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igarbagecannoteven · 2 years

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okay i’ve listened to 5sos5 a handful of times now so i think i have a general vibe check in my head so! i thought i’d do a track-by-track bc that’s what the Cool Kids™ are doing and i am but another lemming rushing towards the cliff that is the trends of the 5sos side of tumblr. also this got so fucking long so if you read the whole thing you get as many gold stars as you want lol

Easy For You To Say: this is the song that stayed stuck in my head after I listened to the whole album. It’s incredibly catchy and has heaps of good lyrics! Admittedly I don’t really follow the entire narrative but I think that’s more of a me thing than a reflection of the lyrical content. (and i do get most of it! there’s just a few threads i have yet to tie together.) i love the play on words that is “a piece of peace of mind”. sonically it has me bopping my head to the beat basically the whole way through! I think it’s in a good location in terms of the album as a whole

COMPLETE MESS: definitely a single for a reason! it’s one you can shout-sing along to which is always a plus i like the rushing sound leading into the chorus/other different moments, and lyrics-wise i love that it can be read as platonic or romantic love :)) that’s how you know they’re catering to me. also! michael’s part! the way it changes the tonality/meaning and the way you can hear him smiling as he’s singing!! and of course the fact that all of them sing on it!!! we love to see it! my main con is that it’s pretty repetitive lyrically but still i won’t hold it against them. this song makes me want to write a fic that would fit the title “you make me (a) complete (mess)” so badly but alas i have yet to come up with a plot to match its energy

Bad Omens: i LOVE the way this song plays with leaving the “else” off the phrase “you love somebody else” it’s soooo narratively interesting and i would love to see an angsty unhappy ending songfic that utilizes this concept (if anyone wants to write it *eyes emoji*) i like the way it loops very nicely (it fades in and out in the same way which is satisfying) (and possibly a metaphor for the futility of the relationship? but maybe i’m reading into things too much lol) the line “I should have known right there and then you were a runaway” feels like a very 80s lyric (and not just bc it reminds me of runaway by bon jovi lol) i will say i am not as in love with it as everyone else seems to be (idk why it’s the big hit out of the non-singles?) but it’s not bc it’s bad, it’s just probably not going to have me obsess over it

Take My Hand (Joshua Tree Version): if any song deserves to be called vibey it’s this one. i think the musicality and the lyrics really work well together in this song, especially for the verses. there’s an almost melancholy feeling to it and now that i’ve listened to it several times it’s started to resonate with me more and more. like a lot of the songs on the album i’m not sure how often i’ll go out of my way to listen to it, but that’s more bc this album isn’t necessarily in my go-to genre than a measure of the song's individual worth. i feel conflicted about the extension to the song, bc on the one hand behind the scenes-type stuff! the voice note vibes make me soft! But idk if it actually adds anything to the song on its own,, like if i didn’t love the band i don’t think it’d really do too much for me. also what is he saying the background! it doesn’t sound like all the same lyrics! let me hear it!!! omg i forgot to mention the “few more souls on the bus now” line it’s just *chef’s kiss* no notes nearly made me cry when i heard that bit live ngl

Me Myself & I: another banger of a single (that is a bit too repetitive for its own good) it’s catchy it’s fun to sing along to and i honestly don’t have much else to say about it lol

CAROUSEL: the first time i listened to this all I could hear for the first,, minute? at least? was a taylor swift 1989 lost track and i have yet to totally shake that off lol. (see what i did there?) driving metaphors!!!! there is a tiny part of me that’s reminded of u2’s city of blinding lights during the chorus (which is a compliment btw) but that’s just bc i’ve listened to that song way to many times lol. it’s a good song, but i honestly have very few opinions about it other than why is it capitalized?? is it tied to the other capitalized songs somehow??? 5sos tell me what your thought process is!!!

Older: skip! sorry y’all it’s just not my vibe i rarely like piano ballads as it is and i just think that it has several places where they *could* have done something cool and then didn’t. i will say seeing the performance of it in the tofu live show did melt my frosty heart but not enough for me to add this one to my liked songs.

HAZE: idk why it’s titled what it is but it’s a bop! I love the way the vocals swap off; it’s done quite cleverly imo and i think it shows the different strengths of each of their lyrical styles well (if i’m right that the vocals match some of the writing credits) it’s vibey it makes me want to stick my arms and pretend i’m cruising :)) also thematically it’s a little like a dog waiting impatiently by the door bc their person is out and about which i love

You Don’t Go To Parties: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this song!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the cashton vocals!!!! the bass!!!! the car metaphor!!!! also the repetition of the number five anyone?? clearly they’re 555sos fans /j also they’re totally referencing the maine in the second verse right guys? guys? but in all seriousness i love how visual the storytelling is! the lyric “racehorse trippin' on the dirt that you got on me” is very !!! especially bc the beat for the verses almost “trips” over itself (although maybe that’s just me reading into things lol) also i am very happy that my opposite vibe-check wish/comment that i made way back when they first dropped the titled kinda came true bc it’s def more of a banger than people were predicting :)) we love to see it. i am ignoring the fact that the title is capitalized incorrectly but telepathically i’m telling them to put their song titles through that capitalization checker next album

BLENDER: !!!!!!!! banger of my heart!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is def my favorite of the singles it’s just *such* a bop i will never listen to this song without remembering bouncing around in the very tiny cabin i was quarantined in at the time this song dropped and honestly i don’t hate it! this song makes me smile every time i hear it i love the line “ricocheting off the bed” even though i’m honestly not sure i’m interpreting it right i love the bassline i love how danceable it is!! i don’t have anything coherent to say lol it’s a bop idk what more you could ask for

Caramel: i don’t have the vocabulary to talk about the instrumentals in this song but it’s a vibe! it’s a song that demands you move your shoulders and i’m lowkey here for it. the harmonies are tasty the chorus is catchy the bridge is mmmmmmmmmmmmmm i’m fascinated by the choices made in the outro but in a positive way? altho i could take or leave the acoustic bit tbh. in a less positive note, we all agree that the only reason it’s named caramel is bc there aren’t a lot of songs named that and they wanted a certain number of one word titles, right? bc unless there’s some deep meaning i’m missing there’s no reason for that to be the title (that being said i’d love to for there to be a secret meaning please tell me 5sos i want the secret caramel knowledge) the other negative of this song is that it’s inevitably going to start a debate over the right way to say caramel (which isn’t the way they say it in the song fyi)

Best Friends: when i first started listening to the album i took a moment to accept the fact that this song could be a love song and that i’d be okay with it and then it was a friendship song and i got to breath a sigh of relief lol. the chorus is wonderful to shout with your bff (this has been tested 😊) it captures this younger feeling compared to the other songs on the album and i vibe with it! the line “life is like a poem written on a bathroom wall” is *such* a good lyric and conjures up such specific images! it’s a banger it’s a song to bounce along to i could see it in a jukebox musical as like the happy triumphant near-the-end song

Bleach: talk about a mood shift! (i think this is the song that reminded me of maisie peters? i’m pretty sure) i love the swapping of the vocals, it does something different in this song than in the previous songs which is fascinating to me! i love the line “everything i was spinning down the drain” it’s just. yeah. it’s a good quiet song for the album; it fits in well and is a good breath in if that makes sense

Red Line: a train song!!! i can’t wait to listen to this on my next train ride y’all don’t even know. it’s got vibes and a cool concept. that being said it’s not a huge standout song on the album, but not through any particular fault of its own; i don’t think it’s going to be one i listen to a ton (other than on public transport lol) i do like how the standard version closes out with the train door sound, it’s fun!

Moodswings: i love how the song makes me sway in play (you could say that i’m almost swinging) (get it? it’s a play on-[gunshot]) i would love to see an apocalyptic take on this song tbh (“through bloodshot eyes the sky is fallin’” anyone?) i think it’d make a deliciously angsty songfic! also love the self-destructive and codependent nature of the lyrics i just think that they portray it well!

Flatline: a bop! it’s a great “first love” love song it’s catchy it’s got some slightly strange lyrical undertones in the pre-chorus that i would love for someone smarter than me to analyze bc otherwise i’m going to coming up with a truly unhinged explanation (and that is a threat) i can def see why it’s a bonus song but still good!

Emotions: i want a proper rock cover of this song so fucking bad please i would pay real people money for it i think i deserve it!! michael’s voice is, of course, *chef’s kiss* i do wish the lyrics weren’t so,, broad? if that makes sense? i think the bridge threw me off lyrically the first time i listened to it bc i was like ‘yeah i get this feeling’ and then the bridge was just. not relatable lol but that’s a me thing (and now part of me’s like ‘are there some sarcastic undertones?’ bc i’m here for it if they are) but yeah i don’t really know how i feel about this song yet i think if i get my hard rock cover then it could be my next favorite song but until then it’s just a sort of vibe ig

Bloodhound: swapping vocals to change the narrative!!!! we love to see it!!!! very tasty bassline the beginning of the chorus makes me giggle a little it’s a funky beat i’d love for it to get a cheesy halloween themed music video the bridge makes me wish i could step dance (is that the right phrasing?) everyone who’s said michael singing “he took an L” is perfect is so correct i am mind melding with you

TEARS!: this songggggggggggggggggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you may call me predictable for saying this is one of my favorites but come on. how i could not love this song??? once again the cashton vocals coming in clutch i mean this really is a song for the rhythm section in all the ways! the line “i’ll feel better if i let myself sink deeper” is really going straight for my jugular and i am 100% here for it. it’s such a good exploration of these kinds of depressive states and i just!! hrghhhhhhh also their voices on the last “alive” in each chorus????? SO fuckin tasty i want to eat that one note. the bridge reminds me strongly of something but i can’t think of what it is :(( also ashton’s voice on “fifty rounds of uppercuts i’m bleeding”???? i am going to throw myself into a pit. i understand why they made it a bonus song from a stylistic standpoint but also why. it deserves to be on the main tracklist. it’s got a great mixture of the style of superbloom but make it 5sos and i love that for it! my only complaint is the title like. wtf guys. like yes that is what it sounds like when it’s said in the song but that doesn’t make it title material! but that’s okay i forgive them since it’s such a banger <3

#i wish i'm joking when i say this is longer than the majority of my fics on ao3 lol #sheesh i really to ramble lol #5sos5 #track by track #the trash talks #this might be incomprehensible who knows

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slightlyaboveaverageiq · 1 year

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The Whisperer: Part 22 (Wally Clark Fic)

A/N: WALLY POV TIME ❤️ mainly because for this to go how I want I wasn’t sure how to write it in Mori’s pov and we need more of Wally’s inner thoughts❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Mo?” I looked around her room and didn’t see her, I even checked all the places a tiny person could hide and almost got stuck under her bed in the process. I did however find a little demonic furball she failed to mention -and I somehow hadn’t noticed since my unofficial ghostly takeover of her bedroom-. It let out a hiss and growl before swatting at my face and I quickly jerked my head back before it’s little death claws could sink into it. I saw a floof of black run off as I continued my search of the house. How fitting, a black cat for a ghost whisperer. “Mori?” I tried again and heard a faint voice down the hallway, I followed it and ended up at a closed door with hot steam flowing from underneath.

“Ya know you probably really should lock your door you never know what might be lurking.” I murmured grabbing her waist from behind as I stepped into the shower.

“Holy fucking shit!” Shampoo went everywhere and I’m fairly certain i smell like a lavender field now but it was worth it. Her green eyes narrowed at me before a small smirk made its way to her lips and she took the bubbles from her hair and made a beard along my chin.

“So are you gonna tell Santa what you want for Christmas?” She cocked her head off to the side as if she were considering it before she reached up on her tippy toes giving me a kiss. I smiled into her kiss and let my hand run down her neck, gliding over her nipples -which earned a moan from her-, before stopping at her pussy and letting my fingers quickly find her clit. “Such a good girl Mo.” I reached under her arms and she jumped wrapping her legs around my waist and I held her against the shower wall.

“Hmm, can I have you as my present?” I bent my head down so I could place a kiss on her neck before entering her quickly. Jesusfuckingchrist she was always so wet and ready for me, like she was made for me and only me. I groaned and moved inside her a few times before lifting my head and capturing her lips with mine.

“You can have me any time you want.” I murmured setting a quick pace before the water ran cold. I knew she would be pissed if she had to finish her shower in freezing water. I felt her start to clamp around my cock as her legs started to shake. I smirked and ran my tongue along her breasts before taking one of her nipples in my mouth. Her fingernails scratched down my back in a desperate attempt to keep whatever control she had left.

“Fuck Wally I’m so close-“ Her eyes were clamped tightly shut and her head tilted back at an angle that I’m honestly shocked didn’t break her neck. Fuck she was always so beautiful but she always looked the most beautiful like this, making a fucking mess all over my cock.

“I know baby, cum for me, make a mess all over my cock sweetheart.” Two more well placed thrusts and she was done for screaming my name as she came all over cock with me following right behind her filling her completely. I gave her one last lingering kiss and when I was sure her legs could support her gently sat her back on her feet. “I’ll wait in your room and let you shower in peace.” The good thing about being a ghost I was dry as soon as I left the shower so I didn’t track water all over her floor.

I knew she would easily be another 20 minutes, so like a ghostly boyfriend does I took those 20 minutes to learn more about modern technology. Mo had already shown me how to log into the phone so I quickly found her search engine and began looking at “trending topics” whatever that was. I quickly got bored and fell down a rabbit hole of click on link after link before I ended up on something I was sure Mo didn’t want me looking at. Porn. But I was still a 17 year old and the different categories piqued my interest. Who knew there were so many different ways and things you could do during sex? One in particular caught my eye, the woman looked identical to Mo, very easily could have been her except for one thing. This woman was pregnant. Which quickly got me thinking about Mo pregnant.

“So is that what gets you going Wally? Pregnant red heads?” The voice was a whisper in my ear and shivered. She had caught me, but she didn’t sound angry. She sounded more amused than anything. I turned around and her green eyes were dark and I had no doubt that if I were to run my tongue along her folds she would be dripping. I stood and took her into my arms.

“Fuck you would look so good like that Mo, and we would have a baby. But that’s not something I can do for you.” Would she eventually go on about her human life once she realized I couldn’t do everything for her that someone who was alive could? She pulled my head down kissing me before walking me back to her bed and pushing me down.

“You think I would look good like that?” She whispered as she dragged her wet folds across my cock, she was teasing me for watching it without her. I groaned and tried to jut my hips into her pussy but she quickly moved away and I think I might have actually whined at the loss.

“Mo, come on, yea I think you would look so hot like that. We could have as many as you wanted.” She very quickly dropped herself into my cock and I cried out at the sudden wet envelopment.

“I guess you’d better get to work then.” She muttered as she started moving her hips up and down on my cock. Wait, what? I gripped her hips and held her in place preventing her from moving on my cock anymore so I could pay full attention to what she was saying.

“Would you like to repeat that?” She bit her lip and looked away anxiously. “What do you know what I don’t know?”

