this blog will no longer be in use. i had loads of fun in the imagines community and i made a shitton of friends.if you need to contact me, you can find me at my main blog, doctorood. hey man if we were friends or if we ever talked or something hmu bc i'll miss talking to you. okay have a great day!
hi, i only recently found your old fics and i literally cried my eyes out after reading almost all of them. for some reason though, i can't access your other fics and i really really want to read them. is their any way i can be able to? thanks, and you are amazing :)
hello sorry for the incredibly late reply :( I’m just on this blog again for the nostalgia
most of my fics are in the process of being deleted :( thank you for liking my fics and for sending this message! in warmed my heart and I literally can’t stop smiling because I can’t believe that my writing is still having this effect on people
I'M POSTING THIS AS AN APOLOGY FOR THAT LAST ONE I'LL TRY AGAIN EVENTUALLY (PROBABLY NOT)
but here have this it's really great and ??? i really like it a lot
submitted anonymously
She’s just about to slide in to bed, listening to her pillow side radio mumble about tonight being one of the coldest London nights on record, when she hears it. A rattle, a spit, and a metallic cough from up above. She looks toward the ceiling, but sees nothing, hears nothing more. After a moment, she shrugs, abandoning all thoughts of intruders or building collapses, and slides under the only blanket she owns. A while passes. Her eyes are just drifting closed when she suddenly feels it, and understands the night’s earlier noise. The air turns frigid. Because the central heating has broken.
Biting back an expletive, she slams her hand down on the smug sounding radio and draws her blanket around her shoulders. Walking across her apartment, she finds the thermostat. Her hand makes contact with the thin box four, then five times frustratedly before she realizes that it will not be coming on. Dammit. Thoughts run through her head. Does she have a place to stay for the night? Can she afford a hotel room? Can she afford to stay here and catch the inevitable pneumonia? Perhaps if she wears her parka and a few pairs of socks…..
But before she can act on any of these plans, there is a knock. It’s probably the useless landlord. Feet storming the floor, she flings the door open, fully prepared to give him a piece of her mind. What she finds behind the door, though, kills her voice in her throat. In fact, it almost makes her smile. It’s Dan. He’s might be wearing every piece of clothing he owns. Two jumpers peek out from beneath his thickest jacket. A hat flops down over his ears. He’s wearing at least three pairs of jeans and boots with socks. Phil sleeps with a window open (“I can’t sleep without some air circulation. Do you want me to die,Dan? Is that what you want?”), so the sudden loss of heat hit their flat more suddenly than it hit hers. Dan speaks before she is able to find her voice again.
“I need you to come sleep with me.”
She chokes.
“Excuse me?”
They’re good friends, the kind of friends that guys and girls become when they are both madly in love and yet too terrified to reach out and grasp the one thing that will make them superbly happy. Fine time, she thinks, for him to make a move. It’s evident that Dan didn’t mean it the way it came out. Embarrassed realization lights up his face, and he holds out two gloved hands in surrender.
“Oh, no! I didn’t mean-“
But she’s shaking and looking at the floor and biting the inside of her cheek. It is too cold for this. She’s barely wearing hardly any clothes; the skin exposed by her shorts and t-shirt combination covered only by a thin blanket. Dan tries again, urgency coloring his voice.
“Just come upstairs with me.”
Her words come out sharper than the air around them, catching both of them by surprise.
“You know I don’t do that.”
A dark, choked laugh escapes Dan’s throat, exasperation coloring him.
“I just need someone to share body heat with.”
Her quip is instantaneous. He has a roommate for this sort of thing.
“Get Phil,” she says, voice rising as her temperature plummets.
The shaking in her body becomes more outrageous, more like tremors and less like shakes. Her teeth rattle around in her mouth. He’s not sharing with Phil, not in a million years, but especially not when she’s like this. Dan’s worry shoves him to speak, words louder and more crude than he would have liked.
“Jesus! I’m not trying to bone you. I’m just trying to keep you from freezing to death!”
The exclamation sends her reeling for a long moment. When she recovers, she speaks again.
“On one condition.”
He nods, relieved to have finally gotten through to her, but disappointed it had to be done in such a way.
“Anything.”
Her look turns acidic, and she points a trembling finger in his direction.
“Don’t ever use the word ‘bone’ in my presence ever again.”
