#as far as i can tell it's 'a vintage ring' followed closely by 'a vintage ring you have melted down into a different ring' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

watchmegetobsessed · 4 years

Text

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 5)

uh ohh, part 5 baby! im quite enjoying this story so far and i have some fun things planned for it, so i hope you’ll stay with me for them! in today’s part, our fav new celeb couple takes it all the way, though i chose not to include the actual sex part, however im still treating you all with some dirty stuff so enjoy!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 4.6k

warning: NSFW content

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

New couple alert?

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N have been spotted having lunch and grabbing coffee several times in the course of the past few weeks. All the outings looked casual and friendly, they gladly stopped for fans that approached them and the word has it that they’ve been getting closer to each other, though neither of them confirmed anything.

Harry Styles has been known to be single for a while now, only faint rumors swirling up sometimes, but none of them were proven to be true, the young actress is the first woman he has been linked to in a long time. Y/N Y/L/N has been focusing on her blooming career and has been single since her split from long time exboyfriend and fellow actor, Levi Hudson. The pair dated all through 2018, splitting in the beginning of 2019. Hudson has admitted their hectic schedules made it impossible to maintain their relationship while Y/N did not confirm anything.

Styles is going on his world-wide tour soon, while Y/L/N is currently between two projects. The young celebs seem to be enjoying each other’s company and fans have been quick to jump into speculations about their alleged romance, however there is no evidence as of right now.

“Thank you so much for your time, it was a pleasure to talk to you,” the young interviewer smiles at you, holding her hand out and you shake it with a warm smile.

“Thank you for having me! And I really like your shoes, by the way,” you point down at her electric blue pumps that you’ve been eyeing since the start of the interview.

“Oh, thank you! Got them from a vintage store,” she beams, a slight blush playing on her cheeks clearly a little starstruck from your compliment.

“Love those little stores.”

“Me too,” she giggles collecting her papers and notes. “Someone will contact you and your team soon about the photoshoot and I’ll email you a draft of the interview in about a week.”

“That’s perfect, thank you so much,” you nod at her grabbing your purse from the side table next to you. Grabbing your phone from the depth of it you smile to yourself upon seeing the text from Harry.

“Call me when you’re done with the interview Xx.”

You say your goodbye to everyone before heading out of the building. Lawrence is at the front waiting for you in the car and he greets you with a warm smile when you sit into the backseat. As he starts the car and heads back to your home, you call Harry, who picks it up after the second ring.

“Hey! How was the interview?” he beams brightly, his voice immediately making you smile.

“Great! This young girl did it and she had some exciting questions.”

“Sounds lovely. Can’t wait to buy a Cosmopolitan with you on the cover soon,” he says and you can hear the grin through his voice.

“Will look good in your hands for sure,” you chuckle.

“Right. So I have a question for you.”

“Go for it.”

“I’m doing this very small show at Beacon Theater this weekend, kind of a practice before the real tour begins and I was wondering if you’d be up to come. Would love to have you there.”

“When is it exactly?”

“Saturday at nine. I know it’s a short notice and I get it if you have something else going on, just wanted to ask.”

“I think I can make it work,” you smile, thinking back at what your day looks like on Saturday. “Can I bring someone?”

“Of course! Just let me know how many people so I can have the tickets sent over to you.”

“Thank you. It’s sweet of you to think about me.”

“You know I always think about you,” he murmurs and his voice sends a shiver down your spine. Crazy to think how much he can affect you with just his words, he just has a special spell on you, it seems.

“Still such a flirt, I see,” you chuckle, feeling your cheeks heating up as you hear his soft laugh on the other end of the line.

“For you, always.”

“Alright. I’ll text you about the tickets and thank you again. Can’t wait to see you perform finally.”

“It’s been due for a while now, right? Kind of promised you some tickets on Ellen, if I remember correctly.”

“You did!” you laugh thinking back at the time you met him. How funny that just one short game on a talk show led the two of you here. You have to thank Ellen though.

“Now I’m finally keeping my promise. Talk to you later then, Love. Have a great day.”

“You too, Harry.”

You manage to convince Sydney to join you for the concert, she sounds excited when you ask if she had anything to do on Saturday. Seeing Harry perform before his tour kicks off is a thrill for her she wouldn’t pass on for anything, so she is really grateful that you thought of her as your plus one.

Harry has your passes sent over to your place on Friday and it comes with a bouquet of flowers as well as a card.

“Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. What’s your favorite song? I’ll make sure to perform it just for you. –H”

He never fails to make you feel like the only woman on the planet and you can definitely see why so many fall for him even without meeting him. The man has all the power to charm anyone with just a smile.

You put the flowers into a vase and leave them on your dining table before grabbing your phone and sending him a quick text.

“It’s Only Angel,” you simply write, hoping he’ll get it why you just wrote that. Luckily, he does.

“Straight to the setlist. Dedicated to You.”

Finishing up the last touches to your makeup you bop your head to the song blasting through the stereo. It’s Only Angel, of course. You’ve had it on repeat all afternoon and now you can’t wait to actually see Harry perform it live.

Just as you are about to get changed, Syd arrives so you let her in with a beaming smile and when she hears the music upon walking into your place she cheers in excitement.

“Yes! This is such a jam!” she smirks, doing a little dance as you lock the door behind her.

“You look fantastic, Syd,” you tell her. The black short dress looks amazing paired with the lilac oversized blazer. Her makeup matches the same color and you are obsessed with the fishnet tights. She will surely make men wish she was into them.

“Thank you! Spent two hours figuring out what to wear, so I hope I look fantastic,” she giggles.

She helps you put together your outfit as well. Wide legged flaming red pants that make your waist look snatched, a black sheer top tucked into it with just a black bralette underneath. You already know Harry will be a fan of the skin you’re showing, you can’t wait to see his face when he finally spots you.

You quickly pack your essentials into a black Chanel purse along with stuff you need for a possible sleepover if things might take a pleasant turn, and you finish with everything just when the doorman calls up through the intercom that Lawrence has arrived.

“So, what’s the deal with you and him, if I may ask?” Syd questions in the car, not in a nosy way, more like a curious, friendly way.

“We are… getting close,” you say, tasting the word on your tongue. You haven’t labeled whatever you have going on with Harry, nor do you really know what it should be called. You’ve been trying hard to make time for each other as much as possible, making small lunch and coffee dates a regular thing. He came over to your place one evening for a movie and that’s the only time you were able to be alone with him, though nothing sexual happened. Yet. The real deal is yet to happen and if you are being honest you are running short on patience. It’s getting harder to hold yourself back and keep your hands to yourself as well when you are out with him, but you agreed to keep it lowkey out in the public.

Tonight, however, you have a feeling what you’ve been waiting for so long might actually happen and you can only hope Harry is planning the same thing. You are absolutely ready to bluntly ask if he wants to spend the night at your place.

“But you’re heading… somewhere, right?”

“I hope so,” you smile shyly.

“That’s amazing. I think you two are a match,” Syd smirks at you.

By the time you arrive to the venue the gates have been opened so people are busy getting inside, giving you the chance to walk inside through the backdoors without any fuss.

“Miss, Harry requested me to usher you to his dressing room when you arrive,” the girl at the door smiles at you with a clipboard in her hands and a headset covering her ears.

“Oh, alright,” you nod, turning to Syd. “You go ahead and get us a good place,” you tell her and she nods walking away with a wave as she heads up to the second floor that’s fully reserved for friends and family.

Following the girl down the hallway you are led to a room that has Harry’s name on it. She gently knocks on the door and a few moments later it flies open, revealing Harry in a colorful suit and a simple white button-down shirt. He looks breathtaking, hair fixed perfectly and the wide grin stretching across his lips when he sees you standing there.

“You’re here!” he breathes out, grabbing your hand and pulling inside, snatching you away from the preying eyes. Once the door clicks closed behind you, he is quick to press his lips to yours in a sweet welcoming kiss. Ever since your first official date he hasn’t passed on any chance to kiss you whenever you had the luxury of privacy to yourselves, which hasn’t happened too much, leaving you both with a growing hunger for each other every time you meet.

“Mm of course I am,” you smile against his lips before pecking them one last time and leaning back. “Looking great, Mr. Styles,” you grin, taking your time to wander your eyes down on him.

“Yeah? Like the suit?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I love your outfit as well. M’gonna have a hard time not thinking about you on the stage.”

“Please think about me,” you breathe out with a coy smile.

“Don’t fucking say that to me, you are giving me a hard time,” he groans and you just chuckle at the tortured look on his face.

“Sorry,” you mumble, but your face doesn’t meet your words. He squeezes your waist gently, pecking your lips in a rush before he lets go of you.

“I need to go over a few things before we start, so just go ahead and join Syd. Meet me here after the show?”

“Yeah, perfect,” you nod smiling. “Good luck out there,” you wink and he grins at you with bright eyes. His hands grab onto yours before you head out, pulling you in for one last kiss before you leave.

You feel flustered and you take a few deep breaths on your way up to the gallery to find Syd who managed to get an amazing spot at the front on the left side.

They offer everyone up on the gallery some champagne before the show starts and looking around you see a few familiar faces, but no one you specifically know. You stick with Sydney who is over the moon about the show and you are kind of sharing her excitement.

When the lights go down and the music finally starts, you can’t help but join in with the screams that fill the theater.

You’ve seen videos of him performing, in One Direction and solo as well. You’ve seen pictures and you’ve heard the words about how amazing he is on stage, but none of those live up to the actual experience. The sensation that takes over you just by seeing him appear on the stage as the whole theater chants his name as one, it completely sweeps you off your feet and for a second you wonder how you could live a life without this experience.

When his voice starts to flow through the massive speakers you need to take a deep breath, a shiver runs down your spine and you chug down the rest of your champagne so you could get rid of the glass and hold onto the railing with both hands because you feel like you need to ground yourself before you shoot into the sky.

Song after song, he performs perfectly, bringing every single person in the audience to that euphoric state they’ve been probably seeking their whole life. The experience is surely one of a kind, something you’ll definitely be thinking about for a long time.

Time seems to stop, though it cruelly carries on even when you forget about it completely. The concert is nearing its end and Harry takes a breather as he places his guitar to the stand behind him. You watch his every move as he walks back to the microphone, his gaze moving up to the gallery, roaming through the people until they find you.

“This last song is dedicated… to my Only Angel,” he murmurs into the microphone as the audience erupts, blows up at once and your heart skips a beat when his eyes linger over you for a little longer before the music starts to play.

You faintly hear Syd screaming next to you, probably aware that the dedication was addressed to you, but you can’t tear your eyes off of the man on the stage.

He nails it perfectly, looking like an absolute rockstar that he truly is and for a moment you can’t believe you have his attention and interest. How can such a precious and unbelievably talented man be in your reach?

Because I deserve great things in life, you tell yourself, a little mantra you’ve gotten around to repeat every time you found yourself doubting your success and happiness.

The concert eventually ends and though no one in the room desires the end of it, Harry leaves and you are abruptly brought back to reality.

“That was… something else truly,” Syd breathes out as the two of you linger around a little longer, trying to come down from the high you just experienced.

“Yeah. He is so fucking talented it’s almost unfair,” you chuckle running a hand through your hair.

“This tour will kill thousands of people all around the world,” she muses and for a moment, reality sets in and you realize that Harry will leave for his worldwide tour very soon, leaving you behind.

You get rid of the thought, not wanting to stress over something that’s not relevant just yet and you don’t want to ruin the evening either. Fears and stress can wait a little longer.

The two of you make your way backstage, walking into a bit of a chaos as all close friends and family want to congratulate to Harry and the band as well. Standing at the side you let everyone have their time, barely even seeing Harry in the sea of people in the spacious green room. Syd keeps you company as you wait and about thirty minutes later it seems like the crowd is starting to loosen up.

Harry spots you and excuses himself immediately from his conversation with a couple, heading in your direction with the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his pretty face.

“Congrats, that was mind-blowing,” you smirk as he reaches you, a hand curling around your waist as he leans down and places a kiss to your cheek, keeping it as moderate as possible, though you both just want to jump at each other.

“Thank you, Love,” he nods, a blush tinting his cheeks from your words. “Hello Sydney, so great to see you again,” he greets the girl next to you and they share a short hug.

“Hi! Loved the show so much!” she giggles in excitement.

“Thank you for coming.”

The three of you chat for a while before Sydney says she is gonna call herself an Uber, so after saying her goodbye she leaves you alone with Harry, as much as you can be alone with a bunch of other people around.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he clears his throat as his hand finds its way back to the small of your back.

“Go for it.”

“We are gonna grab a drink at some bar, but nothing over the top and I wanted to ask if you would want to join.”

“Sounds good,” you smile, feeling a little disappointed. This is not exactly what you wanted him to ask. Luckily, he is not done with his questions.

“Also… I-If it’s cool by you, I thought that… maybe you could come over?”

“Mmm, go over and do what?” you tease him, your smile stretching wider with each passing moment.

“I have plenty of ideas, Love,” he breathes out, making you laugh. “We could drop by your place if you need anything to stay over.”

“No need. Packed a bag,” you slyly grin at him, taking him by surprise clearly, but it’s surely a pleasant one.

“Always a step ahead of me, huh?” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

It takes some time to actually leave the venue and head off to the bar with a close group of friends of him and the band. A secluded area was already reserved for you that has its own bar, so you could enjoy the evening without worrying about preying eyes of strangers or fans. You really weren’t in the mood to keep your distance from Harry, this way at least you were able to touch each other in a more intimate way without speculations swirling up immediately.

You get to know his band and some of his friends, they are all genuinely amazing people, but you weren’t expecting anything else. You figured he only surrounds himself with people like him. His hands often find your waist and he doesn’t shy away from kissing your cheek or giving your hips a gentle squeeze, just letting you know you have his attention and he appreciates that you’re there.

It’s nearing one am when the guests start leaving and soon enough you find yourself in the back of your car with Harry, heading to his place, while you try your best to keep your hands away from him. You wouldn’t put Lawrence through the trauma of having to see or hear something he shouldn’t.

But that doesn’t stop you from kissing, something you’ve been dying to do all night. Your hand rests on his thigh while he has an arm curled around your shoulders, keeping you tight by his side, delicately brushing his nose against your hair every time your lips are not connected.

“Thank you, Lawrence. I’ll call myself a taxi in the morning, have the day off,” you tell your driver who smiles in your way thankfully while Harry grabs your and his bags from the back of the car.

“Thank you, Miss. Enjoy your night,” he nods in your way as you shut the door closed.

You try to take your duffel bag from Harry, but he insists to carry it as the two of you walk inside his house.

“Want something to drink? Water, tea or something?” he asks, setting the bags down near his giant, comfortable looking couch. Your thoughts immediately wander to a dirty field, picturing him sitting on that very couch as you kneel in front of him, pleasuring him so good that his eyes roll back…

“Yeah, water please,” you say clearing your throat. Some hydration will come handy after the drinks you chugged down at the bar.