“Rhonda…made a comment once we got back to school along the line of we had sex so much there should be a baby in me by now. So I’m a non judgmental way I was like well what about you and Wally and she made a good point and she said how was she supposed to keep a baby alive if she had no heart beat. I’m not the only whisperer out there so I asked around and one called back and they said yes it was technically possible.” She was looking at anything besides me while I was trying to process what she had just said. “This obviously was not the time to mention it I’m sorry.” She moved to climb off of me and I gripped her legs holding her in place.

“I guess we’d better get to work then.”

#wally clark #rhonda #school spirits #maddie nears #fanfic

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mish-tique · 1 year

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hihi norlestappen

SPOILERS below the rose line for "as we break everything inside these hotel walls"

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

ngl, "made you look" has been playing on loop on my mind for a while now so seeing the word Gucci played it again

"everyone knows they’re forever stuck in the honeymoon phase – but it feels a different kind of good to be in the middle of them." <- lando's the chosen one. only he gets to be in a lestappen sandwich

"It paints images for him and shows him what it could be like to be in between Max and Charles in a different way." <- me too, lando

oh my, even with just two paragraphs, i'm kinda curious w the lore u used for the tentacles (this version is new, everything i've read before are set in fantasy/sci-fi worlds). are they bought from sex stores? are there any regulation in selling and buying them as they're alive, and thus there may be issues regarding their population? why am i even thinking about this

OH MY GOD LANDO'S ACTIVE IMAGINATION. NOT THE TIME. NOT THE TIME!!

“- And Lando Norris! The next generation of the sport, as some have said. They gave us an amazing show this year, with a three-way battle for the championship; giving Ferrari, Red Bull, and McLaren what they could only wish for. Please give them a warm welcome!” <- 🥺🥺 ferrari and mclaren, get your shits together please please i'm begging

"He and Charles have always had their suspicions. Or well, less of a suspicion and more of an idea that Lando would not be saying no if they would finally ask him to join them for a night together." <- trust these two to be kinky bastards. don't worry lando, they'll love your gifts

LANDO IS SO OMEGA-CODED FR

this reminds me that i still have friendship bracelets to make

do the tentacles' features differ depending on species? earlier, it was mentioned that some species are better for temp play, then charles' vibrates. also, do some species prefer to penetrate or suck?

OH GOD ABSOLUTELY DO NOT ANSWER THOSE QUESTIONS. THEYRE ALL HYPOTHETICAL AND I DO NOT NEED TO KNOW MORE

it's kinda cool tho that they're activated through proximity, gives it a kind of soulmate-ism vibes

"something dark in Charles take over" <- DOM!CHARLES my beloved!!! i'm punching the wall and pacing all over the room, i'm winning with dom!charles

holy shit! that's tentacle porn done right!!

girl, you can't see but i'm giving you a standing ovation and i'm kissing your brain (if you consent). gods they're all so debauched in their model clothes in that stall. every top 3 should have a party of this kind after the galas

and a work inspired by this?! authors are such a gift

roses for you

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

-Rose 🥺🌹

not me having to look up which fic awbeitw was again because i totally forgot. I'm the worst author i swear LMAO.

made you look is such a fun little song!

i wish i would have my lando moment ngl

i think, in my mind, that i imagined them to be part of this new and upcoming business! you could get one if you knew the right people, and there are no laws in place yet because the government is slow like that

i NEED that threeway battle

sweety you have thought more about these tentacles than i have oml. i think i need to write down the tentacle lore one day

dom!charles my belovedth!!

sdkghs you have all the consent to kiss my brain, tho i cannot imagine for that to be a pleasant exchange.

and yeah!! that's what happens when we authors cannot shut up about our own work and end up talking to other authors and then start a whole new trend. I'm taking credit for the influx of tentacle fics that followed my fic (/j) <33

#rose anon #🥺🌹#missha's kinktober #qued

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

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Steal My Girl (jaehyun x you)

a/n : Am I posting too much Jaehyun fic? Anyways it is February and I associate him with February (despite there are other members having Feb as their bday too! miannnn)

ALSO HAPPY JAEHYUN DAY EVERYONE!!!

warning : none :D safe to read for all age! drink moderately and be responsible

enjoy................................

“Hey um sorry to bother you,” Mark pops his head into your room.

You turn your head to look at him, eyebrows rising to ask him why.

Mark scratches his neck and you pause the music jamming into your ears. You drag your earphone down and ask the “troubled” man on your door frame.

“Umm Jaehyun is drunk again, and he called me to pick him up.” Mark explains slowly, you nod and wait for him to continue, “Are you busy?”

You glance at the clock, it’s almost nine and tomorrow is Saturday. You don’t really have anything coming soon, you finished your work for this week already.

“Nope not busy, why?” You finally tackle Mark down to the big question mark you had in your head.

Jaehyun is drunk and yeah what does Mark needs?

“You know I still cannot drive, and Johnny is on the party too drunk. Taeyong has passed out since his first cup and I don’t know who else can I ask help for.”

You smirk and shake your head, what a silly request!

However, Mark is still your cousin and Jaehyun is the man you treasure.

“Funny how Jaehyun called you instead of me! Did he forget you cannot drive yet.” You stand up to change your clothes and Mark doesn’t need a second order to change too.

“You’re sitting beside me! I am not dealing with the drunk men!” You put on a jacket and grab the key, wallet, and phone.

You made it to the party house, Mark quickly fetching his three drunk brothers and you just stay back. You’re not coming in.

The last man to enter the car is Jaehyun. You did not know how Mark made the three big men sit on the back compartment of your car, but here we are!

“Woaah we’re suddenly in a car! Who called the cab? Why is the service so nice…” Taeyong blurs off laughs and words, “Even the driver is pretty!”

You roll your eyes, why would Tae drinks if he knows he is this bad with alcohol.

“Hey she’s (y/n)! Dummy… keep quiet Yong, or else you’ll puke.” Johnny pushes Taeyong’s head to the other side. Well Taeyong needs to sit between the two men and he’s already leaning to Johnny.

“Ah it’s you sweetie! Sorry for going out again without you…” Jaehyun reaches for your shoulder from the back seat. You’re used to this, even though you two are dating, you don’t always join him on his parties.

“Driving her boyfriend home safely, check!” Jaehyun giggles in his unconscious state.

“Bae, help me with this calculus homework!!” Jaehyun once knocked on your apartment you share with Mark. He barged in one evening after you and Mark finished dinner, in a messy hair and crumpled math paper.

You nicely offered him dinner and brought him to sit on the dining table. Mark served him snacks and water, while you calmly taught him how to work on the problems. Step by step, well while reviewing too, since he was on the same class as you.

After working on the homework and Jaehyun could answer ten sets of question by himself, you let him go.

“Thanks girl! You’re the perfect lover!”

Teaching and tutoring your boyfriend? Check!

“Babe, sorry to disturb you again…” Jaehyun’s voice appears softer and you know he is going to ask you a favor with this tone.

You glance from your homework, sparing only an eyebrow to him and he grins “I lost some buttons on the way home.” He shows you his button up shirt that lost three buttons.

You raise your brow, “Did you fight?”

He scratches his pink hair, “Well, someone mocked Doyoung and Taeyong, so I taught them some lessons.”

Only then did you notice, he has a small bruise on his face and a ripped lip.

You quickly stand up and grab his cheeks, checking for any other scratches on his pretty face. Jaehyun giggles when he sees your worried face.

You pick up the first aid kit and sit down on the sofa with Jaehyun by your side. “You should stop fist fighting sweetie, you don’t want to end up in the police office. I don’t have enough money to bail you out.” You roll your eyes and laugh, trying to make him laugh too.

Jaehyun smirks, “Haha yeah I know that, but you will find a way.”

You press on his scar and he winces, “Stop playing around.” You snap at him.

After taking care and bandaging his wounds, you finish your homework while Jaehyun sits on the sofa compressing his body.

You clean up your stuffs and finally walk to take your sewing kit, “Do you still have your buttons?”

He shakes his head, “Gone.”

You smirk, “Sorry, the only one I have are these,” you show him a set of cute pink buttons.

Jaehyun’s mouth drop, “You want me to wear that?”

You frown, “Well you lost your buttons. That is your button up, you go buy your own buttons.”

He sighs, “Fine…”

You smile secretly, “I’ll fix it later, wash this first.” You toss it to him and he lazily walks to the laundry basket and bring his dirty laundries with him to the washing room.

He goes back to the room with a happier face, saying he met Doyoung and Taeyong doing their laundries and got treated to some coffee. You just nod and the night goes on.

Only on the next morning did Jaehyun greets you with a spin and a kiss.

“When did you fix my shirt? Gosh thanks! You really are a perfect girl! Love you!!” he kisses you happily and you just nod your head.

Well, he slept early last night and you nicely sew his three buttons back with a normal button. You have them, you just want to tease him.

“Taking care of boyfriend and sewing clothes, check!”

“Sorry I am late!” Jaehyun appears wet under the rain, and you just shake your head at the boy who is stranding in the front porch of your college building drenched in rain water.

“Forgot your umbrella again?” you calmly lead him into your college hall. Well, he promised to attend the exhibition with you, but here he is drenched in rain.

“I lend it to an old lady, she was stuck in the supermarket and I passed by.” He tries his best to squeeze the water out of his shirt.

You dig into your bag and toss him your sweater, “Lucky I brought your sweater. Go change, at least you won’t fall sick.”

His pants are wonderfully wet, but that guy managed to half dry it on the toilet.

“Secretly has a back up for boyfie, check!” Jaehyun grins to himself.

The list goes on, the number of incidental and accidental moments pile up. But always whatever happen, you always have a solution for him. With your calm personality, you just shake your head in disbelieve and like magic, you are able to give him a solution.

“Yow Jae, tell us how are you still surviving college at this rate?” Johnny asks his friend on a Saturday boys night.

Jaehyun looks away from the TV screen and spare a glance on his friend, “Survive? What do you mean?”

Doyoung groans at his slow wit, “That slow wit, fights, constant good scores despite you sleeping in class, and many more drunk nights.”

Taeyong has already shifted his attention too from the screen to the young man in pink hair.

“Share the secret please!” Yuta chimes in.

Jaehyun thinks for awhile, trying to answer all the questions proposed to him suddenly.

“Um… I think I survived and still live today because of (Y/n).” he shrugs his shoulder.

The four men groan and sigh, “RIGHT! How can we forget your super girlfriend!”

“You’re right (y/n) is the one who takes care of me! It’s like any problem I have… she has the solution.” Jaehyun realizes.

Doyoung lets out a huff, “Where can we get one?”

“I lowkey want to steal her when she picks us up on the club at night!” Johnny winks, which earns a pout from Jaehyun

“I want her more when Jaehyun said she sew his clothes at night when he lost three buttons. Gosh Jaehyun you’re really pampered, she does everything for you!” Taeyong punches Jaehyun’s shoulder playfully.

Jaehyun stays silent, his friends’ words coming in and out of his ear like that, but his head is slowly playing all of the memories and times he asked for your help and you’re always there. You always leave everything behind and help him, but has he done the same thing for you? Doubt.

“Aigo she is perfect! Can I just steal her? I believe I can be a better man,” Yuta laughs, and the other men laugh too but that earns him a loud smack on the head from Jaehyun.

“CALM DOWN! MY HEAD! YOU PUNCHED ME FULL POWER!” Yuta rubs his pounding head and sees fire in Jaehyun’s eyes

“No one is stealing her! She is mine, and fyi you cannot find anyone else like her in this world.” Jaehyun smiles with proud, “She is one of a kind, and if you find someone else like her, she belongs to me.”

end

lol wouldn’t this be cool if there is a tiktok trend for this?

“helping boyfie do calculus,check!”

“helping boyfie sew buttons? check!”

byee author is just out of her mind

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ghostbustermelanieking · 3 years

Text

reunions

post mag 196 spec/au fic: jon and martin emotionally reunite and hug: the fic

this is entirely self indulgent and not at all meant to speculate canon. playing into my trend of writing the season 5 scenarios i want to see in the world, i wanted to write a fic that's entirely just martin and jon reuniting and hugging, just in case this never happens in canon. this assumes things go relatively all right after jon and basira arrive at htr and everyone gets a chance to talk things out. also can be found here at ao3!

The moment that Annabelle's explanation ends, when she steps away from the spot where Martin is held down, Jon lurches forward to free him. The web stretched over the abyss wobbles precariously at his sharp movements, and the way Martin's eyes widen with panic makes Jon's chest ache. "Careful," says Annabelle, voice thick with amusement, "or you'll bring the whole thing down."

" Martin, " says Jon, clutching at Martin's hand from where it sticks out of the strands of web. Martin clutches back, his grip desperate around Jon's hand.

The sick feeling that had emerged in Jon's stomach when he and Basira arrived to see Martin stuck in a precarious web (that almost resembles the ribbons of a tape recorder) hasn't subsided yet; it sharpens, actually, seeing how far the fall is. He hasn't taken his eyes off Martin since he got here, hasn't been able to stop staring at the web and the strands around Martin and the whole of it, his relief at Martin being alive coupled with his panic over where he is. His voice is still raw from where he'd shouted at Annabelle to let Martin go.

Jon grips Martin's hand tighter, and fumbles at the places where the web is holding Martin down. He wants to believe Annabelle when she says that she won't hurt them, that her plan will actually help them, but it's hard, considering all of it—especially with Martin suspended thousands of feet above a chasm to nowhere. "Martin," he says, voice strangled, "hold on, just… it'll be all right, j-just..."

" Jon, " Martin chokes out, his fingernails digging into Jon's wrist.

Jon finds a knife, somewhere in his pocket, and snaps through the strands around Martin, hands shaking with the effort of trying not to cut through the web that's actually keeping them from falling. The whole thing is shaking, suddenly, as Martin is freed—either because Jon has cut too deeply or from the exertion of their movements—and Jon's hands close in a frantic motion around Martin's wrists, as if he can actually pull Martin back when they're both balanced on the same precarious ledge.

For a moment, it feels like it's just the two of them, clutching at each other's wrists, staring desperately at each other as they tremble on the edge of a cliff, and Jon can only think, panicked, that if Martin goes down he is going with him. But then he feels a hand close around the back of his jacket and yank backwards—Basira, from her spot on the edge of solid ground, hauling them towards solid ground. They both scramble back with the motion, Martin's feet scrabbling uselessly against the strands of web, Jon yanking upwards so hard that his muscles ache with the strain of Martin's weight. But something gives way, and they manage to land on solid ground just as the strands of web keeping them up snap free.

" Christ, the two of you," Basira snaps, wearily, her hand landing reassuringly on Jon's shoulder for a moment. "Can't stage a rescue mission without both of you almost collapsing into some… s-some other dimension. "

"I wouldn't have expected anything less," Annabelle says pleasantly, still sounding like she might be laughing at them.

Jon rolls onto his side, panting, and wrenches himself into a sitting position. His eyes yank immediately to Martin, picking himself up, pulling strands of web away from his wrists and ankles ringed in red from the restraints. Martin's head swivels towards Jon; his own eyes are wide, nearly brimming with tears.

