#is thirty too young for a midlife crisis? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedgito · 2 years ago

Note

Smut request for Eddie, but I’m worried you might think it’s too close to your single!dad series! But I’m just gonna give it to you anyway because you’re my favorite smut writer. Dad!eddie and babysitter!reader? (Obviously 18+)

author’s note: it’s not at all!! i really wanted to try out something a little different so hopefully this isn’t terrible lol. i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), large age gap (21 & 36), dad!eddie, power dynamic (but it’s still pretty balanced, just given the content), virgin!reader, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, all the sex stuff—don’t come into my inbox with bs, if you don’t like, don’t read. but if you do, ily.

word count: 5.6k

Eddie liked to think that with being older came more wiser thoughts, actions—but through experience, he was still fumbling his way through life the same way he had back when in his early twenties, fresh out of high school and making the decent money that he could between shifts at the plant with Wayne, who had to nearly bribe his boss to give him the job, and the small shows he kept up with Corroded Coffin—not that it ever brought in a lot of money.

But, it did bring him to the life he had now; nearing his late thirties, fresh divorcee and a spirited young daughter to prove it. He couldn’t even believe it himself half the time—marriage was never something he planned out, or kids, or searching for babysitters instead of opting to force his child into daycare—spending hours looking through possible prospects, vetting them thoroughly. It felt like he was living a dream most of the time, until reality plopped down on his lap with a giant grin on her face, stray curls cascading down her forehead.

“Do you have to go, daddy?” His daughter asks, “Can’t you play another night?”

Any shows he did now were more for his own enjoyment—monthly shows at a small bar at the edge of town. They gathered a decent crowd and lended to Eddie meeting some very friendly ladies, not that he cared that much.

He had his eyes elsewhere and it was a damn shame nothing would come of it—as horrible as he felt about.

“Sorry, sweetie—I made a promise.” He explains to her, trying his best to lay it out in her terms, “You know I can’t break promises.”

You step through the door only a few moments after, overnight bag snug over your shoulder as you squealed gleefully at his daughter—her previous qualms about Eddie leaving disappearing in an instant.

“You could stay home and play board games with us!” She suggests excitedly, pulling at your hand. You smile knowingly at Eddie, it was typical behavior that didn’t surprise either of you.

“Yeah, Mr. Munson—she’s a pro at connect four, believe me.”

You say his name the way he hates, the way you know he hates. He’s told you time and time again—Eddie. It’s Eddie.

It felt like you were doing it on purpose most of the time.

And so what if you were?

“Oh, I do.” He smiles smugly, crinkling his nose toward the young girl as he fetches his keys from the letting. “Her mom said she might come tonight—maybe in the morning. I can never really predict her, but you’re fine with staying the night just in case, right?”

“I did bring my bag for a reason.” You retort with a playful tease to your tone, swinging the back around as you drop it on the empty loveseat. “You know I don’t have a problem with it.”

“I just—there’s no telling how tonight is going to go.” Eddie admits.

There was no telling how drunk he was going to get—that’s what he means to say. Your eyebrow quirks up in interest and Eddie only shakes his head. There was never any judgment—his life was his life. But, being so young and naive still, it made you wonder how life could really be as you grew older. Eddie seemed to be happy; great friends, nice house, a small but close knit family, he had it all.

Eddie felt the monotony set in the moment he tied himself down to his ex-wife, but being newly single—it had sparked something inside him that wouldn’t die out. Maybe it was an early midlife crisis, a lapse of judgment, but it made him want the things he knew he couldn’t have.

The clues weren’t there initially either. Eddie was as respectful and stern as you expected when you first met, scrutinizing and over-examining every part of your life—you were the secondary protector of his daughter outside of him, it only seemed fair.

But, things took a slow turn as you started to come around more—dinners were occasional, cigarettes out on the porch before you drove home, small talks about what you had to deal with while he was away that soon turned into Eddie being more open with his personal life, and in turn, yours.

There wasn’t a part of his life that was much of a secret anymore—you knew the dirtiest details, the saddest ones. He confided in you a little too easily, but you were just as much at fault for letting it happen.

The first night things shift, you keep telling yourself it’s not actually happening. You had your keys in hand, ready to step out the door until Eddie grasps at your wrist, nodding you back in for a glass of wine, Chardonnay, or whatever the hell he kept around in his cabinet.

“I…don’t drink wine, Eddie.” You say wearily, not complaining about the tug on your wrist as you follow him.

“I forget—you probably like beer, don’t you?” He teases, “At least I did at your age.”

Admittedly, you were twenty one—so it wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong per-say. You had graduated, opted out of college, and made most of your living through odd jobs and nannying—Eddie’s was probably the most stable you’ve been, even if you weren’t a live-in. You saw his daughter nearly everyday, dealt with his chaotic ex-wife as often as he did, and it felt like you had embedded yourself in his life. Eddie couldn’t complain, he liked having you around.

“I—I really shouldn’t.” You say regretfully, twisting the key in your hand. Eddie senses your nervousness, leaning an arm out against his open fridge. “I have to drive home and I—“

“Just one.” Eddie barters, holding up the two frosted bottles, “You don’t have to finish it if you don’t want to.”

You smile slightly, nodding despite your better judgment.

“Fine. One.” You say sternly, “And you still have to pay me for this week, don’t think I forgot.”

“Can you stretch it a week?” He asks, “I promised the little devil I’d get her that guitar she’s been begging for and her birthday is in a couple days.”

“I know.” You tell him obviously, but the smile you return is sweet. “But that’s fine—just, next week for sure. I have to pay rent.”

“Promise.” He grins, a perfect smile that has you clenching your thighs together every time. “Cheers.”

The clink of the bottles is deafening and Eddie moves to the corner of the counter where you take your seat in the barstool, leaning his torso over as he sips at the beer.

Being close wasn’t strange—you’ve sat next to him on the couch, at the dinner table, but the air is so thick you feel it caught in your throat. Your eyes flick up as the bottle tips to your lips, letting out a small giggle as he tips it up with his finger, a small amount of the liquid trickling down the side of your mouth.

You recover with a small cough, shoving at him weakly.

“Hey, that’s not nice.” You say, feigning annoyance. “You’re wasting a perfectly good beer.”

“Sorry,” He lies, taking a long chug of his own before placing it down on the counter. “So, plans for the weekend?”

He asked every week, it wasn’t strange to you. Eddie always seemed genuinely interested, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like that now—and maybe he was just stringing you along to keep you here, but you played into it so well.

You wanted it—maybe not as bad as him, but it was there.

“No,” You say shyly, shaking your head, “Just my bed and a couple movies. Same old thing.”

“No bars? No clubs?”

“Nope.” Your lips pop around the consonant, taking a small slip before shoving the bottle toward the middle. “They don’t interest me.”

“Come on,” He prys playfully, “There’s gotta be something you do for fun, sweetheart?”

And it was the same thing he had called you after a week of taking in the job, a kind endearment that didn’t make you feel any certain way, a sweet way to differentiate from calling you by your name, but it sits on his tongue like sin—begging for you to lick it off, let him defile you the way he desperately wanted to. It wasn’t lost on either of you how tense the air had become—it was Eddie’s web and he had you caught.

And as much as you enjoyed it, tonight just wasn’t the night.

He’d had a bit too much to drink, alcohol dripping from his breath.

“That is fun.” You insist, “Some of us don’t need to go out to the club and relive our younger years to feel good, you know?”

It’s meant with all the care in the world, a playful jab for how insistent he was being in keeping you here tonight, dragging out the conversation instead of getting to the point.

You would’ve been more satisfied if he had just kissed you at the door and let you leave, but then again, this was pretty enjoyable.

“You’ve never seen me play,” Eddie points out, “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I would,” You agree before shaking your head slightly, “but I wouldn’t be caught dead at that bar.”

Eddie makes a face, a little taken aback at the insult.

“How come?” He asks curiously.

“A bunch of creepy old men who stick around to prey on the younger girls who sit and watch you play—no thank you.”

Eddie laughs through his nose, leaning into your space slightly.

“What about me?” He asks, wide eyes glazed over in a haze.

“Creepy? No.” You assure him. “Old—-eh?”

“I’m thirty six, that hurts.” Eddie pouts slightly.

“So old,” You reinforce, “We should probably put you into a retirement home already.”

“I can promise you, sweetheart.” Eddie says menacingly, bottom lip pulling between his teeth briefly to nip at the skin. “Nothing about me is old.”

Your eyebrows raise in subtle interest, leaning forward slightly.

“I could show you.” He suggests, eyes glancing down at your lips briefly before catching your gaze. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath, see the freckles on his face this close, faint but there. “If you want.”

He can see the gears in your head turning, deciding. But, it quickly fades as you pull back, his lips barely brushing yours.

“I have to go.” You tell him again, insisting more sternly despite how kind your voice sounds. “Eddie, we can’t.”

He looks instantly dejected, pulling back slightly and rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He’d forget this in the morning surely, his words had been slurring together most of the night and he wouldn’t have acted so boldly otherwise—would he?

“Let me walk you.” He insists, sliding your bottle toward the trash, his own following until the clink to the bottom.

The walk is slow, palpable, his toes on your heels as he hovers behind you. He grabs the door handle before you can reach for it, pulling it open silently.

“Tell her happy birthday for me?” You ask hopefully, knowing you wouldn’t be around in the day despite how much you wanted to be. “Please?”

Eddie nods quietly, lips pursed together in a tight line.

“Yeah, of course.” He assures you. “Goodnight.”

You lean up on your toes as you turn, caution to the window as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek, stubble rubbing against the sensitive skin of your lip. You can feel the sigh Eddie releases as you make contact, his hand coming to rest against your hip gently, a featherlight touch that if you were to have blinked you would surely miss.

“Goodnight.” You smile, words spoken against his skin.

It’s the same touch Eddie reminds himself of as he tightens his hand around his cock that night, stretched out and writhing on his bed in the loneliness of his empty house—and god did he wish you were there to keep him company.

His ex-wife shows up an hour before midnight, a lot more put together than you’d usually expect, but she fetches her daughter without fuss, leaving you to clean up the mess left behind.

It doesn’t take long, only a little over a half an hour—and your immediate thought is to leave, get the hell out of there, enjoy your weekend like you planned, but you still hadn’t been paid for the week prior, and you’d be damned if Eddie didn’t follow through like he promised.

“Hey—“ His voice is soft as he shakes you away, your figure hunched over the arm of the couch where you napped briefly, peering up at him through bleary eyes. You poured slightly, his face becoming clearer by the second, “did she pick her up?”

He looks surprisingly sober, which is unusual for him.

Admittedly, it was a weird night. His mind had been racing all day, he didn’t play as well as he’d wanted, and he spent the entire night hoping you’d still be there when he got home.

At least one thing has gone right for him.

“What time is it?” You ask, avoiding the question.

“A little after midnight.” He tells you, watching as you leaned up from your reclined position, adjusting your clothes and smoothing out your hair as best you could.

“Uh yeah—yeah, an hour ago.” Your speech is slow and spacey, “Why?”

“Well, I figure you would have left already.” Eddie says admittedly, running a hand through his tousled curls, the hairstyle never changed—and you were kind of grateful for it.

You’d seen pictures of him younger, mid-twenties and dating all the way back to his first day of high school—he didn’t look all that different aside from the slight aging in his face, worry lines buried into the corner of his eyes and that light scruff he wore every now and then when he didn’t shave for a week.

“You still need to pay me.” You retort with a tinge of annoyance, holding your hand out expectantly.

Eddie snorts, reaching for his wallet and slapping the fold of bills into your hand. He hadn’t forgotten at all.

“Did you have a good time?” You ask curiously, stuffing the money in your wallet before burying it back into the back placed on the coffee table, kicking your feet up behind you on the cushion as you stared up expectantly.

You could’ve fled immediately after he handed over the cash, but something was telling you otherwise. Eddie frowned slightly but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“It was alright.” He tells you halfheartedly, “I hope my kid didn’t give you too much of a hard time, she can be a little, uh—“

“She’s never a problem for me.” You assure him.

There’s a long beat of silence as Eddie lingers about, hands shoved in his pocket as he leans against the wall. You hadn’t talked about that night, hadn’t even mentioned it, but it was still heavy on your mind—and hopefully just as heavy on his.

You pat the cushion next to you expectantly, friendly—it wasn’t out of the ordinary or weird, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate as he throws himself down lazily, stretched out at the other corner as he kicks his shoes off and onto the floor, smiling at you like he always did.

“No groupies tonight?” You tease, knowing he’d had a few experiences with them, none of them memorable or positive.

They were always messy and weird and everything he hated.

Eddie mocks a laugh and rolls his eyes slightly, “I shouldn’t have gone out tonight anyways, too much on my mind.”

You give him a skeptical look, turning to him fully with your arms bugged around your legs, chin tucked up by your knees. He tries to ignore how innocent you look, wide eyes and eager, hanging on his every last word.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He excuses, letting out a deep, heavy sigh as he rests his head against the back of the couch, legs spreader unnecessarily wide. Your eyes draw to the stretch in his jeans near his groin, quickly darting up to meet his gaze with a soft smile.

“Try me.” You shrug, tongue poking out slightly between teeth as you bite down gently, “You’d be surprised.”

Eddie huffs again, a mix between a laugh and flippant noise of dismissal, “Come closer.” He suggested, motioning toward the cushion positioned between you two. You crawled forward without question, resuming a similar position. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No—this couch feels amazing, actually.” You tell him honestly.

“Sweetheart.” He says like a prayer, head tilted down slightly despite how his gaze still stays. “That’s not what I mean.”

And he’s not drunk—stone cold fucking sober, actually. That’s what intimidates you the most, his willingness to do whatever he felt he needed to have you. It wasn’t just the influence of fuzzy inhibitions. It was genuine, selfish want. Something he knew he shouldn’t have, couldn’t have—yet here you were.

“Around you?” You ask, he nods slowly. “Never.”

The touch he returns is careful, fingers wrapping around your ankle gently, rubbing soft touches into the skin. You follow his movements, the silence lingering.

“And now?” Eddie asks quietly, eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning back to his slowly moving hand.

A slow drag of his middle finger up your calf, up under the curve of your knee until he can wrap his fingers around it and widen your legs slightly, arms spilling from where they’re snug and tight around you, forcing you to sit up slightly. There’s no resistance when he pushes your legs apart, eyes darting toward the apex of your thighs. Your breath catches slightly, hands falling behind you in an effort to keep you upright. You’ve never been more thankful than to have chosen a dress on a night like this and Eddie can’t even act like he’s able to keep it together, thin lace panties on display before his very eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks when you don’t answer his first question, your chest rising and falling rapidly at his lingering touch, guiding along the inside of your thigh. The leg that isn’t bracketed against the back of the couch falters to the floor, spreading you so wide that Eddie has no other choice but to rub his fingers over the clothed mound of your cunt, pulling a soft gasp from your chest. “Answer me.”

“Nono,” You rush out embarrassingly quickly, “please, don’t.”

It’s exactly what he wants to hear. Needy, desperate—everything he was feeling just as intensely.

“Have you ever been touched like this?” He asks, words careful and precise, his movements as such, dragging a single finger down the seam, pressing into the growing spot of wetness there.

And you can’t take your eyes off of him, same as he does for you, it’s so much more than admiring your body, rather admiring the way you react to his touches, taking it all in. Your mouth hangs slightly, soft breathy gasp escaping.

You shake your head shyly. As much as you would’ve liked to lie and say you had tons of experience, you didn’t. Most of the time you lied, afraid of the ridicule, but you’d been saving yourself for someone special—and if that was Eddie, so be it.

His finger curves around the barrier of your underwear, forcing it to the side until there’s skin against skin and he feels it, if he wasn’t attempting be so coy he’d make a comment about how wet you already were, but the words are lost on him as he drags a finger through the pool of wetness and presses gently against your clit, unmoving as he watches you.

“Is this okay?” He checks in again. There was never a doubt in his mind, but he needed to ask for reassurance, to know that he wasn’t just dreaming again. “Do you like it?”

You bite harshly at your bottom lip, nodding a fervent yes in response. The heat invades your face, your eyes, practically your entire body as it flushes under Eddie’s gaze. The tension had always been there, but it had finally snapped and you couldn’t help but stare at him now, watching as his face contorted into his own version of pleasure, idly running his open palm over the front of his pants, palming his growing cock as it sat heavy in his jeans.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He encourages, “Don’t go shy on me now.”

You giggle softly—it was completely unlike you, knowing you talked his ear off every chance you had, but there wasn’t a single word or thought in your head that made sense right now.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize meekly, “I don’t know what—what to say.”

Eddie smiles warmly, head resting back against the couch as he slips a finger inside you wordlessly, just the beginning of his first knuckle, not enough of an intrusion to make you feel anything.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He says softly, “how you feel, maybe?”

“Good,” You chirp quickly, “I’m okay.”

His finger pushes in more, breaching past the tight entrance and you gasp, finally breaking eye contact as your head luls back, gaze caught on the ceiling as he moves slowly, pulling his finger out gently before pushing back in—it’s torture, count throbbing with every movement he made. You could hear the soft ruffle of fabric, metal against metal and a zipper being undone and when you finally have the courage to look up, you’re not sure you’ll ever recover.

It’s not the first dick you’ve seen and you’re not sure it will be the last, but you can’t help staring and taking it all in. They’re never pretty or enticing or enough to make your mouth water—but with Eddie, that’s all out the window.

He’s thick, cut, and everything that intimidates you. He’s confident in the way he holds him, let’s spread wide as his hands come down to cup his balls gently before traveling up his shaft, squeezing over the sensitive head.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He coos, pulling his working fingers out to glide over your clit, rubbing soft and timid circles until you’re moaning out his name—it’s like music to his ears. “You’ve really never done anything?”

“I’ve—I’ve kissed boys.” You admit, “And girls—but never, never—“

“Never let them touch you,” He finishes for you, “have you?”

You nod, affirming his statement.

“Can I have you?” He asks softly, voice sweet and dripping with adoration, “I want you to be sure, don’t lie to me.”

And you can’t even properly describe how badly you’ve wanted him. It felt like crossing a line—like sleeping with your boss, but lust wins you over.

You nod slowly, “Yes. Just—I don’t know what I’m doing, not really. I don’t want to screw anything up.”

“There’s not much to it,” He comforts, removing his hand from your aching cunt and grabbing your own hand, guiding it over his dick, pulling his shirt up slightly where the tip rests against his lower stomach. You always forget how toned he is, how well he takes care of his body, always hiding himself under his work clothes and suits, “I’ll talk you through, okay?”

“Okay.” You answer, letting him squeeze your fingers around the shaft, dragging your hand up slightly before pulling back down, creating a slow rhythm. He grunts softly, eyes half-lidded as he continues the motion until he thinks you’ve got it, resting his hand over your thigh, traveling up until he can squeeze at the curve of your hip, feet tucked under you as you lean over his lap slightly. It’s like soft velvet against your even softer fingertips—Eddie notices the difference immediately, used to his horrible calloused hands all worked and worn out from his jobs, the joints aching with age. It gets the job down, but it’s never as good as this. Ever.

It does grow boring though—not that you didn’t enjoy every soft sound and subtle face that Eddie made when you squeezed him a little too harshly or teased your thumb over the head of his cock, swirling through the oppulescent precome heading at the tip.

“Can I—“ The words catch in your throat when his eyes lick on, peeking out from under his previously closed eyelids.

He sees the way you glance toward his dick, smiling at your bashful awkwardness and nods, “If you ask nicely, that is.”

He’s only teasing, but he loves watching you squirm, trying to find the courage to ask for what you want. You’re always so confident, sure of yourself—it’s one of the reasons Eddie adored you so much, there was never any doubt with you. He never had to worry.

“Please?” You retort playfully, watching as Eddie’s grin grew wider, “Please, Eddie?”

He nods, urging you down between his spread legs, forcing his jeans down further until he can remove them fully, letting you settle until you're comfortable.

You expect it to feel a little awkward, peering up at him as he does down to you, cock still heavy in your hand as he pushes your hair away, gathering it into his hands skillfully—but truthfully, the feeling never approaches.

You’ve talked to your friends about it before, seen small clips in porn, and none of it ever really made sense, and especially not now as you’re sitting between his legs, staring at his dick and hoping that you weren’t about to make a complete full of yourself.

“Don’t laugh.” You tell him, a small pout forming on your face.