You follow him as he shuffles into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and a bottled water from the fridge for you, pouring some into the glass before handing it to you.

“Thank you. You have a nice place for yourself,” you tell him, looking around in his home.

“Thanks. Been working on it for a while,” he chuckles softly. “Feels a bit too big for just myself though.”

You finish the water and set your eyes at him, feeling your hunger for him grow with each passing moment. Placing the empty glass to the marble counter you take a step closer to him.

“You feel lonely often?” you question in a low voice. His eyes return to you and you are happy to see the same lust in them.

“Would say so, yes,” he nods, running his tongue over his pink lips before he reaches out and grabbing you by your hips, he draws you close to him. Leaning down his lips brush against the shell of your ear, a shiver runs down your spine when you hear his whisper in it. “Hope it’ll change soon.”

At a loss of patience, you grab his face and angle it perfectly so you can kiss him hard. And by hard, you mean real hard. He stumbles back from the force, but manages to keep his balance, returning the kiss just as vehemently as he receives it, a tug of war starting between the two of you.

His hands work fast on the sheer fabric of your shirt, pulling it out from the waistband of your pants, getting rid of it eagerly as his lips wander down on your neck, collarbones and chest. He easily turns the two of you around so you are pushed against the edge of the countertop, his hips pushed against you and it’s clearer that daylight just how excited he is to have you here tonight. Your eyes flicker over to the couch again and the desire to please him with your mouth just bursts, you can’t hold yourself back anymore.

So you push him away from you, grabbing his wrist and yanking him after you, heading towards the couch. You push him down and his lustful eyes follow every move of yours as you kneel in front of him and he realizes what you are about to do. He doesn’t stop you when you work to unbutton his pants, but his hand finds your chin and he pulls you up for a swift, but passionate kiss.

Once you successfully undid his pants he lifts his hips and you spare some time and energy, pulling them down along with his underwear, leaving him only in his vintage printed t-shirt as his cock springs free. You push your thighs together just at the sight of him, the way his eyes burn down on you, how his lips part when your gazes meet and the way he sucks on his breath when your fingers dig into his thighs near his crotch as you situate yourself closer.

“I believe I owe you an orgasm, don’t I?” you ask with a cheeky smirk before wrapping your left hand around the base of his shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get him even more excited. A whimpered moan slips from his lips and you lean closer, giving his cock a lick from bottom to top, wrapping your lips around the head as you swirl your tongue around it.

“Fuck hell!” he breathes out, clearly enjoying himself, hands fisting the cushion next to him, but you bet they’ll be buried in your hair soon.

You’re not an expert in the field of blowjobs, but it’s been your thing to come barging right through the door and jump the easy teasing whenever you were on your knees for a man. So with your hands fixed on his beautiful face, you sink down on him, his cock gliding into your mouth right until the tip reaches the back of your throat, earning the loudest moan you’ve heard from him. Shutting your eyes closed you keep him like that for a second until the urge to gag starts to set in, so you slide him out, your saliva dripping down his erection as your eyes meet his and you can tell you shocked him with your bold first move.

“Do that one more time and I won’t last for a minute,” he warns breathing heavily and you just smirk up at him before going into action again, this time only taking a smaller portion of him, pumping the base to make up for the lack of deep throating, but it appears that he enjoys just the simple part of it equally. As you keep bobbing your head, taking as much of him as you can without gagging, his right hand flies to your hair, taking a handful of it as he gently guides your head, keeping it in the rhythm that works the best for him and you happily let him do whatever makes him feel good.

When your free hand goes to gently massage his balls your name erupts from him in the most voluptuous way you’ve heard him call out for you. As if he just cried out for God himself.

“Y/N, fuck, I won’t last long,” he warns you, but that’s all you want. You need to see him come undone under your touch, you want to be the reason his breath hitches. Picking up your pace you see him whimper some more, head falling backwards to the back of the couch. It’s a heavenly view and you wish you could take a picture of his beauty as he enjoys himself on this intimate level. You’ve never wanted to please a man more than him and just seeing him in this blissful state makes you wet through your underwear.

When his breathing starts to get uneven, chest heaving wildly, you take all of him again, his head poking the back of your throat and you push your tongue against his length as you slide him out, picking up the same pace that you kept before, both hands working hard on him.

“Fuck! I-I’m gonna cum!” he warns again and just a few seconds later, you feel the evidence of his satisfaction spurt into the back of your throat, eyes falling on you as you give him one last lick before swallowing everything that’s in your mouth.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out pulling you up, eagerly kissing you without a second thought, his hands cupping your cheeks to keep you in place. “You surely know how to kill a man, yea?” he huffs making you chuckle.

“Think you can go for a second one?” you sheepishly ask, blinking up at him from under your long lashes.

“I’ll have enough time to recover while I eat you out like you’re my last meal,” he bluntly replies, and a moan almost slips from your lips.

“Show me what you got, Styles,” you challenge him and he doesn’t need more, he easily picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he heads straight to the bedroom.

“As you wish, Angel,” he mumbles against your skin, peppering your neck and shoulder with featherlike kisses along his way until he throws you to his bed, ruthlessly tearing the remaining of your clothes off your body.

PREVIOUS PART

NEXT PART

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles series #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x actress!reader #never have i ever series #harry styles never have i ever #harry styles never have i ever series

1K notes · View notes

creepytoes88 · 4 years

Text

Let me spoil you, baby

Y/n’s Pov

Dating Vinnie wasn't what I expected I never was a big social media person but everyone and their uncle has tiktok. Chances are if you have tiktok you have seen Vinnie so needless to say I had a major crush on him. After seeing all the seemingly “Perfect” girls he hung around with. I never thought I had a chance, ya know besides the fact that I was a nobody. However living in LA is never boring and it never disappoints I saw Vinnie's cute ass on melrose, I'm not what you would call a “skinny” girl I have relatively small breast and a pleasantly plump butt as my mother would say. I'm not ashamed of my less then flat stomach either I don't need anyones approveal to be happy with myself. However back when I first met Vinnie that was a different story I was too shy to come up to him and say hello so I just admired him from where I was standing before walking away right passed him and his friends.

I walked into the nearest store and began to look at clothes picking out a pair of nice mom jeans and a vintage Cheech and Chong shirt. I heard the bell attached to the top of the door jingle as I walk to the jewelry part of the store I began to look at the earnings and necklaces. “How’s your day been so far beautiful?” I look up towards the voice ready to tell them to fuck off but I look up to see Vinnie Fucking Hacker. I quickly recover and Smile pulling myself together “I've had a great day! how has your day been?” I smile at him “it was alright but like 10 minutes ago I think I saw the most beautiful woman in my life walk into this store so I had to pray and hope that she didn't leave.” I widen my eyes looking around seeing no one “Did she leave?” Vinnie let out a laugh “No I'm actually talking to her, if you have time I would love to grab coffee or lunch with you, right now, on me of course!”

I drop my mouth a little before looking around for the cameras “um I would love too... My names Y/n by the way, I won't lie to you I know who you are Vinnie.” I say with a sad tone half expecting him to cancel “good now I don't have to explain why people are taking pictures of me” he says as he holds out his hand “are you ready to check out or are you still shopping?” he says with a small smile “Oh yea I'm ready I can always come back anyway” I smiled back at him as I grab his hand and walk towards the cashier setting down my clothes and jewelry she quickly rings then up “That’s gonna be $357.45.” I smile and start to take my card out when suddenly Vinnie hands her 400 hundred dollars I turn to him with my mouth wide “Why did you just do that please get your money back” Vinnie laughed at me grabbing his change and the receipt “you can pay it back to me by going to dinner with me again tomorrow?” I look at him we haven’t even gotten food yet and he’s trying to schedule another date “your not paying for my food this time or next though you just lost those privileges” I say with a sassy attitude grabbing my bag and walking out Vinnie following close behind.

Fast forward to now we never really tried to hide our relationship we just let it grow naturally and didn’t speak on it. Everyone has recently been hating on me jealous girls calling me ugly and fat, at first it didn't even affect me. I know Vinnie love me but in the back of my mind it bothered me it hurt my feelings. I didn't tell Vinnie, I don't want him to feel bad or worry there is nothing anyone can do to make them stop so I just lived with it. It's been 3 weeks since I've been getting hate in my DMs on every platform everyday I wake up and it keeps piling up. I look at them again before clicking my phone off and getting in the shower to release some tension and stress.

Vinnie's Pov

“Alright ill see you guys later!” I yelled at the boys running up to my door step we just got back from the skate park and I was so Gross and sweaty. I open the door and make my way upstairs as I walked into Y/n and I’s room slipping off my shoes and stripping myself of all my sweaty clothing except my boxers I fall flat on the bed. “Ouch” I said as I felt my forehead connect to a hard surface “what the fuck” I said in a soft voice holding my head I look down and see Y/n phone a smirk spreading across my face. I'm gonna tweet weird things off her twitter I think to myself as I open her phone I see her DMS are open and people are saying some pretty nasty things I look at the other social media platforms. I'm shocked and I'm pissed how could they even say such thing about Y/n the sweetest, most humble and beautiful person I have ever met or seen for that matter. I click off the phone and place it on the bed side table hearing the shower turn off quickly I pick up my clothes off the floor and shut the door I watch as my beautiful girlfriend comes out “boo.” I say behind her seeing her jump in the air slightly “fuck baby you scared me” she said turning around kissing my lips before turning and grabbing her lotion. Now usually when Y/n gets out of the shower she drops her towel and puts on lotion before getting dressed this time she picks it up along with her clothes and speeds off to the bathroom quickly shutting the door. “What are you doing sweetie?” I ask softly before tapping on the door “n-nothing...just getting dressed”

I bit my lip slightly “baby this doesn't have to do with what I saw on your phone does it?” no reply so I tried the doorknob and it was locked “baby let me in please” I hear sniffles and shuffling “let me g-get dressed fir-” I growl slightly not even noticing “now princess” I once again her shuffling before the door clicks. Pulling the poor open I rushed in seeing Y/n naked and basically covering herself looking at the ground “oh no baby look at me” I say softly walking over to her “please beautiful” she sniffles before looking at me I see tears are running down her face. I simply kiss them away “please don't hide yourself from me baby” I kiss her cheeks and her forehead “I love you and I care about you I think you're perfect” I say before kissing her lips. Slowly she dropped her arms kissing me back harder I take my hands to her thighs picking her up which we usually don't do she would always complain and get uncomfortable. This time was no different “mmm no vinnie put me down” I kissed her lips squeezing her thighs “i got you I promise baby just to the bed” she finally wraps her legs around me her arms leaving the wall going to my hair. She wasn't even hard to lift let alone carry 20 feet I wish she didn't think and feel this way about her self. I walked her straight to a wall completely skipping the bed.

“I'm gonna show you how beautiful and amazing you are my sweet girl” I began kissing her lips and grinding against her my hard shaft against her bare clit moans spilling out of her mouth immediately. I grab her full breast in my hands playing with her soft nipples as I kiss down her neck whimpers coming from her mouth. My hard cock grinding harder against her as my mouth attacks one of her nipples my hand attacking the other pinching and pulling. Her moans get louder as I switch nipples I leave little hickeys on her boobs and chest making my way up her neck. I could feel her legs gripping onto me and her hips thrusting against mine “oo-ooh shit Vin... I'm gonna cum” she says in a hot breathy tone I kiss her lips pulling one of her knees up onto my shoulder and gasp leaves her mouth letting me enter my tongue I grind faster as I abuse her sweet mouth with my tongue swallowing her moans and pants. Her thighs shaking slightly pulling away I kiss her cheeks grabbing her other leg tossing it over my shoulder so her full body weight was against me and the wall. Her sweet pussy staring me in the face I could smell her and I moaned spreading her legs wider hearing her gasp I smirk “you smell so good baby mind if I have a taste?” she just whines and kicks her legs slightly “mmm I'll take that as a yes baby.”

I say with a smirk dropping my head slightly my nose poking around her clit and my tongue plunged as deep as I could possibly get in moans spilling from my mouth as her taste fills my mouth. Clouds cover my brain all I can think about is making my baby cum. I was making a deep growling sound in my chest and didn't even notice it everytime she tried to pull away from my mouth and nose it got louder almost like a warning to stay still. “Ahh Vinnie baby please” I started to get curious and before I know it I feel my tongue swipe across her pink button and load moan and gasp along with her grinding her hips into my face I assume she likes it. I do it again this time swirling around it making it known I'm doing it on purpose “Vinnie why are you doing that?” she say grinding against me “Do you want me to stop?” I answer her question with a question she throws her head back and moans “noooooo please more!” I pull her from the wall walking to the bed I drop her. Y/n spreads her legs apart looking up at me “butt in the air Princess spread your legs as far as you can get them.”

She flips over her hands and elbows holding her up that's not exactly what I want tho “spread your ass and pussy for me baby” I say with little smirk she lays on her face and knees as her hands pull her butt cheeks apart with a little moan. I look down admiring her sweet little holes staring at me I let out a wolf whistle “damn beautiful....i can't wait to taste you again” I grab ahold of her soft asscheeks in my hands as hers fall to her sides. I lick a thick stripe over her clit all the way to her button slightly entering my tongue before licking around it again “please daddy” I look up at her pushing my thumb in to her greedy pussy “yess daddy more please” I chuckle “what more could you want baby?” she slightly blushes turning her head the other way “mmmm baby Daddy isn't a mind reader if you want something you have to speak up.” I say with a smirk “p-please ea-” she shakes her head and takes a deep breath “please eat me” I chuckle she's so cute “eat what baby?”

I rub her thigh with my other unused hand and kiss her squishy butt cheeks definitely enjoying myself “God I love your bubble butt princess it's amazing If I had my way I would sleep on it, roll on it, and most definitely eat it” I say giving her the ok to ask biting down on her ass “YES YES DADDY EAT MY ASS PLEASE” I laugh before spreading her open and I lay a kiss on her wet hole as a moan leaves her mouth I lick around for a second before slipping my tongue in slightly before pulling out. Her moans and whimpers music to my ears I repeat this a few times till I think she's loose enough to put my tongue fully in “ready my dirty little girl” she moans in response and I slip my tongue fully into her as both my thumbs attack her clit and slit “FUCK DA-ADDY MORE PLEASE” I eat her like crazy shaving my tongue in between both holes as I slap her ass and clit “OOOOH FUCK IM CUMMING” she yells as I feel wetness on my chin and fingers.