Jon isn't sure which of them moves first. Maybe it is both of them at the same time. All he knows is that a moment later they are colliding together, on their knees, embracing. Martin's arms are so tight around him that Jon's ribs ache, but he doesn't care. Jon's clutching at the back of Martin's jacket, his face pressed into Martin's neck—Martin's pulse, Martin's heart beating because he is alive —and he's mumbling frantic apologies: I'm sorry, Martin, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It takes a few moments to register Martin's voice, warm and cramped and frantic in Jon's ear, murmuring apologies of his own.

"We'll give these two a moment," says Annabelle to Basira.

Jon barely registers this, either, or the sound of their retreating footsteps. All that matters is that Martin is here, here and whole and warm in his arms. Jon shuts his eyes, feels the warm slide of tears down his cheeks. Tugs Martin a little closer, somehow, holding onto him tighter. A part of him had really thought he might never see Martin again.

He says this—voice breaking, fumbling upwards to press a hand against Martin's cheek, he says, "I-I… thought I might never see you again. Martin, I was so scared. "

Martin makes a choking sound. He leans into Jon's hand, covers it with his own shaking one. "Jon… Jon, I'm so sorry. I… I didn't mean it, I… I was afraid I'd lose you, a-and I overreacted, but I… I didn't… and then I left, and I-I-I didn't mean to…"

"Martin, n-no, Martin, I…" Jon jerks back a little, looks up at Martin. Wipes a tear from Martin's cheek with his thumb. "Martin, I'm sorry. I… You were right. I w-wanted to tell you that, you… I shouldn't have… I-I came too late, I never should've left, but I wanted to tell you…"

"No, Jon, you don't understand, I…" Martin shakes his head. Links his fingers with Jon's, squeezes his hand and kisses the palm gently. "I left on purpose. W-well, not really, Annabelle, she… bl-blackmailed me, or something, she said she'd leave if I tried to find you, she… but I left willingly. I-I tried to hang behind, sl-slow us down so you'd be able to catch up but I, we, we were too fast and I… I'm so sorry , Jon. I wasn't thinking. I didn't know what else to do, b-but I never should have…"

"Martin, don't… it doesn't matter, all right? I-it doesn't matter, it… you're here, you're all right." Jon wraps his arms hard around Martin again, turns his head to kiss Martin's cheek. He'd thought he might never see Martin again, he really had, but here he is. Here he is, alive, and the rest of it doesn't seem to matter somehow. Martin's here now.

Martin seems to soften in Jon's grasp; he kisses Jon's fingers again before hugging him back just as tightly. "She… she said she had a way out," he says softly. "Annabelle. One where we don't… die, o-or take Jonah's place, or… T-that was why I went. I… If there's any other way, I…"

"I know," Jon says quietly.

Martin's fingers tangle gently in Jon's hair. "Do you… can you… See? Is she telling the truth?"

"No. No, it's too muddled, the Web is clouding my vision. But…" Jon shudders a little, presses his face hard against Martin's shoulder. "I-it's not good, I don't think. Not entirely. I… I-I don't know what… maybe we'll both make it through, maybe… b-but I don't think it'll be something we… want to do."

Martin sighs, his eyes sliding shut. "Of… of course it isn't. Of course it isn't."

Jon sighs, too, pulls back a little to look Martin in the eye again. "But… if there's any chance…"

Martin nods. "I… I meant it, Jon, when I said I wouldn't doom the world for you. Or I… I wanted to, I thought I did, but I… I didn't think…" He swallows hard, sniffles a little and seems to compose himself a little. "B-but, yeah, if there's any chance of… of you, o-of both of us…"

"Y-yes, yes," says Jon. "Anything. Any chance at all. W-we'll hear her out, we… m-maybe it really can fix things."

Martin laughs a little, softly, and Jon can't help but laugh, too, the stunned, awed sort of laugh. They're here, they're both here, and maybe they have a chance. They press their foreheads together, breathing in time; Jon squeezes Martin's hand again. "I love you," he whispers. "A—and I won't leave you again. I promise."

Martin squeezes back before letting go. "Wh-whatever happens?"

"I promise," Jon repeats. "Whatever happens, w-we'll be together." For a moment—here, back with Martin again—he allows himself to hope that things might end all right for them. Maybe.

Martin pushes hair away from Jon's face, brushes his fingertips over Jon's jaw. Smiles just a little, wobbly, and Jon smiles back. "I… I can live with that. I—I love you, too. I love you, and I promise I won't leave you, either. Not again."

"Guys." Jon turns to see Basira, standing a few feet away, the expression on her face somewhere similar to what it was in the Wonderland Hospital, after the Hunt domain, when they'd taken a moment. She shrugs at them, a bit sharply. "Annabelle says it's time."

Jon sighs again; a large part of him is unwilling to step away from this, this brief peace they've created at the edge of a chasm at the end of the world. "All right. We're… we're coming," he calls. He slides his hand down to take Martin's again and holds on tight, like the webs are going to snap up and pull Martin away again. He isn't sure how much time they have left, but he knows he doesn't want to lose track of Martin again in the process of it. Not that, never again. He won't let it take him away again.

Martin leans into him, just a little, before they get to their feet. "Together?" he whispers into Jon's hair.

Jon nods, presses a kiss to the soft crest of Martin's shoulder. "Together," he says.

They get to their feet, still clasping hands, and follow Basira across the sharp landscape of the cavern at Hill Top Road, to where Annabelle Cane is waiting.

#tma fic #jonmartin #mag 196 #the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers #i wrote this #cant decide if i like this or not but here it is!!

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rokutouxei · 4 years

Text

only this wonder remains

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark isaac newton/reader | gen | 2948 | [ao3]

or: the 5 times isaac tried to understand, and the one time he realized he didn’t have to.

for my beloved friend @pathofcomets!

happiest, happiest, happiest birthday to the absolute kindest and most loving and most encouraging person i have ever met in my entire life! i may or may not have reread your isaac fics a billion times to get him quite like you like, and if i missed, at least enjoy the fact that um, i’m having apples today in (the both of) your honor? te iubesc, mama: thank you for joining me in this stupid crazy journey that is 19th century france with vampires.

(one)

isaac newton likes things set into order.

math, math is great—math is numbers and patterns and those things make sense and the order is there. physics too: everything in the universe has a set structure, and it’s all just figuring out what that structure is and what it entails. isaac newton likes things in neat rows in color-coded, labeled, square boxes in his mind.

and that is everything you aren’t.

which is why isaac doesn’t quite understand how he’s fallen in love with you so fast. emotionally, yes, sure, emotions, are, he supposes, a thing, but rationally? he doesn’t understand it. where he likes predictability, you are anything but. you are new dishes being served during dinners. you are excited squealing as you’re reading a book. you are catching his hedgehog (very nervously) from its hiding nook, after it was chased by the exponentially larger dogs. you are songs he’s never heard, songs from centuries in the future. you are wide eyes and open arms and isaac doesn’t understand.

but he adores it.

appreciates it.

the day after you’d decided to stay in the mansion, and the door had stayed shut throughout the rest of the fateful, crescent-moon night, vincent takes home with him a basketful of apple strudels, gifted to him by the lovely baker downtown.

you aren’t able to get one before dinner, but just right around midnight, you remember they are there. with a sudden burst of excitement, you pull at isaac’s sleeve until he accompanies you downstairs. your eyes shine like crystals in the kitchen light as you bite into the sweet bread—and isaac… isaac doesn’t know what to do with the warmth that fills him at the sight of it.

you turn to him quickly, offering him a bite. “you like apples, don’t you?”

the sound of dazai’s and arthur’s voices compound in his head, every single apple joke thrown at his direction over the past what-feels-like-a-million-years echoing in the caverns of his skull, taunting him.

but he doesn’t mind.

he doesn’t know why he doesn’t mind being unfolded like this, but he doesn’t.

he takes a bite of the strudel and sighs at the sweetness.

“it’s delicious.”

(two)

he tries, he absolutely tries his damnedest to sound nonchalant, but he fails. rather miserably, too. he’s still standing at the doorway of your room, hesitating to enter even when you’d already opened the door for him.

“where are you going?”

you finish twirling a lock of hair into place, before turning away from the mirror and toward him. “ah, comte’s taking me out dress shopping.”

again, he hears you nearly say; but then why are you still going? “don’t you have enough clothes?”

securing your earrings into place, you sit up from your dresser chair to approach him. “‘the most important of the labours of a high society woman in this late 19th century,’” you begin, “‘is to look beautiful.’ … that’s what le comte always tells me.”

“labours that you already fulfil,” isaac notes. the sudden admission makes you flush, so you pull him by the wrist and guide him toward the bed. now seated next to each other, you entangle your fingers with his.

“we’ll be back before dusk,” you try to appease him. “i’ll ask comte if we can do a detour at that bakery with the strudels we like.”

for a moment, isaac is silent; his hand twitches in yours as he considers. of course, he knows that comte means no harm. if anything, the worst is that comte is quite overbearing with how gracious he is at times. there’s no reason to be feeling this way, to be even doubting, he just wanted to ask if you wanted to come with him to the university library—he has to pick up a book he forgot to borrow, and maybe, just maybe, he was thinking of a picnic while you’re already out in the city, that’s all, you can always do that some time else, and so why is he—

he groans. by jove, why is this so hard. he turns and presses his face into the junction of your shoulder and neck; the fabric of your dress is in the way of the thrum of your pulse, but not quite thick enough so he still feels your warmth.

you laugh like it tickles, and he’s about to straighten up when you take his face in your small hands, holding him at eye level to you, your gaze so beautifully clear and bright. it’s as if no matter how hard he tries, with you he is see-through.

“i’ll make it up to you,” you say, pressing a little kiss at the corner of his lip, “…tonight.”

all at once, he doesn’t understand why the sour, sour feeling in his chest suddenly tastes so sweet.

(three)

you were radiant.

that was, to say the least. isaac wasn’t knowledgeable about fashion, not a bit. sure, he can vaguely tell what an “average” outfit is (cue the several lengthy discussions to alleviate confusion when sebastian had kindly gifted you with a few items of clothing to wear around the mansion that were, say, anachronistic) but trends and styles are beyond him. to him, if the clothes can protect him from the elements, they are enough, and doing their job.

but seeing you out there in the ball room? made him realize that maybe… maybe that wasn’t the only point after all.

he’s wearing the most fashionable get-up for the night (because, alas, comte would not let a single one of his residents leave without the best of suits) and yet he feels so… underdressed, looking at you.

which is probably just about right, considering this is the party to celebrate your first year spent at the mansion.

(the first of many, he hopes.)

isaac returns to memorizing the details of your outfit. a beautiful silk gown in this sort of matte gold, embellished with swathes of intricate lace. the cut of the dress is made to accentuate your best features, and oh, the low scoop of the neckline, revealing your shoulders, emphasizing the milky skin beneath, maybe, a place to sink his teeth…

you’re off to a corner of the ballroom across him, engaged in discussion with mozart and theo while you’re holding a glass of alcohol. (he knows you enough to be nearly entirely sure it’s probably a non-alcoholic drink in your glass, just the right shade to seem like so.) mozart says something that makes you laugh, hand flying to your mouth.

(isaac seethes inwardly, wonders what the pianist could have said.)

theo makes eye contact with isaac across the room, and isaac quickly turns away from the man’s pointed smile. and because he does, he doesn’t get to prepare himself for when you inevitably approach him—having been goaded by theo—bumping isaac’s shoulders lightly.

he takes half a second to curse that wily little brother-obsessed man.

“won’t the great professor ayscough honor me with a dance?”

he doesn’t understand why, doesn’t understand why allows this—for him to be tossed and turned in a surge of emotions and thoughts and things he really hadn’t bothered to consider in the past, for him to be oh so irrevocably twined around your finger.

“what makes you think you can do this to my poor heart?” he whispers, and your laugh—oh, your laugh, fills him to the very core.

(four)

a part of him curses napoleon for saying it; another part of him thanks him.

the three of you were on your way back to the mansion after an afternoon teaching the kids in the city at the usual spot when napoleon had—rather absentmindedly, almost as if off-handedly—mentioned that the kids seemed to be more… obedient when you were around. you’d raised an eyebrow at him, explaining that you’re actually rather, say, awkward with kids. napoleon had shrugged the comment off, going on a tangent that they seemed to be more likely to follow instructions when it was you who’d call them out, as compared to him and isaac.

and then, the heaviest words in the world.

“maybe it’s because you’re like a mother to them.”

it was too early. you and isaac had never thought of kids and—you’d never really thought of anything, rather. there was only the now, and isaac found himself rather enjoying the pace. should he have discussed this with you already? was this of utmost importance? what if you didn’t want kids with him? what if you did? what does it mean—to do that? what changes? what stays? what—

“pfft,” you chuckle. “that’s only because the two of you are more like cheeky older brothers than teachers, you brats.”

after the corresponding laughter, the conversation soon swerved to other things. but isaac couldn’t leave it at that. instead, it lingered and clawed at his brain for the following days to no end, always making its presence known at the back of his mind whenever he’s thought it’s past him. he hadn’t thought of bringing it up to you because, again, it seemed like you’d taken the entire thing in stride, as you always do, with the grace and wisdom of someone literally beyond his time…

but most importantly, because he didn’t feel like he was ready to hear the answer quite yet.

alas, the universe does not wait for one to be ready for things.

the next time the three of you are downtown, you’re humming as you produce a little jar full of homemade candy as a reward for the children’s hard work of studying. (isaac huffs a little; it’s just calculus, it’s not so bad.) the enthusiastic children rush toward you, and you gently get to their level, squatting down and handing them two candies each.

isaac… is stuck into place, watching intently as you greet each child; you know them by name, know their nicknames; you match the candy appropriately to their favorite flavors, pat them on the head, ruffle their hair, pinch their cheek gently. you compliment the little flowers the girl has put in her hair, enthuse about how the three rag-tag boys look stronger than ever.

and isaac—well, he doesn’t understand why he knows but he knows: this, this is what happiness is.

your smile, the star-like shimmer in your eyes, the sound of your laughter intermingling with those of the children the both of you (!) are raising to be dreamers and thinkers of the future.

isaac is helpless; no science can explain this; unable to do anything but allow you to knock him to his knees like a beam of sunlight shot through the prism of his heart.

flooding his world in a spectrum of colors.

(five)

on one night you don’t feel entirely upright, you confide your deepest fears to isaac. these were fears he’d thought were to be expected—fears that made sense—but he hadn’t realized were actually hiding in your shadows. worries and frets about the uprooting from home, the time and the place of your existence. the weight of the knowledge of what comes in the future, the foresight of it. the instability—the unsureness.

isaac does not know what to do with all this. he cradles every word in his hands, holds them so carefully like they will shatter, feels each shaky intake of your breath sink underneath his skin like some sort of warning, some sort of premonition.

of the one day you might have to let her go.

of the one day you might have to do the right thing.

of the one day it will hurt.

of the one day. and you will never understand why.

but isaac is no longer afraid of them.