“Never, sweetheart.” He comforts you, free hand rubbing the underside of your chin, following as your lips draw forward, closing over the head of cock, swirling your tongue testingly over the tip, through the slit to taste the salty slick of him that had formed there. Eddie groans softly, the first real noise he’s made all night, face scrunching up in concentration as he cradled your head, hair and all, as you moved your way down, taking him sparingly into your mouth until your lips connected with the hand you had around him, covering what you couldn’t reach.

“That’s it.” He compliments, “Fuck, that’s perfect.”

You barely acknowledge him, but given how hard you were trying to concentrate on not fucking up, he understood. His words flowed freely, openly, and once they started they never stopped.

“Look at you, so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” Eddie says softly, pulling your chin forward slightly from where he had a tight grip on your face, forcing you deeper. You gagged slightly, breathing through your nose. “Hold it, sweetheart. I know you can.”

If you weren’t so eager to please, you would’ve pulled away immediately, but you allow him to hold you there, cock heavy on your tongue until you can’t take it anymore, pulling away with a harsh gasp, lips shining obscenely as you stared up at Eddie.

It’s the same look he had the first time he met you, but a sharp edge of something more, something dangerous.

“Stand up,” He instructs, a guiding hand running along your thigh as you go, fingers delving under your dress to pull at your underwear, slipping the fabric down your legs carefully. He flips the fabric of your dress up, dragging the soft surface of his lips along your upper thigh, eyes following you the entire way, “good, sweetheart—can I taste you?”

You nod quickly, hands cautiously running over the top of his head and through his thick curls, whimpering soundly at the way he chuckles, deep and gruff against your cunt, raising your leg over his shoulder carefully, his hands resting at your back to steady you.

It’s like scolding hot fire with the first touch, his tongue delving deep and running up your cunt, ghosting along your clit as he bites playfully at your folds, looking up at you sparingly to gauge your reaction.

You couldn’t even act like you were able to keep it together, moaning unabashedly as the hands in his hair soon traveled down his back, body curling over him slightly as he made it his mission to torture you relentlessly, sucking at your sensitive clit until you’re softly tapping at his back, silently begging for a break while the words are still caught in your throat.

“Tapping out already?” He teases, squeezing the soft globes of your ass. You shake your head defiantly, peaking his interest

“I want you,” You tell him coyly, “I’ve been thinking about it and—“

“Oh, hey—“ He soothes, “That’s special, you don’t have to give that to me, sweetheart. You’ve already given me plenty.”

Another defiant head shake, shoving his hands away as you took a careful seat on his lap, his eyes following you intensely, arms held out at his side as you seated yourself against his cock, the heat of your cunt striking his body with the reality of this situation.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” You tell him, noticing the concerned look on his face, “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

Eddie smiles slightly, reaching up to cradle the side of your face tenderly. He can see the subtle pout on your face, bottom lip poking out slightly—and he feels the overwhelming want to kiss you, force it off of your face. So, he does.

And he kisses with a forcefulness you’ve never felt—he’s not timid or unsure. Eddie’s confident, given his experience, he had no reason to doubt himself. You whimpering softly, his teeth pulling your bottom lip in, tongue sneaking its way in and tasting the saltiness of himself on you. He pulls away briefly, nose bumping yours.

“One problem, sweetheart,” Eddie starts regretfully, “I don’t have any condoms—I’m not really used to using them anymore.”

You shake your head fervently, “That’s not a problem.” You assure him, “Trust me.”

You didn’t need to explain and Eddie didn’t feel the need to ask—it wasn’t hard to piece the information together. But god, he’s never been more thankful for modern medicine.

“You sure?” Eddie asks again, lips grazing yours as he speaks, chin resting against his fingers, rubbing delicately at your skin. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” You chide softly, “I want you to fuck me.”

He laughs at that, your boldness startling him slightly.

And he doesn’t need to be told more than once, taking control of the situation as he lifts your hips, bracing you over the head of his cock, allowing you to ease down at your own pace. It’s nothing like you were expecting, more of a dull sting if anything—but the filling of fullness, it’s overwhelming.

You rock your hips gently, watching as Eddie’s eyes fell to the place where you were joined with him, dress lifted up slightly as he reached for your clit, rubbing gentle circles to distract your wandering mind—and it works perfectly, gasping when you feel him deep, buried inside you as the back of your thighs hit his lap.

“God, you’re fucking perfect.” He comments idly, eyes falling shut as he leaned back—and it’s infuriating that you can’t see his chest, hidden behind the buttons of his shirt; a ridiculous black button up, making him look well beyond his years. You yank at the buttons with steady hands until the skin peeks through and you can shove the shirt off his shoulders, hands placed firmly against his chest.

You’ve never seen his tattoos this close, not that you could focus much now, but your hand closes over the one of his chest and your blunt fingertips dig into the skin as you lift your hips and seat yourself just as swiftly, punching a ragged groan from the both of you.

“Knew you’d be this good,” Eddie admits, “Thought—thought about it every fucking night.”

“Oh?” You challenge softly, “Tell me?”

Eddie nods, though the struggle to remain cool is evident on his face, losing his focus every time you clench around him, grunting with every little movement you make.

“Just like this,” He admits, “taking me so fucking well, too.”

You nod in agreement, humming as you leaned forward to drag your lips along his jawline, “Like…I was made for you?” You ask teasingly, giggling at his airy groan.

“You’re fucking devious,” Eddie retorts, “not nearly as innocent as I thought you’d be.”

His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you impossibly deeper, closer, and you can’t bother to keep yourself upright, letting him do the work, hips snapping into you with force.

“What—what do you mean?” You stammer through broken gasps, “I’m so innocent, Eddie.”

“Not a chance,” Eddie disagrees, eyes squeezing tight as he buried his face into your neck, sucking a faint bruise into the skin, “be honest with me.”

“I wasn’t—wasn’t lying.” You respond, words dying out on a desperate plea, his hand snaking between you both, rubbing insistent circles over your clit. “I don’t do this stuff—was waiting for the right person, you know?”

Eddie nearly comes then, panting desperately into your skin.

“You think I’m the right person?” Eddie asks redundantly, given your current situation—that was pretty goddamn obvious.

“Your cock is inside me, what do you think?” You ask playfully, eyebrows furrowing in anguish as Eddie makes a quick pass over your swollen bundle of nerves, driving you over the edge unexpectedly, clinging to Eddie out of instinct, letting him rock you through the duration of your orgasms until he’s coming deep inside you, legs shaking as he groans pitifully.

And despite his obvious exhaustion, he retorts a snarky, “I think I’m the perfect person, sweetheart.”

You smile, leaning forward to press a sloppy, passionately filled kiss against his lips, nodding slightly at his response.

“Same time next week?” You ask cheekily and Eddie chuckles in response, biting gently at your shoulder at your obvious playfulness.

Eddie hums thoughtfully, “How about tomorrow?”

And even if you had plans, they diminished into thin air, offering Eddie an affirmative smile.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #my writing #1kfic

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daydreaming-in-letters · 3 years ago

Text

Assumptions

10/01/2021

Pairing: Manuel Neuer x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 6,018

Warnings: rpf, mentions of age gap (not between reader and Manu and nothing illegal) and strong opinions on that, banter, jealousy, infuriation, fluff and cuteness

Summary: The reader finally catches her long time crush Manuel Neuer alone on her uncle's birthday. Things are quickly starting to get heated—sadly it's not the kind of heated she would have liked it to be.

A/N: Most of you probably don't know Manuel Neuer. He is the goalkeeper and captain of Bayern Munich as well as the German National Football Team and every once in a while I find my thoughts drifting towards that adorable and amazingly talented manchild. This story has been sitting in my drafts for far too long and I wasn't sure whether I felt comfortable with publishing it in case it ever got finished. But I found that there is an intolerable lack of Manuel Neuer x reader fics on here, so here it is. I tagged everyone from my general tag list, but I understand if this is not what you signed up for. So sorry in advance and please feel free to ignore this story at your leisure.

Picture found on Pinterest

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

It was only a few minutes to midnight and still the dance floor was as filled as ever, an enchanting mixture of young and old people alike. The bass rolled deep in his stomach, making him even queasier than he already was, and the lights, flickering across the mass of moving bodies in sync to the rhythm of the music, didn’t help either.

Suddenly a figure broke through the outer wall of bodies and made her way over to his table. A small smile crawled over her lips, a little shy but genuine, yet he didn’t feel like returning it. He had hoped that she would change her mind upon the disgruntled look on his face, but much to his dismay, she did nothing of the sort and sat down right next to him, just as a waitress passed the table with a tray of colourful shots. The woman next to him stopped her, before she turned to him.

“Care for a drink?”

Did he care for a drink? He yearned for one.

“No, thanks. I’m not really fond of drinking.”

“Shame,” she shrugged, her smile growing a bit wider when she took two shots from the tray anyway. For a second he thought she might actually force him to drink with her, but then she placed down the two glasses in front of herself. Raising her first glass to him, she gulped it down in one swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand afterwards.

“Do you care for a dance then?” She nodded over to the dance floor, her eyes and body inviting him to take the offer.

He found that he somehow couldn’t hold her gaze when he answered, “I’m afraid I’m also not very fond of dancing.”

Her forearms resting on the table, she leaned closer, obviously not taking the hint that he just wanted to be left in peace and quiet.

“Then what are you fond of?”

“I think you know pretty well what I’m fond of.” To his own surprise he sounded even harsher than he had attempted to, but the last thing he needed right now was an eager fan trying to engage him in a conversation.

“I do,” she retorted undeterred, “but that’s not what I wanted to know. See, you might not have noticed through all your sulking, but I was actually interested in you as a person, not as a footballer.”

He huffed, although he wasn’t sure she had heard him above the music.

“And you might have noticed that I am not interested in talking about private stuff to complete strangers.”

Sure, he was being massively impolite, but at least he hoped that this would do the trick now. But instead of finally leaving him alone, she shot him an amused look.

“Ooooh, grumpy, aren’t we?”

Now it was him who leaned in closer, making sure she could hear him properly. “Look, it’s nothing personal, okay? I just...it wasn’t such a great evening for me.”

Unintentionally his eyes wandered over to the dance floor for a split second, where a very young, very blonde girl was dancing happily among his teammates and their wives and girlfriends. Cursing himself, he looked over to the woman by his side carefully, hoping she hadn’t noticed. But of course she had, her eyes still fixed on the girl.

“Ah, I see.” She turned to him and the glint in her eyes made his stomach turn. “Puberty is a bitch, eh?”

“Excuse me?” he spat, equal parts bewildered and stunned.

“You heard me alright.”

Who did she think she was? Impertinent woman.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” The volume of his voice must have slipped his control a little, as he noticed a group of elderly men standing nearby turn into his direction. Still the woman’s smile never left her face, appeasing the men who turned away again.

“Really? After all I have to sit here with a pissed thirty something man who refuses to acknowledge he let his hormones get the best of him.”

“Whoa! Okay, first of all, it was you who decided to come and sit at this table and second, again, none of your goddamn business.”

Her answer was a simple grin, still not fazed by his anger in the slightest. It almost felt as if she was enjoying to get him riled up.

“You’re right.”

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’?”

He rolled his eyes heavily. Why couldn’t she just leave?

“You know, that phrase usually goes with an apology. Like ‘You’re right. Sorry I assumed you’re having a mid-life crisis and bang a chick that is 15 years your junior to boost your fragile ego.’”

“Do you?”

Inhaling deeply, he tried to calm himself a little. After all, he couldn’t afford to yell at her again, not that he didn’t want to, but causing even more unwanted attention was not in his plans for tonight.

“I didn't say that.”

“Well actually,” she looked at him triumphantly, “you kind of did. I never said you were having a midlife crisis or that you need her to boost your ego. Those were your words. And seeing that my assumptions caused a reaction like that, I’m afraid I can’t really say I’m sorry either.”

All right, that was it. Enough was enough.

“Look, I think I have an assumption for you too, lady. I’m starting to assume that you only came over here to rile me up further. And guess what, mission completed. So why don’t you do us both a favour and head off to pester someone else now?”

She was quiet for a moment and for the first time, the cheeky smile left her beautiful, burgundy lips. He had expected her to be a bit shaken at least, maybe even as pissed as himself, and yet the next words were spoken with such dignity that he couldn’t help but admire her a little for it.

“Oh, I would love to say you’re right again, but I’m afraid I can’t this time. And since we seem to have warmed up to each other quite a bit by now, I feel it’s okay to be completely honest with you.” She paused a second, simply for the effect, he guessed and her warm eyes never left his. “I came to sit with you because you looked miserable. Still do, by the way. And I thought you might need an actual grown up to talk to. But it seems I was wrong. You’re just a pouty manchild, like the rest of them.”

She waved her arm, pointing over at the dancing crowd of his friends and their spouses. His eyes followed her gesture and when he laid eyes on the heart of the matter, a hot flush of rage began to swirl through his veins, making his hands clench into fists. Fully set on giving her a piece of his mind, not caring who might hear him at this point, he turned to her again. But the familiar figure that had somehow entered the picture without his notice made him stop in his tracks.

“Here you are, sweetie.” The man cooed, laying his large hand on her shoulder in a protective gesture. “I almost got the feeling you were hiding from me since I made you promise to dance with me tonight.”

She twisted her slender neck to look up at his gentle face, her attention making him smile sweetly at her.

“You know I’d never do that to you, Uncle Hans, especially not on your birthday. I just thought your no. 1 goalkeeper here was in need of some mature company, but clearly he is perfectly happy with the way things are.”

Bewilderment flickered behind the coach’s gaze as he looked between his niece and one of his best players and Manuel was sure that this might not be the last time they would speak about this matter.

“So then, may I have that dance now, sweetheart?”

“With pleasure.” Manuel watched almost transfixed as she gracefully took her uncle’s hand and stood up. It was only now that he noticed how perfectly her dress showed off her voluptuous curves. He was almost certain that she would leave without another word when once again she proved him wrong. Turning on her heels, she grabbed the remaining shot and gulped it down in one large swig before she looked down at him, almost as regal as a queen.

“Have a pleasant evening, Mister Neuer. I’m sorry I can’t say I enjoyed our conversation more. Oh, and just in case you should ever feel in need to talk to a grown up, don’t call.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

She could still feel his piercing look on her back as Hansi led her through the crowd and away from him. They had just begun to dance when the song changed and a much slower tune echoed through the large room. With a smug grin, her uncle pulled her closer, bringing his hand to the small of her back. Cheek to cheek he swayed her to the beat and she could feel that her mind was almost beginning to slow down, when he decided to pick up a conversation.

“Will you tell me what that was all about?”

She bit her lip like a little girl that was about to be scolded. “Do I have to?”

He chuckled deeply, the vibration rumbling against her chest and she could easily imagine the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“I’m certainly not going to force you. It’s just, you know, I always thought you kind of liked him.”

Instantly, she could feel her face heat up. How could he possibly know that?

“True. Liked, as in past tense. And besides, it’s not that I actually know him, personally, I mean. You could perhaps say I admire his talent, at most. And he also may be kind of easy on the eyes.”

She had become more and more quiet while she spoke, merely mumbling the last sentence. But he had heard her nonetheless, her silliness making his lips twitch in amusement.

“Hm. I clearly remember your aunt begging me to invite him over for a barbecue party last summer, telling me that you wouldn’t shut up about his quiet reserve, his amazing performance on the field and his stunning smile. Sadly he didn’t have time.”

She gulped audibly, tensing up a little in his arms, which made him enjoy their little talk even more. “So, what changed your mind?”

“He did,” she said a little too quickly, before she sighed so heavily that her uncle almost regretted bringing this topic up after all. “It’s just, I don’t understand his choice in women. I mean, he could choose literally anyone, so why her? I mean, she clearly doesn’t make him happy.”

“And how do you know that? You have spoken to him for what? Like five minutes?” He turned them around, making her face the gloomy goalie once more, before he went on. “I might be wrong, sweetheart, but I think you’re just jealous.”

Over his shoulder her gaze met Manuel’s for a split second before his eyes shot to his right, where the blonde teenager stepped into the picture, blocking him from view. She sat down on his lap, her arms dragging around his neck possessively, as her lips met his in a feverish kiss. Averting her gaze immediately, her eyes darkened and her heart clenched heavily in her chest.

“If by jealous you mean disenchanted, you’re right.”

Her bitter words made him loosen his grip on her so that he could see her face, and the hurt in her eyes pained him more than he cared for.

“I know you probably won’t believe me, but he really is a good person.”

She scoffed while her incredulous eyes landed on her uncle’s soft, blue orbs. “Well, he certainly hid that pretty well.”

He gave her a tight lipped smile. “I think he’s just lost his way a little at the moment.”

“So you think I’m right then?”

The excited sparkle in her eyes made him regret his honest words a little.

“I didn’t say that.” He protested strongly. In the end it was not for him to judge his players’ private lives. “After all he is a grown man and he can decide for himself.” He could see her face fall again and so he was quick to add, “Nevertheless, I don’t think you’re completely wrong either.”

He was very pleased to see that his words had caused a small smile to crawl back to her pretty lips. He almost felt like a proud father and when she finally leaned back in a bit closer, her forgiving gesture almost made him a bit bold.

“So, uhm, one more question, sweetheart. In the unlikely event that he should after all need a grown woman to talk to, can I give him your number?”

“Certainly not,” she insisted with a steady voice, but when she looked at him, the adorable grin on her face left no doubt that this was the biggest lie she had ever told.

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

Manuel was furious as he watched her leave towards the dance floor with the coach. How could she dare call him out like that and then leave without giving him the chance to set her straight? His eyes fixed on her, he watched as Flick pulled her closer, his eyes following her uncle’s hand to the small of her back. Being the gentleman he was, his hand had found the only spot on her back that was actually covered by the dark red fabric of her dress. And for a second he imagined what it might actually feel like to let his hand wander upwards until it covered her bare skin. Or maybe he could let it slip down a few inches, until his fingers would grasp the soft flesh of her behind. He had just been able to fully picture the exact feeling of her body pressed up to his when he could feel the man who actually held her in his arms catch his indecent look on his niece’s back. Immediately he sat up straight, averting his gaze, completely missing the amused smile on the other man’s face, and when he turned back to face him, he almost lost it when he found her sparkling eyes instead.

He was still trying to figure out what had happened, when he heard a familiar voice calling him.

“Hey, babe.” The high pitched noise made him flinch and instinctively his eyes shot to his right, just in time to pull his arms away before she slumped down onto his lap clumsily. She laid it on thickly as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“I missed you on the dance floor, honey bun. Why don’t you come dance with me?”

And before he even had the chance to answer, her lips crashed down on his mouth almost painfully, her tongue forcing his lips to open. The stench of alcohol filled his mouth and he pushed her drunken form off of him determinedly. Before she even had the chance to protest, he lifted her up and placed her in his chair.

“I don’t think dancing is a good idea in your condition.” She glared at him, but then she seemed to have forgotten what for and her lips turned up into a sheepish smile.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Look, why don’t you just stay here and I get you a nice, big glass of water to sober you up a little?”

She began to nod, but then her eyes lost focus und she stared past him at god knows what.

“All right, I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t go anywhere.”

Quickly he made his way over to the counter and ordered a whole bottle of water, when he felt the slap of a hand on his left shoulder.

“Wow, you look even more frustrated than after our knock out at the World Cup in 2018. What happened?”

“Don’t ask.” He sighed as he turned around to face his friend. Manuel hoped that he would accept his wish, but when he saw the apologetic look on Thomas’ face, he instantly knew that he wouldn’t drop the topic.

“Too late. I just did.”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, the next words were spoken more to himself than to his teammate.

“Great, just what I need. Another pain in my ass.”

“Another? Who was the first then?” Obviously Thomas had taken no offence and sounded a bit too cheerful for Manuel’s liking.

“She.”

He looked over at the dance floor, where the impertinent woman was just sending her uncle the most beautiful, cheeky grin he had ever seen.

“Who? Y/N?” his friend asked incredulously.

Y/N. So that was her name.

“You know that annoying woman?”

“I do, although I can’t really say she’s annoying. Met her at the coach’s home once. She seemed rather sweet and intelligent to me.”

“She certainly hid that pretty well,” Manuel growled under his breath, earning him a surprised frown from Thomas.

“Are you gonna stand here and stare daggers at her or are you gonna tell me what she did to make you throw a fit?”