I pull away dropping down next to her before turn my head to meet her gaze “sit on my face Princess” I say as I pull her hand she slowly moves over to me with wild eyes I pull her over me before pulling her hips down to meet my face she was completely sitting on my face with all her weight as I dive my tongue in for a third time occasionally slipping it in her butt making her moan and grind against my face “Daddy I'm coming already” she says humping my face with her hands in my hair “MMMMM” she gasps as she cum on my face for the 4 time “fuck princess you ready”

I say as I pull my boxers down she nods as she lays down spreading her legs for me “such a good girl for Daddy” I pick up one of her legs wrapping it around my hip tossing the other over my shoulder before slipping into her. I grunt as her walls squeeze around me I hear her moan “shit daddy your so big” I give a breathy laugh “i think your just tight baby” I say before I thrust into her. Moans leaving both of our mouths as I pound into her I pull out flipping her over and push back in “AH” she groans “you good baby” I say as I thrust softly “ye-YES” I smirk pushing into her as deep as possible “can I put my babies inside of you baby” she gasp and turns her head to look at me “i wouldn't want anyone else to spend my life with and I can't think of ayone I would rather raise my kids with then you baby” she drops her head moaning as she thrust her hips back in to me “flip me back over so I can hold it in Daddy we might not get lucky the first time but it's worth a shot.” Y/n moans grabbing my hand I flip her over putting her legs on my shoulders fucking into her “mmm baby I'm gonna fuck my baby into you honey” I bite and suck at her neck “would you like that?”

She moans and throws her head back moaning “hold it princess please just a little longer” I pant kissing her neck quickly I grab my pillow and shove it under her ass before stuffing my entire length inside of her moaning. Releasing my load deep inside of her before pulling my hips out almost all the way fucking my cum inside of her till I couldn't feel it sloshing around anymore. “Do you wanna cuddle baby” she nods her head I turn her to her side putting her under the cover getting up to turn the light off climbing back in behind her “stay still princess I wanna make sure nothing comes out tonight” she smiles holding out her hand. Knowing she was going to be sensitive I grab it kissing her shoulders and back as I slowly slip my limp cock inside of her before it hardened back up “oo-oh shit Daddy I love your big cock” she says sleepily I pull her close to me kissing her lips “well we love you too” she opens her eyes “ew” she laughs making me laugh too “go to bed brat I love you beautiful” “I love you to handsome I'm very excited to have a mini you running around”

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie #Smut #smut imagine #smut imagines #hypehousesmut #hypehouse #thehypehouse #Sway #Swayboys #sway gaming #swaygaming #wattpad

523 notes · View notes

writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

Text

Red

Summary: Y/N has been having an infuriating dry spell in the love department lately, thanks to lockdown, and her roommate Jensen is getting fed up with her attitude. So, he lets her in on a little secret…

Pairing: Danneel x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: female masturbation, talk of male masturbation, phone sex, dirty talk, praise kink, light degradation, lockdown was hard on singletons but great for phone sex operators Word Count: 4.5k Created for: @anyfandomgoesbingo - Sex Hotline AU | @spnkinkbingo - Tribbing

A/N: Requested by @danneelsmain - hope this lived up to your expectations babe! I haven't written Danneel before but I really enjoyed writing this ❤️

“Yes... yes... yesyesyes–”

“Hey, Y/N!” Bang, bang, bang! “Hurry up in there will ya? I’m dyin’ here,” Jensen jiggled the doorknob to no avail, and Y/N was incredibly thankful she’d remembered to lock it this time.

I’m dying here, Y/N thought to herself, pulling the shower head from between her legs with a frustrated huff, the water swirling down the drain carrying the fading vestiges of her almost-orgasm with it. She had been so close. Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Just a minute!” she shouted, frustration tipping over into anger. The knob on the faucet was twisted to the ‘off’ position with unnecessary violence, and the shower curtain was attached at one less ring than it had been half an hour ago when it was yanked open to settle against the back wall of the tub.

Bang! Ban–

“Seriously, Jensen?!” Y/N barely had the towel secured around herself before she threw open the door, hastily ducking to avoid Jensen’s knock-in-progress.

“Thank fuck.” Jensen danced around Y/N and shoved the door shut, sending Y/N slipping across the tiles on her still-wet feet and locking her on the other side. The clearly audible hiss of Jensen relieving himself leaked through the door and Y/N growled in frustration, aiming a kick at the door before stomping down the hallway to her room.

He couldn’t have waited ten more seconds…

It had been bad enough that lockdown got them all stuck at home with no possibility of one night stands, or follow-up booty calls to keep her sex drive in check, but now Y/N was having an even bigger problem. She hadn’t been able to get herself over the finish line for at least two weeks, and she had no earthly idea as to why. Y/N was beginning to think that regular orgasms were part of the reason that she was usually nice to be around, because right now she felt like she was one bad joke away from stabbing somebody.

And that someone was likely to be Jensen.

Tucked up into the corner of the couch was Y/N’s standard position these days. She wasn’t sure what was playing on the TV, something as mindless as she felt right now.

“Budge up.” Jensen hit her feet and flopped back gracelessly on top of them without giving her the chance to move them.

“Ow, asshole!” A pillow whipped through the air and collided squarely with the side of Jensen’s face.

“What is your problem lately?”

“You, clearly,” Y/N snapped, pulling her knees into her chest defensively. Jensen raised a single eyebrow, giving her a pointed look. “No, it’s not you,” Y/N admitted, letting some of her aggression seep out of her frame with her words. “Sorry.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

There was a stiff silence between them, Jensen waiting for Y/N to break and answer his question and Y/N knowing that she didn’t want to talk about this with Jensen but not seeing a way out of the conversation. Jensen had an irritating habit of getting her to open up about things she never planned on telling people – like the fact that she was gay. And now he was about to hear far more about her sex life than she ever wanted to share with someone of the male species.

“I’m, um,” her cheeks were on fire as she glanced up to see Jensen looking back at her with concerned curiosity. “I’m… having a problem,” she finished lamely.

“Okay…”

“I can’t… Do you ever–” Y/N choked on the words every time they tried to bubble through. “So… um, it’s– it’s been a while.” She saw comprehension flash over Jensen’s freckled face a moment later.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You know PornHub has a whole section for lesbian shit, right?” Another pillow hits him in the face. “Okay, okay, ow,” Jensen rubs his jaw in exaggeration. “But seriously, it’s been a while for everyone. You just gotta take business into your own hands.”

“You don’t think I’ve been doing that?” Y/N hissed, unconsciously checking around them as if someone else was in their apartment who might overhear.

“Well then what’s the problem?”

“I haven’t like,” Y/N made a variety of nonsequitous hand motions that had no bearing on the word ‘orgasm’ but Jensen seemed to get the message.

“How long?” he cringed.

“Like, almost three weeks? And it’s not like I haven’t been trying like, everything, I just… can’t,” she shrugged helplessly. “Has this kind of thing ever happened to you? Is there something like, physically wrong with me?”

“No, no, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with you,” Jensen rushed to reassure her, patting her leg awkwardly. “This kind of thing happens all the time.”

“So it’s happened to you too?” Hope shone from Y/N’s face that maybe she wasn’t doomed to a life empty of sexual pleasure.

“Well… no, not exactly.” Y/N’s shoulders drooped, hopes slashed.

“How are you staying so sane?” Y/N accused. “You used to be with a different girl every few days before all of this.”

“Hey! I was not,” Jensen was mock offended but Y/N could tell he was also a little proud. “And I’ve, uh… I’ve got my sources,” his eyes twinkled mischievously as he answered her question.

“Jensen Ross Ackles, have you been sneaking out behind my back!”

“No,” he rolled his eyes, “nothing like that.” Jensen pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the screen as Y/N watched.

“Jen, if you’re trying to show me porn, I’m good. Don’t need to see what you get off to,” Y/N shuddered at the thought. A text beeped on her phone a second later, Jensen’s name popping up on the screen.

“That’s my source,” he explains and she opens the message to see a 1-800 number, next to the word Red.

“Red?”

“Red.” Jensen confirmed with a wicked grin, nodding sagely.

Y/N could not believe she was about to do this. She looked down at the number on her phone screen, ready to dial as soon as she pressed the little green button. Jensen’s assurances echoed in her head. Best phone sex I’ve ever had… she actually gets off with you, she’s not just faking it… sounds so hot, and her body is killer in her profile pic. Admittedly, the picture he’d shown her had been really fucking sexy. A slender girl in small red panties and unfairly pretty breasts cradled in a satin bra covered in little hearts, dark red hair pinned up around her face in a vintage style.

Before she could talk herself out of it again, Y/N pressed dial and held the phone up to her ear. It rang a few times before connecting to an automated menu, and Y/N was secretly relieved she wouldn’t have to ask an operator if she could speak to ‘Red’.

Thank you for calling the Sugar Lips Hotline. Please enter your card details to continue.

Jensen had warned her about this part, so she had her card sitting out of her wallet on the desk in front of her.

If you know who you are trying to reach, please press one. If you would like to be assigned a random operator, please press two.

Y/N shakily pressed the number one, and then put the phone on speaker while she was at it.

If you would like to speak with Candy, press one, followed by the pound key. If you would like to speak with Kitty, press two, followed by the pound key. If you would like to speak with Lance…

Y/N wondered if she would still have the confidence to go through with this by the time the robotic voice mentioned ‘Red’.

If you would like to speak with Red, press thirteen, followed by the pound key.

The moment of truth. Y/N entered the number 13 and then pressed the pound key. The line began to ring again.

“Hi there,” a temptingly soft voice slipped through the receiver of the phone sitting on the desk in front of her.

“Hi-i,” Y/N’s voice was jarring in comparison, breaking on the first word she uttered.

“Oh, so I’ve got a pretty little girl on the line today, huh?” Y/N didn’t know how to answer so she didn’t, hands frozen in a death grip on the sleeves of her too big sweatshirt. “What’s your name, baby?”

“Y/N,” she whispered back, suddenly scared that Jensen would be able to hear every word being said in her room. Quickly digging into her pockets she pulled out her headphones and plugged them into her cell. Why hadn’t she done that earlier?

“That’s such a pretty name, baby,” the woman cooed, and now her voice was right against Y/N’s ears; it felt like she was in the room, whispering against her skin. “I’m Red.”

“That’s what I should call you?” Y/N managed to keep the tremor out of her words this time.

“Unless you want to call me something else? I can be whoever you want me to be baby girl. Mommy, ma’am, mistress…” Y/N’s heart thundered against her ribs. She realised that she had no idea what she wanted from this – she just knew she was desperate. “Or maybe you want to be in charge? I could be your baby, your good little girl.” Y/N wished she could see Red right now, watch what she looked like as she purred all these promises down the line, teasing and tempting.

“Is,” Y/N gulped, “is there anyone you want me to be?”

“Nuh-uh,” she tutted, and Y/N could imagine her shaking her head, red curls flying by her cheeks. “This is all about you Y/N. I’m here to make you feel good.”

Y/N felt a lick of heat curl in the base of her stomach, twisting itself around her intestines.

“Yeah, I could use that,” she laughed nervously, figuring she should be honest if she wanted this to work out well. And she really needed it to.

“Oh, have you been feeling a little pent up baby?” Red’s voice echoed in Y/N’s ears. The small vibrations coming out of her earbuds were enough to start sending a pulsing sensation down the side of her neck, worming its way under her skin and into her veins. Christ, it had been too long.

“You have no idea.”

“Well, I betcha we can fix that. Are you somewhere comfortable sweetie?”

“I could get on the bed?” Y/N offered, wondering why she hadn’t started there in the first place, rather than at her desk.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Red purred seductively. “Why don’t you stretch out on the bed, get yourself nice and cozy. Maybe prop a pillow up next to you and think about me snuggling you in real close. Wish I could be there to put my hands all over your body.”

Y/N was thankful she was already sitting on her bed by the time Red finished painting her little scene because if she’d been walking, she’s pretty sure her knees would have given out.

“Fuck, it’s been so long since I felt another girl’s hands on me.” She tried not to be embarrassed at how whimpery her voice had gone. If this went well it was about to get a whole lot worse anyways.

“I want to touch every inch of you,” Red breathed heavily. “Run my fingers through your hair, over your neck, down your back. Would I find a bra there to unhook, baby?”

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed, arching her shoulders and feeling the band scratch taught around her ribs, pushing her breast up towards her chin.

“Why don’t you take that off for me?”

“Okay,” Y/N felt her voice shake as much as her hands as she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, breathing deeply when the pressure of the garment disappeared.

“Bet that felt good, didn’t it baby?” Red laughed knowingly.

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed, loosening up a little at the acknowledgement of a shared experience, something all girls could relate to. She pulled her arms through the straps beneath her sweatshirt and shimmying the discarded bra out the bottom before pushing her arms back through her sleeves. The peaks of her nipples tightened as they caught on the pills of fleece that now sat against her chest.

“What else are you wearing?”

Suddenly embarrassed she hadn’t thought to put on anything sexy in preparation for this call, Y/N didn’t manage more than an “um…” before Red laughed, a warm sound that melted into her like chocolate against your tongue.

“Why don’t I tell you what I’m wearing?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded before she remembered that Red couldn’t see her. “Bet it’s something really sexy,” she attempted to flirt, cringing at how awkward she sounded.

“Well that depends,” Red mused. “Do you like lace?”

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed. She loved seeing girls in lace lingerie; the way the delicate weave of the pattern offered small tastes of the skin it covered, the way you could feel someone’s warmth seeping through such a thin fabric so easily, the way it felt to have someone touch you or suck you through such a meagre sheet of modesty…

“What about stockings?” Red voice broke through Y/N’s train of thought, pulling her back to the vaguely out of body experience she was having.

“Love them,” Y/N answered quietly, trying to pitch her voice the way Red was, low and alluring.

“Well, that’s a shame,” she sighed dramatically. “Because I’m not wearing anything at all right now, sorry to disappoint.” Y/N couldn’t see her but she would bet anything Red was wearing a big pout right now. She wondered what her lips looked like. In her head she pictured soft and pillowy.

“You are such a tease,” Y/N laughed, hoping to disguise the pang of arousal that had shot through her a moment before.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you baby?”

“Yeah, I really do,” Y/N found herself admitting unconsciously.

“Are you gonna keep teasing me, or are you gonna get naked too baby girl?”

A throb of desire fluttered between Y/N’s legs, her pussy clenching, and when she squirmed back into her pillow a little she felt the lace fabric of her own panties sliding a little more between her thighs. Her arousal had started to soak out of her and into the material.

“You want me naked?” Y/N’s words scratched their way out of her throat, trying to pull her confidence along with them.

“Oh god, please baby,” Red moaned loudly, but it didn’t sound fake. It was like Jensen had told her, it sounded like she was really enjoying this, and like she was actually getting off on what was happening between them right now. “Want to feel your skin against mine.”

“I want that too, baby,” Y/N’s hasty breaths shook her words. She stripped out of her underwear and shoved her phone and headphones down the front of her sweatshirt so she could shimmy it over her head without disconnecting the earbuds. She didn’t want to miss anything.