(he doesn’t know why yet, but he will soon.)

instead, he holds you in his arms in the silver glow of the moonlight, until your shaking stops. until you feel gravity settle you back onto the bed, just like all that isaac had written of it. until you press your face into his chest and sigh deeply. until your exhales feel lighter, like you’ve expelled all the thick fog that rested between your bones.

and isaac… isaac doesn’t know if he should ask, if he has the right to ask, if asking will make a difference, but the part of him that constantly wants to be able to understand things makes him, so he asks—

“what made you stay?”

and the answer is so simple, it’s rather silly how he doesn’t understand.

“because i have you.”

(+ one)

long before he had met saint-germain and had hidden away in the count’s mansion for silence, isaac newton was, ultimately, just a mere human: one that tried to make sense of the world around him, set them into categories and definitions that were easy to understand, and thus use. but a human nonetheless. and hundreds of years back, long before the turn of the century in paris, france, in the arms of the only woman he feels like he has ever truly known to really love, there was a little fairy tale he believed in: one that they’d called the philosopher’s stone.

a stone of ridiculous, preposterous qualities. it could turn simple metals into gold and silver. it could heal all and any sort of illness. it could make someone live longer. it could turn crystals into precious stones. it could revive the dead. it could make you immortal.

just by its mere existence, it could give someone the power to turn one thing into something entirely different.

and now, with the scientific development of the late 19th century—and even further, far into the future where you’ve come (he’d asked)—there is still no philosopher’s stone. the facts are in: it is not real, and centuries spent attempting to create this enchanted thing have led to not a single step toward proving its existence. it’s a powerful thing that is too great, it just isn’t allowed to exist.

that was what isaac thought, except as of late.

because maybe… maybe the power is already in human hands.

after all, what else would have given you the ability to make him like this? how else to explain all the miracles you’ve done: to fill the parts of him that used to be hollow; to heal him of the wounds he’d been putting aside; to revive the portions of his heart that he thought—and he’d kept—long dead?

to turn him into gold?

it is morning now, just past sunrise of september 1st, and you’re lying next to him on his bed, still fast asleep. just the sound of your even breathing fills him with a breathless joy it makes him feel rather stupid. the sheer fabric of your nightgown is not enough to hide the pink, red parts where he’d kissed and marked you last night. he wants to run his fingers through your hair, but doesn’t, lest he wakes you up.

he’d pledged his humanity aside for silence, and a space to think, and oh, have you given it to him.

this is what peace feels like, he thinks.

gently, he takes out of its hiding spot a rectangular box. opens it and takes out its contents: a pair of earrings (which he’ll give you later), and a lovely golden necklace studded with pearls; little flowers and suns down to the middle, where a hefty ruby glimmers deep blood red.

just like a philosopher’s stone.

he tries not to wake you, when he strings his little gift around your neck, but the movements jostle you, and just as he clasps it closed at your nape, you wake.

you turn to face your lover with “good morning” halfway out your lips when you feel the cool of the necklace on your bare skin. you look down at the intricate piece of jewelry, the smile uncontrollable on your sweet, still sleep-hazy face.

“isaac—”

“la mulţi ani,” he says—or, well, tries to say, as his tongue curves awkwardly around the words. he does sound rather close though: he must have practiced, and practiced, and practiced.

“thank you,” you say, sitting up to face him properly. “it’s beautiful. i’ll treasure this.”

isaac’s brain is on high speed—i’m glad she liked it, i was worrying, what if she didn’t like the design, then what about the earrings, should i have given her a ring instead? no a ring is too early, this necklace is just right, also fashionable for the times. i asked comte about it—it was so damned embarrassing but i asked him, and—but he silences it, quiets it down by taking her hand in his, presses a kiss on the knuckles gently with his lips.

and, as he always has been, and always is, and always will be—he stumbles for words, clumsily trying to make sense of the thunder-lightning rumbling in his chest, how he’s supposed to say thank you for all that you have given him, all that you have made him.

so instead, he presses your hand against his warm cheek that is a fresh apple red.

“my favorite merișor,” you tease, brushing the stray hair off his face before pulling him into a gentle, warm embrace. and, well, he’d wanted to ask what that meant, but he quickly realizes it doesn’t matter, as he tucks the unfamiliar syllables of your language in his heart.

it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t understand.

and maybe, just maybe, there are things that he never will really comprehend.

but it’s okay.

he can be that merișor.

as long as he is yours, he can be anything.

--------

[title came from could i love you any more by jason mraz & reneé dominique]

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp isaac newton #ikevamp isaac #ikevam isaac #ikevam isaac newton #uwus #only this wonder remains

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vaguely-concerned · 4 years

Text

The Mandalorian Fic -- The whole future lies in thee

Set right after episode 8 -- Din makes a promise. Fluff, tenderness, parenthood, ~2000 words

On AO3

The baby was sleeping soundly, finally, safely tucked into the container that once again had to serve as a crib after all of the ugnaught’s skilled work had gone to waste. Despite the sound of the kid’s slow peaceful breathing Din turned in the pilot’s seat to glance over his shoulder, just to be sure. With nothing else around the ship suitable as padding, Din had gone back to using his cape for the purpose — the baby didn’t seem to mind, one small hand tangled in the folds of it and his face slack-mouthed and soft with sleep, mythosaur pendant still clutched in his other hand.

Din turned back to the viewport to watch the serene lights of hyperspace dancing by outside, blood caking uncomfortably in his hair under the helmet.

Whatever it was IG-11 had done with the bacta spray it seemed to have worked —Din’s head felt clear, apart from the exhaustion, and that horrible raw wrongness in his torso that meant something important in there had been shaken past breaking was completely gone — but he still ached all over, every movement setting off a fresh fireworks display of discomfort through his whole body. He felt vaguely like he’d just gone three more rounds with the mudhorn and lost every one.

Din kept his hands loosely curled around the control sticks even though there was no real need to anymore, with their destination set and the ship’s systems ticking away steadily. His plans hadn’t arrived at a real ‘towards’ yet, having largely stopped at ‘away, before something even worse shows up’, which he felt was becoming an unfortunate yet undeniable trend in his life lately. Get far enough away, get some supplies, hope for some decent work, rinse, repeat.

The events of the last few days blurred together, a thin sheen of oil puddling on top of deceptively calm waters without sinking in. From experience it would probably hit him worse once the battle numbness receded, but for now he simply sat there in the vast silence of his head, watching the lights run by. The only sounds were the baby’s snores and the familiar creaks and low moans of the Razor Crest.

Finally Din sighed and shifted a bit. He should go find something for the baby to eat in case he’d be hungry when he woke up. What with one thing and another it was starting to be a while since his last meal. Din got up and walked softly over to the hatch, dropping down as gently as he could to avoid waking the kid. He opened the storage space he reserved for foodstuffs and stared blankly at the containers within for a while, willing himself to just pick one.

That was when the crying started.

Din startled out of his haze of indecision and made his way back to the cockpit, where the baby was giving such a miserably plaintive cry that Din felt it like an ache in his own chest. When he spotted Din the baby cried even louder and reached his small arms towards him, straining up desperately enough that he almost fell out of his seat.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Din said, picking him up and holding him in a state of mild panic because he’d never heard the kid make a sound like this before. “What’s wrong?”

The baby just sobbed helplessly, his tiny face tucked against Din’s body and his three-fingered hands clutching at whatever part of the armor he could reach.

“You hurt somewhere?” Din asked, fear shooting up his spine and shaking him awake in earnest. The kid had seemed fine, but maybe something had happened that Din hadn’t noticed, or perhaps turning that wall of flame away had been too much of a strain on his little body, or —

Cradling the baby against his chest Din reached up with his free hand to activate the extremely rudimentary medical scanner built into the visor of his helmet, only partially reassured when it showed nothing out of the ordinary with the kid except a heightened pulse, which could easily be attributed to the huge gasping sobs. The scanner was only designed to give information on the ‘dead or alive?’ sort of level. If something was wrong with the baby’s brain, or, or wherever else his abilities came from, though, how would Din even…

Shit, he wished the nurse droid were still here, IG-11 would have known what to do. When it came to usefulness they would have been better off if it’d been Din blowing himself up at the end of that tunnel. The Armorer might be wiser than anyone else he’d ever met, but he didn’t know what the hell she’d been thinking, sending the kid off with Din as his only permanent bumbling support. For a moment and for the first time since he was a boy, Din gave serious consideration to just sitting down on the spot and bursting into tears himself.

Taking a deep breath he pulled himself together.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, holding the baby closer. “Everything’s okay, I’m here. It’s safe.”

The baby gave a hiccup between sobs and gazed up at him, the worst of the urgency slowly melting away. His round cheeks were flushed and his face still scrunched up slightly in distress, but his eyes cleared enough that Din could see something in his voice must have reached him.

“Whatever it is, we can fix it,” Din said, willing himself to believe it as he stroked his thumb over the baby’s forehead and along one fuzzy ear. The baby still looked at him, his hand fumbling to grab a hold of the fabric of Din’s gambeson like he was afraid Din would disappear if he didn’t.

Din maneuvered his way down to the lower section of the ship one-handed so they’d have more space, speaking to the baby the whole way — he had no real idea what he was saying anymore, only that the baby seemed to calm at the sound of his voice. Once he reached the cargo hold he started pacing slowly, though whether to help soothe the baby or himself he couldn’t say at this point.

The baby fussed quietly but miserably, still unable to settle all the way down. Din rocked him gently in the way he’d found through trial and error best did the trick, mindlessly walking back and forth across the floor as he looked down at the baby and tried to prod his exhausted mind back to work to figure out what was going on.

“This would be a lot easier if either of us knew how to talk,” Din told the baby mournfully, bouncing him as he reached the end of the cargo hold and turned around again.

A spark of instinct lit up the weary murkiness of Din’s brain. When Kuiil — and there was a blankness around the name in his head that from experience meant something large and ugly was waiting to take its toll when the worst of the fog lifted, but for now there was only silence — when Kuiil had taken the baby away with him, back towards the ship, Din had been too wrapped up in his own fear-hazy thoughts to think to reassure the kid, too busy trying to work out contingencies and strategies with too little information to go on to...

Something shifted in Din’s mind, his perspective drifting and realigning just so, as he realized that the last time he’d seen his parents he had always known it was the last time. There had been no time for doubt. One moment they’d been there, and then they were gone. There had been no space where he hadn’t known whether they were coming back, no waiting.

Big dark eyes watching him as he walked away and didn’t even glance back.

The thought went through him like a shot the beskar could do nothing to stop, leaving something in there to bleed.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, cupping the baby’s head in his hand. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

The baby looked at him with his head on one side, ears lopsided in exhaustion, but there was something like understanding in his wide dark eyes, the crying finally dying away.

“Yeah, I know,” Din murmured, stroking the back of the small downy head. “I know all of that was scary. It’s okay to be scared. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay.”

The baby rubbed his cheek against the breastplate, fumbling around until he found the mythosaur pendant around his neck and absentmindedly stuck it in his mouth as he gazed unwaveringly up at Din. Distantly, illogically, Din wanted to press a quick kiss to his forehead, but he doubted the kid would find the cold touch of beskar and transparisteel all that comforting. Instead he carefully wiped the last of the tear tracks away with his thumb, smiling despite himself when the baby scrunched up his nose and made a protesting sound around the pendant. “Sorry.”

Din unfastened his breastplate so the baby would have something softer to rest against, then half collapsed, half sat down on the spot, his back resting against the bulkhead. He held the kid against his chest, cradled in the crook of his arm. The baby made a pleased sound and tucked himself even closer with a wiggle. Din used two fingers of his right hand to pull off the glove on the left so he could feel the reassuring warmth of the little body under his hand, gently running his thumb back and forth over the baby’s back when he snuggled into it.

They sat like that for a while until Din sighed.

“I know… I know words don’t count for much and you’re probably still too small to understand, but I — think I need to say this out loud.” Din glanced down and carefully took the kid’s tiny hand between his own thumb and forefinger, stroking the back of it. “I’ve, uh. Sworn only one other oath in my life and it was a long time ago, so I might be a bit rusty.”

While he paused the baby wrapped his entire hand around Din’s index finger, his feet tipping idly back and forth in the way that usually signified contentment while he gazed up at Din.

Din took a deep breath, dizzy with something like reverence and possibly also the last lingering remnants of the concussion. “No matter how many times I go away, I am always going to come back. As long as I still live I am always, always going to come back for you. I promise.”

His voice broke slightly on the last part and he cleared his throat, blinked quickly a couple of times even though he knew no one could see his face. The baby raised his arms in the way he did when he wanted to be lifted, so Din held the kid up in front of him until they were face to face, or at least face to visor. The baby reached out and put his palm flat against the metal, giving a low happy coo.

“I know I’m not much of a prize,” Din said in a rough voice, their new sigil bright on his shoulder and in his mind. “But I promise I’m going to give it everything I have.”

The baby babbled like he was imparting a piece of great wisdom and wrapped his arms as far around the helmet as he could with a trilling sound, legs dangling cheerfully. Din used the opportunity while his view was obscured anyway to close his eyes for a second.

“I promise,” Din said again, willing his voice to carry the meaning if the words couldn’t, and held the child even closer against his chest.

#my writing #the mandalorian #star wars #fun fact: this was actually the first story I started writing/wanted to do for this show haha! better late than never I guess

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antichristsxbox · 4 years

Text

Knight in Shining Armor - Part Three

Read part one here!

Read part two here!

Summary: You and Michael begin to plan your wedding but encounter some trouble. Also, warning, this is a little smutty! :)

From the writer: Hey guys! This is my favorite chapter of this fic I’ve posted so far. Please excuse any typos, I proofread it a few times but there’s so much to proofread as this chapter is fairly long; I think I got carried away. Huge shoutout to @jocelynscloset for proofreading this for me as well! All likes and reblogs are appreciated + if you liked this fic, feel free to check out my masterlist! :) Update— here’s part one, here’s part two, and here’s part four + here’s my masterlist with more fics!

Word count: 2,329

Darkness looming out your window with a faint orange glow in the background. Grey clouds gather in the sky and high branches on dark trees release dead leaves, blowing across your viewpoint in the dry, warm wind. Hot, but not humid, Stagnant, but not predictable. Every day similar, but not precisely the same as the last. Rising up from your soft pillowcase, silky sheets run past your fingers as you lift them from your body and stand up. Today was the day to start planning the wedding, and you were fairly excited to begin this journey with Michael. More importantly, you were excited for your new life ahead with your soon-to-be husband.

Quickly dressing in a simple black gown and cast-iron tiara, you make your way to the dining room for breakfast. Always punctual, Michael is sitting at the opposite end of the table. Previously focused on what he was reading, his head perks up and his curls oscillate near his face when he hears the door open. Standing to greet you, he gives you a small hug and kiss on the cheek, then makes his way back to his side of the table. In the middle of the elongated table, there’s fresh fruit, fluffy biscuits, oatmeal, sausage, eggs, yogurt, many different kinds of muffins, and a few more indiscernible items— all at your disposal. You begin to think this enormous spread is excessive for every meal, but who else would eat this food from Hell anyways? Certainly not the already-dead (or undead?) residents.