“She approached me out of nowhere to tell me that I’m dating a teenager to compensate my inability to commit to a partner on eye level.”

Thomas let his words sink in for a while.

“That doesn’t really sound like her. I mean, what reason would she have to come at you like that? She doesn’t even know you.”

Manuel sighed, thinking about the way she had somehow coaxed the statements from him instead of making them herself.

“Well, she might have phrased it differently,” he admitted meekly. That seemed to spark Thomas’ interest even further and he could feel his expectant look on him, pressing him to finally tell the whole truth.

“Actually she didn’t say it like that. She only made an allusion and made me somehow say those things myself.”

“Mhm. And exactly what allusion did she make?”

Manuel rolled his eyes again, his ego still fighting to repeat her words out loud.

”She said puberty was a bitch, clearly hinting at the fact that she thought my girlfriend was too young for me.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence when Thomas’ roaring laughter filled the air.

“Now that does sound more like her.”

He needed a bit to contain himself when he suddenly looked up at Manuel with an unusually serious expression on his face.

“And I have to admit, Manu, she kind of has a fair point there.”

“What?”

Manuel could not believe his ears.

“Come on, man. It’s what everyone thinks. She just said it out loud.”

“Fuck you.”

But instead of rising to his expletive, Thomas just looked at him sympathetically. Pushing himself off of the counter, he pat his shoulder in an attempt to encourage him a little, ready to leave him to his self-denial.

But then he stopped. “You know, I personally didn’t have a problem with it. You’re an adult, you can make your own choices. As long as you’re happy, right? But the truth is, Manu, I don’t think you are. Not anymore.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

“See, I told you he wouldn’t be here. No need for all the panic beforehand.”

She narrowed her eyes at her cousin, shooting her a dirty look.

“Yeah, and I hope it’ll stay that way. Oh, and for the record: I wasn’t panicking at all, it was just you and your sister’s sudden eagerness to lure me here that got me suspicious and nervous in the first place.”

“We didn’t lure you here,” her other cousin piped up a little offendedly. “We simply wanted to spend some time with you. Come on, it’s been what, like 4 months now? Since you moved to Munich three years ago, we hardly get to see you anymore.”

“You and our father,” her sister added quickly. “So it seemed the best option to kill two birds with one stone and bring you along. After all it’s called a family day, right?”

Y/N sighed, not fully convinced, but finally ready to let the topic go.

“Right. Let’s just hope for your sakes that there will be no surprises today that might prove your guilt after all.”

“How are my girls doing?” she heard a familiar voice from behind her back, turning towards her favourite uncle with a beaming smile. What she didn’t see, however, was the brief look that was exchanged between her cousins as soon as she had turned her back, proving exactly what she had suspected all along.

“We’re good, dad. Actually, we’re more than good, we’re excellent,” the older cousin chirped.

“Great.” He paused a moment, but it was clear that he had more to say. Rocking back and forth on his feet, he looked from one woman to the other. “So,” he began carefully, before a huge Cheshire grin spread across his face. “I hope you all reserved a dance for me tonight.”

“Oh, no, daddy, not again.”

“Please, don’t make us do this.”

“There will be dancing here? If you had told me that beforehand, I certainly wouldn’t have come.”

“Of course there will be dancing. I thought that was obvious.” He had to try very hard to look a little slighted, while he actually drew a horrendous amount of amusement from their antics. “Remember, girls, we have a tradition to uphold. Whenever there is some dancing at a party, you have to reserve at least one dance for me. That’s the rule.”

And with that he turned and left them on their own again.

“Ugh, why does he always have to do that to us?” her younger cousin whined.

“Oh stop it, silly. You’re the one who likes it the most and everyone knows.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

She had been the first to pay tribute to the family tradition and after a very exhausting Discofox dance session, luckily one of her cousins had taken over from her. Kicking off her heels, she welcomed the feel of the cool grass underneath the soles of her feet. Walking over to one of the empty tables, she slumped down heavily into one of the comfortable looking chairs. With a contented smile she let herself fall back against the backrest, closing her eyes and breathing in the mild air of the warm summer night.

“Care for a drink?”

His voice made her jump, sitting up straight immediately, eyes shooting wide open. And there he was, two shot glasses in his large hands and grinning down at her, obviously very satisfied with the slight scare he had just given her. He looked amazing, the smug bastard, in his casual jeans and white shirt, two buttons undone, topped with a sporty black jacket. She highly doubted that she had ever seen a finer man in her entire life. Luckily that didn’t make her lose her sharp tongue.

“And here I am thinking that you weren’t fond of alcohol. What happened?”

He smiled sheepishly, only one corner of his mouth tugged up, when he handed her her drink. He took his time, grabbing a chair and positioning it opposite hers, then sitting down carefully, not wanting to spill the shot all over his chest. She had already come to think that he was trying to avoid her question after all, when he locked eyes with her and finally began to speak.

“Hm. It’s been a while since I last saw you. A lot of things happened, you know. Maybe it was finally time for me to grow up.”

“Hear, hear.” With a mischievous smile she raised her glass. “To your coming of age, then.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “If you insist.”

His magnificent blue eyes never left hers while they chinked glasses, and a second later she could feel the more than welcome liquid moisturising her suddenly very dry mouth.

With a thud, their glasses landed on the table, both of them chuckling like giddy children when their eyes found each other again and then, for a moment, there was nothing but silence. The world seemed to have zoned out, leaving behind nothing but his aquamarine orbs and the wild smile on his face.

Just gradually, the world seemed to set back in again. There was the monotonous clitter of the crickets, overlaid by the muffled sound of the music that was carried over by a soft breeze, and loudest of all she could hear the beating of her own heart against her chest.

“What else has changed now that you are a proper adult?” she heard herself ask, not having the faintest idea where those words came from and how the hell she managed to deliver them so smoothly when her whole body seemed to have gotten out of control.

He took a quick look over his shoulder, his thumb pointing in the same direction.

“If you mean the dancing, I’m still not very fond of that.” Her face must have fallen a little because he was quick to add, “Except...”

“Except what?”

His eyes landed back on hers and she almost choked on her hitching breath.

“Except I think I could make an exception for the right partner.”

From the corner of her eye she registered a movement between their bodies, but she was hesitant to let her view stray from his captivating appearance. At last it was something in his eyes that looked at her expectantly which finally made her snap out of her trance.

Looking down at his hand sheepishly, it took her a while to fathom that he was actually asking her to dance with him.

Slowly her eyes wandered up to his again, asking a silent question, which he answered with an almost imperceptible rise of his eyebrows. And before she knew what she was doing, she laid her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

He had just turned towards the source of the music, when she suddenly held him back.

“No, wait.”

With a puzzled look he did what she asked of him and let her twist him back around.

“Why don’t we just stay here? The music is loud enough anyway.”

A gentle smile curved his lips. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

She nodded softly, her teeth biting down on her lip in excitement.

And before she knew what was happening, she found herself secured against his chest by his firm grip. It felt like being pressed up to a hot furnace which she would usually have appreciated any other time, but on a sweltry night like this and in a place she had wanted to be in for so long, it was pure torture. And as if this wasn’t bad enough already, his strong fingers pressed down on her lower back, threatening to scorch her even through the fabric of her blouse as he pulled her an impossible inch further into him. He was so close now that she could sense the heat radiating off his cheek as well, bringing along a whiff of his enticing scent and she couldn’t help but close her eyes as she inhaled deeply and her head began to spin. It was odd, but her mind was completely blank by now, blank except for one thought and her lips spread into a blissful smile as she repeated it in her head again and again, relishing in the feeling that if either of them moved just the tiniest bit, their cheeks would inevitably touch.

Slowly they moved and despite the unhurried shift of their bodies her heart was beating so violently that she thought it pondered jumping out of her chest to meet his. There was no chance he wouldn’t be able to tell from the way he held her, and when he finally drew away a tad to look at her, she fully expected him to call her out for it.

But he didn’t. Instead his sinfully soft lips curled into a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“You were right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

A cute chuckle escaped his mouth, leaving the corners of his eyes crinkled in the most beautiful display of amusement.

“About what you said at your uncle’s birthday party.”

“Oh.” She had said a lot that evening, words that she had come to regret later and remembering them now set her cheeks on fire. “About what exactly?”

“About everything,” he admitted without hesitation, yet he couldn’t hide the spark of misery that flitted across his sea blue orbs. “Didn’t take me very long after that night to finally see things clearly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was true. Although she knew that she probably sounded like a madwoman after everything she had confronted him with back then, at least the frown on his forehead seemed to confirm that. “I truly am. I really would have liked to see you happy.” Even if it was with that girl.

She was glad she had managed to keep that last bit to herself. She had no idea why she had said that she was sorry in the first place, but judging by the wild smile on his face it must have been the right words after all.

“Well, I certainly am happier now than I was that night.” He shrugged. “So, thank you, I guess.”

She huffed. “For what? Making absolutely inappropriate remarks on your relationship? I shouldn’t have done that. I know that now. So it should be me who is sorry here, don’t you think?”

She could feel his fingertips press into the soft flesh of her back.

“Don’t be. I guess you were exactly what I needed.” It took him a second before he realised what he had just said. “I mean it. It was exactly what I needed.”

His eyes snapped to the left and she was thankful that he couldn’t see the grin that decorated her lips as she watched the treacherous colour creep into his cheeks, spreading all the way to his ears. For a while he didn’t say another word, probably still trying feverishly to figure out a way to take back his slip of the tongue. And when he finally spoke, she wished he hadn’t.

“There is one thing though that I have gone over and over in my mind. But no matter how long I think about it, it just won’t make sense.”

She already knew that she wouldn’t like where this conversation was heading now, but she found herself asking nonetheless.

“And what is that?”

His head turned without a warning as his eyes searched her gaze and for the blink of an eye his lips came so close that she couldn’t say if they had actually brushed along hers or if her needy heart had just imagined their brief touch. He didn’t answer her question right away, his breath blending with her own in the narrow space between their faces and suddenly she wasn’t so sure anymore if she had really only dreamed up their fleeting foretaste of a kiss.

“Why did you do it?” Panic rose in her chest. She hadn’t done anything. After all it had been him who had turned his head. But as he went on, she realised that he wasn’t referring to that at all and the suffocating distress eased away bit by bit. “I mean, we didn’t even know each other when you decided to come at me like that.”

Now it was her who had to avert her gaze.

“I think I don’t really want to answer that question.”

“Why not?” His voice was so soft and gentle, making it even harder to answer him.

“Because the truth might be kind of ugly.”

“But the outcome wasn’t, so I think I’ll take that risk.”

Her feet stopped their mechanical movements as a violent shiver ran down her spine. So this would be it then. It would be over before it had really begun. Pity. But at least she would have the memory of these few minutes, of his genuine smile and the way he had held her tight against his chest. With a deep sigh she bid their daydream of a dance goodbye.

“I could tell you now that it was for some noble reason, but at the bottom of it all I think it was nothing more than jealousy that drew me to your table that night. I had been unable to ignore you all evening — ignore her. The way she behaved like a spoiled brat, drinking and losing control, not caring in the least that she not only made a fool out of herself but of you as well. God, I hated her in that moment, for having everything I ever wanted and riding roughshod over it. And when I saw you sitting there, looking so utterly crestfallen, somehow I couldn’t help it.”

An undefinable silence settled between them and the only sound that remained was the beat of the music wafting over from the party that went on behind his back. The faint whisper of the melody seemed to push itself up between them and tear them further apart, exactly as she had expected. And just like the bass, her heartbeat slowed until it died away completely.

It was over and everything she wanted to do was let go of his hand so she could do him the favour of leaving, but to her astonishment he refused to set her free. And rather then releasing her from his grip, he squeezed her hand, briefly and just once, but it was enough for her to find the courage and face him. But instead of finding a frown or a scornful pair of eyes, his blinding smile made her forget to breathe for a moment.

“I had hoped you might say that.” And with that he pulled her into his arms again and continued swaying her to the music as if she had not just revealed her repulsive self to him. Her brain still a step behind, she couldn’t do anything but stare up at him stupidly.

“What? Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” And when she shook her head like a petrified imbecile, an amused chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Because even though your behaviour was extremely infuriating, I have to admit that I like you. And asking you out on a date will be so much easier now that I know you like me too.”

With a violent jolt, the useless muscle inside her chest started to beat again, its heavy pounding filling her ears with white noise as the world around her started to spin. Unable to stop the motion, she felt herself leaning in, her nails digging into the undoubtedly expensive fabric of his jacket as she desperately tried to gain control over her unruly body.

“So, will you go out with me?”

It seemed like an eternity until she finally mustered the strength for a mechanical nod. Neither had she noticed in her struggle that he had stopped dancing, nor that the priceless look on her face had made his eyes and heart go soft for her.

“Great. That’s settled then. When are you free?”

It was only when he took a step back, taking his warmth with him as his hand slipped out of hers, that she snapped out of her trance.

“Now.”

“Now? Like right now?”

More like now as in before she could screw everything up again.

“Yes, why not? I know you have a busy schedule, so finding a date when we are both free might be tough. And above that, it is a beautiful summer evening.”

Had all those words really fallen from her mouth right now? Embarrassed about her lack of composure, her hand flew up to her mouth, making him smile again.

“I guess you have a fair point there.” And just like that, his hand was there again, fingers entwining slowly with hers like they had never been meant for anyone else. “All right then, let’s get out of here.”

***

Tag List: please let me know if you want to be removed or added by either ask or DM - thank you!

@summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @dorothea-hwldr @omgkatinka @ashesofblackroses @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @icarusblinders @zealoushound @asuni921 @endofalldays01 @nerra75 @indigosaurus @nowyouseeme098 @cap-just-said-language @miss-rebel-without-applause @wheretheriversrunintothesea @maan24 @mochionly @introvertedmouse @sofiebstar @kebabgirl67 @marytudorbrandon @littleone65

#manuel neuer x reader #manuel neuer x you #manuel neuer fanfiction #manuel neuer #football au #manuel neuer fanfic #manuel neuer fic #manuel neuer imagine #manuel neuer rpf #assumptions

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bvttersweet · 2 years ago

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ben barnes / he/him / heterosexual / cis man — JACK KINCAID is incoming! they’re a THIRTY NINE year-old ACTOR who’s been living at royal view for TEN YEARS. i hear their neighbors call them AMORAL + RECKLESS but i’d like to think they’re more CHARMING + TALENTED . you can find them in 5B, it’s the one always playing BLINDING LIGHTS by THE WEEKND.

BASICS.

FULL NAME: jack arnold kincaid (born: jack arnold stanton) NICKNAMES: jack, jackie, AGE: thirty-nine years old. DATE OF BIRTH: november 7th, 1984. PLACE OF BIRTH: london, england. RESIDENCE: new york city, usa. NATIONALITY: british. GENDER IDENTITY: cis-man. PREFERRED PRONOUNS: he/him. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual. RELIGION: atheist. raised agnostic. SOCIAL CLASS: upper class. LANGUAGES SPOKEN: english, italian, some spanish. ACCENT: british (received pronunciation). READ MORE FOR FULL STATS.

TLDR.

( tw: drug addiction, overdose )

+ english boy who’s lived in america since he was four. mother was a rising west end actress who gave up her career to have him. no idea who his dad is and fully doesn’t care. + was in a 90s sitcom called ‘dewie’s dozen’ where he played one of twelve children for a single dad. it was his ticket to fame and was quite famous as a child. any 90′s babies might know him.

+ got too famous too young and ended up partying too hard, getting addicted to cocaine and fucking up his whole career after he was too difficult to work with while he was under the influence.

+ his last acting role was as dorian gray back in 2009, in 2010 he got replaced in role for a movie that went on to be nominated for an oscar. went to rehab in 2011 after nearly overdosing.

+ would never consider himself “washed up” but very much is. trying to break back into the industry in new york, mostly doing off-broadway shows that bank off his name.

+ has a half sister who he feels like he barely knows but was super supportive of him in rehab. would love a wanted connection for this!

+ practices “california sober” which means he mostly drinks and some light party drugs. has a sober sponsor who is always very disappointed in him.

+ has lived at royal view for ten years after he came back from rehab, lives mostly off royalties from his movies and a shitty autobiography he wrote mid-recovery.

+ bit of a fuckhead but tries his best 🤷🏻‍♂️ turning forty in like a week so maybe he’s due for a midlife crisis?

PLOTS.

coming soon ! but hit me up for literally anything

#rvhqintro

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

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The Beds We’ve Made Final Part

Kurt x De Sardet

Word Count: 2,440 Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Oh look at that, I’ve finished a WIP while undergoing a midlife crisis! Enjoy! -Thorne

It wasn’t real, he told himself. The annoying sensation of his heart fluttering in his chest when he caught sight of her. Or heard her voice. Or her laugh. It wasn’t real when he watched her explode with glee when she saw the Naut walking their way, Síora and Aphra in tow. And it certainly wasn’t real when he saw her throw her arms around the young captain’s neck, expressing her relief at his recovery.

Oh, but it was real. That vine of thorns that slunk in his chest, curling tighter and tighter around his heart until the sight of it became too painful to watch and he had to avert his gaze for fear of making a fool of himself—and embarrassing her. That was the last thing he wanted, for De Sardet to be ashamed of herself because of him. And that seemed to knock all the air from his lungs, leaving him breathless in the face of his truth.

What did he have to compare to Vasco? Sure, they both lowborn, excluding the whole ‘Vasco’s-Actually-A-Noble’ thing, but the Naut had status. And with his loyalty restored in his guild, it meant he had power. Kurt had no doubt that the Naut would come out a commander before his thirty-fifth year—it was only a matter of time. But what could Kurt offer De Sardet that would make even a smidge of a difference when you compared him to Vasco? Hell, he didn’t even have a childhood to possibly reminisce happily about. He spent his life fulfilling contract after contract, coin purse after coin purse. Where was his honor? Where was the life he could give her? Of happiness? Of joy? Where was—

“Kurt!”

An almost painful grip had settled onto his bicep and, curse himself, he startled like a doe in a clearing. His head shot up, eyes wide as he gaped at the very woman he drug himself for, her own gaze slightly worried.

“What?” he dumbly blurted out, quickly darting his eyes to the other members of their troupe, all staring back at him with cocked brows.

De Sardet pulled away and he missed the warmth already. “I was calling for you and you weren’t responding.” Her gaze narrowed. “Are you well?”

He felt foolish. The type of foolish that made his skin crawl and itchy, and he cleared his throat, forcing himself not to flush.

“I’m fine,” he nodded. “I was lost in thought.”

Gauging her reaction, Kurt knew that she wanted to keep asking to be sure, so he offered her a smile. Or at least he thought he did. He was sure it was more of a grimace.

“Really, your excellency,” he said, tightening his voice with, “I’m fine.”

By the way her eyebrow arched, he knew that she didn’t believe a word that came out of is mouth, but the forceful remark made her tip her head in acknowledgement and she glanced back at Vasco.

“Well, they were going to the tavern in celebration of Vasco’s recovery.” Meeting his steely gaze, she added, “I was going to join them after seeing Constantin, but if you’d rather go with them, I understand.”

For a moment, he briefly considered it. Getting drunk would happen a lot faster if she weren’t there to start it. But then again, he was a jealous, envious, and greedy son of a bitch, and any moment he could soak up her presence without the threat of someone else taking her away from him was a moment he was going to covet like it was the rarest of jewels.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll come with you.” The others chuckled and he griped, “Someone might try to hurt you.”

De Sardet snorted as she waved the others off and started up the stairs. “Oh please. We both know I can take care of myself.”

“Be that as it may, I’m still your bodyguard.” And before he could shut his mouth, he grunted, “And the one who pays me.”

She didn’t turn around, and she didn’t have to for him to know that his remark upset her. The way her shoulders set, and her chin tilted up told him otherwise.

They entered the palace and he murmured, “That was unworthy of me. I apologize.”

De Sardet heaved a sigh and shrugged. “It is what it is.”

Nearing the throne room, he felt a shift growing between them and before he could help himself, Kurt reached out and grasped her elbow, stopping her in her tracks. She didn’t pull away, which relieved him more than he cared to admit, but the suspicious look on her face made his stomach roll uncomfortably and he realized that it would appear badly for them if someone saw them—fuck it, he didn’t care anymore.

“I didn’t mean that Lady De Sardet. Not in the slightest.”