“God, if I was there I would kiss all over you. Bet you taste amazing,” Red sighed, and Y/N could hear something shifting over the phone, like fabric moving around.

“Are you on your bed too?” Y/N asked.

“Yep, all spread out for you baby girl.”

“Are you touching yourself?” Y/N’s confidence was starting to build as she heard how much Red sounded like she’s into this, and she couldn’t deny she was turned on too. She felt wetter than she’d been in weeks, and when her fingers drifted down over her stomach its muscles twitched in anticipation of where she was about to touch.

“Where do you want me to touch?” Y/N let her eyes slide closed, and she could imagine Red batting her lashes as she asked - where do you want me to touch? - She pictured the girl she’d seen in the photo poised over her, legs straddling Y/N’s hips as Red ran her hands over her own body, fingers trailing over her throat, fondling her breasts, twisting around the pink flesh at the tips of each, lingering on the soft of her stomach before dipping lower.

“I want you to touch between your legs and tell me how wet you are,” Y/N said between deep breaths, trying to keep her voice even.

“I’m already so wet for you, baby,” Red gasped, and Y/N hoped it was a reaction to her fingers slipping inside her pussy.

“If you were here with me, what would you do right now?”

“I’d make you watch me fuck myself on my fingers.” Holy shit, Y/N couldn’t help the moan that bled through her lips, and she heard Red chuckle. “Yeah, you like the sound of that baby?”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N whimpered, her own fingers finally making their way between her legs and sliding easily through the slick she found there.

“I’d straddle myself right over your face, so you could see my fingers fucking my pussy, feel me dripping on you.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“And then, when my fingers are nice and soaked, you’re gonna suck them clean like a good little girl, aren’t you sweetheart?” Red’s monologue was absolutely wrecking Y/N, she wanted everything the woman on the end of the line was describing so badly. “Want you to do it to yourself, since I can’t be there to do it for you. Can you get those fingers nice and wet for me baby?”

“Fuck, yeah, okay.” Y/N pushed two fingers inside her pussy, clenching around them wantonly. She must have let out some kind of noise because Red giggled again before she continued talking.

“That’s it, fuck yourself for me baby girl, until I can do it for you.” And fucking hell, the thought of Red actually with her, touching her, fucking her… “Your fingers nice and dirty now?”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N squeaked, pressing against her g-spot to get herself even wetter.

“Good girl,” Red hummed. “Now suck them clean for me, Y/N. Want you to taste just how sweet you are. God, wish I could taste you too,” she moaned, her breath hitching.

Y/N obeyed Red’s instructions, sucking her fingers into her mouth and twirling her tongue around them, curling it across the dips and whorls of her fingertips. She groaned around the digits in her mouth, trying to make it audible that she was doing as she was told.

“Good girl,” Red cooed again, obviously hearing Y/N’s sucking. “Good filthy girl. You’re so dirty aren’t you baby, bet you’re dripping onto the sheets right now you’re so horny.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N felt her whole body clenching as she pushed her hand back between her legs, toying with her clit and sending fresh jolts of desire to her core. “Fuck, I’m touching myself again. Couldn’t help it, you’re so hot baby.”

“I want you to touch yourself sweetie. Want you to make yourself feel so good.”

“I want you to feel good too,” Y/N whimpered, maybe stupidly, but she remembered Jensen saying that Red got off with him and she wanted the same thing. She wanted to know that Red wanted her, that Red found her sexy. She didn’t want to be in this alone.

“Oh, I am feeling so good baby girl,” Red assured Y/N, her voice brimming with sincerity and whimpers to back it up. “Fucking myself so good, pretending it’s your fingers inside me.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Y/N couldn’t come up with anything more eloquent than that. The more she played with herself the foggier her brain got.

“What are you imaging right now?”

“Thinking about you, you on top of me.”

“You want me on top, huh? Want me to hold you down a little, baby?”

“Mm, yeah,” Y/N sighed, slipping two fingers from her free hand down to her entrance and pushing them inside, keeping her other hand on her clit, rolling it between her fingers. “You could hold me down, grind yourself against me. Use me to get yourself off.” Y/N’s breathing was ragged now, and the fingers inside her pussy sought out her g-spot again, starting to focus their efforts a little more concertedly on the spongy bundle of nerves.

“Oh sweetie, that’s so hot, fuck,” Red moaned heavily, her breath catching on her curse. “I’d grind against you so good. Rub our pussies together, all slick and hot, grind my clit against yours nice and hard. Fuck, touch your clit for me baby.”

“I am,” Y/N gasped, drawing fast little circles over the nub between her legs. “Fuck, want all that so bad. Think you could come like that? Just from rubbing your pussy on me, getting me all wet and dirty?”

“Fuck yes, love rubbing my pussy on yours, love grinding our clits together. I could tease you so good. Go nice and slow, wonder how long you’d last before you start begging me to let you cum.”

“I’m close,” Y/N whimpered, surprised at how true it was. She hadn’t gotten so close to cumming this quickly in ages.

“Already baby? You naughty little girl,” Red groaned, and the sound of bed springs crackled through Y/N’s earbuds too. Y/N pictured Red arching off the bed, fucking her hips into her fingers. “You want to cum for me baby?”

“Fuck, yes, yes please,” Y/N begged, feeling the muscles in her thighs and stomach starting to constrict, heat singing through her veins.

“Not yet baby, keep fucking yourself.” Y/N let out a pathetic whine in protest. “You can do that for me, can’t you sweetie. Fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers for me?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Good girl, I’m so fucking close baby.”

“Fuck, please, want you to cum. Want you to cum with me.” Y/N’s eyes squeezed tight as small pinpricks of light started to burst in the darkness of her vision.

“Gonna cum for you, baby girl,” Red cried, voice high and tight. “Fuck, I’m gonna squirt, I can feel it. Gonna squirt all over your pussy, fucking soak you.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N felt like she might actually start crying, she needed to cum so badly. She was so so so close.

“Rub that little clitty, pretend it’s me rubbing up against you. All hot and wet,” her voice was breaking, her words short and breathless, and Y/N could tell Red was as close as she was. “Gonna cum all over you. Fuck, gonna squirt so hard bet I could actually cum inside you.”

“Holy fuck!” Y/N’s hips snapped into the air, searching for the imaginary body she wished was there. It was becoming hard to hear through the intense buzzing in her ears. Every nerve in her body was pulled taut, ready to snap.

“Cum for me Y/N, c’mon baby, you can do it, want you to cum for me like the good little girl you are baby, c’mon.”

Y/N was sobbing, wrist pistoning her fingers in and out of herself faster than she ever remembered being able to move, and she felt the walls of her pussy clamping down, trying to keep the pressure inside where it wanted it. And then she couldn’t take it anymore. Everything froze. She might have screamed, but to be honest she couldn’t be too sure, because she couldn’t hear anything except the white light that had flooded the dark space behind her eyelids.

Lockdown became much more bearable after that day. Though Y/N did have to try really hard to not think about the fact that she and Jensen were kind of fucking the same girl. In a way. It was weird. But if she ignored that part, then her ‘dates’ with Red were perfect. She was finally able to release all the tension, sexual and otherwise, that this whole mess had building up in her system constantly. And eventually, the world started to open back up and things started to get just a little bit easier.

Y/N wondered what she would do when lockdown was well and truly over. When the bars and clubs opened up again, would she and Jensen go out and try to hook up like they always had before? Would everything just go back to normal? Would she still want to call Red if she was getting actual sex with a real girl, and not just her hand or a bit of silicone? Yes. The answer was most definitely yes, Y/N had to admit to herself. Even though it was just phone sex, it was still some of the best sex she’d ever had.

Well, Red is a professional, she thought to herself wryly as she spooned some froth onto the top of the cappuccino she was making. The coffee shop she worked at had reopened last week, finally.

“Y/N! Can you jump on register while I take my break?” Michelle called from the end of the counter.

“Sure thing,” Y/N smiled and wiped her hands off on her apron, making her way behind the other baristas to the cash register. She briefly glanced at the line of people waiting to order – a couple of college kids carrying some scary looking textbooks, a portly man scratching his bald patch, a pretty girl with shiny hair and awesome winged liner. Y/N blushed as she caught the eye of the girl, and immediately looked back at her tablet, typing in her register code.

“Hi there, what can I get you?” Y/N’s customer service voice was alarmingly cheery, and the two college guys blinked, startled, clearly still unused to interacting with humans again – Y/N knew the feeling, cringing internally. She made a note to dial the pep back a little.

“Hey, what can I get you?” It was the pretty girl at the front of the line now.

“Um, I’ll have a caramel latte, please,” she answered with a bright smile, red lips stretching across shockingly white teeth.

“Size?” Y/N asked, tapping the order into her tablet.

“How big can you make it?” the girl giggled, and Y/N looked up, something tugging at the back of her mind.

“Um, large?” Y/N answered absentmindedly, trying to figure out what was bugging her so much. The girl just nodded, politely accepting the fact that Y/N had skated over her joke. “Can I get a name for the order?” She grabbed the large sized cup and uncapped the marker, hand poised over the white cardboard, ready to write.

“Oh, sure. It’s Danneel.”

“Danielle?” Y/N asked, her mind still wandering.

“No, Dan– you know what, it’s a weird name. Just go with Red.”

Enjoy my work? Consider supporting me by subscribing to my WordPress Blog!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva @katbratsupernaturalwhore

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @eddiesgirl @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20

#spnkinkbingo #anyfandomgoesbingo #danneel x reader #sex hotline au #lesbian pairing #danneel ackles #danneel harris #fxf #red #writethelifeyouwant

86 notes · View notes

43sparrows · 4 years

Text

n e e d e d - {Five x Reader} AU!

Read Part 1

WARNINGS: more pining, more angst, more mediocre smut

Word Count: 1,933

Note: ugh sorry it took forever to get this out. I had to rework my idea on it. I hope you like this next installment.

- - [ 5 ] - -

Need you.

The note taped to your mirror is written in an all too familiar scrawling handwriting. The paper is also familiar. It's clearly been torn from the open day planner on your vanity.

Despite the fact that you're home two hours past when you wanted to be-- Despite the fact that it's late and you haven't even eaten-- Despite the fact that your roommate is in the next room with a group of your friends watching the Bachelorette-- you tug the note down and walk to the hallway phone. Dialing in the number is mechanic--your finger acting on muscle memory alone as you stare at the paper in your hand. The top is a jagged white line that cuts through your boxes of to dos and appointments and events. It's a good thing you didn't have anything else planned for today.

He picks up on the third ring. "Five."

"Hey, I got your note," you say, keeping your voice down. From the living room, you hear one of your friends exclaim Girl, no! Don't listen to his bullshit!

"And?"

You shake your head as if he can see it. "Nasreen has friends over, so here's no good."

"Come over."

You know this doesn't count as an invite. He says it out of necessity. He wants you. And Five gets what he wants. Still, your heart flutters a bit in your chest at the faintest tinge of hope that maybe when he says he needs you, he means it in more than just the usual way.

"Ok," you nod, again forgetting the basic concept of a phone call. "Give me like 15 min--"

There's a dial tone before you can even finish the sentence, let alone say goodbye. You sigh, hanging the phone back in its place on the wall as screams of outrage from the living room echo throughout the apartment. You're not looking forward to telling your roommate you can't stay for girl's night. Not in front of all the other girls. But he needs you. And after the day you've had, you kind of need him too.

You head back towards your bedroom to change, nudging the door to your room open with your elbow. You almost jump out of your skin when your eyes land on Five standing in the middle of the room.

"Couldn't wait," he says, crossing the room in two long strides before grabbing a hold of you.

In one second it feels like your body is shrinking in on itself and in the next you're stretching too far and too fast, but when the feeling settles, you're in Five's entryway and he's pressing you up against his door, pushing your shirt up over your head. The moment the fabric is free from your body his lips return to your neck, biting, tugging, sucking at the skin there as you throw your head back against the door, a thunking sound covering your whimpers.

Five deftly unbuckles your pants, shoving them along with your underwear down your legs. He's unwilling to stop his current assault of your collarbone, though, leaving you to ungracefully and hurriedly step yourself out of the pants. You might have fallen if it weren't for his vice like grip at your waist, pinning you to the door.

Your own hands find their way into Five's hair. He's due for a haircut, his sweeping bangs falling into his eyes and tickling your skin as he drops his lips to the skin left exposed by your bra. You push it back for him, but when he nips at the soft skin of your breasts, your fingers wind themselves into his locks pulling sharply so that he lets out a hiss. It's not much of a sound, but you'll take it as a victory.

It was an easy win though. You know that when he's like this, he just needs to feel something. He needs sharp reminders to keep him here in this moment instead of letting his mind wander off to wherever it was before the two of you wound yourselves around each other.

You tug at his hair again and his hips jerk forward into yours, eliciting a gasp from you. Or maybe it's not the small taste of friction. Maybe it's the fact that at almost the same moment, he unclasps your bra, and his mouth drops to cover your nipple.

It's not until his fingers pinch and roll at the other nipple that you realize, vaguely, that he's wearing too much clothes. It takes little prompting to get him to take off his shirt, and as he's busying himself with pulling it over his head, your hands drop to his belt and your whole body drops to its knees. Your hardly able to enjoy yourself there, though, since the second his pants and underwear pool at his feet, he's pulling you to yours and pushing you hard against the door. His hands come under your thighs, and you jump up, wrapping your legs around him, arms crossed behind his neck, your body nearly vibrating in anticipation of what comes next. It takes a second for him to roll on the condom he must have grabbed before his pants came off, the silver packaging falling to the floor as he coaxes the rubber down his shaft. The anticipation and heat of your bodies pressed together as your heart racing, and then in one swift move, he's entered you, his fast pace pounding out a rhythmic knocking sound against the door. You bury your face into his neck to muffle your cries, allowing your arms to unwind and fingernails rake up his back. His thrusting stutters and then returns as you bite into his shoulder.

There's no warning when he turns you, walking you backwards, his hands kneading at your ass on his way to somewhere else in your apartment.You ache for the feeling of him inside of you again, and trail your fingernails along his back again, as if this was enough to silently coax him to do what you wanted.

Five has never let you take control, though. Instead, he drops you to your feet, and before you can feel properly confused, a chair is clattering to the floor and he has you spun around and bent over his table. His pace is even more relentless as he takes you from behind, one hand pressing your cheek harder into the table as each thrust slams your thighs into the table. You feel the familiar pressure building inside of you, and you snake a hand down to rub at your clit. Five's thrusts grow even harder, and your eyes are squeezed shut, and you're biting at your lip so hard you can taste copper, and then there are stars.

But he's not done. Not even close.