“I was just looking over the invitations for our wedding, Dear,” he says, looking up from the cards in his hands. Invitations, you think. This must mean this is going to be a long, drawn-out process. You can’t complain about him wanting to get this right, but at the same time, you are growing more impatient. You were plucked from the relative safety of your tower, dragged to Hell, and now stuck here to wait for a wedding. But, you must remind yourself to respect his wishes and go with the flow of his elaborate wedding plan— it would be the least you could do to thank him for rescuing you.

“I am certain they look wonderful,” you affirm, sitting down and pouring a cup of coffee. You reach for a blueberry muffin and set it down on your place.

“More importantly, you should choose a dress— we can decorate to revolve around your choice,” he says, looking up and giving a bright, excited smile. You give a small smile back before your attention trails back to your muffin as you slowly peel the paper back, letting it fan out little ridge after little ridge.

“Of course, I’ll choose a dress today,” you say, still looking down at your muffin, now picking at the loose crumbs.

Realistically, Michael says they could pull off the wedding Saturday or Sunday. Having lost track of time, you learn it is now Monday, looking at the calendar Michael sends to your side of the table via telekinesis. For the remainder of breakfast, you sit and make small talk with Michael. Further planning of the wedding cannot be done without a central theme or color to follow. For the Antichrist, Michael seems pretty sociable and knows how to hold a conversation well. He knows of many things Above that would keep you entertained— sports, politics, and the latest fashion trends in the major cities. Perhaps a dress modeled with a wide skirt and big sleeves, such as what’s popular in London, he insists. Or, taking inspiration from the wide skirts, elaborate lace details, and parasols from Charleston, similar to the styles you grew up with, he says. Perhaps Hell could put together a lacrosse team, as you’ve expressed your enjoyment of the sport to Michael before. Many great athletes are sitting down here doing absolutely nothing. There would be no task too great for Michael to attempt in effort to make you happy. You try to convince him that any dress in your closet would do, yet you have had a traditional, white dress in mind. Asking about further details, you said you would let him handle the specifics and other decorations, as he clearly has good taste— this castle is beautifully decorated and perfect for a wedding, you assure him. The castle would be perfect even with no special preparations, you guarantee.

Eventually, you excuse yourself from the table so you could go back to your room. As you open the door, an almost sickeningly-sweet smell surrounds you and wafts itself near your face with every step you take— similar to how when too much vanilla extract is added to baked goods, the taste becomes bitter rather than sweet. As you search for the offending foodstuffs, a note is laid flat on your bedside table along with five slices of cake, each a different flavor with a different icing. The note is from Michael reading that you should try these, then let him know which you would like at the wedding reception. Simple enough, you think. Going in line from chocolate, to vanilla, to lemon, to carrot, to red velvet. All are delicious, but red velvet has always been your favorite flavor. You must have experienced a small sugar high from tasting those cakes, because now you’re bone-tired and ready for a nap, despite it being only a little past eleven. Seeing as the details for the wedding have been mostly sorted out at this point, you feel no remorse sinking back into your silky sheets and velvety pillows.

Waking from your nap, you check the clock to see how much time has passed— it’s only noon, almost time for lunch. Stepping off your bed, you walk towards your mirror and reach for your hairbrush. To your surprise, your once (y/e/c) eyes are now a pale silvery-white color. Perhaps Hell is taking more of a toll on you than you thought. Running the brush through your soft hair, you begin to let your thoughts wander about Michael. How could he deny you in your advances to be intimate? After the wedding, it would happen eventually anyway, so what does it matter? You’re on edge, pent-up, and in need of gratification that only another could provide. Sitting around and playing with yourself has become a daily ritual at this point, but more importantly, it’s boring. There’s only one option left for you to have your much-needed alone time with Michael— seduction.

One element of seduction is having a somewhat-unattainable nature. When leaving for breakfast, Michael asked if you would join him for lunch. You said yes, but decided to ditch last-minute. Why? Because that makes the next time you see him even more precious. You’re hard to get. Another key to seduction is looking appealing for the one you’re trying to seduce. You begin to brush your hair up and pin it in a loose bun then pull a few of the shorter, loose pieces out to frame your face. Scouring the seemingly endless supply of makeup on your vanity, you find a faint red lip gloss. Having big, glossy lips appealing for most men, you think. Sure— they’re kissable, but they’re also useful for other bedroom activities as well. Picking up a small mascara wand, you open the compact that holds the dark powder and add a drop of water. Mascara helps make your lashes darker and eyes appear more open and awake. Some more face powder is applied to even out your skin, then blush is used to make you seem flustered and ready for Michael.

Time passes slowly when you’re anticipating something, but you manage the rest of the day by reading as well as relieving yourself of your pent-up desire. Many times, you thought of Michael as your hands traveled down to your warm heat. Fingers dipping in and curling up inside, hitting your innermost walls. Your muscles would clench around your fingers, wetness turning into sopping mess. As you became more relaxed each time, you were able to fit two, then three inside. A fourth was attempted and achieved, but the pinky doesn’t do much for you, being so small— you’re able to go harder with only three anyways.

Eventually, it was five o’clock. Michael normally returns to his room between five-fifteen and five-thirty to begin getting ready for dinner at six. Your hands make their way to your back, and you untie the corset you were wearing. Next, the slip you were wearing under your dress goes. In your armoire, you find a red, silky robe with a matching tie. This will do, and it’ll be very easy to take off.

Peeking out the door to the hallway, you scan the area to make sure nobody is out there. It would be embarrassing to be caught in only a robe by anybody other than Michael. After realizing the coast is clear, you run towards his bedroom and open his door. Quickly shutting it behind you, you walk towards the bed and let your robe drop to the floor. Climbing on his bed, his sheets feel just as soft as yours. A slippery sensation occurs when your freshly-shaved legs glide across the bedding as you spread your legs. Your hand travels down once again and begins rubbing circles on your clit. As your wetness grows, two fingers circle around your entrance until they can be submerged. Small moans escape your mouth when you push your fingers up, hitting a sensitive spot inside.

Clunk! you hear as the heavy door is pushed. A slightly louder moan ensues, realizing that it is likely Michael at the door. Immediately after the door opens, a loud boom! ensues as Michael quickly closes the door. Slowly, a creaking noise reveals the door just slightly ajar, and you can make out Michael’s voice clearly when he speaks.

“Darling, I believe you’re in the wrong room.”

Your feet hit the cold floor as you stand up from the bed and walk towards the door. Loose tendrils of hair bounce next to your face, glossy lips are reflective in the candlelight, breasts bounce slightly as you walk. You open the door, grab Michael by the tie and yank him towards you, then shut the door behind the two of you. He would have resisted, but he is so surprised that you would have the audacity to do something like this, it’s stunning.

“I’m right where I need to be,” you say, taking your hand and resting it on the side of his face before leaning in for a kiss. He abruptly pulls away before you get the chance to make contact. Michael turns to the coat rack in his room and throws you the first thing he could grab. Begrudgingly, you wrap yourself in his long coat then step towards him again.

Once he turns to face you again, you step closer and hook a leg around his waist, pressing into him as close as possible. A moan slips past your lips as your cunt makes contact with his pants, but your pleasure is cut short as he gently shoves you away and steps back. He is now visibly upset, looking down towards the floor, sighing, then biting his lower lip.

“I cannot describe how this makes me feel, even after I explained why I was doing what I’m doing,” he says, stepping closer again— Michael is attempting to seem stout and serious. You look up to meet his captivating blue gaze. His lips are pressed together in a firm line. As you make eye contact for a few more seconds, Michael’s brows begin to furrow in confusion rather than anger.

“Step into the light, Dear,” he says, moving towards a table with a tall candlestick. Your eyes are pale, demonic, and possessed. This is not you.

“Also, the red velvet wins,” you say nonchalantly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What?” he questions with an even more confused tone than look on his face.

“That cake you left me? To try for the wedding?” you say, a slightly annoyed tone in your voice.

This is a big ‘aha’ moment for Michael. The imaginary lightbulb has now been lit above his head.

“Go to your room, please. Do not eat any more of that cake. I will be there soon.”

Michael then goes to the foot of your bed and collects your robe for you, turns his back as you dress, and sends you off out to the hallway— after checking if anybody else was there, of course. Once you’ve left, Michael looks for his knife with the silver hilt and rubies on the end as well as on the sheath. It’s time for a nice, long father-and-son conversation.

“Ave Satanas,” Michael says softy, allowing his blade to pierce the skin on his wrist as he drags it up the length of his arm. He repeats this with his other arm, and blood begins to fall from his body to the floor, joining the bloody pentagram he is kneeling above. He closes his eyes focuses on summoning his father, in need of an explanation and guidance as to what is happening.

“Son,” a raspy, ominous voice says from nowhere, the voice just as prominent in every corner of the room— coming from an all-encompassing, all-powerful force.

“Father, please, what have you done to my bride? How can I fix it?” Michael pleads, voice breaking mid-question.

“You must give yourself a chance at producing an heir. Give her what she desires from you and she will return to her original state.”

Satan’s words lingered in Michael’s head; this is a sad predicament to be in. An emotionless, sex-hungry woman fiending after a well-protected integrity. Determined to keep his original promises to himself, Michael knows what he must do. Standing to clean the blood from his arms and body, he checks the time to see if the officiant has gone to bed yet.

///

Tag list: @langdonsoceaneyes @ms-mead @daydreamingofcody @psychobitchtess @swampwitchh13 @ahstmblrupdates @forgivemelucifer @wroteclassicaly

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon smut #michael langdon alternate universe #michael langdon au #ahs #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #american horror story apocalypse #ahs: apocalypse #american horror story: apocalypse #ahs: apocalypse smut

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theycallmemoosey · 5 years

Text

30 Years

Dan x plus size!Reader

A/N: Another fic in two days of my last one? Holy shit that must be a new record. I combined two requests into one (one was a plus size reader and the other was the plot) because I could not think of a plot for the plus size request and I thought that the second request was so goddamn funny that I just had to combine the two. I also just have to mention that I am plus size so this was a story very close to home (I have tried to share a twin sized bed with someone and honest to god was the most uncomfortable thing - especially because I’m so big). Thank you to the two anonymous peeps who sent in the requests. Enjoy!! Moose :)

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“Do I look ok?” You asked, pulling at your dress as you stared into the mirror of your wardrobe, conscious of the way it stuck to your curves.

“Perfect” Dan said as he walked up to your worried form, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder. He looked up to the mirror and locked eyes with you, smiling, “You always look perfect, Y/N”

You frowned, “This is as far as I go. The dress is crossing the line alone, so there is no way I’m wearing heels. I’m sorry, I’m not. I’m wearing converse”

“Finished?” Dan laughed, letting you go to allow you to get your shoes that were carelessly thrown in a corner of the room, “It will be fine, love. Just a few hours of talking to your family and then we’ll head back to the hotel and crash”

“About that…”

“What? What have you done?” Dan asked, grabbing a jacket draped over the ass chair.

“Well…my mum asked if I wanted to go to lunch with her the next day and…I may or may not have agreed to stay at my parent’s house”

“Y/N!” He whined, beginning to button his jacket up.

“I’m sorry!”

“I just wanted to spend the night with you watching shit TV, eating a shit ton of sweets, chocolate and popcorn and-“

“I know, I know…I’m sorry. I wanted that too! I just…couldn’t tell her no. We can still watch Netflix at my parents’ house together?”

Dan frowned and sighed, “It’s a good thing I love you”

You smiled and kissed him, heading out to grab your bag from the hallway, “If we want to get to the dinner on time, we need to leave in the next 15 minutes. We can pick up lunch on the way”

“Ok. I’ll just go and say bye to Phil and then we’ll get going”

—————————

“I don’t think I can go in” you voice was laced with panic as you sat in the car with Dan, looking straight ahead at the door to the hall where your parents were celebrating their 30th anniversary.

“Why?”

“I don’t feel comfortable. I haven’t seen half the people in there since I was 8. And I have put on quite a bit of weight since then. OK, a lot of weight…”

“And? Why does that matter?”

You looked at Dan, your eyes showing fear and he sighed, “You look absolutely beautiful. So what if you’re not stick thin? I don’t care. And neither should anyone in there”

“One comment about my weight from anyone, and I mean even my Aunt, we’re leaving”

“Understood” Dan chuckled, getting out the car quickly to help you out.

As the two of you walked towards the door, your Aunt had spotted you through the window and rushed to greet you first.

“Y/N!” She screamed, crushing you in the tightest hug you’ve ever had, “It has been so long! My have you grown! Put on a few extra pounds too!”

You looked over to Dan with a knowing and unamused look, scowling as he laughed breathily.

“Thanks” you cleared your throat, trying not to snap at her comment, “How have you been?”

“Fantastic, thank you. I’ve joined the local rock choir”

“That’s-that’s great” you smiled , knowing how badly her voice sounds.

“Now, who’s this you’ve bought along with you today? I’ve not seen you before” she smirked at Dan, making both of you uncomfortable.

“Dan, pleasure to meet you” he offered his hand but she embraced him in a tight hug, his expression matching yours.

“Please, come in, join the party!” She motioned towards the house, dragging Dan by his hand as you stifled a laugh behind him. When the three of you had entered again, your uncle called your aunt over to talk to other members of the family. She groaned and turned back to Dan, squeezing his hand.

“I hope to be seeing more of you, Daniel” she winked before leaving the two of you alone.

“I’m so sorry” you laughed, holding onto his arm as he laughed along with you.

“You see her often?”

“Nope”

“Thank fuck”

You chuckled, watching your aunt make questionable faces towards the two of you, “Come on, let’s go find my mum and dad”

—————————

“I would like to propose a toast” your dad announced as he stood up from his chair, the rest of the room quieting down, “To my wife. I have loved every minute of these 30 years being your husband. We have had the most beautiful daughter, who has clearly inherited all your good looks. All I can wish for is another perfect 30 years with you. To 30 years more!”

“30 years more!” The room repeated, the sound of clinking glasses filling the room. You smiled when your dad leant down to kiss your mum, the two of them smiling lovingly at each other.

“Think that will be us in 30 years?” A voice whispered in your ear, careful that your grandmother was sat right next to you who was more than desperate for you to marry and have children.

You turned your head to look at him, a smug smile on his face, “You’d want that?”

“More than anything”

“Is that a proposal?”

Dan opened his mouth in a speechless shock at his realisation which made you laugh, “I’m kidding”

Dan laughed nervously, leaning back and scratching the back of his neck, “Yeah, yeah I knew that”

“Mmhm, sure you did”

“Ladies and gentlemen” the band’s singer announced, “May everyone come to the dance floor for the lovely couple’s 30th first dance!”

Dan took your hand and led you to the edge of the dance floor, standing behind you with his hand on your waist as the two of you watched your parents lovingly dance together.

“I love you so much” Dan whispered into your ear, kissing behind it quickly and squeezing your waist, “I love you so much that I want to show you off to the world”

“Hmm? What?” You asked, only just focusing on what he was saying rather than watch your parents dance to the band’s slow song.