She shook her head. “I told you Kurt, it is what it is.” Tipping her head to the door, she added, “We need to see Constantin. Can we talk about this lat—”

“We’re gonna talk about it now.” He interrupted, grip tightening ever so slightly on her arm, and he watched the pride swim in her gaze, daring him to try to change her mind.

“And if I say no?” De Sardet challenged coolly, eyes narrowing into a heatless glare.

Kurt leaned close until they were nose to nose. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, my lady,” he murmured.

They stared one another down for a minute, neither willing to give on their stance until she huffed and shook him off.

“Fine,” she agreed. “Let’s go to the residence then.”

And suddenly Kurt felt his hands start sweating as she passed him by, marching towards the doors, leaving him in the dust.

***

It wasn’t the first time he’d been in her bedroom. And shit, saying that made him feel dirty, like some type of lecherous peeping Tom. While all of the times he’d ever been in her room had been to roll her out of bed and to practice, there’d never been any type of emotion between them—other than her absolute loathing at being woken up by the smug mercenary.

But now? Now they’d been dancing around one another with thinly, very thinly, veiled innuendoes. And sharing tents. They’d shared a goddamn tent and Kurt didn’t sleep a wink that night because every time she brushed up against him in her sleep, his heart hammered like a blacksmith was pounding it with a mallet, and a warmth split his gut in two that made his face burn with embarrassment.

And she didn’t even notice. Not then, and certainly not now as she busied herself with pulling off her fancy gray tricorn, setting it aside before moving on to the weapons belts. Each undoing made Kurt’s heart skip just a bit faster and when she finally pulled the armored coat off, she glanced back at him with a funny look.

“Kurt?” she called. “Are you going to take off your armor?”

“My—my armor?” his tongue felt heavy in his mouth and she nodded.

“You can’t exactly sit comfortably with a great sword attached to your back,” she explained, and he watched her as she began to shift the cushions around on the floor, just against the trunk at the foot of her bed.

“I’d also assume that clunky armor isn’t comfortable to sit in.” She shoved at him playfully as she moved around her room, grabbing a bottle of wine.

Somehow, Kurt managed to make his hands move and his fingers to undo the belts holding his sword and armor in place. It left him in his tunic and leather pants, and he lent the gear up beside the doorway and when he turned, she was already perched on the pillows, reclining back.

“Sit with me,” she said, waving him over and he walked on less-clumsy feet to her, taking the seat beside her. He grunted as his knees popped and she giggled. “Old much?”

“I am not old,” he retorted indignantly, swiping the bottle from her to uncork it and take a swig. “I’m in my prime, thank you very much.”

“Oh ho?” De Sardet countered, then took back the bottle and gestured around them. “And the silence outside that I’m hearing is obviously your suitors waiting for you to lay them, hmm?”

A grin came across her lips at his pinched expression and she took a drink, then passed the bottle back. And a silence fell over them for a while as they simply drank with one another.

“You know,” she started after a time. “It is surprising that you never married, Kurt.”

He almost choked on the wine going down. Almost. Meeting her gaze, he questioned, “Why’s that?”

De Sardet shrugged, explaining, “Well, you wer—are young and strong. I always assumed you’d find a wife in Serene.”

“I would’ve, but I had to royal greenies to raise,” he teased, nudging her in the ribs. He wasn’t drunk enough to not control his actions, but just tipsy enough to loosen his lips and his feelings. Thank the gods, because if they’d tried to talk while he wasn’t buzzed, he’d have spluttered like a pierced hose.

“Oh piss,” she laughed. “Constantin and I knew how to take care of ourselves even without weapons protection.” Turning, she cocked her elbow on the trunk and peered at him with amusement.

“Tell me honestly, Kurt. Why didn’t you ever marry and settle down? Haven’t you always wanted a family? Or at least some semblance of it that wasn’t the guard?”

Her questions dug deep, deeper than he wanted to go into his own heart. Of course, he wanted that. He wanted that more than anything now that his worst nightmare was burned away…but only if it was with her. His mouth was moving before he could shut it.

“Only if you’re the one I do it with,” he confessed and his mouth snapped shut when her eyes widened, shock splattering across her face.

“What?” De Sardet whispered, and he wasn’t sure if she wanted him to repeat it because she hadn’t heard or if she did and she wanted him to say it again.

“I—” he started, then shook his head. This was a bad idea. “It was nothing. A slip of the tongue.” Kurt turned away, but stopped when her hand caught his chin, turning him back towards her.

“My lady, I—”

“Do you mean that Kurt?” she asked quietly and one look into her unfathomable gaze had him sinking deeper and deeper.

“Yes,” he breathed, trying to ignore the way her touch burned him alive, all in the best way. “I…I know that I was your Master-At-Arms all this time, and you were young then, and I didn’t think anything of you.”

De Sardet huffed slightly. “Ouch.”

Kurt chuckled, then his smile fell as he admitted, “But now, Lady De Sardet…you have become a beautiful and wonderful woman. A woman that any man would be lucky to even be in the presence of.”

His icy gaze searched hers. “Everything that I want, everything that you said…a wife…a family…I want that, but only if it means that you’re the one beside me.” He reached up and cupped her cheek. “I—I love you, Lady De Sardet.”

For a moment, she didn’t speak, and for a brief moment, Kurt wondered if he’d spilled his guts only for her to hand them back in disgust. Until of course her hand covered the one at her cheek and her eyes crinkled with mirth in the way that set his soul aflame.

“See, that wasn’t so hard now was it, Kurt?” she grinned, pulling away to rise to her feet. De Sardet spun and held out a hand, and when he took it, she hauled him to his feet, enjoying the way his arms automatically wound around her.

“Was this a test, my lady?” he mused, and she shrugged.

“I don’t know, maybe?” her nonchalance made him chuckle and he bent down to capture her lips, only to be stopped by a pointer finger and a cocked brow.

“Uh…”

“Magic phrase?” she whispered sweetly, and Kurt smirked.

“May I get into your knickers, please?”

De Sardet swatted at his chest in anger, though laughter peeled from her all the same.

“Oh you—you—you!”

“You what?” he retorted, twirling them around to near the bed.

“You are such a ma--AN!” De Sardet cried when her knees hit the bed and she tumbled back onto the sheets, landing with an ‘oof’. Suddenly a weight was on her and she looked up, seeing Kurt smiling down at her.

“You didn’t say the magic phrase,” she pouted, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“I love you,” he murmured, pulling back to meet her eyes once more.

De Sardet felt a flush crawl under her skin and she grumbled, “Well, it was ‘may I please kiss you?’, but this works too.”

Kurt chuckled. “Good to know…but I have to ask…do you love me too?”

She stared at him. “Do you think I’d’ve let you into my bedroom if I didn’t?”

He shook his head. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“Is that a command, Captain Kurt?” she purred, sliding her thigh up between his legs in a way that made him let out a throat growl.

“It’s going to be if you keep that up,” he countered lowly and she grinned wickedly.

“In that case…” he barely got a word in before she shoved him over and straddled his hips, enjoying the crimson that spread across his cheeks when he gaped up at her.

She placed her hands on his chest and stared at him for a moment, innocently murmuring, “I do love you, Kurt. Very much so.” Her eyes took on a sad tone. “Which is why when you didn’t tell me about the coup…I was so hurt.”

His face fell and he sighed. “If I could go back in time, I would tell you everything, my lady.”

De Sardet shifted slightly and motioned for him to sit up. When he did, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Promise me that you’ll never hide another secret from me.” Tilting her head, she added, “And I will promise the same to you. Every inch of my soul will be exposed to you.”

Kurt couldn’t agree fast enough. “I promise. I promise my loyalty and truth to you. For all of time,” he vowed, and she smiled, pressing her forehead to his.

“And I you, my love.”

#kurt x de sardet #de sardet x kurt #greedfall fanfic #greedfall fanfiction #greedfall #kurt fanfic #kurt fanfiction #kurt #captain kurt #de sardet #de sardet fanfic #de sardet fanfiction #vasco #captain vasco #aphra #siora #constantin d'orsay

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msotherworldly · 3 years ago

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Know Your Audience: Writers & the Target Audience

If you’ve read enough writing advice, you’ve probably heard that you should know your target audience. As a general rule, you should know the age of your reader, their tastes, and even their hobbies. To make it easier, it might be best to write for yourself - or for someone who is exactly like you. Chances are you are your target audience, because most writers will write the book they want to read. Trying to appeal to everyone won’t win you any favour from anybody; even stories which seem to have universal appeal were directed at someone.

Harry Potter might be beloved by several ages, but it was aimed at children first (and is now directed at Millenials and Gen Z). The Marvel Films are enjoyed by most, but are still written for those in their twenties and thirties. British murder mysteries can be enjoyed by anyone, but writers usually have people in their fifties and older in mind when writing them.

In knowing your target audience, you can improve your story by including elements which are relevant to them. If you’re writing a Young Adult fantasy novel, it’s recommended you include elements which appeal to teens and young adults - dating, school life balance, first crushes, questions around gender, and diversity.

If you’re writing a British murder mystery series, you might want to include elements in your story relevant to people between the ages of fifty and eighty - children moving out of the home, struggles at work, health problems, adult children being estranged from their family, spousal problems, or even dire medical problems like cancer or Alzeimer’s.

The age of your readers will affect the issues they want to see explored, and the elements they expect to see. If your cast is predominantly white, this likely won’t bother your audience if they are older. If you’re writing for New Adult or Young Adult, though, you’ll need to research how to write characters who are Black, transgender, gay, disabled, autistic, and so on, because this is something young readers expect to see.

This isn’t to say there can’t be overlap. A young adult novel, for example, might still explore more “adult” issues like divorce, housing inflation, and the midlife crisis (though these will likely be experienced secondhand by a teen watching the effect on a parent). Stories for older audiences are also increasingly exploring diversity, adding characters who are Black or trans to their casts.

The point is, you have to look into what your audience wants to see. Read about current trends in their favoured genres. Read new books in the genre, and note what comes up (if you notice an abundance of romance, that means there’s a demand for it from that audience).

Not everyone in an age group is the same, but by narrowing your reader down to a specific age and personality type, you can write something that’s more likely to speak to someone on a personal level. Though it’s not always the case, you’re likely already writing for a target audience you understand - the one you belong to. If you’re eighteen, you’re probably writing stories which appeal to those who are eighteen and older (though there are always exceptions).

The little details can go a long way, too. Look at other interests in your age group. If you’re writing for those between the ages of 18 to 30, you can reference anime and manga, video games, superhero films, and popular franchises like Harry Potter, Twilight, or The Hunger Games. If you’re writing for an audience between the ages of 60 and 80, it could be prudent to research the era they came from, and reference the films they grew up with (maybe your older protagonist likes to watch reruns of Happy Days).

Know your audience: learn their expectations, the films and books they grew up with, and consider the issues that matter to them. Then reflect on what matters in your work. There’s every chance someone outside the target audience could love your story too, but focusing on a specific type of person - likely one who is like you - will lead to a story both you and your reader can be truly passionate about.

#writing advice #diversity in literature #diversity in books #Writing tips #writing community #writers #writing #i love writing #writers network #writers corner #writers of tumblr

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uwua3 · 4 years ago

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your name (pt. 2)

❄️📚 tsukioka tsumugi

part 1 — part 2 — part 3

summary: you find yourself in a familiar, but at the same time, new place.

author’s note: hi, everyone! :D this is the second part of the ongoing “your name” series~ ♡ this time, from your perspective! please enjoy, have a good day !! ☆(>ω・)

word count: 1,668

You woke up.

It was like a dream, like you had brought something back. You didn’t know what, but you were now awake. As you attempted to adjust to the darkness, all was quiet in the world. Until, you realized you had no idea where you were.

You quickly sat up from an uncomfortable position, the worn sofa beneath you doing nothing to help you feel better. Two separate stacks of unfamiliar papers surrounded both your sides as a T.V. was flashing colors against your shadow. Except… it wasn’t yours, per say. You looked over the sofa at the large shadow, moving your hand to see it do the same. This was real… but, who were you? When you reached into the person’s pockets to find some sort of a phone, you were disappointed to find a vintage, rundown flip phone weighing down the palm of your hand. Great, were you some sort of old man?

Trying not to scatter all the papers onto the ground, you took a careful step off the couch before hearing a sickening crack. This explained why you could barely see, as you crouched down to make out a pair of shattered glasses. You ignored the mess, moving away to find some sort of mirror. Instead, you discovered a barely lit studio apartment with everything wrong with it. The door was closed with a stool, half the lights didn’t work properly, and a distinct smell of cup noodles came from a broken microwave.

As you kept your hand on a wall to navigate, you began picking up small details that made this place home. The heavily marked calendar on the wall decorated the space, multiple photos of what seemed like student graduations neatly framed by the front, and certificates in psychology and education gave insight on who you were living through. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it felt like a place that made you trust the owner.

By the time you reached the bathroom door, you breathed a sigh of relief that the light didn’t cut out as you flipped the switch. When you looked into the mirror, you expected to see an aged teacher having a rough night of grading. Instead, you could see your expression form into shock at the reflection. You were… a college student? You knew that wasn’t the case considering the multiple Bachelor’s degrees, but you looked so young and old at the same time. It was like the person was physically young, but ancient from the way his hands automatically gripped the sink to keep himself up. You were looking into the eyes of a tired boy, and you could feel it in your bones that no amount of sleep could cure whatever he was going through.

You had to tear your eyes away to turn on the sink, waiting for the water to build up in your cupped palms. The water pressure was barely there, but it was what you needed to remind yourself this wasn’t a dream. For some reason, you had woken up in a random boy’s body in his no-good, terrible apartment. As you washed your face and met your reflection once again, you could sense the determination in the way his mouth formed a line. You were going to find out why you were here.

You took a moment to admire the body you were in. Although the boy seemed to carry the weight of the world upon his shoulders, he was doing rather well for himself. He had long, overgrown dark blue hair that just revealed his same-shade blue eyes. His eyes held the light of a student ready to learn, even after many years of strict academia. His features resembled one of a game protagonist, and you weren’t used to this tall height on your side. Even in just a striped shirt, you could tell he was beautiful in his own right.

“No matter what, I’ll find you again.” You said for absolutely no reason, with no one to hear except yourself—well, him. His voice didn’t take you by surprise; it was expectantly gentle and inherently kind, it was fitting to a light smile like his. You left the cramped bathroom with two goals in mind: 1. Figure out where you were, 2. Decide what to do next.

The room seemed lighter in comparison to before, meaning the sun must’ve been rising. You didn’t have to search long to find a passed-down clock by the sofa’s makeshift nightstand. The lines read it was nearing 5 A.M. as you identified an alarm was about to go off in exactly thirty minutes. Next, you were about to rummage around for any sort of geographic location before a loud car horn cut off your thoughts. Immediately snapping your head towards the opening, you saw a cracked open balcony hidden away behind a bookshelf. As you made your way through, you had no idea how you thought it was quiet. Although it was still the start of the day, you could already see a highway jam packed with automobiles going towards the big city. The buildings around you were nothing compared to the distant skyscrapers, and a realization occurred within you.

You were in Tokyo, Japan.

Before you could go watch what the T.V. was saying, a ring sounded from the flip phone. Hurrying to answer, you stood upon the balcony in an unfamiliar city you always dreamt of visiting. When you finally put the phone to your ear, you noticed how… modern urban accents were compared to your original rural one.

“Heya Tsumu-Tsumu! I knew you’d be awake, you crazy workaholic!” A loud voice made you wince as you flinched back from the sudden volume. Your silence didn’t deter—you looked at the contact—Miyoshi Kazunari as he rambled on. It was way too early for this type of energy, but you could spot college student caffeine addiction from a mile away.

“Lucky for you~,” Kazunari dragged out his vowels when he spoke. Not in a country way, but it was actually a stylistic choice all trendsetters seemed to have. “I’m also crazy! Just finished a project and I got an early morning class.” Kazunari made crying noises, and you genuinely didn’t know if they were exaggerated or he was having his midlife crisis breakdown. Too many things were running through your head, you could barely keep up with the bold personality Miyoshi Kazunari was. How the hell did a quiet person end up friends with an extrovert like Kazunari?

“And because I’m super smart, I know you’re usually grading papers or somethin’. Wanna get coffee today? I need it, bad.” Kazunari invited you to get coffee… but you barely knew your way around your own apartment, nevermind Tokyo. You were so lost in thought that Kazunari took your lack of response as a deafening “no”. A slightly awkward laugh interrupted the twenty seconds of silence, the noise suddenly much less confident than before.

“Ah… sorry, Tsumu-Tsumu. You’re probably too tired, right? You usually don’t want to go anyways, I don’t know why I asked.” Kazunari trailed off in a mumble, clearly discouraged already. Hearing this total stranger give up felt like kicking a puppy. You had no reason to agree, but you did anyway. You don’t know if it was you or “Tsumu-Tsumu” trying to reassure Kazunari.

“U-Um! No, let’s get coffee,” You paused, letting out a similar laugh that was obviously strained. “Kazunari?” It was Kazunari’s turn to be silent on the phone, before exploding into a pattern of shock and disbelief.

“KAZUNARI?! Yo, Tsumu-Tsumu! Are we suddenly BFFS now or what?! You’ve never called me by my first name before, you must be real sleepy!” Kazunari teased, but you could pick up on his revived energy and excitement about the day now. You responded with a laugh once again to show you were listening, and Kazunari took it as a sign to drop the sudden lack of honorifics between you two. As Kazunari said he’d message you the address of the “hottest cafe right now in all of Japan”, you mentally beat yourself up over the slip of tongue.

This Tsumu-Tsumu guy didn’t seem like the type to just call people by their first names. You hoped this wouldn’t severely affect anything for him in the long run. When Kazunari told you to be there by 7:30 A.M., he hung up and an instant message came with a winky emoticon and star symbol. The quiet finally gave you enough time to process everything that just happened.

You had agreed to meet a total stranger—well, to you—at a random cafe in the middle of the biggest city in Japan. You didn’t even know your own name. Staring out at the city you would soon find yourself in, you headed back inside and shut off the T.V. without another word. It was time to get ready and somehow figure out a way to get to… you checked the address again, Omi's House.

You checked the calendar from before and saw neat kanji of a name that felt familiar. “Tsukioka Tsumugi.” You read out loud, subconsciously tracing the characters with your finger. It felt right, you had no doubt it was this person’s name. You were quick to relax when you noticed Friday was the one day Tsumugi had off out of the entire week. You felt pitiful at how the one column of Fridays were being crowded by filled blocks of events, part-time gigs, and more work. When could Tsumugi just get a coffee?

Maybe, meeting Kazunari was a good thing. You found a brown peacoat hanging on the knob of the door and slipped it on. You said goodbye to an empty apartment, and left with no clue where you were going. All you had was a ripped bag and a newfound spark to your eyes.

You were Tsukioka Tsumugi, a random boy in Tokyo, and you were going to make the most of it.

#tsukioka tsumugi #tsumugi tsukioka #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #tsumugi x reader #a3! tsumugi #a3 tsumugi

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brideofedoras · 4 years ago

Text

Under Covers

This fic was inspired by this photo. That leg is my current sexuality.

Tagging my urbabes: @below-average-fangirl @emily-strange @nora-hewlett @to-boldly-nope @urban-trek-thru-middle-earth @pandaqueen7799 @bakerstreethound @portals-to-a-new-world @writerdee1701 @ladyreapermc

Enjoy!

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3200+

Warnings: Smut.

Ember had never been more thankful for dark sunglasses in her life. And coffee shops that opened at the ass crack of dawn near the sleepy suburbs surrounding the greater DC area. And six hour car rides to get to their destination. Hopefully her boss would be kind and not go over the operation parameters for the tenth time since yesterday afternoon and she could catch an hour of sleep. Without dreams. Please please please, don’t let me have any repeat dreams that kept me up all night, she prayed fervently.

The last thing she needed was to have a any more vivid sex dreams about her very hot boss while in the car with him.

It was bad enough she had agreed to go on this assignment with him, posing as a couple at some fancy beach resort in North Carolina and she fit the profile of the type of woman their target frequently sought out. There were probably sixty agents with more fieldwork under their belts (or at least more qualified) for this kind of op who fit the profile, but Cooper had chosen her. It was both an honor that he wanted her with him and intimidating as hell because she did not want to let him down.

Her phone pinged with an alert, drawing her from her exhausted stupor.