You've come twice by the time he finally does, one hand wrapped around your throat, the other holding your hip with a bruising grip. His eyes shut, and he looks beautiful like that. But it's nothing like the short seconds that follow, as he relaxes and looks...almost peaceful. You don't always get a glimpse of this Five, but when you do, it's enough to make you believe in God.

Five pulls out, walking away to dispose of the condom and you take a second to lay there, legs dangling off the table, trying to catch your breath.

You hear Five walk back into the room and push yourself up into a sitting position. His back is towards you as he walks towards the door and your pile of clothes, letting you admire the angry red streaks you've left there. It's a twisted sort of delight to know that even though you'll be back home soon, all traces of you and this moment won't be gone.

"You want coffee?" Five asks, and your eyes shoot up to his mussed hair. He stoops to pick up the pile of clothes, gathering it in his arms and crossing back to the table so he can dump it into a pile next to you. You extract your underwear from where it's stuck in your pants, sliding it up your legs as much as you can without getting up.

"Yeah," you nod, as if this was nothing. Which it was. It was nothing. He'd asked you to stay for coffee twice before. It was another one of his codes.

He nods, pulling his pants up over his hips, underwear and all. Rather than messing with the belt, he lets it clink together as he heads into the kitchen, quickly washing his hands before pulling down some coffee. You allow yourself to slip from the table's ledge so you can continue getting dressed. Your muscles are already starting to feel sore, and as you zip your tight suit pants closed, you can feel how tender the skin around your hips already is. You'll probably have a host of bruises tomorrow morning. Traces of Five would remain too.

By the time you've gone to the bathroom, sanitized the table, and finished a quick Lysol wipe-down of the door, the french press is ready. Five brings it over to the table along with two mugs. He gives you a vintage Umbrella Academy mug with the logo on one side and a large "5" on the other. He keeps the plain white diner-style mug for himself.

Five pours his cup first before passing it over to you. You fill your mug in silence and then keep it cupped between your hands, bringing it to your lips to take a taste.

You learned early on that Five was good at everything he did. And that included making the best damn coffee.

"How bad was it?" you ask, keeping your mug between your hands and elbows propped up on the table.

He doesn't answer right away, but you've learned that this doesn't mean he won't answer at all. Instead he looks over your shoulder, gazing off into the distance and letting the silence drape itself around the two of you.

"Bad," he says finally, bringing his gaze to his coffee and then taking a long sip. He doesn't look up at you, instead staring at the dark pool of liquid. "Lost a kid."

His words are matter of fact, and cause a dull, achy kind of pain in your heart. One part for the injustice of losing a child to an act of evil, another for the heartbreak of the child's parents, and the largest for the misery, anger, frustration, and guilt swimming in this man in front of you.

Any words of your own are meaningless. He doesn't need you to tell him that it probably wasn't his fault, or that you were sorry, or that this situation sucked. You want to reach out and hold his hand, but the action's too intimate. Too gentle.

So instead, you sit across from him and nod, placing your mug down on the table so you can stare into yours as well. And finally, after you feel like a respectful amount of silence has passed, you murmur one word:

"Fuck."

Five exhales a humorless laugh. "Yeah," he agrees, his eyes looking up to meet yours. "Exactly."

The conversation never moving on from there. Instead, you each sit in the quiet, sipping at your coffee together and yet miles apart. Five finishes first and patiently waits for you to drain your mug of its last drop before you get up, leaving the coffee cups and french press on the table, and head into his bedroom. Five follows closely behind.

Read Part 3

#five hargreeves #number five #number 5 #number five smut #number 5 smut #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #number 5 x reader #number five x reader

475 notes · View notes

pilothusband · 3 years

Text

A lit torch to the woodpile high (part 2)

A Paz VIzsla Bartender!AU

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, pining, some vague descriptions of wanting to be plowed, vague threats of violence

Word count: 2.7k

Description: More pining ensues, we see a lil skin (@softdin 👀), something eerie happens, two idiots who don’t know how the other feels.

Author’s note: Let me know what you think!! Please go here to be added to the taglist!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

The next few weeks passed by without incident. You still hadn’t seen Orso since he initially hired you on, which was kind of strange, but you figured it was because he was busy and had other ventures he had to keep an eye on.

So far your favorite part of working at Bear’s Den was working with Harlow. When it was slow you would pass the time chatting and getting to know each other better. You found out that Harlow was in the middle of getting her Master’s in Business Administration at the local school. She wanted to open her own bakery someday and worked at the pub to help pay for her degree.

Dillon was a little more frustrating to work with. In other words, he was lazy and he tried flirting with you (and every other woman around his age) every chance he got. It was harmless, but after a while you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him.

Paz was almost always at the bar, but it seemed like he was busy most of the time. In fact, he had barely said a word to anyone all day, other than grunting a short “hello” as he stormed in.

“What crawled up his butt?” Dillon asked after he had slammed the office door. You and Harlow looked at him and shrugged. He seemed pretty surly in general, from what you could tell, but this was a whole new level, even for him.

A little while later, some customers had trickled in and there was a low hum of conversation around the bar. You were wiping down some glasses that had come out of the dishwasher. The damn thing never dried the glasses completely, and Donny never dried them himself before carting them out to you.

Harlow came out from the back, coat and purse in hand. You instantly deflated, realizing she was heading home for the day.

“I thought you were closing up with me tonight?”

“I was going to, but Paz switched with me. Said something about a meeting he had later on anyways,” she said, applying chapstick.

Oh, just great.

“Don’t worry,” she said, almost like she could read your mind. “I’m sure he’ll be less grumpy once Madge brings him some food from the kitchen later,” she laughed.

“Yeah, he could use a Snickers or two.” You both dissolved into giggles.

It was as if Paz’s ears were ringing. As soon as you had made the comment, he stepped out of the office. He still looked pretty angry, so you figured whatever was bothering him hadn’t gotten any better. Harlow could sense his mood and all but ran out the door, throwing a quick goodbye behind her shoulder.

You waved after her, distracted for a moment. That’s when you heard your name being called, rather impatiently. You whipped back around and walked over, not wanting to sour his mood any further.

“Sorry about that, what’s up?” You asked, looking up to make eye contact.

Big mistake. You could feel your stomach clench up with desire as soon as his eyes met yours. You could have sworn you saw his expression change momentarily, but as quickly as it appeared, he blinked and it was gone.

“I have a meeting later today. If you see a couple guys wearing matching white coats walk in and I’m not out front with you, come out back and get me. Don’t talk to them.”

You bit your lip and nodded. Paz’s gaze followed the movement and he swallowed heavily. You didn’t catch yourself watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down until he cleared his throat.

“Remember. Don’t talk to them.”

“Roger,” you said, turning on your heel to get back to the bar.

You had no idea how to feel about that interaction. He either didn’t trust you enough to talk to some important business associates, or something else was going on. You felt a little uneasy, but chalked it up to Paz’s fowl mood.

Was Paz involved with some bad people? Did this have anything to do with Orso not showing up to the bar for weeks? More customers were trickling in, distracting you from all the wild conspiracies your brain was coming up with.

Orso and Paz were in a secret society and were plotting to steal an important government document. Orso and Paz secretly swapped faces and were living each other’s lives.

You really needed to stop watching Nicolas Cage films before bed every night.

After a while, Paz came out of the office to tend the bar with you. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but it was almost hypnotizing to watch him pour drinks. He knew the layout of the bar like it was the back of his hand. There was no hesitation to look for the correct liquor types when a customer ordered a cocktail that required a vintage bourbon. He didn’t struggle to remember which spout to use for cranberry juice vs. orange juice (like you did).

There was a point in the night where he was serving 5 customers at the same time, when you struggled to juggle just two of them. It was almost embarrassing, to be honest.

You heard a woman’s voice in your peripheral, snapping you out of a detailed and vivid daydream where Paz bent you over the bar to have his way with you.

“Excuse me, can I get a glass of Merlot?” She was probably in her mid-50s, wearing a slinky black dress that looked stellar on her, with leopard print heels. Basically, you wanted to be this woman when you got older.

“Of course,” you said, turning to the shelf.

Before you could even ask for Paz’s help, you heard him in your ear.

“Red wine?”

You had to suppress a pleasant shiver.

“Yes, please. The Merlot,” you looked over, giving him a sheepish grin. His face was still close to yours, you could see the flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes.

You stepped back, allowing him room to get to the shelf, and tried not to drool as he reached up towards the shelf, his shirt riding up his back with the movement. Time seemed to stop as you caught a flash of skin, toned and smooth.

“Here you go,” he said, handing the bottle over to you. “We’ll keep it over by the register in case she wants another glass.”

You nodded, your mouth too dry to come up with words. Once the bottle was opened and the glass filled up, you handed it to the woman as she handed you her credit card.

She gave you a wide-eyed look as you accepted her card.

“That man is an occupational hazard,” she said, taking a big gulp from her glass.

You laughed, but didn’t say anything in response.

“Do you want me to open a tab for you?”

“Yes, I think I’ll stick around for a while,” she said wiggling her eyebrows.

Later on that night, it was about 15 minutes past closing time and all of the customers, as well as your bouncer Rick, had long left for the night.

Paz had gone out back to count the till and you were organizing the liquor bottles when two men entered through the front door, which was strange because you could have sworn you had locked it.

They were wearing long, cream colored trench coats with some sort of emblem on the front pocket. It looked like a cog with six spokes. Something about it made your blood run cold. You had every intention of running out back to tell Paz they were here, but something about these men had you frozen in fear.

They weren’t like any men you had seen before, with short, cropped hair that was slicked back and eyes as gaunt as their thin faces.

Good evening,” the taller man said as he reached the bar. He gave you a smile, trying to appear amiable.

“Um, hi. Paz is out back, I can go get him for you,” Paz was going to lose his shit when he found out you talked to them.

“We’re looking for Orso Van, actually. Do you know where he is?”

“I haven’t seen him for weeks. I can go get Pa–”

“I don’t want to speak with his whipping boy,” he interrupted, his tone growing cold. “I want to speak to Orso. Now.”

You were grateful at Paz’s immaculate timing as the back door swung open.

Paz looked more formidable than ever. He seemed to grow even taller, if that was even possible.

“As I told you last week, Dax, no one’s seen him in weeks.”

The silent man who was not Dax scoffed.

Paz continued, “and I thought I told you never to speak to my staff.”

Dax gave Paz a sickly, unnatural smile. It didn’t look like it belonged on his face. “I figured she might know something, seeing as she showed up right as Orso disappeared.”

You felt as if your entire body had been plunged into ice cold water. A deep, dreadful feeling took over the pit of your stomach.

These men have been watching us.

“Leave her out of this, she has nothing to do with any of it.”

He stalked towards the men threateningly.

“Now, if you want to talk to me, we can go ahead and talk in the office. Otherwise, get the fuck out of my bar.”

The other man scoffed again and nodded towards Dax.

“Come on, let’s go. We’ll be back next week to check on Orso’s whereabouts. If he doesn’t show his face soon, you know what will happen.”

They turned, their pristine white coats whipping behind them. The door swung shut with a bang.

You could only gape after them, so many questions spinning through your head. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answers to any of them.

“I’m going to drive you home tonight,” his tone left no room for argument. You weren’t about to object anyways. Even if you had to endure a tense car ride, you were a hell of a lot safer with him than by yourself.

You both locked up as quickly as possible and made your way to his truck, slamming the doors shut harder than necessary.

The air was thick as a blanket, filled with so many unanswered questions. If you weren’t so rattled from earlier, you would have realized this was the closest you had ever been to Paz.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about back there?” You asked, already knowing his answer.

“No.”

“If I’m in danger, I want to know why,” you told him, voice trembling. Your pulse was going a mile a minute.

“The less you know, the safer you are,” he said. His tone was still final, but not nearly as hard as you were expecting.

He looked over at you. All you could do was stare back at him, mouth agape. His face was half bathed in the moonlight, painting his face in a pale blue light that contrasted with the dark that surrounded you.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He said quietly.

You felt like your lungs couldn’t get enough air, as if the wind had been knocked out of you.

“Okay,” was all you said back. You weren’t sure if Paz even wanted to be here with you right now, but you trusted him.

He regarded you for a moment, seemingly trying to read your expression that gave way to any trepidations you had. You looked back at him, having every intention to tell him you trusted him, but the words died in your throat when you saw his expression. He looked so open, so raw.

You let yourself bask in this moment, in the dark cab of his truck. There wasn’t an opportunity before now to just look at him freely. He had a scar below his right eye, and his nose was just a little crooked. You wondered if it was from getting in fights. You wondered what, or who, he had fought for.

He was quite beautiful, in a hard, unrelenting kind of way. You wanted to find out why he had built a thick wall around himself. You wanted to trace the lines of his jaw and feel the contours of his lips.

His lips. Your eyes were laser-focused as his tongue came out to wet them. You found yourself thinking about what it would be like to taste them, to chase his tongue with yours.

He let out a shaky breath, snapping you back into the reality of the moment. You looked away, staring out the windshield, still watching his movements in the corner of your eye.

“We should go,” you wanted to flinch at the anxious edge to your voice.

Paz looked down at his lap and nodded.

“I’ll need you to navigate.”

You were grateful that Paz had stuffed a wad of cash in your hand last night before he dropped you off at your front door, mentioning to use it to Uber to work the next day. That meant you didn’t have to rush getting ready this morning to catch the bus to work, since you had left your car there.

It only took one tense night of locking your doors and windows, double checking the locks, drawing up your curtains and checking the locks again, followed by tossing and turning for hours on end only to fall asleep an hour before your alarm went off. It only took that one night for you to overthink everything.

It’s not that you were thinking about the creepy men that came in after closing. You had spent enough time to fret about that while you were trying to force your amped up body to relax last night.

This morning was spent overthinking every single interaction you ever had with Paz. He already had so much weight on his shoulders, running a business while his boss was off doing fuck knows what, while some seedy men were breathing down his back and basically stalking him at work.

Why should you add yourself to that list of responsibilities?

You had every intention to say good morning to him when you first saw him. He was walking out from the office, looking just about as exhausted as you were. You must have looked like a deer in headlights, because his eyebrows were raised in question, his head cocked to the side.

“I um, I was just going to the kitchen,” you said in an almost robotic voice.

You hightailed it out of the room before you could see the expression on his face.

Your heart was still pounding as you burst through the kitchen doors. This crush on your boss was really getting out of hand, and it only got worse after being in such close proximity last night. God, you probably looked ridiculous right now.

“What’s got you bursting in here like a bat out of hell?” You almost jumped out of your skin. Had Madge been next to you this whole time?

“I um, need coffee?” You said, accidentally wording it as a question. “If you have any extra, that is,” you added quickly.

Madge smirked, seeing right through your lie, but she didn’t question it.

“Just brewed a fresh pot. Knock yourself out.”