“Come on, hun” he said, moving around in front of you to drag you to the centre of the floor to meet your parents. You resisted and pulled your hand back, your eyes wide with fear.

“No. No way. I’m not dancing in front of all these people!” You shouted in a hushed tone, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you.

“Is this because you’re insecure?” He asked, wrapping his arms around you and trying to pull you onto the floor.

“Dan, I am not dancing with you when no one else is”

“Your parents are”

“Everyone will see me!”

“That’s the point” he smiled widely, starting to sway with you wrapped in your arms. You started to smile with him, giving into his cheeky attitude.

Dan had finally dragged you to the centre, smiling when you wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him gently, “Say, you’re pretty good at dancing, Mr.Howell. I’m very impressed”

“Despite what you may think, I have some hidden talents”

You saw the rest of the crowd look at you from the edge of the dance floor and you began to feel trapped. You cleared your throat and looked towards Dan’s feet, creating some distance between the two of you.

“Hey, woah…what are you doing?”

“Nothing” you said, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Stop. Stop feeling like this. You are the most beautiful woman in the room tonight-no-World. I want everyone to look at how beautiful you are and know how god damn lucky I am to call you mine”

“You don’t have to pity me like that, Dan”

“I mean it, Y/N. I don’t deserve to have you, yet here I am with this goddess of a human. Yes, you have a few curves but oh my god does that make me love you more. I have fallen in love with your curves more than I’ve fallen in love with you”

“Oh, charming Daniel” you chuckled, trying to hide your blush.

“I’m kidding. But I hope you know what I mean”

“I do” you smiled, “I love you too”

Dan pulled you in tighter and kissed you, not letting you pull back or move away from him which made the two of you laugh.

“I want to go home” you mumbled in Dan’s ear when he finally let you go.

“As soon as your parents want to go home, we’ll escape”

“I can’t wait to just relax and watch Netflix and eat crap food and-“

“All in good time, just keep dancing”

—————————

“Y/N?” Your mum placed her hands on your shoulders, waking you up from the short nap you were having on your on Dan’s shoulder, “I’m so sorry we kept you so long. We’re going to take off now so we can finally let you in to the house. You remember the way home from here?”

“We have sat nav. We’ll find it” you smiled, still sleepy, Dan placing his hand on yours.

“You two go now, we’re just going to thank the staff and band and we’ll be right behind you”

“We’ll see you in 30” Dan said, helping you up from your chair in your sleepy slumber, “You ok to drive, hun?”

“Find me some sweets and I’ll be good to go”

“I saved some from earlier, they’re in the car”

“This is why I love you”

Dan laughed as he led you towards the car, his fingers laced in yours. The drive was in a comfortable silence, Dan’s hands placed on your thigh, his thumb stroking it gently.

“Got a movie in mind for tonight?” He asked, breaking the silence.

You glanced over towards Dan momentarily, smiling at his childish grin, “What makes you think I want to watch a movie? What if I want to watch Friends?”

“No”

“Oh, come on! I love friends!”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve watched all the series 5 times with me alone, which says it all! I refuse to watch it again”

“Fine. We’ll just watch whatever is trending I guess”

“Don’t be mad”

“I’m not. Just…so tired” you yawned, drumming the steering wheel to keep yourself awake.

“Just a few more minutes” he grabbed your hand and kissed it gently.

The rest of the drive home was simple but you felt yourself falling asleep at the wheel and you couldn’t wait to just go to bed. Dan tried his best to keep you awake, and to some extent he was successful, as you both ended up at your parents house alive. It wasn’t long after that your parents arrived at home, apologising for their late arrival.

“I’m sure you two are exhausted so just head up to your old room, Y/N” your mother pointed up to the stairs, focusing on hanging all the coats on the rack.

“Don’t misbehave now” your dad joked, still slightly tipsy from the large amount of alcohol he had at the party, making you and Dan cringe and laugh in an awkward manner.

“If you need anything, just help yourself. You know where everything is, Y/N”

“Goodnight guys. Get dad in bed safely” your whispered to your mum as you kissed her goodnight.

“Sleep well you two” your mother said as you and Dan carried your bags to your old room.

You sighed as you climbed the stairs, listening to your dad slur out drunk comments to your mum which made her laugh.

“I swear if we’re even half as happy as your parents when we’re old and grey, then we’ve won at life” Dan whispered behind you as you finally reached your old bedroom door.

“I was kinda hoping we’ll be double as happy” you smiled, walking in to the teenage bedroom. The sight made the two of you stop in your tracks and stare open mouthed at your room.

“Oh my-“ you began, stopping when you heard Dan burst into a fit of laughter behind you, “This is far from funny, Daniel”

“It looks like a 12 year olds room!”

“Well they clearly haven’t changed it since I moved out” you sighed, throwing your bag onto the floor in frustration.

“And when did you move out?”

“When I was 18”

“HOLY SHIT!” Dan laughed, backing away from you as you tried to slap his arm.

“I think we have a slightly bigger issue than the atrocity that is this room”

“What?” Dan continued to giggle, wiping away the tears from his eyes. You pointed towards the twin sized bed.

“That. It is, in no way shape or form, going to fit both of us”

“Oh…” Dan finally stopped laughing, “Oh well. Guess you’ll just have to sleep on top of me then”

You deadpanned towards him, “Ok what you said before wasn’t that funny but THAT certainly wasn’t”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny”

“Dan, we both won’t fit. I am too big to sleep either next to you in that bed or on top of you. I will literally crush you. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow to find my boyfriend is dead from suffocation because his fat ass girlfriend cut off his air supply from squashing him to death!”

Dan stared at you sadly for a minute, making you feel awkward as ever.

“Do you really feel that bad about yourself?” He asked after a minute, “You really think of yourself as that fat that you can’t sleep in the same bed as me? You think you’ll suffocate me?”

“I always think that” You said solemnly, looking at the floor.

“Even at home?”

“Even at home”

Dan sighed sadly and stepped forward, carefully taking you into his arms. With his arms wrapped around you, you rested your head on his chest and started to cry quietly.

“How many times do I have to tell you? You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I would not change any part of you if I could. Every single inch of you is perfect. Never, ever change”

You looked up at him, tears rolling down your cheeks, “You really really think that?”

“Yes, love” he kissed your forehead, “I always have done. From the moment I met you until the moment I die, I will always think that you’re the most beautiful thing on this earth”

“I don’t deserve you. You’re so kind and pretty and-“

“I’m not pretty. I am nothing compared to you”

“You are pretty. With your perfect curls and your perfect eyes and your perfect body”

“I’ll gain all the weight if that would make you feel better”

“Oh god, please don’t. Like, yes, eat pizza with me but keep this” you laughed, motioning towards his body, “I love this”

“And I love this” he motioned towards yours, kissing your hand and making his way up your arm to your lips, “Come on, get changed and let’s watch Friends”

“Really?” You asked excitedly.

“Yes, really” he smiled down at you, grabbing your bag and flinging it on the tiny bed, “Now hurry up and get that beautiful body changed”

“This isn’t going to work” you laughed quietly, once you were changed, as you tried to squeeze into your old bed, aware your mum was trying to get your dad to sleep, “Dan this is literally impossible. I am not going to fit in next to your 7ft fat ass!”

“I’m 6’3, Y/N”

“Still a giant”

You sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling Dan wrap his arm around your torso as you shuffled in next to him. Luckily, both your asses fit next to each other but you had to wrap your legs around each other.

“This is cozy” Dan mumbled into your hair, kissing your head gently.

“Shut up and get your laptop out” you said, trying to get into a comfortable position.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence in a not so comfortable position, watching the six people you had admired since your teenage years with the love of your life. As the night went on, you managed to find a comfortable position with your head on Dan’s chest and your body curled into his. His arm was tightly wrapped around your body, and he kissed your forehead when he noticed that you had fallen asleep. Carefully and slowly, he placed the laptop on the desk next to your bed and shuffled down, trying to not wake you up as he tried to also fall asleep in a comfortable position. Despite the fact that neither of you really fit in the same bed and you both felt beyond uncomfortable, the two of you fell asleep peacefully wrapped in each others arms. When Dan woke up the next morning, he smiled at your beautiful face laying on his chest, your breathing slow and steady. He could only wish that he would wake up like this everyday next to you for the next 30 years.

#dan x reader #dan howell #dan howell imagine #dan howell x reader #danisnotonfire #danisnotinteresting #danandphilgames #danandphil imagine #danandphil #dan and Phil #Phil lester #amazingphil #reader insert #theycallmemoosey

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avaalons · 7 years

Text

Chris Evans Fic: Anticipation (NSFW)

So I’ve written this, in a struggle, during a horrid bout of writers’ block. Given the request, this should not have been so difficult to write and definitely shouldn’t have taken so long. It’s done now though so sorry for the delay and hopefully I’ve seen the back of pesky writers’ block!

Can you do a cute Chris Evans one of him inviting you over to his house for the first time and youre nervous because yall haven’t taken the relationship sexually yet? Thanks!

***

‘Gracie, help! This is a code red. I repeat: code red,’ you left the voicemail on your best friend’s number as you hurried through the city streets to your apartment, the heels you wore to work clacking against the pavement.

You finally, finally reached your building and fumbled with the three locks on the front door. You took the stairs two at a time - nothing short of a miracle in your office-appropriate pencil skirt - and had your key ready for the next three locks on your apartment door. You kicked your heels off as you rushed through to your bedroom, flinging your handbag down on your bed, tugging your blouse out of your skirt’s waistband and over your head, not even bothering to undo the buttons. You unzipped your skirt and let it fall to the floor, stepping out of it as you walked through to the master bath, switching the shower on just as you heard your phone ring.

You ran to answer it, responding without even so much as a hello.

‘Gracie, he’s invited me over. Tonight. This is it. I’m fucking shaking. I have nothing to wear, I need to shave my legs, deep condition my hair, exfoliate from head to toe, paint my toenails…’

‘Babe, slow down and breathe. What exactly is the problem?’

‘Tonight. I am going to Chris’ house. For sex.’

’…has he said that explicitly? I seriously hope he didn’t actually include sex in his invitation.’

'Well no, but this is the first time he’s invited me to his house. We’ve never been to each others’ places before. This means sex, right?’

'There’s a high possibility. What are you freaking out over? It’s not like you haven’t had sex before. You do want to sleep with him, right?’

'Grace, you’ve seen the guy! He looks like he was sculpted from marble. I still have to pinch myself when I’m on a date with him.’

'Hon, how many times do I need to tell you? You’re freaking hot and you’re amazing, the-

’-the whole package. Yeah, yeah, I know, you’ve said. But he’s probably seen loads of actresses and famous women naked. Who are, like, Hollywood hot and not just normal person hot. Like, I know I’m not vomit-inducing or anything, but I don’t look photoshopped when I’m naked either.’

'Hollywood hot has a whole lot of ugly on the inside, in my experience. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t keep asking you out. Try and apply a bit of logic to this situation, dumb ass. Now get your pert backside in the shower, shave your legs and thank all the deities in existence that you had a bikini wax booked in this week. Moisturise everywhere and get that really hot Boux Avenue lingerie set out - the one you got when we were in London, remember?’

'Yep, got it now,’ you assured her as you dug through the top drawer in your dresser, laying your hands on the pretty dusky pink silk and lace strapless bra and panty set.

'And then just wear a really simple, understated but short dress over the top. You want to look like you’re not planning on wearing it for long.’

You rifled through your wardrobe, cradling the phone between your ear and shoulder as you weighed up your options.

'Satin cami dress?’

'Is it tight or swing cut? And what colour is it?’ Grace was in full outfit-planning mode now. You needed her cool calm in the face of your panicked energy.

'Swing cut and it’s like an aubergine colour.’

'Yes, that would be perfect. I love that whole nightwear-as-outerwear trend. Some black strappy heels, hair blown out, smokey eye and out the door. Are you going for dinner or anything first?’

'No, he’s cooking apparently. He’s coming to pick me up at eight.’

'Yeah, you’re definitely getting laid sweetheart! Oh, this is so exciting! He seems like the type to have a really huge dick but doesn’t brag about it.’

'Gracie!’ You pretended to be affronted but her humour was a calming influence on you.

'Listen to me right now. Don’t get anxious, don’t get stuck in your head. If he’s cooking and coming to pick you up, I think I’m probably right in guessing he’s going to want you to enjoy yourself above all else, so fucking enjoy it, okay? He’s lucky to have this chance with you.’

Grace was your best friend for many reasons, but one very high up on the list was that she always had your back.

'Thanks Gracie.’

'You better tell me all the good details tomorrow.’

You grinned, 'Just try and stop me.’

You said your goodbyes and hung up. Glancing at the time before you put your phone on charge, you had about two hours to primp and preen before Chris would be here, and you were going to make sure you were scrubbed and smooth and silky from top to toe.

***

It was seven forty five when you felt like you were finally ready. You headed to your kitchen on your heels, trying to steady your nerves. You needed to calm down, he was going to be here soon and you were going to end up a sweaty, flustered mess. You threw open the doors onto your Juliet balcony to let in some fresh air and headed back to the kitchen to dig out something that might steady your nerves. A shot of tequila should do it, right?

It burned but it warmed you just enough and you took a deep breath. You had this. You took another shot for luck and did one last check in your full length mirror just as the buzzer rang to let you know that Chris was downstairs. You dashed across the room to the console and buzzed him in, collecting your bag and reapplying your lipstick and perfume once more.

When the knock came at your door, you composed yourself and answered with a big smile. You were happy to see him after all, despite the stage fright rolling around in the pit of your stomach.

'Wow,’ was Chris’ first word upon seeing you. 'You look… breathtaking. I kind of wish I’d dressed up more!’

He had jeans and a Henley on: he looked hot, of course, but you wondered if you’d misjudged this whole evening.

'I… probably didn’t need to wear this, did I?’ A nervous smile passed over your face and you struggled to look him in the eye, feeling more awkward than ever now.

You saw him in your peripheral vision take a step towards you, in your apartment now and only inches from you and when he spoke, his voice had an unmistakable gravelly quality to it that hadn’t been there before.

'I’m glad you did.’

You looked up shyly from under your eyelashes, 'Oh.’

'Hmm, oh.’

You were frozen there by his heated gaze while you briefly contemplated slamming the door behind him and stripping yourself naked so he could do what he liked with you, but then his eye line flickered to something over your shoulder and his gaze narrowed.

'You started without me?’ He inclined his head towards something behind you and when you spun around to see what it was, you remembered you’d left your bottle of tequila on the kitchen table.

'I… um… had one. Or two. Just to… start the night right,’ you rolled your eyes at yourself, knowing that Chris was looking elsewhere. Could you sound any more pathetic? But then, anything was better than admitting the truth: that you were so nervous to have sex with him that you needed a couple of shots to take the edge off.

He fixed his eyes back on you, seemingly considering you for a moment. Then he dipped his head towards yours, capturing your lips with his in a long awaited greeting. His tongue swept your bottom lip and it suddenly dawned on you that he was tasting tequila.