I’m outside.

Ember sighed. Be down in a minute, she texted back. She slipped her phone in her back pocket, shouldered her purse and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. She mentally went over her Leaving For Vacation checklist for the hundredth time, just as she always did before leaving for a few days. Plants watered, lights off, oven off, thermostat set to a reasonable temperature, all small appliances unplugged, windows locked. Phone charger and keys in purse. Toiletry bag in suitcase. Vibrator and extra batteries in suitcase…

Unfortunately, since they were posing as a couple and would be sharing a one bedroom bungalow, she would have to remove the batteries to make damned sure she wouldn’t embarrass the hell out of herself should she need to relieve any frustrations.

Which there would be plenty. William Cooper was a walking wet dream. Tall. Broad shouldered. Scowly. Sexy. Intelligent. And deep down underneath that frown she was used to seeing on a daily basis he was a softie. That rarely seen soft side only fueled her crush on him that much more.

With a weary sigh Ember set her security alarm and locked the door behind her.

Black Mercedes sedan, Cooper’s next text buzzed through.

Her brow quirked up as she pressed the call button for the elevator. No Porsche?

Didn’t want to look like a man going through a midlife crisis.

She bit back a smile. You’re too young for a midlife crisis.

Ember was not surprised when no response buzzed through. She stuffed her phone in her pocket once more and stifled a yawn as she made her way out to the parking lot.

She thought nothing of it when Cooper climbed out of the car and made his way to the back. But once he cleared the trunk she nearly tripped over her feet.

In the short time she had known William Cooper she had never seen him wearing anything other than a suit. Granted, most of the time the jacket was off and his sleeves rolled up, but suits had quickly become the sexiest thing she’d ever seen on a man (firmly replacing uniforms. She’d always been a sucker for a man in a military uniform or tactical gear up until the first time she’d seen her boss loosen his tie and roll up his shirt sleeves).

But she was woefully unprepared to see her hot boss wearing casual clothes. A blue and white plaid button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, unbuttoned over a light grey tee-shirt and a pair of snug jeans with a hole ripped in the left knee… and a pair of sunglasses hiding those dangerously gorgeous hazel eyes. And the stubble gracing his jaw. Oh sweet heavens she was a sucker for unshaven jaws...

She once again thanked her lucky stars for dark sunglasses hiding her eyes.

The trunk latching shut startled her out of her wandering thoughts.

“Get in the car, Kid.”

Oh.

No.

He.

Didn’t.

Ember bristled at that moniker. She hated being called kid. Hated it. She was twenty-eight years old, barely, what, seven years younger than him. Her eyes began to burn when she jerked the passenger door open. Oh, don’t start, she admonished herself. It’s too damned early and I hardly slept last night.

“Easy there, tiger,” Cooper commented as he joined her in the car. “You okay?”

She carefully shut her door, fastened her seatbelt and took a deep breath before she responded. “Yeah. Sleepless night,” she pasted on a smile as she turned to face him.

His brow furrowed. “Worried about the op?”

“You could say that,” she let the smile fall off as she settled back in her seat. That was partly true, at least. She was worried about her part, terrified she would blow it.

“You’ve got the easy job,” he started the car. “Look pretty, flirt, be coy.”

“You call that easy?” She glared at him behind her sunglasses, blushing at his look pretty comment. “I can’t flirt my way out of a paper bag if I tried.”

His dimples flashed when he grinned. “‘Your tie brings out the gold in your eyes, Boss’ ring a bell? Or ‘You’ve got a bit of powdered sugar on your cheek’?”

Ember flushed beet red. “A compliment and a gentle warning before a meeting are hardly flirting!” She stammered out.

God, she had mentally kicked herself for a MONTH on the powdered sugar incident, brushing it from his cheek with her thumb.

Her palm still tingled from the feel of his afternoon stubble when she had cupped his cheek, as if she had any right touching him in such an intimate manner!

“You were flirting,” his grin widened as he pulled out onto the street. “And the plate of extra cookies left over from your Christmas dinner?”

“Figured your kids would like some cookies, and I had more than enough left over,” she shifted in a poor attempt to hide the blush creeping up her chest and neck and wished like hell she had worn something other than a scoop neck tank top. She was not a pretty blusher when her chest got all splotchy.

“That’s what break rooms are for,” he chuckled. “Pretty sure Sanderson would ask you to marry him if you bring baked goods in.”

She shuddered. “Pretty sure he still lives in his parents’ basement.”

“Yeah, he has that personality,” Cooper frowned thoughtfully, slowing for a stoplight. “Not your type then?”

“Have you ever heard me flirt with him?”

His belly laugh echoed through the car. “No, no, I haven’t,” he managed to get out when his laughter died down. “You can give Wilkes a run for her money in the ice queen department when you’re dealing with him.”

“I hope you’re giving me a compliment and not calling me a frigid bitch,” she couldn’t help but smile.

“She’s the frigid bitch and she wears that badge with pride. She made Sanderson cry a couple of times. You’re at least polite.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be,” she turned her attention back to the window. “And I don’t flirt.”

“‘You’re too young for a midlife crisis’?”

“Not flirting!” She shifted until her back was to him.

“What is it, then?”

“The truth,” her forehead thunked against the passenger window. “Thirty-five is still young.” She sighed heavily. “Age is only a number, what matters is how you feel inside. Take Grandpa- er, Henry, for example. He’s eighty-five, still working downstairs, running circles around the younger desk jockeys.”

“I need to find out what his secret is,” Cooper mused beside her.

“No,” she squeaked out, remembering something she’d overheard her grandpa telling Joe a few years ago when they went to New Orleans to see her godfather. “You don’t want to do that.” That particular memory would be forever burned into her brain.

He looked over at her. “Wait, he really has a secret? What is it?”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “It was bad enough overhearing it. I’m not telling you.”

If she could lobotomize herself to remove that particular memory of hearing her grandfather say his secret to remaining youthful at heart was masturbating every day she’d do it in a heartbeat.

The thought of telling her hot boss was embarrassing.

But the images popping up in her head of her boss following Henry’s secret to youthful energy?

Ember squirmed a little in her seat. “H-how long of a drive is it again?” Her voice cracked.

“Six hours if traffic isn’t bad.”

Six hours in a car with her hot boss. After a couple of sex dreams and a long, sleepless night with her normally trusty vibrator and her vagina’s stubborn refusal to accept a toy penis to get the job done? Fuck.

She groaned. “Straight through, no stops?”

“I’ll make a couple of stops, I’m not a monster,” he chuckled. “You have breakfast yet?”

She shook her head. “There’s a coffee shop up ahead. They have donuts and breakfast sandwiches.”

“Any recommendations?”

“The omelette sandwiches are to die for,” she stifled a yawn behind her hand. “They come with sausage and cheese. You’ve already had their donuts.”

He groaned. “Might have to order a dozen for this weekend.”

“Better make it two dozen,” she shifted in her seat to get more comfortable. “I’m not crawling out of bed before ten a.m. this weekend.”

“You’ve already claimed the bed, huh?”

A slow, delicious warmth crawled through her veins at the husky, playful tone in her boss’ voice. “Figured it was a given since I’m a woman and you seem like the kind of guy who would take the couch.”

“Sweetheart, my back can’t take sleeping on couches for even a little catnap anymore,” he flipped on the blinker and turned into the lot for the coffee shop.

“The bed’s a king, isn’t it? We could share it,” her eyes fluttered shut behind her sunglasses. “I promise to be on my best behavior.”

The strangled cough coming from the driver’s seat had her eyes snapping open.

“What?”

“You’re flirting again,” his voice was really husky now.

She frowned at him. “No, I wasn’t. My brain loses its filter when I’m running on very little sleep.”

“Always an excuse,” he shook his head as he rolled down the window. “What kind of coffee?”

“Just ask for the Emberleigh special, they’ll know.”

Twenty minutes later (and some seriously teasing looks from the barista silently telling her that she was going to have to tell him all about the hot guy in the luxury sedan next week) they were on the freeway heading to North Carolina. Cooper set the cruise and shifted to get comfortable.

“Should we go over the parameters again?”

Ember swiveled her head around to glare at him, an “Oh, hell no” dying on her lips when she took in the glorious sight before her.

He had his left arm on the door, elbow bent to hook his fingers along the top of the window, left knee bent to showcase some tanned skin and glorious denim-encased thigh.

A very weak, very breathy “no” left her lips instead of the feisty retort.

He cast a quick glance at her before returning his attention to the road and the traffic around them. “Seat reclines if you want to take a nap,” he told her.

Sleep was suddenly the furthest thing from her mind.

And learning the seat reclined?

That really didn’t help matters any. At. All.

She picked up her caramel macchiato and took a sip. Her vain attempt to put the brakes on the naughty thoughts forming in her mind just from the way those jeans hugged those thighs and that knee…

Stop it, Emberleigh, she firmly reprimanded herself as she turned back to watch the traffic in front of her. Count road kill or play the license plate game. Don’t stare at Cooper’s thighs and wonder what they look like out of those jeans. Or nipping at them. Or how thick he gets when he’s… sonofamotherfuckingbitch...

“If you want to turn the radio on, go for it, I listen to just about anything,” his voice broke through her wayward thoughts, teasing her with that husky tone. “Except for the new crap.”

She blinked. “Yeah, I can’t listen to that stuff either,” she pulled a face before looking at the dash and the stereo. “I can Bluetooth my phone if that’s okay?”

“Go for it.”

Of course her playlist would just have to start off with “Rock You Like A Hurricane” by the Scorpions.

And oh that wicked, wicked grin that slowly spread across William Cooper’s face and his poor attempt to imitate the lead singer’s vocals… of course that would make her squirm.

Both hands were on the steering wheel now, thumbs drumming along to the beat.

The tempo was the perfect rhythm to have sex to. She mentally whined at the images popping into her head.

The thought of Cooper timing his thrusts to the beat of the drum and adding a little rocking motion with the drum rolls nearly did her in. And the fact he was singing off-key only made her that much hotter.

Ember squirmed, pressing her thighs together as she forced her attention on the road ahead of them.

I’m fucked if he does this the entire drive…

She caught her bottom lip in her teeth to hold back the shuddery whine when her boss put his all into the one man, driver’s seat concert. By the time Cooper pulled off the freeway at a rest stop she was a mess.

“You okay over there?”

His husky voice broke through her nearly-fevered thoughts. “Huh?”

“You okay? You’re whimpering over there,” he shoved his sunglasses up to give her a worried look. “You get car sick?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

Yes!

She bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head. “God dammit…”

“Ember, do I need to call someone else in on this?” Gone was the light-hearted, teasing tone, in its place the no nonsense, cold tone she was used to in the office.

Ember sucked in a shuddery breath. “No, sir. I can do this.”

“You’re about to crawl out of your skin, Ember,” he shifted in his seat to show her she had his full attention. “What’s wrong?”

“You really don’t want to know,” she cringed when she realized how needy she sounded.

The silence in the car neared a deafening pitch… or was it her heart thundering in her ears… as she waited for his rebuttal.

“Honey, I think I do.”

Honey.

That one word, the low, guttural way he practically growled it, had even more heat pooling low in her belly.

She must have moaned or whispered his name, something to make his hazel eyes darken. “I… should… get some air…” she blindly reached for the seat belt.

But instead of reaching for the door she leaned across the console.

Cooper met her halfway. His hands slid along her jaw to tilt her head before his lips met hers.

Ember let out a strangled moan when his tongue snaked into her mouth and curled around hers, teasing her, torturing her until she shuddered and pulled away for air. She slowly blinked open her eyes to meet his. “We… shouldn’t…”

“No, we definitely shouldn’t,” he agreed huskily as he tugged her into another kiss. “It’s a damned bad idea.”

One minute she was still in her seat kissing her sexy boss. The next she was straddling his lap with the seat reclined, her cutoffs nowhere to be found. She pawed at his clothing as he tugged the low neckline of her tank top down to expose her lace-covered breasts.

“We can get naked later when we get to the beach house,” he growled before biting one pearled nipple through the sexy bra she wore.

Ember gasped his name as his hands curved over her ass to grind his hips into hers. Any attempts to divest him of that magnificent plaid shirt and tee-shirt were quickly forgotten.

His jeans had to go. Or at least be undone and pushed down so the zipper wouldn’t scratch the shit out of her ladybits.

She curled one hand into his dark hair and shoved her other hand between them as Cooper switched his attention to her other breast. Holy Jesus she never thought getting her nipples sucked through a bra would be so hot!

“Easy, Tiger,” he groaned when she yanked at his belt. He dropped his hands from her hips to help her, thrusting his hips up just enough to shove those slightly snug jeans down to mid-thigh. They both moaned when his erection rubbed against her uncomfortably wet panties.

He hooked his fingers into the crotch of her panties and pulled them aside, earning another shuddering whine from Ember when his knuckles brushed her clit. He palmed his hard length with his other hand and thrust his hips up.

“Oh… god…” she curled her fingers into his shirt as he grabbed her hips to pull her down.

“I’m hardly god, Baby,” he half-groaned, half-chuckled as her tight heat sheathed him. “Fuck… you’re so tight…”

She rolled her hips slowly. “I don’t think I’m gonna last,” she moaned when Cooper’s hands palmed her ass to guide her.

“Me either, Sweetheart,” he rocked his hips in time with hers.

Ember buried her face in Cooper’s neck when the coil low in her belly tightened. She untangled one hand from his shirt and slipped it between them, her fingers seeking out her clit.

“That’s it, Baby,” he growled when he felt her knuckles against his lower belly. His hands tightened into a bruising grip, one she relished, as he thrust up harder and faster.

She quickened the pace of her fingertips on her clit. “Oh… God… Cooper…”

“Ember.”

She blinked her eyes open at the gentle squeeze of a large hand on her shoulder.

“Wake up, Sleepyhead, we’re stopping for lunch,” he cleared his throat when she turned her head to face him.

Ember’s brow furrowed.

What the hell?

She was buckled in her seat, fully dressed?

Cooper dropped his hand. “I’m surprised you fell asleep with my singing,” he teased her. “Never worked on my kids when they were little.”

Did he sound a little gruff?

She blinked her eyes to try to focus on him. Was he avoiding eye contact, too? Damn those sunglasses…

“No comment?” His chuckle sounded a tad forced.

“No!” She blushed fiercely, wondering now if her dream had been… possibly a bit vocal. “N-no, I… I guess a smooth car ride combined with a sleepless night put me to sleep.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he slipped the key from the ignition and shifted in his seat to slip it in his pocket. “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”

#william cooper #red #william cooper x ofc #car smut #karl urban

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kewltie · 5 years ago

Text

"Isn't he, like, thirty-something years old?" Eri says, voice pitched high in a scandalized tone. "That's half of his foot in the grave already! Why is he even dating a college student if this isn't some midlife crisis?!"

Izuku groans out loud. "Eri-chan, please have mercy." For someone who is describe as the takane no hana of their campus, Eri’s tongue can cut deeper than the sharp edge of a blade.

She shoots him a knowing glare. "He just wants a pretty young thing on his arms to compensate for his wrinkle old balls so don't you fall for it, Izuku-kun!"

Truly, the sharpest tongue.

Izuku's face gets so hot that he thinks he's going to combust at any moment from the embarrassment of this entire exchange. "T-that's not—" he starts, gearing up for a defense, but Eri's eyes suddenly widen in front of him and her jaw drops in shock as a hand covers Izuku's mouth to silence his next words.

"Care to repeat that to my face, shitty brat," a familiar voice growls behind him.

Even without looking back, Izuku knows just by the cadence of his voice. The way it dips low and get throaty when he’s annoyed; the curt infliction of his vowels as he drags his consonant around. Izuku knows him by heartbeat. Intimately and surely as the ground under his feet.

His lips brush against a callus palm as he covers the hand over his mouth with his own. Fingers sweeping against the coarse skin that had seen it fair share of battles; losses and victories were tied up in these extraordinary hands. It's the source of his power and strength. Even knowing the danger that can be these familiar hands can impose, Izuku never feels safer than when he is within its cradle. Izuku drags the hand down from his mouth, but doesn't let it go from his grip. Instead, he wraps his fingers around it and holds tight.

It squeezes back.

Izuku’s entire body lets out a small tremor before he can get his voice to work. “K-Katsuki-san,” he murmurs. “What are you doing here?"

The chair besides him scrapes across the floor and Katsuki drops down in the empty seat. "I'm picking you up for lunch," he grunts out.

Eri, who had grown up under strict tutelage of her yakuza grandfather, is no wilting flower. "Hey, wrinkle old man balls," she states flatly, narrowing her eyes at him in contempt. "Aren't you supposed to patrolling and not hang around a college campus, harassing its students?"

Katsuki grits his teeth. "I'm visiting my boyfriend, brat," he retorts sharply. "And I just got out of a twelve hours shift saving annoying people like your ungrateful and mouthy's ass who is reminding me clearly I took up the fucking wrong profession because you're all shit." Izuku casts a furtive glance at Katsuki and sees that he is out of his uniform. Dressed in a casual black dresshirt that is, uh, Izuku breath hitches as he notices the upper two most buttons are left open to reveal tantalizing defined collarbones underneath. He desperately wants to run a careful hand over them, to feel Katsuki's skin pressed against his palm and to know the weight of touching the current number one hero in Japan, who had remained untouchable to the mass, but he’s here right now beside Izuku, holding his hands like it’s not blowing his mind.

Izuku wants to climb inside of him, burrow deep, and not let go. His eyes widen suddenly and he muffles a squeak, hoping nobody notice his strange behavior as he flexes the free hand on his lap while the other hand twitches under Katsuki's grip under the table. His cheeks redden at such strange and lewd thoughts that plague him, but the two in front of him hadn't notice at all.

They're still locked in a heated contention and looks about to leap out of their respective seat and duke out right here, right now. The crowd be damn.

Unimpressed, Eri huffs and crosses her arm imperiously. "I don't trust you or your intention with Izuku-sempai.”

Katsuki leans back into his seat and raises a brow as casual as you please. "Not that I give a rat's ass about your opinion, but thanks for the info." He turns to Izuku. "What you feel like eating?"

Eri, for the first time in a while is completely disarmed by Katsuki’s provocation, sputters, "Hey, you can't just take him away like that! I was here first and we're not done talking!"

"Yea?" Katsuki muses, brushing his thumb against Izuku's knuckles in deliberate circles that sends spark up Izuku's spine. "So you don't want grab lunch with me, Deku?"

Izuku quickly looks away, chest heaving and breath short as though his lungs don’t quite work. "I—" he flushes, "y-yes, I would very much like to eat lunch with you," he finally squeaks out. He can already feel Eri's outrage, realizing at that moment she got horribly outplayed by Katsuki. Eri makes a wounded noise. “Izuku-sempai! How could you?! You said we were going to hang out today,” she cries out. If it wasn’t for the fact that he knows her like the back of his own hand, he would be scrambling over to her side to grovel for being a horrible friend right then. Izuku winces. "What if I'll buy you dinner and help you with that term paper in our Hero Theory class to make up for it?" he offers.

Her eyes snap to him. "Two dinners, a term paper, and also you're not allow to cancel our plan for next Friday," she counters. "And no stupid boyfriend third wheeling us."

Izuku quickly nods his head. If she had wanted his spleen too he would have readily agree to it, because Eri is unrightfully too good for him. All his friends are really. He's lucky he got them to keep him from falling on his face everytime he does something remotely stupid. Always too caught up with chasing after a good story that he ignored all the danger around him, he'd put himself in harm ways enough times to give Eri greying hair and to be rescued by a grumpy hero who found his fumbling criminal investigation annoying if not a little endearing.

Izuku never could figure out how he of all people managed to snare the Ground Zero, when the first time they'd met Izuku was hanging off a ledge sixty feet off the ground and Katsuki was about to drop him flat onto the concrete slab because he thought Izuku was a part of the League of Villains and the reason why sixteen young girls were missing.

It was beyond a memorable first meeting for them both, and fortunately it wasn't to be their last either.

Katsuki snorts, scooting his chair back. "You're schoolmates," he grumbles, and there's a note of derision in his voice. "You see him even when you don't want to see him." With their joint hands, he tugs Izuku upward and out of his seat with him.

"At least Izuku doesn't have to schedule an appointment with the front office just to see me," she rebukes, eyes flashing. "I mean, wow, must be so hard for you to make time for your own boyfriend."