A little while later while you were back out front, stacking glasses between sips of coffee, you saw a plate slide into your peripheral.

“You look like you need this,” Madge winked. You looked down, mouth watering at the large pile of french fries.

“You’re a fucking saint, Madge.” You deadpanned. She cackled all the way back to the kitchen, throwing you another wink.

You didn’t see Paz much that day, and you were kind of grateful for it. Every time he entered the room you found some way to keep yourself busy to avoid his gaze.

He could probably tell you were being extra squirrely. Hell, everyone could tell.

Donny had taken you aside earlier and offered to let you take a hit of his cousin’s homegrown, to which you politely declined. Dillon remarked on how tense you looked and offered to massage your shoulders, to which you told him to fuck off.

Harlow didn’t say much, but she looked concerned. You pretended not to notice the sideways glances she was giving you.

A little while later, you were hunched over the bar, in the middle of writing out a supply order when you heard a throat clear from above you. It was a distinctly male sound. You almost dropped the pen in surprise when you looked up and saw Paz was standing before you, arm resting just a few inches from where yours was resting on the counter.

“I um,” Paz trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to see how you– how things are going out here.”

He sounded unsure of himself. He was standing a little less tall today, with his shoulder slumped over. Weary to the bone.

“I’m great, so good,” you babbled. “Nothing going on with me. Feeling peachy.”

“Uh, cool, yeah. Okay, I’ve got to uh...” he removed his hand from his neck and gestured towards the office before making his exit.

You collapsed, letting your head hit the bar with a thump. God, you hoped no one saw that go down.

“So, what the fuck was that?” Harlow said, walking over.

You sighed dramatically, your entire body feeling like it was being held down by bags of sand.

You lifted your head up a little, giving Harlow the most pathetic look you could muster.

“It was nothing,” you told her. You stood back up fully and busied yourself with organizing the coasters on the bar, hoping she would let it go.

“That didn’t look like nothing,” she said, trying to hide a smug smile.

You had two choices here. Tell Harlow about the sketchy men from last night, which was not an option, or tell her about the pathetic crush you were harboring for your boss.

You turned around to make sure no one else was around. Thankfully, Dillon was on his lunch break, Paz was holed up in the office, and Donny and Madge were both in the kitchen.

“Please don’t tell anyone–” you started, but were interrupted with a squeal.

“Harlow, shhhh!” You admonished her, desperately trying to reach out to her to clap a hand over her mouth to no avail. She danced away, wiggling like a toddler at a birthday party.

“You guys are totally fucking,” she whispered, her brown eyes wide as saucers.

“I– what? No we aren’t.”

“Come on,” she scoffed. “I saw that little trainwreck of an interaction back there.”

“No, really, we aren’t,” you told her, and added with a whisper, “though, I kind of wish we were.”

“Well,” she said, chewing on her lip in thought. “Judging by the way Paz was bodysnatched back there, he’s in the same boat.”

You rolled your eyes. No, that was absolutely because of the threatening men from last night. He just felt guilty you were now in the middle of all of it.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, missy,” she admonished, good-naturedly. “He totally looked scared shitless back there. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

You frowned in thought. He must be really freaked out by those men. You felt bad that you hadn’t noticed.

“No, I think it’s just a big misunderstanding,” you told her. “I think he thought he offended me last night because I was in a bad mood.” You were kind of impressed with the lies pouring out of your mouth at the moment. “I’m going to go talk to him.”

“Okay then,” Harlow said, smirking at you.

You charged towards the office and barged in before you could talk yourself out of it. It was Paz’s turn to look like a deer caught in headlights.

This was the first good look you had at him all day. The scruff on his chin was longer than usual. His eyes, despite being open wide in surprise, had dark shadows under them.

“I’m sorry, I should have knocked,” you said, turning to leave.

“Wait–” Paz reached out, grabbing your shoulder. He let go almost immediately, as if the touch burned him. “Come in.”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing after last night. I didn’t ask you how you were doing and I– I’m sorry.”

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me all day? Because you feel bad for not asking me how I’m doing?”

You blanched. Yeah, you felt bad but that definitely wasn’t why you were avoiding him.

“I guess, yeah,” you said, huffing out a laugh.

“I wish I could tell you more, I really do.” Paz said, sitting on the edge of the desk. It immediately groaned in protest, so he stood back up. “I don’t want any of the staff here getting involved with Orso’s bullshit. The less you all know the better.”

You nodded in understanding. You really did understand it. But something nagged at you.

“But what about you?” You asked him. “You’ve already been dragged into it.”

The sad, fleeting look on his face was devastating. You could tell he wasn’t used to others worrying about him. He must have caught himself, because his expression hardened in resolve a moment later.

“I can take care of myself,” he said. “I’m working on getting a hold of Orso. Once he’s back they’ll leave us alone.”

You weren’t sure if you believed him, but you let it drop for the time being. You would just need to keep an eye on him in your own way.

“You should get going,” Paz said, changing the subject. “Your shift was over 10 minutes ago and I’m sure you need to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I really do,” you said, giving him a tender smile. “Make sure you get some sleep tonight too.”

“I’ll try,” he said, his smile matching the one on your face.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @maybege @recklessworry @cannedsoupsucks @pocket-pudding @simping-for-clones @gallowsjoker @idiotonastar @seratoninforyouseratoninforme @devanthus @legally-a-bastard @my-awakened-ghost

#paz vizsla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla au #bartender!paz

109 notes · View notes

jaehyunspeachparty · 3 years

Text

7. Almost there (a/m)

It was only 2 weeks after Chichi found her source where she could possibly find her mother. Sunoh accompanied her to Minamiosumi in Japan to support his girlfriend. "That's it," said Chichi when they got to the address she had become. "This is a retirement home," said Sunoh, wondering a little. "Let's go in and ask," said Chichi and just started walking. Sunoh shrugged and just followed his girlfriend. At the reception there were two nurses who were talking, but when they saw Sunoh, they turned to him and smiled. "Can we help you?" Asked one of the nurses. "Not me, but my girlfriend." He pointed to Chichi and the two nurses stopped to smile immediately. "I am looking for a woman, Yuri Motoe." Chichi's heart was pounding and this time didn't even notice that the nurses again focused only on her boyfriend. "She's sitting over there," she said quickly and wanted to turn to Sunoh, but he immediately walked away and pushed Chichi into the room where the wanted person was sitting. "Yuri Motoe?" Asked Chichi and saw an old woman who was sitting on an armchair and reading the newspaper. The old woman looked up and suddenly she started smiling. "Shiori!" She was so happy and got up immediately. "Ohhh Shiori, you are so beautiful," says the old lady and took Chichi's hand. Chichi glanced briefly at Sunoh and didn't quite know what to say. At the next moment came a nurse and Yuri stopped her. "This is my daughter Shiori. Isn’t she beautiful?" Yui smiled proudly and the nurse smiled gently and nodded. Then she looked at Chichi and realized that she was too young to be her daughter. "Shiori is finally here to visit me." The old lady was so happy and could hardly believe her eyes, but she is likely to be demented. "Nice to finally meet you Shiori," said the nurse and Chichi just nodded uncertainly. Then the nurse smiled again and left. "She's so nice to me," said Yui, still holding on to Chichi's hand. "That's good to hear." Chichi smiled and just decided to play along. "You have to be nicer too, Shiori. Money is not everything, in the end only the people who think of you are left." She stroked the back of Chichi's hand and slowly she became curious. Something was weird here. "Yui why ...", Chichi started, but the woman interrupted her. "Since when have you been calling me Yui? It's me, your mother." She smiled gently and Chichi looked uncertainly at Sunoh again. But he didn't quite know what to do either. "Mum ..." began Chichi and the old woman smiled in satisfaction. "You sent money to this account." Chichi dug the documents out of her bag and showed her everything. "Why did you do that?" She then asked further. But the old woman shook her head. "No, I wasn't that." "Are you sure?" Asked Chichi. "Absolutely. Where should I get all the money from?" Yui laughed and Chichi was at a loss. "Maybe we're really wrong," said Sunoh, patting his girlfriend's shoulder. Chichi nodded and put all the documents back in her pocket. "Okay thanks. Then I made a mistake." She smiled and bowed again to the old woman. "No problem dear." "Maybe we should go then," Chichi looked at Sunoh and he nodded. "He's a very handsome man. But I liked the other boy too ... what was his name?" Yui thought and looked at Sunoh. "Yuta, right?" The woman smiled and Chichi froze. "Y-Yuta?" She asked and the old woman nodded. "I liked him very much. He was good for you." Then she turned to Sunoh. "I'm sure that you are very nice too. Shiori can only be very exhausting. I always taught her to be nice, but she is arrogant at times." Yui smiled and stroked Chichi's cheek. "But she can also be very nice if she wants to." "Okay, we're going now," Chichi then said, because it was getting weird for her. She was starting to feel uncomfortable. That's why she wanted to turn away, but then Yui grabbed her stomach. "It's going to be a girl," she said and Chichi looked at her horrified. "What?" "Your baby, it's going to be a girl." Yui looked at her stomach and stroked it. "I am not pregnant." Chichi felt really uncomfortable. She couldn't tell her that she couldn’t get pregnant, that she was sterile. Tears welled up in her eyes because the thought that she could never have a child still bothered her. "Of course you are and it will be a girl. As a kid you said you wanted to call your first girl Chichi. You should call her that." Yui smiled and the first tears ran down Chichi's cheeks. "I'm sorry, I can't ..." She pulled away from the old woman and ran away.

Chichi didn't get far because her ankle still hurt. She stopped and saw Sunoh a few meters behind her. He wanted to give her space and distance and Chichi was grateful to him because she wanted to be alone. She immediately saw a bench next to her and sat on it. She looked to the sea and felt so lost. There is a connection to Yui and her. Was she her grandmother? What was that all about So many questions went through her head. But suddenly she saw the nurse from earlier in front of her. Chichi looked up in surprise and didn't quite know what the woman wanted from her. "May I sit down?", She asked and Chichi nodded. The nurse sat down next to her and looked at her. "Yui has been here for a very long time. Severe dementia, but sometimes she has very clear days. The long-term memory is stronger and the short-term memory is very weak. Yui's daughter has not been there for a long time. Certainly not years. But Yui talks often from Shiori. I don't quite know what you are doing here, but I have the feeling that you are looking for someone." The nurse had a book in hand and handed it to her. Chichi took it and looked through it. It was a photo album and full of memories from Yui and Shiori. "You really look like Shiori. That's why she was so confused ..." The nurse looked at the book together with Chichi. "But all memories end this year. It would be like Shiori would have been erased then." The nurse pointed to a date which was on the back page and Chichi sighed. "This is my year of birth. I think Yui is my grandma." The first tears rolled down Chichi's face. For the first time she had a face to her mother. And she looked very much like her. "That's probably why she thought you were pregnant. It was her last memory of Shiori." The nurse closed the book and looked at Chichi. "I don't know my mother. That's why I'm here." Chichi sighed and looked into the distance again. It was all so much for her. "I almost thought so. Here take this. Yuri doesn’t looked at this since she came here and I think it will help you." The nurse smiled and pushed the book over to her. "Thank you," Chichi said quietly and the woman got up and nodded. "I have another question," said Chichi then and also got up. "Yes? So if I can help ..." "All memories end when my mother begins to become pregnant. What happened to my mother? Did she die?" Chichi had a thousand thoughts in her head and she was kind of afraid of the answer. But the nurse smiled. "Don't you know the Yanai family?" Chichi shook her head. "Is the richest family in Japan. Are also in politics and so on ...very important!" Everything the nurse said made no sense to her. Chichi had never really looked into the economy and politics of Japan. She had Japanese citizenship and Japanese was also her mother tongue, but for her only Korea was her home. "Okay, maybe search for Shiori Yanai. I think you will find your mother then." The nurse smiled and Chichi could hardly believe it. She was so close to her mother. "Thank you very much," she said and the nurse walked away. Chichi didn't quite know what to say, but then Sunoh came to her. "Are you okay?" He asked gently. Chichi nodded and looked up at her boyfriend. "I think I now know who my mother is."

Shiori Yanai. That was her name. Chichi couldn't believe it. That was her mother's name and she wanted to know so much more now. "You look really very similar to her," said Sunoh who sat there with the photo album. "I think that's why Yuri was so confused. The last memory she has of her daughter is that she was pregnant with me." Chichi came to her boyfriend with the laptop in hand and couldn't wait to do more research on her mother. But Sunoh suddenly got up and closed her laptop. "What are you doing?", She asked him surprised and saw how he put all her things on the table and stood in front of her again. "I just want to tell you ..." Somehow he looked nervous and a little confused. Chichi looked at him with big eyes and just waited. "No matter what happens in the next few days ... with your mother or whatever ..." He took a deep breath and looked at her again. "I'm always there for you. I love you so much and I can't imagine ever loving anyone as much as I love you." He was so serious and determined and Chichi still had no plan. Sunoh took her hand and stroked her delicate fingers. "I've wanted to say that for so long and I want to do that before it comes to a big mess, but ..." Sunoh suddenly turned around and took something out of his jacket pocket and when he turned around again, he suddenly kneeled in front of his girlfriend. "Chichi, do you want to be my wife?" He opened the small black velvet box and a diamond ring shone in the middle of Chichi's face. "Sunoh ... I ..." She lacked the words and Sunoh waited impatiently for her answer. The seconds seemed like hours to him. He just wanted to hear one word from her. "YES!", She said then and Sunoh immediately jumped up and picked up his girl. He was so relieved and he was so glad that she gave him that answer. "Oh god, I'm so relieved." He kissed her and hugged her tightly. "I didn't think you'd be doing this anytime soon." Chichi looked at him in surprise and Sunoh grinned. "I would have loved to do it when I came from the military, but I've never had the perfect ring. But I thought this one was perfect." Chichi looked at the engagement ring and he was right. It was really perfect. It was a silver ring, vintage style and the shape of the diamond was like a flower. "It's really beautiful," she said and Sunoh took the ring out and slipped it over her finger. It fit right away. "Now I can finally can call you my fiancée," he said happily and Chichi kissed him immediately. That evening they left the search for Chichi's mother to be, and only spent the night together and their bodies were constantly connected.