The material of your dress bunched in his hands as he gripped your hips, slipping against your skin over the silky fabric and pulling you in close to his body, the two of you fitting together like jigsaw pieces. Your hands instinctively went to his head, your fingers threading themselves through the shorter hair at the nape of his neck as you deepened the kiss. You felt like you were making a promise for the night ahead.

Chris pulled back minutely, just enough to speak against your mouth, the vibrations from his deep voice delicious on your lips.

'Yeah, I think that tequila will be coming with us.’

***

You chatted as easily as you were able to in the car, trying to keep the jitteriness out of your voice, keep your dialogue light and breezy: all a perfect mask for the whirring thoughts and feelings just under the surface.

You felt stiff and not able to relax into your seat, your whole body on high alert. How you were supposed to eat later was anyone’s guess. The heady combination of excitement, anticipation and nerves had you feeling more than a little nauseated but you wanted desperately to appear cool and confident.

His house was incredible. A bachelor pad, yes, but incredible. It was all minimalist lines, smooth and sleek, with pale, calming colours contrasting the dark wood of his furniture. He led you through to an L shaped kitchen, breakfast room and living area where the whole of the back wall was just huge glass panels looking out over his garden. Despite the light colours, it wasn’t cold or clinical, but you still felt a little unsure of what to do or where to go. You were caught in a strange limbo, not wanting to appear to be too instantly comfortable in his home but also not wanting to be overly awkward about it all. Why you couldn’t just exude an effortless charm at all times was beyond you. It didn’t seem fair, how some people just had that gift and you were stuck second guessing every step you took.

He’d handed you a glass of chilled white wine and invited you to sit on one of the high rise padded chairs he had for the breakfast bar. It meant you could watch him cook and he’d could talk to you while he was working.

'Paella okay?’ he asked as he began collecting ingredients from his fridge and cupboards.

Now he’d said the words, you could actually feel a bit of hunger creeping up on you. Maybe you’d just started to calm down a bit, or maybe the wine was helping soothe the anxiety.

'Actually couldn’t think of anything I’d like better right at this moment?’

'Good,’ he’d grinned, 'It’s about the only thing I can make that is just fancy enough to be impressive. If I can get it right, of course. Otherwise we’re on mac n cheese from a box.’

You laughed, his need to please and impress you helping you feel a bit better about yourself, 'That would suit me just fine too, don’t worry. Shall I do something to help?’

'No way, you just sit there and let me try to prove what a great chef I am… at making paella and paella only.’

He set about chopping, crushing, sautéing, and boiling as he asked you questions about your week and as you watched him and he led the easy conversation, you did feel yourself relax, the tension ebbing out of your shoulders, the muscles around your spine finding a more comfortable position. It was nice watching him work his way around the kitchen. You could almost forget the whole Hollywood thing. He was just a normal guy, trying to impress a girl by making her a meal.

He’d noticed your wine glass was empty and pointed it out, 'I’m terrible host, would you like a top up?’

You immediately jumped up, fully aware that he was at a crucial stage in the preparation of the meal and said, 'I’ll get it, don’t worry.’

As you darted towards the fridge, so did he, the result being that you collided together, hands on the door handle.

You both laughed awkwardly and apologised before the tension simmering between you took over and he gazed down at you, bodies pressed against one another.

'You’re really hot, do you know that?’ you told him, the wine clearly having gotten rid of ninety nine point nine per cent of your inhibitions.

'Well, I’ve been slaving away in the kitchen, haven’t I?’ He retorted, just a hint of cheeky cockiness crossing his features, 'Body temperature is bound to have risen a little.’

'That’s not what I meant and you know it,’ you whispered, lost in his eyes.

'I know,’ he grinned back, bringing his head down just enough to whisper in your ear, 'I find you extremely hot too. Especially in this silky dress.’

You reached up for his neck exactly as his hands encased your ribs on either side and he spun you ninety degrees so your back was pressed against the fridge door, pinned there by his body. He stared at you intensely, eyes searching your face for something… what, exactly, you didn’t know but he dipped his head and kissed you tentatively, almost experimentally, before pulling back to look at you again. Time seemed to slow and you were all to aware of your laboured breathing and the cool, smooth surface of the refrigerator door at your back.

'Chris..?’ your voice was low and raspy.

'Yes?’ He whispered back.

'The paella’s about to burn,’ you told him, inclining your head towards the view you had of the stove.

He let go of you instantly with a curse and covered the short distance across his kitchen in no more than two strides, removing the pan from the heat immediately.

You took a steadying breath and pushed yourself off the fridge, just about able to trust your legs.

'I think I’ve saved it,’ Chris poked at the contents of the pan as you headed back to the breakfast bar.

'So, the mac n cheese will live to see another day,’ you replied jokingly, trying to dilute some of the crackling tension in the room.

'It will. It’s day will come however. We can be sure of that.’

He plated the food and slid the plates across the counter: one for you and one in the place where he would sit once he was on the right side of the breakfast bar.

'I never did get you that wine,’ he remembered and stopped at the fridge on his way past to pull the bottle from the shelf in the door.

'No, apparently we’re both very easily distracted.’

'I blame the dress,’ Chris decided as he sat down.

'Well, you know, the dress can go any time, if you find it so inconvenient. Just say the word.’ Wow, talk about Dutch courage.

He raised his eyebrow with a smirk as he considered you and murmured, 'Now there’s a thought. I’ll keep that in mind.’

Your face heated under his gaze and then the moment was broken as he poured a measure of wine into your glass.

'Now, apologies if this is actually barely edible but I gave it my best shot.’

'It looks and smells delicious, Chris. Thank you.’

'You’re welcome,’ he picked up his fork, flashed you a boyish smile and waited for you to do the same before tucking in.

***

Chris’ paella was fantastic and the decadent chocolate fondant he’d served up with vanilla ice cream was a surprise too. You’d tried to be as ladylike as possible with tiny little bites but Chris had given you a sidelong glance and smirked.

'Go on, just go for it, I know you’re desperate to.’

You’d laughed bashfully and started eating with more gusto. Inside, you were dancing. He’d remembered your favourite dessert.

Once you had cleared your plate, you leaned back in your chair with a satisfied sigh.

'Well, Chris, you’ve earned yourself some definite brownie points tonight.’

'Oh yeah?’ he smiled around his wine glass as he took a sip, 'And what will my prize be?’

'You tell me Evans. That’s what you brought me here for, after all, right?’ you told him in what you hoped was your most breathy, most seductive voice as you slid a brave hand up his thigh. This was better, you thought, if you were controlling the situation, it gave you something to focus on other than your frayed nerves.

But, there was a problem, that much was evident almost instantly. You could see his brow furrow in response and you were instantly on the defensive, snatching your hand back. Had you got this all wrong? Oh god. This was so humiliating. You watched him in horror, starting and ending sentence after sentence as he obviously tried to phrase his rejection of you in the most diplomatic way possible.

'I… didn’t,’ he stopped again, let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair.

You just wanted to put him out of his misery, call a cab and go home to curl up in a ball in the middle of your bed and die. You were never going out with a guy again, not if it always ended up with you reading signals wrong and embarrassed beyond belief.

'Look, Chris, sorry. I’ve obviously just read this whole thing wrong, so I’ll just call myself a cab and be out of the way…’

You heard him begin to speak but you were already up on your feet and hunting down your bag to find your phone. Maybe Grace would come and pick you up actually. That way you could cry all the way home without judgement.

You retrieved you bag from where you had left it next to his sofa and opened it up, only to feel a strong grip around your upper arm, a gentle pressure turning you to face what you knew would be a look of sheer pity.

'Hey, wait. What are you doing? This isn’t what I-’

’-look, I get it. I knew this was too good to be true. My friend will come get me, it’s fine,’ you began fumbling with your phone, refusing to look up at him, until a calm hand covered the screen and your own hand.

'Will you just stop for a second, please? If you really want to go home, I’ll take you myself but first, you need to listen to me. So please, just look up at me.’

You felt a finger under your chin, softly drawing your face up to meet his gaze. You tried to remember to breathe in and out. This was torture.

His expression was wary, but a smile appeared when your eyes met.

'Now, I’m sorry about my reaction just then. It kind of threw me, is all. You are wildly attractive, believe me, but I didn’t bring you here purposefully for sex. This isn’t a set up or a seduction. There wasn’t an endgame other than getting to know each other a little bit more. You’re here because I like spending time with you and I wanted to just have a more relaxed date with you, that’s all. There was no expectation.’

You processed this information, trying to take it all in. Slightly overwhelmed, you blew a breath out, the hair that had collected around your face flying backwards. You considered his words and decided it wasn’t exactly a rejection but there was still one thing you needed to get straight.

'So… do you want to have sex with me or not?’ There was nothing seductive or breathy about your voice this time. This was a question you needed answering honestly and quickly, for your own sanity more than anything.

In a not-too-encouraging response, he barked out a laugh before cupping your jaw in both his hands, edging forward so your bodies were even closer together.

The blue of his eyes was darker than usual, it seemed, and seemed to sparkle as he answered.

'Yes,’ he breathed out, 'Of course I do. Probably more than is gentlemanly. But, after this, I think I’m leaving the ball firmly in your court.’

You were entranced, unable to tear your eyes away from his, his palms holding your head fast.

'Me? I have to…’

He gave one definitive nod, 'You decide when and where.’

You were both silent for a moment, each considering the other, weighing up this new deal that had been made. In that moment, you realised you wanted him. Like right now. From the moment you left that voicemail with Grace, you knew that sex with Chris tonight was inevitable, and not because he’d invited you to his house, or cooked you a meal, or prepared your favourite dessert, but because he was fucking sexy as hell and was probably going to be incredible in bed. All you really wanted was him to show you a good time, and for him to be blown away by how amazing you looked in your lingerie. This required a ballsy move and a deep breath.

You had a new set in your face, reflecting the determination you felt at the core of your being, steeling yourself and letting yourself recall every single moment he’d let on just how sexy he found you. You wrapped your fingers around his wrists and tugged them down gently as you stepped back just once. Keeping your eyes unwaveringly on his, you slid your fingers under one cami strap, sliding it down your arm and freeing it. You raised an eyebrow at Chris, almost challenging him to stop you, before freeing your other arm from the dress and letting the whole garment plummet to the floor, the silky material flowing over your curves.

And there you stood, shameless and, you hoped, confident, in your dusky pink lacy lingerie set, strappy heels and nothing else. Chris swallowed hard, caught like a deer in headlights.

'I believe,’ you began, 'that if the ball was in my court, I’ve just sent you a pretty hard serve. Fancy a volley, Chris?’

He nodded slowly, unblinking, before launching into action, lurching forwards to snake his arms around around your waist and walking you backwards with his mouth pressed roughly to yours. He led you until your back was against a wall and he pressed his body into yours, forcing the breath from your lungs. You brought one leg up, bent at the knee and bracing your foot flat against the wall, cradling his body between your legs, rolling your hips against his.

He hissed, pulling his mouth from yours minutely.

'Fuck. Do you have any idea what you do to me?’

'Show me,’ you whispered.

'Not here. I’m doing this properly. Come on.’

Gripping your hand, he tugged you off the wall and led you down the hall, pulling you into a dark room. He switched a lamp on from somewhere and a warm glow filled the room. The momentary reprieve had made all those insecurities come flooding back to the surface and you stood, in what was clearly Chris’ bedroom with your arms wrapped awkwardly around your near-naked body.

'So this is where the magic happens,’ you tried to joke, the quiver evident in your voice.

He reached out an arm for you and pulled you into his embrace, back to his chest, praising your arms from around you and replacing them with his.

'Don’t try and hide yourself from me. You’re so beautiful, head to toe, inside and out.’

He planted soft, open mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder and you leaned your head the opposite way to give him better access, eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. His hands smoothed over your stomach and hips, travelling down to cup your butt. A giggle escaped you at his touch and you spun around in his arms, steadying yourself by gripping his shoulders, realising just then that he was still fully clothed. You ran your hands down his chest, tugging at the hem of his Henley. Pulling it upwards, he manoeuvred to help you pull it over his head and throw it behind you.

Trying really hard not to focus on just how crazily sculpted he was in comparison to your own, incredibly normal and regular body, you let him capture your mouth again as you travelled south towards his belt and jeans.

'If this is… too fast, just say so,’ Chris breathed out even as you hastily fumbled with his buckle. 'You’ve seemed on edge all evening and I… don’t want to be the cause of that.’

'Chris, it’s not too fast. I just… you’re fucking sculpted from marble. Look at you. How I am supposed to… can we have the lights off?’ You pushed his jeans down to the floor, trying to distract him.

'Are you kidding me? Baby…’ he kicked his jeans out of the way, 'Come over here.’

He tugged you towards another door in the room, opening it out and revealing a full length mirror on the back.

'Just stand here,’ he pulled you in front of the mirror and stood behind you, 'Can’t you see what I see?’

His hands brushed your hair to one side so he could lay kisses against the sensitive place where your neck met your shoulder. His hands travelled your ribs, down and then back up, lazy and slow, before unclipping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. You looked at yourself as he worked your body, lips swollen and parted, eyes heavy lidded, lolling your head to one side to allow Chris to suck at and tease your skin.

One hand travelled down your stomach, toying with the edge of your lacy underwear, the dusky rose creamy and decadent against your colouring. He dipped his fingers under, just slightly, and you watched him in the mirror, arms encasing you, and you looked at yourself, wanton and writhing.

He kept going, dipping lower, teasing your clit and you watched his fingers moving under your lingerie as he ever so slowly circled and stroked through your heat and wetness. The sight alone was enough to make you whine, and the sensation was already causing a slight wobble in your knees.

He slowly circled you, never taking his hand away from you.

'We look pretty hot together right?’ He whispered in your ear, and all you could do was nod as you tried to grind against his fingers.

He sank to his knees in front of you and you immediately tried to edge away but he held you fast by your hips.

'Don’t take your eyes off us in the mirror,’ he directed you and you just about managed to breathe out an 'okay’.

You threaded your fingers in his hair and watched you both in the mirror. You could see yourself, with Chris on his knees in front of you, back to the mirror but you were able to see the intricate patterns of his muscles in his back, flexing as he moved his arms.

You could feel his fingers over your underwear, pressing the material into your wetness, letting the skimpy material soak it all up.

It wasn’t long before he hooked his fingers around the material and pulled the whole piece of lace down your legs, revealing you to him completely. He held your panties still while you stepped out of them, using his shoulder to help steady yourself. He placed gentle butterfly kisses against your thighs, travelling upwards a couple of inches before swapping to the other one, and, so deftly and expertly that you barely even noticed, he nudged your legs apart to provide himself with better access to one part of you he wanted to get to know very intimately indeed.

Chris continued his kisses, only pausing to ask, 'Are you still looking at us in the mirror?’