Katsuki freezes, his hand tightening around Izuku's own. He can feel heat emanating from Katsuki's palm, pressing up against his bare skin danger close but Izuku doesn't break their hold.

"Eri!" Izuku scolds, frowning and Eri has grace to look chastised for a second.

He turns back to Katsuki and gives a comforting squeeze. "I understand," he is quick to assure him. "Your work is much more important." Izuku gets it, because Katsuki is out there putting bad guys in jail and saving people's lives. It's crucial work that keeps this city on track even if these days he can only seem to catch glimpses of Katsuki in the news because he’d slow down on hounding the streets for new lead of criminal activities and updating his crime blog.

Izuku may pretend like he's doing some kind good work out there but he doesn't forget. His investigations can only get him so far when he has no quirk or strength to back it up. The one actually doing the heavy lifting out there are heroes like Katsuki, who’d personally fight all of Izuku's demons and keep Izuku alive and breathing so he can hunt the next big bad menacing the city.

Izuku is no hero. He isn't out there saving people from rampaging villains or protect the country from being run amok by the League. His world is much smaller. He just wants keep Eri from people trying to abuse her quirk or save a kid from being another Kouta out there.

"It's not," Katsuki asserts, pulling Izuku in till he's nearly stumbling into his side. He scowls down at Izuku. "Stop fucking putting yourself down, shitty nerd."

"You're giving him mixed signals here," Eri says dryly. "You can't say something nice and then call him names. You're not very good for Izuku's self esteem, Zero-san."

Even the way she'd tacked on that honorific at the end, it was layered with doubt. Eri is always polite and respectful up until the point she isn't and even then she keeps her guard up. Maybe it’s because of her yakuza backgound and how people had used her for her quirk in the past, but she didn't have a lot of friends to begin with and those whom she do consider friends, she's extremely protective of. Izuku is lucky she's even consider he’s worthy enough remain by her side.

Katsuki's eyes flash to her in a hard glare as Eri meets it dead on unrepentantly. "Shut the fuck up," he hisses, carding his free hand through his hair in frustration. Eri's words seem to have hit its mark.

"Eri," Izuku pleads, turning to her with desperation, "don't."

Eri sighs and waves them off. "Fine, fine, I won't harassed you anymore," she says with an easy shrug. "You may take Izuku-sempai and go, but do bring him back in one piece or I'll have to call upon my grandfather." It's not an idle provocation. They all know who her grandfather is. Katsuki, who always buttheads with Eri, may find her grating at times but never scary. Not of her quirk or her grandfather. Not then, and certainly not now either. It's an admirable quality of Katsuki that Eri had admitted to liking one night in the hush of his dorm room. He bares his teeth at her, sharp edges and full of bites. "Oh, don't bother, I'll be happy to meet your dear old man later when he's behind bars with the rest of his yakuza cohorts," he says, cut for cut. Vicious barb for vicious barb. He's merciless.

Eri stands up abruptly. "Hey, you—!" But the rest of her sentence is cut off when Katsuki drags Izuku away.

"Don't worry, I'm only half fucking with you, brat," he throws over his shoulder, voice alight in laughter as Eri makes a muffled scream of frustration.

"That's mean," Izuku murmurs, bumping Katsuki's shoulder meaningfully.

"And she isn't?" he counters, raising his brow at Izuku. "I'm not going to be nice to her just because you adopted her like a damn stray. If she wants to pick a fight with me that badly, I'm going to give it my all."

"She's just protective, you know," Izuku says, strolling hand in hand with Katsuki through the quad area of the campus. Trying not to pay attention to several people stopping midtrack and nearly breaking their neck as they realize who's walking beside him. Katsuki makes a grunt of acknowledgment. "Good. She should be if she got a trouble magnet like you as friend."

Izuku's feet skid to a halt, pulling Katsuki to a stop with him. Katsuki turns to him with a befuddled expression. "You like her!" he accuses, absolutely delighted.

Katsuki's face flash in horror. "No!" he yells, flustered. "Fuck no! I don't like that little witch."

"It's okay, I'll keep your secret," Izuku teases.

Katskuki scowls as he leans closer in. "Shut your dirty mouth or I'll do it," he says, and kisses Izuku to that effect before he can say anything about it.

Izuku’s knees doesn’t buckle under the careful attention Katsuki’s mouth gave him; his tongue teases and prods at Izuku until Izuku is completely compliant in his hands. How unfair, he think, face flushed and lips throbbing from the bruises of Katsuki’s kiss as Katsuki draws back with a smirk on his face.

Izuku clears his throat and looks away for a second as he regains his bearings. “D-do you need me for something?” he asks. Surely, Katsuki isn’t here on his campus just to take him out to eat right? “Is there a case you want me to look into?”

Katsuki frowns, brows pinching as annoyance flickers pass his face. “No. I want to grab lunch with you because I fucking miss you,” he grumbles a surly as always, but his words punch leaves him breathless.

“Oh,” he says, eyes rounded with surprise.

He thinks of all the time Katsuki seems larger than life, this great and famed hero who save the world again and again, this unattainable man is more like a figment of Izuku’s dreams than anything, so how could he ever be with someone so boring and ordinary like Izuku? But, when Katsuki say something like this and Izuku hopes, oh, how hope burns with him, because slowly but surely, Katsuki would come to love him just as much as Izuku does one day. One day that will come.

#bakudeku #fic snippet #pro hero x college student au

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hehron · 4 years ago

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Golden Trio Midlife Adventure!

Hi, just trying my hand at post-canon HP to participate in the happy birthday harry writing fest by @fightfortherightsofhouseelves !

“What’s the birthday boy doing sitting all alone?” Ron asked loudly as he plopped down in the armchair in Harry’s study.

“Not brooding, I hope.” Hermione added, shooting a disapproving glance at the glass in his hand.

“It’s just pumpkin juice.” Harry told her, then a little defensively asked. “And why would I be brooding?”

Ron and Hermione gave him knowing looks.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Ron tutted in a dramatic fashion. “The fortieth is an earth-shattering explosion, like our new Fakequake Wheeze, especially for the faint of heart such as yourself, who don’t have all my hard-earned wisdom.” Ever since his great leap into the forties, Ron, heavily influenced by George, had leaned into the whole ‘Wise Old Dumbledore’ talk, despite Hermione’s reminders that he was nowhere near half of Dumbledore’s age or have half his wisdom for that matter, she added to Harry privately one day.

“Like I say every year, I feel lucky to have lived this far.” Harry insisted, though the churning in his stomach told him otherwise.

“Then why did you make Ginny exchange that comfy armchair she bought you for that new Dragon Taming Kit?” Hermione asked slyly.

“I need it! It could be useful on a case.” He defended.

“Yeah, right.” Ron snorted. “Unless you have the sudden desire to go on one of Luna and Rolf’s expeditions or developed a sudden, secret crush on Charlie-”

“Fine,” Harry cut him off. “Maybe I am a little upset but it’s still nothing compared to your I’m-Still-Not-Minister-Yet or Where-Did-My-Thirties-Go crisis.”

“It was a very understandable crisis!” Hermione said indignantly. “I was behind on my life plans by two months!”

Harry and Ron shared a look. Hermione’s life plan had been the catalyst to many fights and the butt of many jokes over the years.

“Love, you know our plans never really work-” Ron began.

“You mean your plans. My plans work out perfectly as long as you two don’t interfere.” She said with a pointed glare at Harry.

“No work talk on my birthday.” He grinned.

“Fine, but I want those papers back first thing tomorrow morning.” She said with a half smile.

“We should start our plans for today though. Don’t want to be late for Ginny’s big party.” Hermione said briskly while Ron’s face broke out into a huge grin at Harry’s confused look.

“What plans?”

“This is ridiculous!” Harry spluttered as they stood at the entrance to Honeydukes. A few people were milling about the streets but it was nothing compared to Hogsmeads’ usual bustle during the school season.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Just like old times.” Ron chuckled, pushing him forwards.

“I can’t believe you’re going with this.” Harry said to Hermione.

“It was her idea.”

“What?!” Harry exclaimed as Ron burst into laughter.

“Don’t look so shocked, Harry. I’ve come up with just as many silly ideas as you two. Or have you forgotten about Christmas 2002?” Hermione asked with a self-satisfied smile.

Harry shook his head, grinning.

“Still seems a bit childish.”

“It’s supposed to be childish, mate.” Ron said, slapping his back.

“So you don’t forget what it’s like to be young.” Hermione said, before rummaging through her bag and pulling out a silvery cloak.

“Where-” Harry began.

“I borrowed it from James. What’s an adventure without the invisibility cloak?”

She threw it over them, and they trued to squeeze themselves together. Harry suddenly had a flashback to the last time the three of them had been in a similar position in the town and felt a rush of gratitude that the two situations couldn’t be more different.

“Our feet are still outside.” Ron grunted, trying to stretch the cloth.

“Don’t rip it Ron!” Hermione exclaimed. “We can just cast invisibility charms on our feet.”

“Yeah, now it seems like a good thing that you quit the Aurors. You’ll get your feet blown off with those kinds of ideas.” Harry teased.

Ron made a rude gesture before Hermione dragged them both down the hidden one-eyed witch passageway. It was a lot longer but considerably less dirty than they remembered it.

“Must be the kids. They sneak out to Hogsmeade at least twice a week.” Ron whispered.

“If they ever found out about this after all the grief we gave them about sneaking out-” Harry started.

“Bit rich coming from you, isn’t it?” Ron snickered.

“As if you’re one to talk.”

“Yes, yes, we were rule breaking hooligans and have descended to stuck up hypocrites. But what they don’t know won’t hurt them.” Hermione said.

“You’ve been spending way too much time with politicians.” Harry said to which she rolled her eyes.

Ron suddenly yelped as he knocked right into the exit. Harry cracked the door open and peered outside. Now that they were actually there, his heart was thudding frantically, a sort of exhilaration and nostalgia hitting him. A part of him had always missed it, the adventures with Ron and Hermione.

Hermione laughed quietly as Ron made an exaggerated show of tiptoeing outside. It was strange. They were adults, getting older by the second but at that moment, it seemed as if time had been reversed back thirty years, and they were the same giggling children they had been when they had first set foot in Hogwarts. That inexplicable feeling of remembering all the moments of happiness, bitter sweetness and everything in between, and knowing that they had not only made it out together but were still as close as they were back then, closer even, and that despite everything Hogwarts would always be there to welcome them home was all he needed.

The halls were just as Harry remembered it. This time tough, they brought back more than just their memories. They were mixed with several new anecdotes of the children and their escapades, with the three of them convincing themselves that they were definitely not hard teenagers while struggling to maintain straight faces. They had just entered the courtyard when they bumped into Neville.

“What are you guys doing here?” He asked, surprised.

“Oh, just, reminiscing.” Hermione said nonchalantly.

“By breaking into Hogwarts?”

“That’s the way we did it back then too, wasn’t it?” Harry grinned.

“How’d you know we broke in, by the way?”

“The Headmistress said the portraits said something about a secret passageway. I was just dropping off some forms for Hannah’s potions and said I’d check it out. Didn’t expect to see you guys.” Neville laughed.

“Oh, Happy Birthday, Harry!”

“You already wished me at midnight.” Harry said amused.

“Yeah, but I was knackered after the party. Can’t say I remember it.” The other man grinned.

“Particularly strong firewhiskey, mate. I had to take two doses of sobering potion in the morning.” Ron said sheepishly.

“You really shouldn’t have done that, Ron.” Hermione admonished.

“I know but...” Ron argued.

“Merlin! It’s like we’re really back at school again!” Neville exclaimed.

“Tell me about it.” Harry muttered, with an exasperated look at his best friends.

“Oi! We’re here to celebrate my birthday. You can have your weird foreplay after the party.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“He’s not wrong about the foreplay though.” Ron said, kissing her cheek.

“See what I have to suffer through?” Harry sighed to Neville.

“Like you haven’t done worse with my sister in front of me.” Ron said with a mock-glare.

“Why isn’t Ginny here, anyway?” Neville asked.

“She’s making the last minute party arrangements.” Hermione said.

“She’s going berserk trying to make it perfect.” Ron added.

“Funny she says it’s for me but threatens to hex me if I get five feet near the decorations. I’d have hidden in the attic with a butterbeer if she hadn’t invited the whole PU team.”

“Harry has a crush on their seeker.” Ron teased.

“Who doesn’t?” He shot back, knowing Ron had Quidditch Weekly articles stacked away in his trunk.

“Well, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at the party.” Neville waved.

“Don’t rat us out, Neville. Or Hermione’ll have to stun you again.” Harry called, earning him a light shove from the brunette.

They made their way down to Hagrid’s hut and Harry was reminded of the many afternoons spent in a similar fashion.

“Looks like he’s not home.” Hermione said, noting the relative silence, that was only broken by a flutter of wings.

Harry whipped around to find Buckbeak standing there, looking at them curiously. He bowed and slowly egged his way closer to the majestic creature.

“Hey Buckbeak.” He said softly, petting the hippogriff. “Want to go for a fly? For old time’s sake?”

Harry turned around to find Ron sitting on Featherwhite, another hyppogriff, Luna had gifted to Hagrid, trying to get Hermione to get on as well.

“Come on, Hermione.” Harry called, mounting Buckbeak. “It’s my birthday.”

“There really should be a limited number of times you can use that to convince me.” She said, waving a finger at him but wearily got on behind Ron.

They took off and their laughter, and in Hermione’s case, shrieks, filled the air. Flying over the Quidditch Pitch, Harry promised himself to have a hippogriff race with Ginny as soon as they both had time.

They landed by the lake with Hermione swearing that she was never getting on one of those again.

“That’s what you said last time.” Harry reminded.

“And the time before that.” Ron added.

“And the time-”

“All right. All right.” Hermione laughed, shaking her head fondly.

They plopped down by the lake and watched the squid make a strange clapping motion with three of its tentacles.

“Even the squid’s wishing you a happy birthday.” Ron snorted.

“Even the squid wouldn’t believe a forty-year old could fly like that.” Harry boasted.

“Even the squid can’t handle two generations of Potters and Weasleys so close together.” Hermione said solemnly.

They chuckled and then descended into a comfortable silence, just enjoying the sunlight glinting over the still water. Harry thought back to the sunny days with Ginny in sixth year when the future he now had seemed like something out of a dream, and he realised that he was lucky, not just to alive but to be surrounded by the people he loved and who loved him.

A little while later, they strolled by the edge of the forest, talking about nothing and everything until they reached the whooping willow. Hermione was searching his face nervously while Ron casually suggested taking another exit. He knew they didn’t want to bring the mood down, especially on that day, and there might have been a time when he would have been too caught up in bad memories to even consider it. But now, all it reminded him was the thrill of flying a car to school in second year and the time he first met Sirius and the many, many, stories told by his kids. After all this time, he finally knew when and how to look for the silver lining until it outshone the black. They made their way out of the Shrieking Shack and walked towards the apparition point.

“That was...” Harry began.

“Oh, Harry! We’re so sorry if you didn’t like it. I just thought you would because you missed the field work so much and-”

“Hermione,” He cut her off. “It was amazing. The best birthday present I could ask for.”

“Don’t let Ginny hear you say that.” Ron interjected.

“Seriously, I loved it. I didn’t even know I needed it. Thank you.” He said, hugging her.

“A bit too sentimental, don’t you think?”

“Oh, get in here, Ron!” Hermione laughed as they pulled him into their embrace. It really was one of Harry’s best birthdays and it was only going to get better.

#happy birthday harry writing fest #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #golden trio #post hogwarts #harry james potter #harry’s fortieth birthday #humour #romione #hinny

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wuyifankris · 5 years ago

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Kris Wu in Harper’s BAZAAR, July 2020 Issue

“Only when there’s improvement, will you feel alive.”

"A person with his own way of thinking" - more and more people see this in Kris Wu. From starting off with films to continuing on with variety programs, he has skilfully executed his roles with a sense of control, clear self-recognition and steadiness. We see a young man who goes along the path set with his own rules, has definite goals, is dedicated to work, and is constantly improving. In several months' time, Kris Wu will be thirty years old. BAZAAR invited him to share more about his story, and discuss about the past twenty nine years of his life.

In this world, one must be full of vigour

If this is a letter for myself, I think I'll say: For the past twenty nine years of my life, I've lived a life with no regrets. Every task I've done, every decision I've made, the experiences at at every stage of my life, the honour, the applause, the slander... are all indispensable in my journey of growth.

Regretting is painful, and it's hard not to regret. I am well aware that I'm lucky in this aspect. But whether or not I regret, in the end, it all depends on myself.

I have a very straightforward attitude when it comes to my life. I will only do the things that I'm sure I want to do, anything else or other less than ideal alternatives simply do not exist in my field of consideration. Only little kids will have endless choices and dilemmas, as an adult one should set their goals at the highest standard and focus on accomplishing it well.

Therefore, there was never a "Plan B" in my life. I would never prepare a second plan for myself. I feel that this trait of mine is typical of Scorpios, as long as I am set on doing something, I will make sure it's done to the best that I can.

You'd ask, what kind of preparations will I make? Everything. I'll do every kind of preparation that comes to mind. I will be deep in thought about it every moment, every minute, every second, and even in my dreams. This is the kind of focus and effort I give towards my goals.

Before turning thirty, I have already found a very good balance. I'm getting closer towards it, and my goals in life are clearer.

But the "most important things in life" are not set in stone, and change at every phase. I will set long term goals and short term goals. For example music - music is very important to me, it's something which I have invested a lot of time in that I love and am passionate about. At the same time it's my career, my job. So of course, I will continue pursuing it. However, at the same time, this doesn't mean that there aren't any other parts in my life with new directions and new goals. Like racing, it's something that I really enjoy now. I will also continue to set new goals for myself for small things such as this.

I have always strongly believed in setting and following goals, and it is because of them that I am motivated to constantly improve. But thinking about my life as a whole, I'll refrain from prematurely setting an ultimate aim for certain things. Instead, I will maintain an open mind and allow myself to constantly aim for new goals. Also, at any point in time I will not allow myself to become someone without any goals.

Persistently setting goals for yourself and ceaselessly moving forth is the way one can continue to live youthfully and enthusiastically. I think that this is also a good way to maintain a positive mindset. Only when there's improvement, will you feel alive. Otherwise, there may not be much motivation in your life, and it could become very dim.

Since we are in this world, let's live this life with vigour! This has always been my attitude towards life.

Amidst all the recognition from others, your inner voice is what matters the most.

You have to take control of your life

As one gets older, they will gradually realise that although judgements from others may affect a person externally or mentally, this is merely the icing on the cake.

When you work hard, you will receive honour and recognition. But amidst all the recognition from others, your inner voice is what matters the most. Whether you believe the things you do are meaningful or not, whether through doing them you can obtain value, it's your opinion that far outweighs other matters.

So I feel that for many situations, regardless of the outcome, regardless of how much honour and success it brings to you, what's even more important is whether you have enjoyed the process or not.

To me, music is a very good way of expressing myself and allows me to make a mark in history. It allows me to express certain things that cannot be put into words, which can invoke an emotional response from the listener. Listeners who resonate to the song will be drawn towards it, and as a result of our shared similar experiences, bring about "us".

Perhaps one day I'll get old, or not be in this world anymore, but throughout my whole life, all the music I've made will remain, and will still continue to reach people, whether they're still young or already aging. This is really meaningful and important to me. This is a joy that I have found in music, it's a motivation that will spur me on to continue to improve in this area.

Furthermore, you guys will be able to see a very clear storyline and path of growth in my works, which includes my passion towards hip hop now, as well as my love for traditional Chinese style. As I move forth in life, I continue to incorporate my observations and thoughts [into my music] progressively. When you guys look back on my works, you'll be able to find the answers in them.

My love for music has led me to be deeply immersed in related industries as well. Why do I like fashion? It's because fashion is closely linked to music. When I like one industry, I'll pick up all the skills that I can that are possibly linked to it. From singing to dancing, acting, fashion, producing music, writing lyrics, and even taking up directing roles at times. I hope that I can pick up all sorts of skills that are associated with the things I like. After all, it's always good to have more skills.

The more you know, the more you will want to treat the things you're most interested in with the greatest detail of effort and professionalism, as well as open explore new possibilities. Even if one day I am no longer a "popular celebrity", I will still find a place for myself in this world. I can also take a step back behind the scenes and lead the life that I want to live. I feel that this defines a person's values and worth. With such skills and confidence I feel that I can continue to navigate on this path towards the unknown. This is probably why I don't get anxious too easily too.