The next day, the two woke up almost at the same time. Their naked bodies were snuggled tightly together and Chichi could still feel how much they loved each other the last night. "Good morning my fiancée", Sunoh whispered in Chichi's ear and she had to smile immediately. "Good morning too, my fiance." She giggled and he kissed her immediately. The kiss was so full of love and so much passion that the two of them forgot everything around them. Before long, Sunoh was suddenly over Chichi and gently spread her legs while he continued to kiss her. And in the next moment he was already inside her, moving gently inside her. Soft moans echoed across the room. It was all very calm and relaxing. Sunoh did everything to please Chichi. The sex was slow, gentle, and full of love. But at some point his breathing got faster and at some point he could only concentrate more on the in-out game. He had his hands next to her head and his gaze fell fixed on her face. Chichi's back arched and with her mouth open felt the intensity of the sex. But at some point Sunoh frowned and when he opened his mouth, the finale was reached. "I love you," Sunoh whispered and kissed his fiancée. "I love you," she said too, and Sunoh immediately got a handkerchief so he could clean her up. Since they got the info that Chichi could not get pregnant, they no longer protected themselves. Sunoh was most pleased that he has no longer had to use condoms, because the experience was now much more intense. After the two had showered, they went for breakfast. They wanted to have the morning to themselves before Chichi went looking for her mother again. And they used the whole morning and Chichi almost forgot why she was here in Japan. But when she got back to the hotel and saw the laptop on the table, she knew she should keep looking. "Come on, let's do it together." Sunoh pulled his fiancée onto his lap, then opened the laptop. Chichi's heart raced and shakily entered her mother's name. "Wow, there are a lot of results," said Sunoh, looking at the screen. "Here is a short biography." Chichi clicked on the website and started reading. "Shiori Yanai, born in 1996, belongs to the richest family in all of Japan. The former model has been married to billionaire Masayoshi Yanai for 17 years and has two sons ..." Chichi stopped because she could hardly believe it. But to be on the safe side, she looked for pictures. But the pictures she saw only made her suspicions clearer. "Unbelievable, you really look alike," said Sunoh, very fascinated. "It has to be her, doesn't it?" Chichi stared at the screen. She had a family photo open where she saw her two half-brothers. Now she had a half sister and two half brothers. "I think so ..." Sunoh gently stroked her upper arm. "I have two brothers," she said, very frightened. "Welcome to the club," Sunoh joked, but Chichi didn't respond. "I have so many questions. I have to get to know her," said Chichi and stood up. "Okay, we will find her and then you will ask her all the questions." Sunoh looked at her seriously and Chichi nodded.

new generation masterlist

masterlist

#jaehyun #daddy jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #yuta #angst #smut #nct #nct 127 #nct 2020

45 notes · View notes

barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

Text

The One with the Engagement Picture

Ayy, using this to try new ones. Another for @thatesqcrush’s FRIENDS challenge.

Peter Stone hadn’t always been as much of a partier as he’d become, and he would certainly reject the term womanizer. Anyone he dated or slept with knew that he just wasn’t ready to settle down anymore. Maybe it was because he’d tried to do that once and ruined it. When he tore his ulnar collateral ligament, he’d accepted he wouldn’t be pitching anymore, and slowly an ocean seemed to settle between himself and his teammates. He was bitter, and they were busy. As the partying stopped for him to heal and return to school, there was one woman he found himself content to spend nights with on the couch with. It was the first time since he’d been an adult that Peter was in a serious, monogamous relationship, and he thought it suited him.

Dahlia had moved to Chicago for graduate school, and she was thoroughly unimpressed with his baseball background. Did she think it was cool? Sure. Was she understanding they’d be going to games? Yes. But, he had to teach her how the game worked and let her know which of his friends even played when she met them. She was more interested in dragging him antique shopping or to old bookshops where he’d have to keep her from falling off of a ladder. While she learned his world, Peter got far more comfortable than he ever expected to with pin curls, vintage compacts, and inspecting dresses for sweat stains or cigarette burns. It made her happy to invest time in it, so if she’d wear his old jersey tucked into her high waisted jeans and go to a game with him, he’d take pictures of his pin up at the rockabilly festival they drove out to.

When he proposed, he was nauseatingly proud to find a mid century ring at the vintage jewelry store she loved. The owner knew him from each time he had followed her through, shopping bags in hand as she purused. That meant he had help from a woman who knew Dahlia’s ring size and which cut she’d like the most; he picked correctly anyway, she’d said. He’d been careful to plan an outing to the park, packing a picnic and red and white checked blanket. He had a friend hiding to capture pictures, and it felt like the timing was perfect. Soon enough, he had a picture of her, hand over her mouth as he asked her to marry him sitting on his desk at home, and one with her showing off the ring as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, his arms slung around her waist, sitting on his office desk.

Things were easier then, when he was working and she was in school. Their schedules still aligned, so they could see each other in the evenings. Then, she finished her MFA and taught night classes in order to make ends meet while she worked on her next novel. They’d met not long before the first was published, and he’d read a preview copy the first weekend he knew her and dug up poetry she’d published in volumes stored at the university. His brain didn’t work like that and he liked that about her. He was more about practicality and comfort. She was creative and artistic, comfort be damned.

The change in schedules made things hard. Peter wasn’t good when things got hard. The transition to not seeing each other much during the week, even though they lived together, quickly coupled with wedding planning stress to create arguments they hadn’t had before. Instead of quiet togetherness, they’d bicker. He got home late, so they didn’t see each other before she left to teach. She had to pick something up after work, so he was asleep when she got home. Dahlia wanted to plan the wedding, and Peter was getting nervous because he hadn’t watched many marriages stay happy. He pushed off decisions, avoided picking a venue. After a while, she got an offer to teach creative writing in New York.

“I could have normal hours, Peter. We could see each other. You know you’d get a job in New York.”

“I’m not going back there, Dahl.”

“It’s a big city. You wouldn’t even have to see him. We wouldn’t even have to tell Ben, would we?”

“No.”

“So we just keep not planning a wedding and not seeing each other? Do you even want to marry me?”

“You know I do.”

“No I don’t!”

“Then maybe you should take the fucking job without me.”

The minute he said it, he regretted it. The way Dahlia’s face fell and tears came made him feel stupid. She’d spent her weekends helping him with physical therapy. She’d taken the shitty adjuncting job to stay in Chicago until he was a little more established. She was patient about maneuvering the strained dynamic between Ben and Peter Stone. Hell, she wasn’t even asking him to go back to New York forever. It was a year and then the university would evaluate if they’d offer her a permanent position. They could be back in Chicago after a year. And now she was crying. He hadn’t made her do that before, not because she was sad.

“Fine,” she managed, jaw shifting as she tried to get the tears to stop. “I’ll go then. I can’t keep doing this. You won’t plan the wedding. We fight all the time. And now you want me to go? Here’s your fucking ring.”

If Peter had been used to having a girlfriend or wanting her to stay, Peter might have developed the skills required to do more than stare as Dahlia shoved her clothes into a suitcase and clutch the ring in his outstretched hand. He might have thought to fly to the city when he realized she’d actually gone ahead and moved and show up at her apartment unemployed and ready to go to the courthouse to prove he needed her there.

Instead, he steeled his jaw over the next few weeks. His arm had healed the first year of law school, so he simply returned to his circle of friends that went out and dated whoever and covered for each other. He always ignored the ones in a vintage dress or with dark curled hair. Those were the ones who could hurt him. Who let him pretend afterwards that it was Dahlia beside him, and they were married and happy.

When he moved out the apartment they’d shared-it was too much there now- he picked a painfully modern place and filled it with sleek modern furniture, The antiques she hadn’t taken were sold, and he finally felt that maybe he’d scrubbed his life of Dahlia, save the engagement pictures he kept in the top drawer of his desk. She had probably responded to the break up like an actual adult and moved on. Had a husband and career. Maybe even a baby. He hated the thought, so when he thought it, he’d pour another drink. And it was fine, because he’d just distanced himself from everything that could make him think of her. And that was fine, really it was. Peter had been a playboy before. He was a partier. He was an ex-baseball player. And he was fine.

Then his father died.

Peter felt the solitude then. There hadn’t been anything new and hard to process since Dahlia left. He wandered New York and wondered if she was still there somewhere or if she’d gotten another teaching job somewhere. When McCoy convinced him to take the ADA position after Baba’s trial, he couldn’t say no, and one of the engagement photos found a new home in the top drawer of his new desk. SVU was harder, and it found its way out more. He’d hold it in his free hand, sipping a drink as he tried to channel the advice she’d have given him.

“Ben liked her,” Jack said softly one day. “He had a copy of that picture until the engagement ended.”

“I was an idiot.”

“Aren’t we all at some point? Learn from it.”

Peter left it out after that. It faced him from the corner, and he remembered feeling grounded. That was what he really missed. Dahlia had given him a place to land. His dad had always felt unstable, and he wasn’t close with his mom. He wasn’t even always at home, staying with his aunt periodically. And then he’d made a happy stable home with Dahlia and ruined it.

When Pamela died, he stopped partying for fun and started using it to numb himself, but one night, he met a woman with dark brown pin curls and fair skin. She’d left when Dahlia’s name fell from his lips. That’s when he knew he had to reach out. He had to know if there was a family or a set of kids or a job in another city. He needed closure.

“Hello?” She sounded confused when she answered, and he suddenly remembered it was nearly midnight. He also remembered she never checked caller ID. Oh God, or she’d deleted his number.

“Dahlia?” Papers stopped shuffling and he could hear her sharp intake of breath. He could almost picture her, perched in an armchair, probably a yellow velvet one, with wide eyes and hair pinned up for the night and tied in a silk scarf as she graded or proofed her own manuscript. Maybe it was a friend’s manuscript.

Oh God, what if it was a husband’s manuscript. Another writer. She’d like that.

The cool metal of the picture he kept at home was pressed into the skin of his palm before he whispered, “Dahl, it’s Peter.”

“I know,” she said softly. “You don’t sound okay.”

“I’m not.”

“What happened?”

“Pamela.”

“What happened to Pamela? I can be on a plane to Chicago if you need someone. Or if you need help in the city, I can arrange things. Check on her.”

“How do you know I don’t have someone?”

“Would you be calling if you did?”

“I’m in New York. Where did you end up?”

“They offered me a permanent position. How long have you been in the city?” He could tell she was trying to mask hurt that he hadn’t called before now. But what was he supposed to say? Dad’s dead so I live here now.

“Since January. Dad died. I prosecuted an ADA. Then I took his job.”

“Ben’s gone?”

“So is Pam.”

“Pam’s gone?” He let out a shaky breath, chest tight. “Send me your address.”

“You don’t have to--”

“Address or I start calling your baseball buddies.”

“I’ll text it.”

“I’m not hanging up until I’m there.”

“Is it creepy I keep the engagement photo on my desk?”

“We’re not touching that right now Peter. You’re drunk and not okay.”

She was true to her word, not hanging up the phone until she arrived at his apartment. When he opened the door, he saw her just as he’d imagined her. Her hair was pinned in the silk scarf and a silk robe was tied over her pajamas. She had thrown it on over the same babydoll top and short sets she’d always been hunting down patterns for so she could make them herself and she’d slid on flats.

The sight of her made him feel tethered again, though he had had enough more to drink between the initial call and her arrival that he had gone from tipsy to unsteady. He went to hug her, and Dahlia carefully kicked the door close, locked it, and maneuvered him to his big leather couch that she looked terribly out of place on.

“Let it out, Peter,” she whispered, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck like she might float away or vanish. The cry wasn’t like anything he’d let her see before. He’d been careful and controlled anytime something hurt, glossing over details that could make it worse to give her a pig picture. But now, he cried like he was alone, heaving sobs with snot and tears and drool as he clutched her.

She settled into the couch enough he was basically curled in her lap. That’s how he woke the next morning too, curled against her torso with his head on her shoulder. She’d fallen asleep with her cheek pressed against the top of his head, and he was both embarrassed and relieved she was still there. Carefully he untangled himself from her, wanting to clean up before he had to face her. Face the fact it was his own fault he’d had to deal with it all alone.

He came out to find her having obviously used the guest bathroom to rinse her face, though she was clad in his boxers and henley now. She was too averse to pants for his sweats. And like the angel she was, Dahlia was cooking. He was, however, mortified to see what she was holding as whatever she’d put in the oven cooked was the engagement photo he’d been clinging to when he called. But he could also see she seemed to be looking at it fondly.

“Your interior design is terrible,” she teased gently, setting the frame aside. “I left you so much of the good stuff.”

“I couldn’t bring it from Chicago.”

“Peter, you forget I brought it from Chicago.”

“When I looked at furniture we found together, it made me miss you, so I got rid of it.”

“I kept mine because it made me remember you.”

“I’m the one that was an absolute moron.”

“It was easier then, huh?” she said softly, picking the picture up again. Their smiles were wider. There were fewer lines on their faces. Ben and Pam were in New York alive, and Dahlia and Peter had forever in front of them. Peter didn’t need to talk to her about something he didn’t want to remember.

“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry I let you go.”

“I’m sorry I let you. I shouldn’t have left the first time we fought. I knew how you were.”

“You were right to. I went for what I knew would hurt.”

“We can address all of that later. For right now, do you want to start talking or eat and then talk?”

“It’s my fault Pam’s dead.”

“You need to elaborate on that one, Peter. Because I’m sure there is more happening than you’re saying.”

“I didn’t drop a case. A victim tortured her attacker. We didn’t know for sure at first. A cartel was involved and they threatened to hurt Pam if I didn’t drop the case. We had guards, but they massacred Pam’s facility and took her. Diaz killed her in the gunfire. Dahl, she recognized me. She called for me, and he killed her. It’s been months, and I just, I feel so lost.”

“Peter,” she whispered, pulling him close.

He stiffened at first. He’d expected disgust, not sympathy. This was his fault. That’s what he’d been telling himself for weeks, distracting himself with booze and bars and women like he had done when he wanted to pretend his family was fine, that Pam wasn’t sick, that he was close with his dad. This time though, the hurt was bigger.

He was crying into her shoulder again, and he suddenly wished he’d been smart enough to call the minute he’d arrived. That she’d been there at dad’s funeral and for the trial of Rafael Barba. Maybe then he wouldn’t have even taken the job. He’d have recognized something bad was brewing. Instead he’d gotten his sister killed and was clinging to Dahlia in the early morning light of his kitchen.

“It happened in May.”

“Why didn’t you call sooner?”

“I didn’t mean to call now.”

“How have you been coping?” He was quiet, shifting awkwardly. “Baseball methods?”

“Yeah.” He was ashamed to tell her, and she squeezed him gently.

“I went with baseball methods after we split. You’re a single man. I don’t like the thought and it’s not healthy, but it’s better than other things you could’ve done.” They didn’t speak much as they ate. Neither one knew what to say to the other any more, but she didn’t want to leave him alone and he shouldn’t be left alone. When he did speak again, his voice was gentler than it had been in a while.

“Can we go antiquing?”

“You want to go?”

“I want to carry your bags and think about sweat stains.”

“How does that help you?”

“Is it manipulative if I say that’s the last time I was really happy? Because if you say no I won’t be mad. It’s just true.”

“It could be. But I believe you. I think it’s the last time I was really happy too.”

“Really?”

“Depends? Did I pretend to understand baseball between our last antiquing trip and moving?”

“No. You moved in the off season.”

