, deciding it’d still be fun to tease him tonight.

The End