'Uh huh,’ was your only reply. You could feel his fingertips gliding over your skin getting ever closer to where all the heat in your body was currently radiating from and as you watched him in the mirror, you could see his hands working torturously slowly towards that spot. You tried not to grip him too hard but it was proving difficult as the anticipation grew and grew. The pressure was building within you and you knew that if you’d ever felt like this when you were alone, you’d already have two fingers inside yourself, pumping impatiently towards orgasm.

As it was, however, you had an incredibly sexy man on his knees in front of you and he was going at his own pace, teasing you, cranking you up notch by notch with every purposeful avoidance of your clit as his fingers and lips darted around your lower body, everywhere but right there.

'Chris…’ your voice was barely more than a breath, 'Please.’

He looked up at you sweetly, making you feel worshipped.

'Please what, baby?’

'Please just touch me. I can’t… I need…’ it was almost a sob.

'Okay, okay, I got you,’ his voice was calm, reassuring and you watched him in the mirror lean forward, the intricate pattern of muscles in his back flexing and locking with each minute shift. Then, you felt, rather than saw, one broad, thick stroke of his tongue over your clit and you couldn’t control the moan that tumbled from your lips.

His fingers took over what he couldn’t reach with his tongue in this position and before long you could feel one, then two digits sliding obscenely in and out of you. It was easy, barely any friction, wet as you were, but he moved and shifted and changed angle and explored you so that every touch was new, no part of you that he hadn’t felt out.

You watched yourself in the mirror, carding his hair with your fingers, lips parted, a pink blush over your entire body, your legs quivering under your weight. You could see his head bobbing, could see the muscles in his neck twitching as his jaw and tongue moved against you, could see his tricep pumping as his fingers slid in and out of you. Everything was so intense, all the sensations in your body plus being able to see the two of you together in the mirror, you were scared you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up if you came here and you could feel the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening in that tell tale way. His ministrations were relentless, giving your body no reprieve, and your hands tightened in his hair.

He must have felt your weight beginning to collapse against him because all of a sudden he rose quickly, leaving you just on the cusp of an orgasm. Disappointment flooded you on instinct but when he started backing you up towards the bed, you were glad. He leaned forward to kiss you as you took careful steps backwards and you could taste yourself on his tongue. There you were, your mark all over him, and that thought only intensified the excitement in your body. You wanted him in you, over you, claiming you, right now. You pushed his boxers down as he walked and he stepped out of them as you wrapped one soft hand around his hard cock. You revelled in the hiss it brought forth from him as you ran your thumb over the tip, spreading the precum forming there.

The bed hit the back of your legs and you immediately sat down, looking up at him in awe, still working his dick in your hand. He leaned forward again, capturing your mouth with his, guiding you backwards until your back hit the sheets. His hand travelled the length of your body again, heading straight for your clit and circling it slowly, just enough the keep the sensitivity building but not enough to let your orgasm explode.

‘Chris… condom… now,’ you forced out breathlessly against his mouth and you felt, rather than saw, him shift one arm towards the night stand, rummaging around blindly, never taking his mouth from your lips, your jaw, you throat.

Your hips began to undulate in anticipation, searching out his dick, hungry to have him inside you, and finally you heard the tell tale sound of a package being ripped open and then a few moments of stillness. You propped yourself up on elbows, watching in fascination as he rolled the condom over his thick length, admired his dick standing proudly, jutting out, ready for you.

You spread your legs wider and he pulled you towards him by the hips. He was still standing, bracing his legs against the edge of the bed, and you knew this was going to be hard and fast. You giggled helplessly as your body was pulled across the sheets and you tried to catch your breath in readiness. You wrapped your legs around his hips, your butt hovering off the surface of the bed and he slid his cock through your heat a few times, letting you feel his hardness against your clit. He teased your entrance each time, never pressing in, just gliding over, and you were getting antsy.

He grinned down at you, knowing exactly the effect he was having.

‘You ready, baby girl?’

‘More than.’

He cupped your butt, holding you firm, and you watched as he lined himself up. Not able to look away, you watched him sink into you, his whole length disappearing into your body in one swift movement and you let out an obscene, wanton moan. It felt so, so good. He filled you exactly, just enough stretch and just deep enough to intensify the feeling he already been building tonight.

Then he moved. Increasing speed with each thrust, rocking against you, controlled but with an edge of wildness that betrayed his own pleasure. You could do nothing but be shunted against the sheets as he took complete control of your body. Your head fell back against the mattress, unable to support it anymore and you sobbed out into the night as each thrust drove you higher, pulling the orgasm from within you.

He kept it up, the relentless pace, and you could process nothing, feel nothing, be aware of nothing except him and all too soon you were on the edge and tumbling over, clamping around him hard and you felt him slump forward against you as his own orgasm hit. He found your mouth and kissed you long and deep, still rocking against you as he milked both your orgasms, and you linked your ankles behind his back, wanting to keep him there for as long as possible.

He leant up, brushing your hair from your face, planting kisses here, there and everywhere, stopping every so often just to gaze at you, still inside you.

‘That was intense,’ and there was an edge of apology to his voice, ‘I totally had his idea that I’d go all slow and sensual the first time, but I…’

‘Don’t you dare apologise. Literally never come so hard,’ you cut him off.

‘Really?’ He asked, pride in his voice.

‘Don’t go getting all big headed about it now.’

‘Promise not to,’ he insisted as he planted yet more kisses against your mouth, quickly turning into slow and lazy making out. ‘Is it bad that I just want to have sex with you all night now?’

You pretended to think about it, ‘Hmm, I could probably put up with that.’

You gasped as he slipped out of you, feeling the emptiness keenly and immediately wanting him back. He got up, removing the condom as he went, and headed for the bathroom.

He lay down next to you when he returned, rolling you on top of him and kissing you again, tongue in your mouth, hands running over your naked body.

You pulled up just to look at his face and smile at him in your post-orgasmic haze.

‘What?’ He asked in response to your gaze.

‘Nothing. Just excited for slow and sensual now.’

He grinned at you, ‘Give me thirty minutes and then I’ll show you slow and sensual so good you’ll barely be able to stand it.’

You giggled, gently nipping at his lips with pecking kisses.

‘Can’t wait,’ you told him honestly.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you

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thatsthepan · 7 years

Text

Reactive

Summary: Dan had always been one for making bold fashion choices. And Phil had always played along with the resulting hype. But one fashion choice made by Dan-a certain pair of ripped jeans-changed Phil’s reaction for the first time.

Word Count: 1,859

Warnings: Nothing I can think of lol

Notes: Heyo anon who got me out of my writing slump-this is the fic for your prompt about Dan’s jeans pic having Phil flustered! I hope you like it, and if so, feel free to drop another prompt in my ask-this one was great and much appreciated!

Hope you all like it! If you want a specific fic, feel free to drop a request or prompt into my ask box at any point:) (And to the anons who’ve already sent in prompts-they are in progress and should be out soon!)

Phil

I’m the kind of person that doesn’t really care what people think. I wear what I want, I act silly in public, I say things that are pretty questionable at times; I do it because it’s fun. Not caring too much about the little things in life is fun to me.

Dan is the kind of person, however, that not only cares what people think, but orchestrates his entire life around other’s responses. He does wear what he wants, acts like he wants, and says what he wants, but all for the fun of the reaction he receives. Caring about every little detail is fun to Dan.

So when we took out first fan picture and Dan happened to be wearing the new jeans he’d brought, the reaction was the best part of the day. Tumblr exploded, art was made, requests for outfits were made, and Dan was grinning the whole way through, scrolling a mile a minute with his thumbs.

“Do you see this?” he asked me at one point, handing me his phone. “This ‘trend’ is literally almost as popular as when I painted my nails!”

I nodded and smiled along with him, not understanding the craze, from Dan or our fans. They were nice jeans. It was a nice response. So what? It would pass like everything else, but I supposed it was a good moment for Dan. He always had been a bit too self-conscious for how pretty he really was.

But then we arrived in Australia, met some fans, went onstage-and Dan took another picture. Only this time, it was purposeful, planned, and went up on Instagram. I didn’t even know he took the picture at all, until we were sitting backstage, on break for now. I scrolled through my notifications, seeing my push notification for Dan among all the others.

“You posted something?” I mused, receiving a mischievous glance from Dan. He pretended to look at his phone, but I could tell he was glancing at me every few seconds, waiting for my reaction.

And what a reaction it was. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, something about the aesthetic of the building or something silly about the day, but it wasn’t… a mirror selfie.

Yeah, let’s call it something that simple.

The combination of everything in the picture-Dan’s new shirt, his hair, the pose, his hands, the way he was sitting, the face he was making, and one of the new pairs of jeans that I hadn’t seen before-absolutely took my breath away. It was… hot, for lack of any other way to accurately describe it.

Dan was still waiting for me to react, smirking a bit at the look on my face. “So? Win or nah?”

I composed myself to the best of my ability, smiling at the comment under the post instead of making eye contact with my best friend, an apparent model after all. “Win, I’d say.”

Both of us knew I was hiding how I truly felt about the picture. I caught myself staring at Dan more and more as the day went on, flushing red every time he caught me, and I just could not get that picture out of my head.

I blamed those damn jeans.

We were eating dinner at some restaurant when I finally asked, “So when did you buy those?”

Smirking down at his food, Dan shrugged. “Just found them in my closet before we left, I guess.”

“Liar.”

Dan looked up, raising his eyebrows. “Oh? How so?”

“You planned this. You thought of the best way to take everyone off guard and waited until now to strike.” I sounded a bit too judgy for my liking, but I couldn’t help it. I was still kind of bitter about loving that picture as much as I did.

His smile was a full-on grin now. “Well it worked, didn’t it? I feel great about my choices.”

I huffed, sitting back and internally berating myself for encouraging him. I didn’t like that he did things to please his audience, even if he was acting more Dan-like lately, with the hair and the flippant attitude. It couldn’t be called fan service, exactly, but I just didn’t think I approved.

My opinion wasn’t effecting Dan’s victorious attitude, however, as the second we were settled in a cab on the way to the hotel he hoisted his legs up and on my lap.

“The hell are you doing,” I giggled despite myself, trying to shove his legs off of me. He was playing with me at this point, sticking one of them up in the air and shaking it in front of my face.

“Come onnnn Phillll,” he whined, dodging my swatting. “My legs hurt. Let me live.”

I was thinking the exact same thing as that last part, so I sighed. “Fine,” I surrendered, and he lowered his leg. I tried looking out the window, ignoring Dan’s long, long legs, and rolled my eyes at myself. Dan’s legs hadn’t got any longer. His fashion sense was still good. He knew exactly how to pose for pictures. So why was my pulse speeding up and Dan looking so much more attractive now? It made no sense.

The cab drive was forty-five minutes. After about ten, I started playing with the holes in Dan’s jeans. I hadn’t even realized I’d been doing it until he giggled, catching my attention.

“You like them,” he teased, and I smacked his leg.

“I do not,” I answered too quickly, causing Dan to erupt into another fit of giggles. I continued pulling at the rips in the fabric, probably tickling Dan’s knees but not really caring. He deserved it for teasing me, because by now I'd decided that was his game. To see how far he could push me before I snapped.

The fun part of the game was going to be seeing how, exactly, I finally ended up snapping.

We were driving back to the theatre when my phone’s notification sound for Tumblr dinged, and I looked down to see danisnotonfire just posted a photo.

“What did you do now,” I mumbled, glancing over at Dan, who was snuggled up against the window of the cab and hidden almost completely under a giant blanket he'd been carrying around all morning. I couldn't even see his hands or face, but I could see the blanket moving as he typed at a concerning speed under it.

Sighing-and mildly bracing myself-I looked down at the photo, not seeing the most important part at first. It was a nice picture-a weird pose for Dan, though, with his fingers pressed against his face. I assumed he'd just been playing along with the pastel trend, so I smiled at the picture, saving it and closing my phone.

About thirty seconds later I nearly broke my screen clicking Tumblr so fast, and zoomed in on Dan’s nails. Yep, my brain had noticed even if I hadn't fully realize it.

I nudged Dan with my foot, seeing an eye and a part of his mouth emerge from the blanket.

“Let me see.”

Dan grinned, knowing exactly what I was talking about, and stuck his hand out of his nest. I played with his fingers, admiring the sparkles that were shimmering all over his nails, and couldn't help but smile softly despite myself.

“This surprise was much more subtle than the last one.”

Dan snickered, drumming his fingers over mine. “Mhmm.”

I held Dan’s hand the rest of the car ride, looking down every so often and simply smiling. I liked this reaction a lot more than the intense and unexpected desire I felt for him yesterday, and shook thoughts of that picture from my mind. I focused on the softness of Dan instead of the darker, more sexy side of him, but every few minutes I'd glance at him and wonder if he knew how he was making me feel.

Again, I blamed the damn jeans.

Even though Dan was playing nice for the most part today, I couldn't help but notice my change of behaviour, out of everything. I dropped a glass of water backstage when Dan laughed at something one of the makeup artists had said. I started blushing more and more whenever Dan would subtly flirt with me, even though he did that all the time. He'd wink, and I couldn't breathe for a moment. He'd shift closer to me, and I'd feel the urge to make out with him right then and there, which I never did under normal circumstances. He'd ask me to pose with him for a selfie, and I'd realize we were matching with our earth tones and get very pleased over that little detail.

By the end of the day, I was more than a little frustrated by the way Dan was affecting me lately. I never got shy or stumbly around Dan anymore-we'd seen each other at our lowest points, and there's a certain confidence that comes with that.

But it was like 2009 all over again, and I knew I had to do something about it. If Dan wanted to play this game, then he was on.

I decided to wait until after dinner to really do anything, since I had to figure out what, exactly, I was going to do. But Dan had other plans.

“Are you trying to out-style me now?” he asked in the hotel elevator, and I could see his smirk in the glass wall beside him.

“Not all of us like playing games, Dan.”

He lifted an eyebrow and shrugged in acknowledgment, not agreeing but accepting it. I studied him, his leaning figure and the way he tapped his foot waiting for our floor, and suddenly I knew what I was going to do.

If he was going to take everyone by surprise, it was only fair that I got to do the same to him.

We were barely through the door of our room when I pushed Dan against the wall, not kissing him yet, but staring into his wide, surprised eyes, my face centimeters from his.

“You've been driving me crazy.” My voice was low, and Dan wasn't even trying to hide how taken aback he was by my actions already.

“Good,” he whispered, not taking his eyes away from mine. “That was the goal.”

Now it was my turn to react in surprise. Again. “Wait, what?”

Dan’s lips twitched, but he didn't smile, not quite. “Yeah. I like seeing how you react to my shenanigans, Phil. Not our fans. Not the public or whatever, even though I know that's who you think I'm doing this for.” He did smile now, but softly, bashfully, and he looked down at the barely existent space between us. “Your reactions are better, anyway.”

I kissed him then, and the kiss was slow, long overdue and desperate. We'd been so focused on not letting the world know we were back together that we'd forgotten for the past few months that we were together.

“Wear those jeans more often,” I murmured against Dan’s lips, feeling them turn up in a grin.

“Only if you wear that shirt.”

#dan and phil #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #my phanfics #fic rec #fic prompt #reactive #bants #ripped jeans

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