He smirks, and doesn’t stop until they’re safely back in his apartment. Body still shaking, she sits on the edge of his bed, completely unsure of the moments to come. She trusts him; she knows he won’t try anything, but she can’t help but feel a quiver in the bottom of her stomach. The context of this night is so far removed from any reality she ever envisioned for herself. This trip to his bedroom seems different from all the rest. He hands her some clothes from his drawers before sliding his parka off. It’ll be too hot to sleep in when she lies in his arms. When she reappears from the bathroom, he has to swallow a few times before speaking. The jumpers he gave her barely cover the tops of her legs, and the pants he gave her dwarf her. But there is something remarkable about seeing her in his clothes. It isn’t a possessive thing, he doesn’t think. No, it’s just…intimate. It speaks to fantasies he’s always had but never given himself permission to explore. Fantasies of white picket fences and evenings awake to talk in the moonlight and wedding bands and lifetimes.
When they lay down beneath the covers, wordless and still, he pulls her into him, playing big spoon as he feels her shaking lessens with each moment in his arms. It feels safe, having her so close to him. It feels like forever.
“Dan?” She finally asks after a long moment.
The lights are off, but he wants nothing more than to see her face. The air around them hums with missed chances and things unsaid.
“Hm?” He responds.
It takes her a moment, and he can hear the awkward, unsure pieces of her struggling to fit together. Hesitancy hangs in her words.
“We’re still just friends, right?”
Dan might’ve expected that from her, but perhaps he was hoping she wouldn’t say it. Perhaps he was hoping things would change. He stifles a sigh and merely pulls her closer. She can hear a smile in his voice, but can’t see that it’s actually a grimace.
“Yeah. Of course.”
He doesn’t say anything more, not a word, not a peep. He simply memorizes the feeling of her body against his, the tune of her quiet breaths, and the warmth of the light she emanates even in sleep. He doesn’t manage a wink of sleep that night. Because he doesn’t want to lose even a second of this magic. He knows that, in the morning, things will go back to the way they’ve always been.
It's a fact that's been proven true for the past four years and you're almost positive that there's some malevolent being that you've seriously pissed off because there is no way that this just happens to be a coincidence.
And one would assume that, for all the money they shell out for this apartment, the least it can do is keep you warm while Mother Nature's trying to turn the whole world into a popsicle and, really, making sure your tenants don't freeze to death should be a priority, but the landlords apparently think otherwise.
So every year you promise yourself that you'll learn how to finally fix the goddamn thing and every year Dan always tells you not to bother, promising that you'll move out as soon as the lease ends, but neither of those things seem to be coming true anytime soon.
Instead, you stock up on blankets that end up unceremoniously piled on the bed and the couch and you splurge on an unusually large supply of candles and get around to buying a space heater and your closets are packed with sweaters and socks and scarfs.
And sex. You end up having a lot of sex. It's mostly due to the fact that you're the worst little spoon he's ever seen when you're cold and it's really hard for Dan to not want to fuck you when your ass has been pressing against his crotch all night. But at least sex keeps you both warm and it's enjoyable and it's a nice pick me up for when Dan freezes at night and wakes up not feeling his nose, so neither of you are complaining.
The weather's been nice to them this winter and Dan's waiting for the day all the cold builds up and unleashes hell and freezes the whole city, but you've barely had to use the heater so you both cross your fingers hoping that it'll make it through a cold front.
But when he wakes up on Sunday to the almost painful wheezing of the heater and you cursing as you bang on it desperately, Dan groans and covers his face with a blanket.
You grumble under your breath as you enter the room. "What good is the fucking internet if it can't teach me how to fix a goddamn heater. Fuck. I knew I should have dated that mechanic."
"I heard that." Dan's voice is low and thick from sleep. He rolls over to face you and blinks the light out of his eyes. "I'm good at fixin' other stuff."
Dan sucks in a breath when he catches sight of you wearing his leather jacket that just barely manages to cover the pair of lace panties that he's positive that he peeled off of you last night and you have unzipped just enough that he can see that, no, you didn't decide to put on a bra before hopping out of bed either. Your hair is tied up in a messy bun and strands of your hair are falling down your face and your cheeks are tinged pink with frustration and Dan'll be damned if you're not the most beautiful girl he's ever laid his eyes on.
Dan swallows, instantly awake with an aching hard-on underneath the sheets. You've always been remarkably oblivious as to how goddamn sexy you were and Dan's always been thankful for that. He already wants to fuck you into the mattress every waking hour anyway and he doesn't really need you to actually try.
You scoff and shake your head. "Your motorcycles isn't as important as the heater, Howell." Sighing, you move closer to the bed. "One of us really should have learned how to by now."
Dan hums in agreement, reaching out for you. "I'll learn how to after I fuck you, okay?"