So you see, it's your interests that will carry you along to further places. These interests are a part of life. Your life is still in your hands, you have to take full control of it. Do the things that you want to do, let the things you truly believe in lead your way. This is what matters the most.

So if you ask what I'm chasing, I'll tell you that I'm chasing the lifelong mindset of non-stop improvement.

I constantly feel as if I'm in the middle of the ocean, not knowing when deadly waves will arrive.

30 is just a number

Actually I don't think that just because I'm turning 30, I've matured a great deal. There are many stages in life from birth till now that have made me grow. Perhaps every two years I'll encounter a somewhat major life problem or unforeseen circumstance.

I constantly feel as if I'm in the middle of the ocean, not knowing when deadly waves will arrive, nor knowing when it will turn calm and tranquil. Perhaps in the blink of an eye the waves become rough and choppy at night, and the next moment at dawn the skies are clear. This is already the norm in my life.

As a result, this cultivated my mindset from very early on in life. My moods wouldn't fluctuate that much, perhaps starting around 20 years old I was already pretty calm and stable. It also wasn't because I was at this age that I began to treasure time even more and work extremely hard, as I had always put in so much effort all this while.

30 years of age is just a number. I'll tell myself, I'm already 30 years old, I have to be more stable. But in fact, I did not define what I wanted to do in certain stages of my life merely because I reached a specific age. I feel that I shouldn't be affected by a "midlife crisis". At age 30, it's still early, after living for another 10 years it probably won't be considered middle aged. Even at that age, one should not use terms such as middle aged, youth, elderly, young person and such to define the stages in your life.

You should define what you want to do at each stage in life. Continue doing what you want to do according to your own pace and you will be fine. As for the things beyond our control - I used to dream of being a professional basketball player, but due to an injury it was not possible. Let it go if it can't work out, there will always be regrets in life.

Gains and losses, strengths and weaknesses are all often experienced in life. Missing something or messing it up it also part of life. When life isn't perfect, you don't have to beat yourself up over it. Because when you begin to do so, your whole system may break down and you won't be able to efficiently think of ways to solve the problem, and things may end up spiralling downwards.

If it's not done well, then continue to try, or switch to an alternate route. Don't rashly choose to berate yourself.

This isn't vanity or arrogance, but a form of self-awareness. If you wish to lead a happier life, you must possess a sense of self-awareness. No matter where you go, you have to stand behind yourself with utmost support, and be your number one fan. You have to say out with confidence: I think I'm still not bad.

Actually, I feel that during this stage in life, I am most curious about the things that I can't do well. The more I can't do something well, the harder I want to work on it. Once I've accomplished it through further determination and actions, I have once again levelled up.

But before that, I definitely have to be interested in the task. If it's something I don't like, no matter how good it is, I won't be envious of it.

This is a form of respect towards myself. Life is short, we shouldn't make do with too many compromises, nor should we waste it.

No matter how good an era is, if you're not in it, it can't be considered good. An era that doesn't include you is meaningless.

There are blazing flames in my heart

There are some people who may think that since debut I was a super idol, a big celebrity that's worlds apart from my peers. But that's not the case, my personal life isn't too different from other young people. I enjoy going out on my own, without a driver, bodyguard or babysitter... and I'll also go out with non-industry friends to shop, eat, and play basketball. I was able to lead the life that everyone had, there was just a little gap due to my career.

Setting aside career, I am someone who is very close to the era of 90s kids.

I feel that this is a very good era, of course, it's not because this era is a certain way that makes it good or not. I believe that: As long as it's an era that I exist in, it's a good era. No matter how good an era is, if you're not in it, it can't be considered good. An era that doesn't include you is meaningless.

Obviously, I still maintain this mindset with blazing flames in my heart. I still believe I'm a simple and pure person, otherwise I won't be racing cars at this age all of a sudden.

However there are many ways to define "pure", and many people believe that when a person is said to be pure, it's because they are good - have not encountered much, is a good boy, a great kid - then I'm obviously not someone who appears to be one.

But I believe that the meaning of pureness extends beyond this.

True pureness exists within your heart, it's whether you have undivided focus towards the things that you are passionate about, leaving behind all other reasons, whether you are still able to put in effort into the things you love, whether you are able to understand this world simply, whether you can treat every person you meet with sincerity, and whether you can face the world with a childlike gentleness and curiosity.

We all feel that once we step into the adult world, everything immediately turns boundlessly complex. But true pureness is understanding all of your past experiences. With such events and turbulent times, if you can continue to maintain pureness in your heart, you are pure.

This is the kind of pureness I possess.

Perhaps it's because my goals in life are constantly changing, and small goals are constantly emerging, so I have always lived a life that's pulsing with vitality, and my galaxy is still blazing. Perhaps it's because I have gone through certain experiences, which surprisingly widened my heart.

Looking forward in life, perhaps I may encounter some stress when I reach 40 years of age. But I feel that even if I'm 40, I'll still be a very cool person, still continue to take part in car racing, and stay immersed in my studio making music. I also think that at that time, I'll probably slow down my pace in life.

Perhaps I'll spend more time to really feel this world at present, travel to places I've never been before, explore more and see more, discover life, experience life.

I believe that [when I reach] that time I will have an entirely different mindset than what I do now. I'm still nervous now because there are certain aspects that I am lacking in. I'm looking forward to having that mindset.

But right now, at 30 years of age, I'll take my blazing flames along with me and race forth!

translation: @wu_yi_fan

#kris #kriswu #interview #translation #harper's bazaar #bazaar #wuyifan #yifan #wyf

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shannygoatgruff · 5 years ago

Text

Grown & SeXY - Chapter 2

Header made by the talented @flowers-in-your-hayr

For @youbloodymadgenius for your 400 Followers Writing Challenge. Congrats on your success!

Genre: Romance/Comedy

Pairing: Modern Ivar x Mature OC

Warning: Language/mild angst/Sexual content

Rating: M

Summary: A relationship between Generations X & Y will help this XX & XY learn a lot about themselves, each other, and love. Cougar/cub relationships aren’t always just about a midlife crisis and arm candy.

A/N: I got the concept for this story from a conversation I was having with @youbloodymadgenius. I hope I do it justice. This story is for you!

Chapter 2

Biiiiiitch! Where have you been? I’ve been IMing you but you been ducking me like I’m the IRS. Shit, I’m surprised we talking now - you mad at me or something? Did somebody tell you that they heard some shit about you from me? Because they were fucking lying. I wouldn’t do that. You know I don’t like all that gossip shit and I'm not one to put all people's business out on Front Street, like that.

So, girl, I need to holler at you about something right quick. What the hell is up with the non-disclosure agreement I sent you? Cause I damn sure didn’t get a signed copy back in my mailbox. Now, maybe I’m the slow bitch in the class, but it seems to me that there are a few more people in on our private meeting than just us, like we had previously discussed.

Now, I’m not saying that you said something, but I know I sure as hell didn’t. So, if I was over here keeping my sexy ass mouth shut (cause that how a bitch do) and you haven't said shit either, then who the fuck else is talking? You know, I bet it was probably those same bitches that were running around saying that they heard that I was talking shit about you. I tell you, people today ain't about shit. Well, fuck them.

Just so you know, I didn't call you to try to check you or anything. I called to try to catch you up on this grown and sexy shit cause bitch you are hella behind. Okay...I told you about how Marisol was at the club and met this fine ass little young boy at the bar, who turned out to be her high school BFF’s little brother, right? Did I tell you about how Marisol’s son and King Ding-A-Ling hate each other or how they met up at a party at his daddy’s house? Shit bitch, what do you know? I feel like I’m starting this shit all over at the beginning, again! Seriously hooker, keep up because before I can get into this shit, I have to set the scene.

So, you need all the dirt on Ivar’s family so moving forward you know what the fuck I’m talking about when I just start dropping shit on you like Pearl Harbor. Believe me, hon-ty when I tell you, these motherfuckers got some Telenovela, Grey’s Anatomy, Scandal type shit with them.

Alright now, let me start with his parents. You ever see a really attractive man and you figure, his daddy must have been cute when he was younger? Well, that’s Ivar’s daddy, Mr. Ragnar Lothbrok – or as I like to call him, Dick Daddy Yo.

Now, child, Dick Daddy is fine as a motherfucker. And, I’m not talking regular run-of-the-mill attractive for a man in his late 50s – early 60s, who was probably knocking down everything back in the day, type of fine, either. No Queen - I’m talking, this motherfucker could get it TODAY, immediately, right now, if he asked for it. Shit, bitch, quiet as kept, he wouldn’t even have to ask. All he would have to do is set those baby blue eyes in my direction, and I would hand him the drawers.

So, back in the day, when they still lived in Norway, Dick Daddy married this total dime piece named Lagertha. When I tell you she was a bad bitch, I mean she was a Bad Bitch! Shit, she still bad to this day thirty-some years later. She was built, blond and beautiful, plus that bitch could box. I don’t know what kind of thug shit they taught her over there in the old country where they came from, but this broad was like Ronda Rousey out there in those Kattegat streets.

Anyhoo, when Lagertha and Ragnar got married, she found out that Ragnar had that Super D and she knew she wasn't going to be able to keep all that good dick to herself because he liked to sling it all over town. So she told him to go do his dirt, but he better brings his fine ass home to her every night. Of course, he was all like, cool, he could have a dime piece at home and get cutty on the side…alright, bet!

Well, honey, next thing you know, he gets hooked up with this fatal attraction type, funny looking broad named, Aslaug. Girl, Aslaug gets dickmatized and follows Ragnar around like a puppy, and the next thing you know he had to figure out how to bring a whole ass side-chick home to his dime piece wife. He must of came back with some shit like, “Baby, you know that girl Aslaug can cook and she’ll do that thing that you don’t like to do…you know cause she a freak…so really, it’s a win-win for us both.”

So, I figure dude’s dick must have been dipped in platinum, because Lagertha was like, “Whatever, Dick Daddy,” cause the next thing you know all three of them are living together and these two bitches were sister-wives.

Chile! But, here’s where the shit gets juicy! Ooh, girl! The whole time Ragnar was out there in them streets, Lagertha’s sexy ass was knocking over his brother, Rollo, and word around the campfire is, one of them kids ain’t really Ragnar’s…biiiiiitttttttch! I can't make this shit up!

So anyway, by the time all those damn babies came all 50/11 of them moved here to that big blue house at the end of Greenwich, you know the one with the big ass fence front and the nice pool? The one that the young people always have all the parties at...yeah, that one well, that’s where they still live.

Now onto the kids. Honey, Ragnar has five maybe six kids that he’s claiming. I'm sure it's more out there, but I'm telling you about the ones I know about. First, you got the two he has with Lagertha; that’s Bjorn, and Gyda (that’s if don’t think Bjorn is Rollo’s son). But what the hell, I’ll take “Let’s Pretend That Bjorn Is Ragnar’s Kid” for $200, Alex…

So, Bjorn is the oldest of all of the kids. And what can I say about BJ? BJ is fucking…girl, he’s just fucking. He’s fucking any and everything. That man. Jesus jumped up. He’s about 6’3”, 250lbs, muscular, blond, these piercing blue eyes. This smile…strong jawline. He has these hands, right? These hands that you know could just grip you right up under your ass cheeks and hold you up against a wall, and these arms…gurl, make me want to faint like a white woman! Hmm.

BJ reminds me of Ragnar. Hell, all those kids remind me of him in some way, but Bjorn oozes sex like Ragnar. I don’t know what it is, but watch your uterus around him. If you stand too close to BJ, your pussy is liable to jump in his back pocket and you won’t even notice that it’s gone.

BJ has a shit-ton of kids though and has been married like 150 times. I don’t know what it is, but he finds these blonde women, fucks them, marries them, has 20 babies with, and then gets divorced. He’s a shitty husband, but I bet you he’s a fire ass lay.

Then there’s Gyda, we call her Da-Da. She’s just beautiful. Whew. She got those looks from both of her parents. It is honestly painful to look at her. She’s the charming side of Ragnar. The side that’ll have you naked and buying her ass a house and a car before the waiter finishes taking your order on the first date. It’s a good thing she’s a nice person because if she was an evil bitch, there’s no telling what she would be up to. She’s another tall one, with blonde hair and blue eyes. But, she’s built like her mother. This bitch looks like she needs to be holding a fundraiser where she’s wearing clear heels, in a strip club, called Twerking For Jesus or some shit.

Now, if those two gorgeous kids weren’t enough to make everyone else in the world jealous of how good the D and the seed were from Ragnar, he had to go and spread it around some more with that weird bitch, Aslaug. They have four boys; Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar. I don’t know how those boys ended up being so fine because Aslaug’s ass is not what I would call attractive. But, they got Ragnar’s genes and miracles never cease to amaze me.

All, but one, of them can get it any day.

Let’s start with Ubbe. It’s a long story, I don’t remember the particulars, but he’s known around the way as, Weebae. I can’t remember if it’s because he was small when as a baby, or because he used to cry all the damn time. But, whatever the case, if you hear a motherfucker asking for Weebae, they talking about Ubbe. Anyway, Wee is Ragnar’s twin. That child looks like Ragnar just spit him out on the street, only I don’t know where in the fuck he got his personality, cause Ragnar ain’t that fucking nice and Aslaug is a fucking cunt.

Have you ever met somebody that’s so damn nice, that they seem like a bitch ass? Like they are just softer than a motherfucker? Somebody that constantly lets people run over the top of him all the damn time and you just want to be like, yo you’s a giant whore! Well, that’s Wee. If he wasn’t so damn sexy, I would be like you soft, brah…get your punk ass away from me. But seeing as how fine he is, I’m like…bring your sensitive ass over here and let me make it all better, with your sexy self. Cause, you know, Mama loves the sensitive ones.

Who’s next? Oh, yeah, the next one is Hvitserk. I know it’s a fucked up name, but no one calls him that. They call him Boobie. Why do you ask? Because Boobie loves titties. I swear that boy was trying to get everybody to breastfeed him since he was born. The bigger a woman's boobs, the more Boobie is into her. But he's such a freaking cutie pie! He doesn’t look like Ragnar to me, but he reminds me of him in that way where as long as he can fuck and eat, he doesn’t give a fuck about much else. He’s the type that never has the same job or girlfriend for too long. He just goes with the flow and stays around until he gets bored.

Now Boobie favors Ragnar but not as much as some of the other kids. He’s got this cute baby face, with this sandy blonde hair and these pretty green eyes, like Aslaug. When you see him, you just want to pinch his cheeks on his face and his ass. And because he seems like such a little lost puppy, you just want to take him home, and take care of him…maybe tie him up to your bed and ride his ass like he’s Budweiser Clysdale in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, too.

Then there’s Sigurd…oh, Siggy. I call him, Brother Useless. He got all of Aslaug’s genes. It must be hard to look like Sigurd when you are born into that family. To be below average looking when you have extraordinarily attractive siblings, how does one go one with life? By being a giant dick, that’s how. Siggy fucking sucks donkey balls. He irks my fucking life. Siggy and I have history, outside of this little tale, and believe me he’s a dick in those stories, too.

Anyway, he looks just like his mama with facial hair. It’s really quite unfortunate. He reminds me of one of those Muppets off of the Dark Crystal. When I first found out that he was one of Ragnar’s sons, my first response was, I know you fucking lying! They should have just thrown the whole damn child away. See, Ragnar, that’s what happens when you go slumming with a funny looking chick…you get a funny looking kid with a fucked up personality. God don't like ugly...

But He redeemed your good name with Lil' Man. Oh, my sweet Ivar. This boy looks nothing like either of his parents but is the total embodiment of his father. Ivar is sexy. No, let me rephrase that for the bitches in the back...I said, IVAR IS SEXY. Bitch, I don’t know if there is even a word to describe the level of attractiveness this little bastard has. I don’t know if it’s that life-altering smile, or the dark hair and pale blue eyes. Shit, it could be that intense stare he has or those arms…or it could be that chest or maybe it’s that ass that you just want to bite and those lips that make you just want to sit on his face. Whatever it is about him, that boy makes you tingle in the most unladylike of places.

Now, when Ivar was born, something was wrong with him and he needed an operation. He was fine afterward, but Aslaug’s dramatical ass was acting like he was on his damn death bed and treated him like he was Samuel L. Jackson in Unbreakable. So, naturally, he grew up spoiled as shit. So now, this child don’t know how to do shit. He thinks everybody supposed to hand him everything, just because he’s cute.

Honey, short of my number and panties, he gonna have to work for everything else like everybody else. But see, you can’t tell fine, muscular, spoiled ass, motherfuckers, with beautiful eyes, killer smiles, nice hair, and that smell good all the fucking time that they’re not special. Oh, no, because they will try to prove you wrong. At least he finished college and doesn’t have any kids. But if his ass would get a job…Sorry, I’m skipping ahead.

Okay, so you have the background on the family. Now check out how this shit went down...

Being in the Lothbrok house brought back a ton of memories for Soli. She had spent a good part of her adolescence there with her best friend, Gyda. The two of them had countless sleepovers, movie marathons, and of course their love of all the teenage heartthrobs of the 80s and 90s. Teen Bop, Tiger Beat, and 17 Magazines fed their obsessions for Kirk Cameron, Corey Haim, Mark-Paul Gosselaar, and Mario Lopez. I was always a Joey Lawerence girl myself, but that’s neither here nor there.

That was until that one time the two of them got into this huge fight over who was going to marry Justin Timberlake. But then Bjorn told them that he thought Ryan Philippe was the same person and the girls realized that they did look a lot alike. So, Soli took JT and Gyda took Ryan, and they all lived happily ever after.

As she accepted the glass of champagne from the tray, Soli looked around the hallway leading out to the patio. It was amazing how different the house looked now. Since the remodel nothing was where she had remembered. The living room used to be to the left of the hallway, and there had been a large formal dining room to the right. They also used to have a huge kitchen right behind the dining room and then the family room sat just behind there, with the entrance to the back yard. It was always a good-sized house, but the way it was cut up, with these weird doorways and walls in the most awkward of places, it always felt cramped, especially with so many people living there.

But this? The open concept floor plan, no walls to obstruct the view...spacious, huge windows, lots of sunlight...it was gorgeous! Lothbrok Designs, LLC did one hell of a job. Everything from the floor plan to the decor was beautiful. Maybe Soli could get them to hook her up discount and do some work around her house.

“Hey there! I thought I saw you,” Gyda smiled walking over to Marisol with her arms out. “Oh Sonni, you look so good! I still can’t get over how you haven’t aged a bit. And girl, that body!”

Soli spun around in a circle to give her friend the full view. Even she had to admit, the off the shoulder, floral printed, Boho, maxi-dress looked damn good on her. Especially the way the soft pink color played with the beautiful warm tones in her toffee-colored skin. And honey, she was rocking this split that came all the up the front of the dress to the bodice, that would have been showing all of the church's business if it wasn't for that little white chiffon underdress thing. Honey...forty where? She was a banger and she knew it. “Well, you know forty is new twenty. I didn’t get to do my twenties right because I had Mani, but now I'm single and I'm ready to mingle! And you, Diva…”

“Well, thanks. You know...I get it from my Mama." Gyda did a little shimmy and laughed. "Thank you so much for coming. It’s so good to have you back in town. I know my parents are excited to see you again.” She looked around the room and waved at a guest who was walking by, “Everyone was excited that you said you were coming.”

Everyone? Why did Gyda say it like that? Soli was excited to catch up with the family, too, but damn. Soli knew that little cutie Ivar was going to be there, but that was nothing. A little innocent eye flirting at the bar a couple of weeks ago didn't mean anything. She hadn't seen or thought of that boy since. And she wasn't thinking about him today...well, not that much, anyway.

“Da-Da,” A gorgeous older blond man came up to Gyda and placed a soft kiss on the side of her head, before turning his attention to Soli. “No, you can’t be…Marisol Peña? The young lady I saw as much as my daughter growing up?” Ragnar walked over to Soli and wrapped her in a warm hug.

Soli chuckled and shook her head when she felt his hands linger at her waist a second longer than they should have. “Oh, Mr. Lothbrok,” Soli she patted him lightly on the chest taking a half step back to take in that beautiful smile, “Oh, it’s been too long. You still look good.” She smiled, feeling his hands slowly move down her side to now rest on her hips.