"Men," you sigh, rolling your eyes, but he feels you shiver when he hooks a finger in the corner of your panties and pulls you on top of him with a smirk.
Dan remembers a time, not so long ago, when physical intimacy with you was an impossible dream and the very act of kissing you would get him slapped. And that's changed now, of course, but Dan doesn't think the novelty of your touch will ever wear off any time soon.
You laugh and push aside the blankets, straddling him. Your laughter's interrupted by a sharp intake of breath as he rolls his hips up to yours and you feel how hard he is already. Dan sits up and tugs on the lapels of the jacket- like you've done so many times while he's been wearing it- drawing you into a slow, searing kiss that you can feel right down to the tips of your toes.
You taste like coffee and the jacket makes you smell like him- of leather and smoke and danger- and it turns Dan on in a primal, instinctive way. And he grins at the thought that you were his- not PJ's or Steve's or Chris's or Phil's, but his for however long you want him.
You moan into his mouth as his hands slide into the gap of the jacket, cupping your bare breasts. You nipples are hard and he rubs his thumb in circles against one, seeking out a moan and he gets it easily.
"Dan," you breathe, clutching his hair in your hands and his mouth moved down the column of your neck. "You're too much sometimes, you know that right?"
He laughs, moving to unzip the jacket a little more to expose your breasts to the morning light. "We just started, love," he says as he moves his mouth down, glancing up at you as he swirls his tongue over one of your nipples and watching as your eyes flutter and your mouth parts in a gasp. "'Sides. I gotta keep you warm somehow."
Your brain makes an attempt at a snarky reply before shutting down as he draws your nipple in his mouth, sucking at it until your hips are rutting into his, rubbing over his dick and making him groan deep in his chest. The jacket's zipper bites into his cheek as he moves to your other side, but the sensation only adds to his pleasure and he knows that he'll probably have some weird marks to explain later, but he doesn't exactly care at this point.
His hands span your back before slipping out from under the jacket's edge, moving into your panties and cupping your ass, holding you still. You make a noise that sounds like a mix of distress and desperation at the loss of friction and Dan smirks, moving his hand a little lower and sliding his middle finger into your slit.
"Dan!"
His name is a strangled gasp on your lips as he presses his finger in and out of you as you press closer to him, your head resting on his and moaning. He's has enough experience to tell that, by the hitch in your voice, you're close so he presses deeper and crooks his finger, searching for that one spot that he's positive will make you see stars.
You cry out, body trembling as your orgasm washes over you, and Dan smirks into your skin as he presses a kiss to the valley between your breasts.
"Fuck, you're good," you mutter with a giggle, eye sparkling and cheeks flushed with arousal. You lean in to kiss him, smiling. "So d'you want me to take the jacket off, or are you still enjoying it?"
"Jacket stays on," he says, rolling you over and pinning you on your back. "I want you to think of this," he mutters, yanking your underwear down and spreading your legs, thrusting into you and making your back arch, "whenever you see me in it from now on."
Dan punctuates each word with a thrust, and you're writhing desperately underneath him, nails digging into his shoulder. He pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of your body pooled in his jacket, hair splayed across the pillows and chest heaving, entirely too perfect for him to have.
"Harder," you urge, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Please don't stop."
"Yes, ma'am," he says, like it's a hard thing to agree to, grinning as he bends down to kiss you. He pulls his hips back before promptly slamming back into you, both of you moaning with delight.
Your hand sneaks between your bodies, reaching to give yourself that extra push over the edge and, embarrassingly enough, it's the feel of the rough, worn edges of the jacket's arm cuffs against his lower stomach that sends Dan spiraling after her with a shout.
"See, if I were a mechanic," he pants as he stills his thrusts, kissing every inch of skin he can reach, "I probably would've been feeling up the heater instead of you. And we can't have that, now can we?"
"Asshole," you reply, but you're smiling and it’s the sort of smile that make's Dan's knees wobbly and sends him stomach flipping. You shiver, shifting to bring the blankets back closer to you both.
"I should probably get the space heater," he murmurs, but he's sleepy and comfortable and he doesn't really mean it.
his 'weeping manhood' hahahha oh crap whenever i see those two words i just cringe and hide under my blankets oh my god theres only so many ways you can say things without getting weird
tbh weeping manhood sounds a lot better than hair wolf dingaling
speaking of smut and fun stuff like that, everyone really needs to see wtffanfiction's list of genitalia words used in fanfiction if you haven't already because it's pretty fucking hilarious (my personal favorite is 'curvaceous hammer of lust')