“And you still are as beautiful as ever,” he said leaning in toward her to talk to her. He had always had this strange way articulating certain words and sometimes he would get uncomfortably close when he would talk to people. Gyda used to get embarrassed because her father would get all up on her friends when he spoke to them, but Marisol always thought it was kind of sexy the way he would breathe on her when he talked.

She felt herself being hypnotized momentarily by all that sexy, but she quickly regained her senses. “Mr. Lothbrok,” she tutted keeping a careful eye on him as he slowly walked around her in a circle with a sly grin on his face, “I see you're still as smooth as ever.”

It was fluid the way Ragnar brushed his face next to Soli’s ear to whisper in his sexy accent, making the tendrils of hair tickle her neck, “Ragnar.”

"Ragnar," she giggled. He was still a DILF, even after all these years.

“Ragnar?” A feminine voice called causing everyone to turn toward a tall strawberry-blonde in flowing green empire dress standing at the patio door, “Come, lunch is ready and we will have cake.” For as tall and thin as she was the dress did nothing for her. A hottie like Lagertha could have pulled it off, but not her. Although, the navy blue and dark green embroidery did accentuate the red in her hair and her green eyes.

Soli’s eyes widened as she turned to Gyda, devastated. “Is that Aslaug?” she whispered. As they all began walking through the house toward the backyard she found herself laughing at the expression on Gyda's face. “Bitch, shut up.” Oh, they had so much to catch up on.

Judging by how good Aslaug looked, she had had some work done. She was still funny looking, but she looked a whole hell of a lot better than she did when Soli knew her.

Time seemed to fly by for Soli as she sat in backyard eating, laughing, and drinking with her childhood friend. She had forgotten how much she missed Gyda. But being with her and the family, it felt like they never missed a beat. She even sat at the table reserved for Ragnar's kids and had no problem catching up with each one of them. Oh, the gossip she found out about sitting there.

For example, Weebae was married to BJ's ex-wife, Torvi, who left BJ with four children and is now having a baby with Bae. And you know the crazy thing is all of them are still talking like nothing ever happened? Or how about this, apparently something happened between Siggy and Ivar - no one is talking about what it is yet, but the two of them don't talk. They can be sitting at the same table and won't utter two words to each other. And did you know that none of the brothers knew why Soli and Gyda fell out all those years ago? I know, but that ain’t my place to say, so done tucked that one way down deep in my bra, honey. All I know is I could write a whole other story about this damn family’s shenanigans alone!

“Man, I wish I could remember that!” Siggy laughed throwing his napkin on his plate. “I would have loved to see the look on Bae’s face!” He gently nudged his brother’s arm as he continued to make fun of him.

Ubbe shook his head and lowered his eyes as the stain of blush colored his cheeks, “I can’t believe that was you,” he said to Soli, “I remember running through the house naked, but I never remembered why.”

Soli smiled around her glass of wine, trying her best to ignore the incredibly attractive younger man sitting next to her. "I remember why. I remember that little birthmark on your ass, too."

Gyda laughed putting the last of her spoonful of cake in her mouth. “Oooh, Beege, do you remember that time we were playing Van Damme and you ended up in the emergency room?”

Bjorn rolled his eyes and tried to cover his brow with his hand, “Of course I remember! How could I forget?” He started rubbing his inner thigh at the memory. He looked around the table at all of his brothers’ faces who were rapted with excitement, smiles already plastered on their faces, dying to hear the story. “So, I might have been about 13, Da-Da and Soli might have been around 11 or so. Anyway, we used to always watch Daddy's Jean-Claude Van Damme movies. I was obsessed - he was a total bad-ass to me. We had no business watching them because they were rated R and too violent for us to be watching, but we didn't care. And after the movies, we always would play Van Damme and act out our own scenes but do all the karate moves we just saw.”

“But, he always thought he automatically got to be Van Damme because he was a boy, and he always tried to make me the stupid female sidekick. I wanted to be the badass female Van Damme, ya know?" Soli said rolling her eyes.

“Wait, where was Da-Da?” Ubbe asked.

“I always wanted to be the bad guy,” Gyda shrugged, “What? It was fun.”

"Yeah, we used to whip her ass, "Soli laughed, “So, this one day BJ and I got in this big argument about who should get to be Van Damme in our reenactment. Of course, he thought he should be because he’s a boy, and I said that I should be because I could do the split. You remember the splits he used to do, right?” She looked around the table and watched everyone nod.

That is, all except one, “No…he’s the guy with that show on HULU now, right?” Ivar asked, turning in his chair so that his outstretch leg brushed Soli’s shin under the table. “He used to do action movies?”

Rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the question, Soli reached into her small clutch bag and pulled out her phone. “I keep forgetting you’re a child. Of course, you don’t know anything about Jean-Claude Van Damme. When were you born, like 6 months ago?” She quickly found a picture of the Van Damme split online and handed her phone to Ivar.

“So, in the movie Double Impact, he did the split when he had his legs on these chairs and his pelvis was suspended between them…I knew I could do it. I had been taking gymnastics since I was six. But BJ, thought because he was a boy he was naturally superior.”

“Oh God, Beege…what happened?” Hvitserk asked popping open another beer.

“The chairs moved, man.” Bjorn said sadly, “Daddy had to take me to the hospital. My nuts twisted; sprained my dick.” He tried to hold back his laugh but listening to how funny his brothers found his childhood misfortune made Bjorn laugh, too. “Never played Van Damme again.”

“And you never bet against me again, that’s for sure.” Soli felt Ivar’s hand brush against the side of hers and when she turned to face him he was handing back her phone. She noticed that when he leaned over toward her that the first two buttons of his classic white button-down shirt were undone, exposing his thick neck, and collarbone to her. Would it be rude if she tried to get a peek down his shirt? She didn't think so. What was rude was him smelling like a clean ocean breeze or wearing that damn white shirt against his tanned skin.

Ivar put the phone in her open palm and closed his hand around hers. The hint of a smile started with one corner of his mouth and as his tongue darted out of his mouth and started worrying the bottom corner of the lip.

“So, um…you can do that split, huh?” There it was. That come sit on my face smile. She had to watch out for this little bastard.

“Yep and I can do it on a handstand,” she whispered back, and winked at him, pursing her lips to keep herself from smiling. God, this kid was so damn cute, but she shouldn't be flirting with him, even if it was who she was by nature. He was too young. It was too wrong. He was too sexy. She hadn’t had sex in a very long time. This was tricky. She knew the family. He had muscles. “Close your mouth there, Baby Ivey.” She patted his shoulder feeling the striations under her fingertips. That was another thing, she had to stop touching him!

“Hey Mom,” Soli’s son, Mani walked over to the table she was sitting at wearing a nice pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. She had made him promise to drop by for a minute, just to say hi to some of her childhood friends before he went to a party of his own. The things he did for that woman.

“There’s my Baby Boy!” Soli said, standing up. “Mani, I want you to meet my second family when I was growing up. This was my best friend, Gyda, and her brothers Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar.” She gestured her hand to each person as she said their names. “Everyone, this is my son, Miguel.”

Ivar smiled and stood up, offering his hand to shake, “I remember you from school. Cartoon Boy, right?”

Mani’s posture stiffened and his warm brown eyes hardened almost instantly, “I don’t remember Jock Strap.” Mani had hated Ivar since they were in high school. Even as a teenager he thought Ivar Raganarsson was a dick. He was an entitled asshole who thought the world owed him something. He had walked around that school like he was the shit and because Mani was younger, smaller and didn’t play sports, Ivar just fucking sucked toward him. He never bullied him, but he always acted like Mani was beneath him.

Well, fuck Ivar and his big ass beaver teeth smile…got on his fucking nerves. Mani turned his attention to the rest of the table. “It was nice to meet all of you, but I have another engagement. I just stopped by to drop something off to my mom.”

“Excuse me,” Soli said getting up from the table. She was ready to punch Mani in the throat. She had specifically told him that when he came to the house not to say anything insulting to Ivar. And if she had to listen to one more minute of how much Mani hated Ivar she was going to scream. Since she told him about that first time seeing him at the bar all she had heard was how much of an asshole Ivar had been in high school and how he stole the lead in the school play Mani’s sophomore year. Did she care? Not at all. Mani was 22 years old now and he was still holding a grudge about something that happened when he was 15.

She walked back into the house with her son following him to the front door. The fake she was forcing was hurting her face. “What the fuck was that, Mani?”

“You see him with that Fuck Boy Ricky hairstyle? I swear Mom, he’s a total Dickbag.” Mani rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “And you're friends with his people? That's a whole new level of douchery, even for you, Mom.”

“Oh my, God…I’m not. Not right now.” She got on her tiptoes to kiss her son on the cheek. “Have fun tonight. I love you.”

“I’m telling you, watch that fucktard.”

"Get out," Soli pushed her son out of the door and sighed. This was reason number 4,037 why she never dated. Mani hated and had something to say about everyone. Not saying that she wanted to date Ivar or anything, but just saying that Mani had a problem with every male that she was even friendly with. It was hopeless. Her ex-husband was going to be the last man she’d ever have sex with. Oh, the humanity of it all...

Soli walked back to the family table with a fresh glass of wine and sat back with a smile as she watched the siblings pose for their family photos. The pictures were going to be gorgeous - they were a beautiful family. There were so many photos being taken, too. There were poses of Ragnar, both his wives, all of his children, and grandchildren. Even the photos of the divisions of the families were beautiful. But the most captivating thing to Soli was that Ivar was the photographer.

He was so patient and genuinely seemed to be having a good time doing it. He was a natural. He laughed as he directed his family and smiled a huge, smile with every picture he took. He was engaging and extremely creative. Looking at him, she would have never have guessed he had an artistic side to him. When Soli realized that she had a full-blown smile on her face watching Ivar and not the family she shook her head and grabbed her phone for a distraction.

Taking a sip of wine, she checked her text messages and almost choked. There as only one missed message and it was from a number that she didn't recognize. He must have called himself on her phone to get her number.

She couldn't stop the big ass smile from spreading across her face as she read:

‘Splits and handstands? I💓 gymnastics! ~ Baby Ivey’

So, girl, that’s what happened with that. Don’t worry, we are about to get into the good shit, I promise. I'm telling this story honey and bitch I'm building suspense.

I'll talk to you later girl. And next time, I ping you, answer your girl. Don’t be screening me like I’m that dude at the club that you trying to get rid of.

Chapter 1

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @idea-garden @kol--mikaelson @mooniemouse @didiintheblog @waiting4inspiration @tempt-ress @where-beauty-goes-to-die @crazyaboutmotleycrue @oddsnendsfanfics @geekandbooknerd @ivarthebloodyking @honestsycrets @xbellaxcarolinax @zuxiezendler @inforapound @a-mess-of-fandoms

#alex andersen #Alex hoegh #alex hogh andersen #alex høgh andersen #alex hogh fanfiction #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok fic #ivar fanfic #ivar the boneless #vikings fanfic #vikings fandom #alex høgh andersen fanfiction #alex høgh fanfiction #grown & seXY #usershannygoatgruff #shannyland #gyda #bjorn ironside

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wordscorrupt · 5 years ago

Text

Iron Dad Secret Santa

Here is my gift for @garbotuesday for the @irondadsecretsanta event! I hope you enjoy this!

Link to the fic AO3!

~~~~~

The fifth one this week.

Mildred thought to herself noticing the scrawny teen enter the lobby of her motel. He was drenched to the bone and she watched as he took a few moments to shake off the excess water, before realizing he was creating a puddle of mess on the floor. In an instant, wide, forgiving eyes looked up at her and before the boy could stammer out an apology, Mildred motioned him forward with a pudgy finger.

The young teen walked over to the desk, timid and afraid. She offered the most reassuring smile she could before leaning in, resting her arms on the counter. “What can I do for you, hon?”

“I – uh – I need a place to stay, ma’am,” The boy said through chattering teeth. He sniffled, running a shivering hand beneath his nose.

She tried not to frown. “I see, hon. For how many nights?”

The boy swallowed, reaching into one of the pockets of his soaked, tattered jacket. A moment later he pulled out a few crumpled and torn bills. She watched as the boy took a careful glance at the sign placed on the counter, stating the 59.95 per night rate. He bit his lip, starting to count the meager amount of money in his hands.

Heart aching, she reached out, gently grabbing at his wrist. Too thin. He jumped, tightening his grip around the money and holding it close to his chest, as if she intended to snatch it away from him.

She loosened her grip, giving off the most reassuring smile she could, hoping it would put him at ease. His eyes darted around the lobby, most likely eyeing an escape.

She took a deep breath before saying, “I asked how many nights, sweetheart, not how much money you had. Don’t worry about that for right now. You just tell me how long you need a place to stay for, darling.”

The boy glanced from the door back to her. She noticed the tears at the corner of the boy’s eyes and the sadness behind them only demonstrated just a little of the pain he must being going through.

“Just a couple days, ma’am. Please.”

Mildred patted his hand softly, pulling back to grab one of the keys on the board behind her. “Let’s start with a week, honey and go from there, okay? Room thirty-two. Free breakfast served from 6 am to 9 am.”

The boy’s eyes widened at the information and Mildred couldn’t ignore the loud grumble coming from his stomach. She hobbles around the counter, carefully approaching the boy.

“Let’s get you settled into your room, hon. A shower would do you good as well and in the meanwhile, I’ll whip up a meal for you.”

The teen shook his head, stammering, “You don’t have to do that. I’ve got snacks.” He motioned towards the bag in his hands, unconsciously pulling it closer to his side.

Mildred eyed the tattered duffle bag in his hands and fought the urge to wrap the boy in her arms.

She smiled, showcasing her tired wrinkles. “Which you can save for later. No arguments now. Shower, meal and sleep.”

The teen offered her the tiniest hint of a smile which was more than she could have asked for that night.

A few hours later, after her new resident was settled in for the night, Mildred had been reading her book when the bell above her door chimed once more. She glanced up.

Now, this is interesting.

While this was a relatively small town and her, herself, being a relatively simple woman, she still had no trouble recognizing the rather frantic man in her motel lobby.

Tony Stark made a beeline towards her counter, face etched with a mixture of panic and determination. She set her book off to the side and straightened herself up in her chair, her spine disapproving of the action.

“And what can I do for you, sir?” She asked, crossing her arms in front of her, trying to convey as much calmness as possible while internally all her signals were set off.

“There’s a boy here. Peter. Peter Parker. Short, skinny. H-he’s got black, curly hair. He must have checked in a few hours ago. You have to tell me which room he’s in,” He replied, voice rough and scratchy.

Mildred mouth formed into a tight line and she had to bite her tongue. She was used to her establishment being used for certain unvirtuous gatherings but it was mostly kept to the middle-class men deep into their midlife crisis who were able to snatch up the girl offering the cheapest price.

She certainly was not used to billionaires and especially those that toyed with being a superhero on the side.

She slid off her chair, standing straight and pointed a finger into the man’s face.

“You listen to me right now, Stark. I don’t know what plan on doing with that poor young boy but it ain’t happening. You’re better off turning around and walking out this door right now and I can forget this ever happened,” She spatted out.

Stark shook his head, fumbling around in one of his coat pockets as he replied, “No, please! He’s – he’s not – you have it wrong!”

She watched as the man pulled out his phone, frantically skimmed through it and a moment later he shoved the device into her face. She took a step back before being met with another version of the boy standing her lobby just a few hours earlier. He’s standing next to Stark, who has an arm wrapped around the boy’s shoulders, holding him close. They are grinning widely, holding up a framed certificate.

Stark took a deep breath and explained, “He’s one of my interns. His aunt just died. I’ve been trying to track him down for days. Please. I know he’s here and I know he’s scared. He needs me.”

Mildred swallowed heavily, her thoughts racing through her mind. She was not a naive woman by any means, but there had been times that others have gotten the best of her before. And while Stark could be one of those people, deep down she knew he was telling the truth.

She sighed deeply before nodding her head. “Room thirty-two.”

~~~~

The second the door to the motel room opens and Tony sees Peter standing there, he fights the urge to collapse into tears.

“M-mister Stark?” Peter stammer out and before he gets another chance to bolt, Tony steps forward and wraps his arms around the teen, pressing his face into the curls. He takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself in reality, facing the fact that his kid was back in his arms. He hears the unmistakable sound of Peter sobs and tightens his hold, pressing a kiss to his head. He thinks he might never let go of him.

“Jesus Christ, Peter. Jesus fucking Christ. Do you have any idea the hell I’ve been in these past couple of days?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he curses himself. Peter had gone through worse. Much worse than him. The kid had been dragged to hell and back, over and over.

He hears Peter trying to sputter out an apology and shushes the kid gently. “It’s okay, bud. It’s okay. Just thank God, you’re okay.”

Peter wraps his arms around him, crying into his chest and Tony presses another kiss to his head.

He doesn’t know how long they stand near the entrance of the room but eventually, he peels the teen off of him in order to take a good look at him. He gently cups the kid’s face with both hands, using his thumbs to wipe away his tears. He feels the heat radiating off Peter’s skin and listens to the wheezing coming from his chest. It’s no surprise the teen has fallen sick after wandering around in the frigid air for the past week.

“Come here, kiddo.” Tony pulls the kid back into his arms. Peter shivers slightly as he leans in to Tony’s side. Tony doesn’t hesitate before guiding the teen back to bed, helping him get settled underneath the covers before crouching down beside him. Peter stares back at him with wide, pleading eyes that are swollen and red from crying.

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers as Tony begins to thread his fingers through the boy’s tangled mess of curls, trying to gently ease out some of the knots.

“Shh, none of that right now, bud. If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me. I should have been there for you and I wasn’t.”

Peter shakes his head, bottom lip trembling as he replies, “You were out of the country. You couldn’t have known.”

“Phones exist, kiddo, and somewhere along the way I failed to teach you that you can always reach out to me for anything.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before Peter lets out a loud sob. “I was s-so scared.”

Tony crawls up onto the bed and a moment later he’s cradling the boy in his arms.

“She was gone. Just like that. A-and they wouldn’t let me see her. I begged and they still wouldn’t. They tried to make me go with them but I couldn't. I just couldn't,” Peter cries, voice stuttering and raspy.

Whoever they were, Tony was going to rip them into shreds.

Tony rocks Peter in his arms, murmuring, “Easy, kiddo. I know it’s hard, but I need to you relax a little. You’re already having trouble breathing.” He gently rubs circles on the kid’s back, hoping to ease the tension in his muscles. He wants nothing more to get Peter back home with him, but the last thing his kid needs is to be whisked away in the middle of the night. From his best guess, this was the first solid bed Peter would be sleeping on in days.

Tony gets lost in his thoughts and when he glances back down at Peter, the kid is tucked into his chest, sound asleep. He lets out a deep sigh of relief, before tightening his grip and continuing to rock him gently through the night.

~~~~~

The next morning, Mildred watches out her lobby windows, holding her breath as Stark leads the child to his car.

The boy looks worse for wear, with a pale sickly face accompanied by dark circles under his eyes but he's at least in clean, dry clothes. He has to stop walking for a moment when he begins to cough and needs to catch his breath but Stark is there holding him close and rubbing his back. She watched as Stark help him into the passenger seat, tucking a blanket around him before buckling his seatbelt in. She sees him press a kiss to the side of the boy’s head before turning around. Before she knows it, he’s heading towards her and she scrambles behind her counter. She takes a seat right as he steps into the lobby, greeting with a smile.

“Peter told me you didn’t make him pay anything last night,” He says while pulling out his wallet. Before Mildred can say anything he pulls out a check and holds it out to her close enough for her to read the amount and her eyes widen.

“That is too much,” She says with a shake of her head, backing away slightly.

Stark huffs out a laugh, licking his lips before saying, “I have the wildest idea Peter isn’t the only lost kid out there you’ve helped out. Consider this a donation to your cause. Please. It’s the least I can do.” He places the check on the counter and she shakes her head once again, this time in disbelief.

“Thank you,” She whispers, grabbing the check and carefully tucking it into her pocket.

“No, thank you. If you hadn’t taken him in last night, I don’t know where he’d be now.”

She glances behind him, to the car where Peter is settled in. She smiles softly before stating, “Promise to take good care of that child from now on Stark.”

“Trust me, that’s a promise I’ll never break.”

#iron dad #irondadsecretsanta #tony stark #peter parker

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