“Then really. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been fine. I love work. I love writing. I love the city. But I like everything more with you. Even if you’re a jock.”

“I thought I was happy before you. But I wasn’t.”

“You have to take me home first so I can get ready.”

“Deal.” And that’s what found him in her living room while she got dressed. He wasn’t stupid; Dahlia was the same as she’d always been, so he was waiting patiently as she brushed out her set curls and did her make up. She came back out in a pretty shirtdress, one he felt sure he’d found for her a long time ago, and keds, and Peter knew he’d do anything to get this back. The feeling of groundedness, that maybe they could be a team again, awe she was even agreeing to comfort him on any level.

She led him through new vintage shops now. They were in a whole new state after all. He decided that maybe baseball methods didn’t work, and he talked to Dahlia. This time he really talked though. He’d brushed over stories about his father and Pam. He didn’t like the bad ones or the feelings they could bring up. Besides, Ben Stone was a saint, didn’t you know? Peter hadn’t ever been talk about his father, so he kept that habit up with Dahlia the first time. He also told her the truth. He’d panicked over marrying her because she was his first real girlfriend and the prospect of settling down and having her grow to hate him like his mother had his father scared him. That one was a revelation to her.

He’d basically moved in with her a month after their outing to go antiquing. She preferred their old furniture and her vintage collection. Besides, Peter, I have a built in vanity here! The engagement photo in the park was replaced on his desk a year later. It showed them now in a different park in a different city with different lives to the ones so long ago. They also had different methods of communication, meaning they’d weathered fights as they adjusted to things again. The same ring was on display, however, and the same smile was plastered on Peter’s face as Dahlia pressed a kiss to his cheek.

#thatesqcrushFriends #peter stone x reader #peter stone #peter stonex oc #law and order #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit

57 notes · View notes

ayellowcurtain · 3 years

Text

Make me know you really care

Part 2

Robbe? Robbie, sweetheart?

Three muffled knocks, he feels that same strand of hair from earlier back to bother him again, tickling the outside corner of his eye. His neck is tight, and his arm basically dead underneath him, all his weight on top of it. Robbe moves the hand he can still feel to push his hair away from his eye.

Two knocks on the door and one attempt to turn the door knob and Robbe opens his eyes a few times, suddenly realizing it’s not part of his sleep, the noises and the voice calling his name. He pushes himself to turn and lie on his back, slowly moving his arm so the blood can run back to his tickling hand. The same plain walls, the same headboard, he is really back in his old bedroom. Last night really happened.

Milan is still at the door, his shadow - the dark cloud hair, the bright shirt and tall figure - clear on the glass but Robbe sees someone else next to him, not as clear, but clear enough for Robbe to recognize him, and he sits on the bed. Sander is there too, waiting one or two steps behind Milan. Robbe doesn’t need to see him to know he’s worried, thinking he went too far last night.

“Leave me alone, Milan.” He tries, aware that the same way he can see them well enough, they can see he’s sitting on the bed, very awake.

“Can you open the door, please? Or I’m gonna have to use the argument that you’re in my house…”

Robbe closes his eyes, still feeling like he didn’t sleep a single minute even though it’s bright outside, the sun almost disappearing at the top of the window.

His mouth is so dry and not smelling the greatest, he’s still using the clothes from last night, all wrinkled, a complete mess. He didn’t want Sander to see him like this, such a mess after that date that Robbe had to come back to the flat and sleep in his normal clothes. If it was the other way around, Robbe would worry if he found a sleepy, still smelling like beer Sander, sleeping on the same clothes he last saw him.

Robbe doesn’t try to make himself look any better while getting up, unlocking the door for the two but not enough that they’ll think he’s inviting them in. It’s not his bedroom but Robbe will act like it while he’s here. Milan has to mean his words when he told Robbe in the past that this would always be his room if he ever needed it back.

Sander is looking as perfect as any other day, clean, and with fresh new clothes too, the worry staying in his eyes, the way he frowns his eyebrows a little bit and the way he clenches his jaw but other than that, he’s fine.

“There he is!” Milan smiles and claps his hands excitedly, looking at Sander, and Robbe holds himself back from closing the door in their faces, “Good morning, princess.”

“How did you know I was here?” Robbe asks and regrets it instantly. His mouth is dry and bitter, and he doesn’t feel like talking to anybody right now enough to let them notice how terrible he looks and smells.

Sander is the one to explain, almost whispering as he looks at Milan. “He didn’t. But I stopped at your house and you weren’t there so I came here and I told him you were here.”

Robbe looks at him, afraid of who might have opened the door for him at the other flat. Sander finally looks at him again, reading his mind like always.

“He wasn’t there. But I guess his things aren’t there either…from what Jens told me.”

Well, he heard the message then.

The weird silence grows around the three of them and Milan connects the dots, opening his mouth in a wide and big 0.

“You broke up with your boyfriend?!”

Robbe looks at his friend and back to the ground, ashamed of himself for the way he did it. Nobody knows about the voice message, and Robbe is not sure how much he’s willing to tell. The break up is no news anymore so he nods his head.

“Oh, baby!” Milan pulls him by his shoulder, hugging him tight, his hands rubbing up and down Robbe’s back, turning them around so he’s the one looking at Sander and not Robbe. “He was such a loving, caring boyfriend, Sander. I know he’ll be fine, baby. And it wasn’t your intention to hurt him…” Robbe gently pushes Milan back, knowing he’s saying all of that to Sander, not exactly to him.

“Thank you…”

Milan looks from him to Sander, now standing a few steps from each other, nodding his head. “I’m gonna make some strong coffee for us, maybe go get some croissants for old time’s sake.”

They both watch as Milan grabs his coat on the hanger, waving goodbye as he leaves the flat to give them some privacy. Robbe looks around, the walls are ridiculously thin so they wouldn’t be able to talk any other way but Robbe is not sure if he wants to talk either.

Sander sighs, and Robbe sees him moving, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Some time ago I went shopping with Younes…”

Robbe frowns, and looks at him, not sure where this is going or how it has anything to do with him.

“He probably heard a lot of my thoughts about you, and us. So he thought that day that I needed to vent and he needed to go shopping. So yeah, we went out. And-“

Sander pulls his hands out again, opening one to show Robbe a ring. Suddenly he’s wide awake, as sober as one can be, very aware of everything they talked last night, or almost fought about. He steps aside, feeling dizzy and turns around to look at Sander and what he’s holding.

It’s a golden ring. It doesn’t seem new or cheap. Sander probably found it in one of the vintage shops he loves to lurk around. It’s beautiful, and Robbe’s triggered brain goes straight to that conversation they had years ago. About marriage and how Sander took it lightly, saying they were too young to give in to society’s expectations. He can feel Sander’s expecting stare on him, still looking at the ring, somewhere between terrified, amazed and hurt.

“This isn’t a wedding ring. It can be, I mean. Whenever you want. I’m just trying to say that I want it. To marry you, spend my life with you. If that’s what you want too. While we wait for the right time...this can be a promise ring.”

Robbe closes his eyes, trying to keep his nausea down on his body. For months while they were dating he thought about a wedding. Henever wanted some big event, with families and extended family they barely know. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.

He wanted the day, whenever that was, to be very intimate and theirs, nobody else’s. Robbe wanted to wake up aware that it was the day, he wanted to make them some delicious, movie-like breakfast, to help Sander cook whatever he felt like cooking that morning, to kiss him, smile against his lips, look at him and see Sander’s bright, shiny eyes excited to live that day. They would put some nicer clothes on, hold hands and walk to the place where they could sign the paper and take a cheesy picture with it after they were done. It would be a blue sky type of day, not too cold, not too warm, they could easily walk to their favorite restaurant, eat whatever they wanted for once without worrying about how expensive everything was. This would be a special date so they would worry about money all the other days of the month.

“Robbe?” He finally looks up, being reminded that Sander is still very much there. His hand is back down next to his body, his index finger swinging the ring while he holds it with his thumb and middle finger. “It never crossed my mind to be with someone else but you. I’m sorry if I made it seem like marrying you wasn’t for me. Or just marrying anyone. It is if we’re talking about you and me. I didn’t think it was such a big deal to you at the time.”

Robbe sighs, staring at Sander for too long. He knows years have passed since that fight but while he’s here now, standing across from Sander he really feels the years that have passed. It feels like a lifetime ago and also just a moment somehow. Robbe always struggled when he started thinking about time. How fast it might pass and how slow. He doesn’t really want to get old but he also feels like he had pretty shitty times in his past.

He turns left and goes to the kitchen to make that strong coffee Milan forgot to make before leaving. He hopes Sander is following him.

The kitchen is still the exact same, and the coffee machine is still where it was when he lived here. He knows Milan’s bedroom and the bathroom look different because Milan, Senne and Zoe painted those while they were all in quarantine together. He came here a million times after that, the green color in the bathroom is starting to annoy him, actually.

He grabs two mugs out of the cupboard just above the coffee machine and puts them next to him, one ready to receive the first coffee.

“Do you still like your coffee the same way?”

Sander was at the kitchen door and it’s like the question is a permission for him to walk inside the kitchen, pulling a chair for him to sit. “Yeah. Burning hot, please.”

Robbe gives him his mug the second the coffee stops pouring and moves on to the fridge to find some milk for him to use for his coffee.

“And Ava?” He asks, grabbing his milk from the microwave, just warm enough not to ruin his coffee.

He can almost hear Sander saying what about Ava? but he doesn’t say that, thankfully.

“I broke up with her.”

Robbe pulls the other chair for him to sit, waiting a little so his coffee is drinkable.

“Does she know why?”

Sander lifts his eyebrows. “That I was about to come here the next morning to propose to you? No but she can probably guess it happened because of you generally.”

“Does she know anything about me?” Sander doesn’t answer with words but he nods his head, finishing his coffee already.

“She knows how much you mean to me, she knows we used to date. All those things. It’s hard for me to not talk about you, Robin.”

Robbe drinks a little bit of his coffee and adjusts his jacket, pulling the hood over his head again, feeling more comfortable this way, looking at Sander through his lashes, noticing how fondly Sander looks at him, with an almost smile right at the corners of his lips.

“You know Robin is not my name, right?”

Sander frowns. “Isn’t your name Robin IJzermans?”

Robbe snorts, and the front door is open and closed.

“Honey, I’m home!” He screams, and Robbe looks at the kitchen door, waiting for Milan to appear, making as much noise as he can thinking they would be making out at the kitchen counter or something.

He looks from one to the other in disbelief nothing is happening but he brushes it off, putting the plastic bag on the table for them to unpack.

“How many croissants?" Robbe pulls the heavy and deliciously warm paper bag and Sander pulls the coffee, and big nutella container.

“Three for each.”

“Better than Sander. He would only bring two every time.” Robbe steals a glance at him again and Sander is already looking.

“I always thought that would be enough of a hint but nobody ever left us alone, so I guess it didn’t work.”

Milan laughs, spinning around until he can lean against the sink, looking from one to the other, too curious to pretend for another second.

“And…?” He lifts his eyebrows.

Robbe stares at Sander for a little longer, unable to decide for the future but now it’s enough.

“We might get married at some point.”

Sander finally smiles shyly at that and Milan drops his shoulders like he’s disappointed.

“I wanted new news!”

45 notes · View notes

prorevenge · 4 years

Text

Bridezilla Karen ends up looking like a pauper at her own wedding.

I (F48) have known “Pat” (F48) for decades. As far as I can remember, she was fixated on having 5 children and a picket fence dream life. I slowly cut ties with her in college because she was an opportunist and I didn’t trust her. She is both manipulative and forceful. Her idea of cute rubs me the wrong way. Pat likes to walk like a penguin when she wants to elicit pity, and she usually does this when she wants to evoke the underdog narrative. I’ve never seen someone act so despicable and ridiculous at the same time.

I moved on with my life. Happily got rid of her for years. Pat eventually found me on facebook. I accepted her friend request out of politeness.

Pat has become the epitome of a permissive mother. Her (5) kids do as they please and she never calls them out. She tried to force a relationship between me and her daughters and made them call me Auntie. Pat tried to drop them at my house uninvited. Her phone calls were insistent, she tried to monopolize my time and she began to show up at my job. I created some boundaries so she tried to find loopholes. It was a nightmare.

My husband and I hosted a party for the community center (not the real name) new members. The community center is actually a very informal initiative and my husband and I mainly serve the homeless population. We prefer to help strangers instead of catering to potentially narcissistic acquaintances. We don't mind lending a hand but we have encountered truly dishonest choosing beggars.

There are other services, like one of the members who helps women get their wedding and prom dresses for free.The community center location “headquarters” is actually a farm owned by an elderly couple. There is a barn, a venue and a very nice green field with an artificial lake and some fowl. They charge for the use of their facilities (weddings , etc.) but not for community oriented stuff.

Pat had always been salty at her husband for demanding that she go back to work after baby #3. In the meantime, he worked three jobs. She demanded he get her pregnant to fulfill her dream of having 5 kids. He didn’t agree, because he was already nearly 45 and felt like he might never be able to retire. She got away with bringing new babies into this world anyway. Her fascination with being pregnant comes from all the attention she gets. She had at least one miscarriage in between each kid.

Pat latched on to our group. She never missed any of our activities. I hated having her in my house, but it was an open invitation that included virtually everyone and she was very active as an event organizer. I didn’t like the way her kids behaved. We have a designated area for parties and entertainment, but her kids ended up inside my bedroom. We ended up having to keep watch of them and enjoyed zero of our own party.

I called her days later to get my point across (regarding their overall behavior) but she completely cut me off and began talking about herself and said her kids wanted to come visit again and use our pool. I never answered that. I didn't want to say “no, I will not have your brats over”.

She also called me as summer was approaching specifically to let me know her middle daughter was bored and wanted to spend a WEEK at our home. I politely declined, citing that me and my husband have to work and cannot entertain guests. .

Pat paid no heed. Her kid called me on the weekend,calling me “auntie” and attempted to coax me by saying “Mom says you invited me to spend SUMMER with you”. I quickly clarified, and offered an explanation to avoid hurting a kid’s self esteem. Nevermind. Her daughter just hung up on me.

Pat’s facebook also showed some red flags. Some cryptic rants here and there were visible, along with friends’ comments and complaints on how she asked a particular person to watch her kids only for a couple of hours and ended up leaving them all day. Another of her friends criticized her “girls night out “ because Pat had just asked them to be patient and wait until she could pay back some money that she owed them, yet she had money to spend on Friday night outings. I thought those very public comments on private matters were more like a cry of lost patience.

Unpleasant things began to happen. Like the time she volunteered to wrap the Xmas presents for underprivileged kids. We all wanted to create a mix of less costly gifts with really nice ones. Surprisingly, some nice and eye-catching toys and games went missing but turned up under her Christmas Tree (courtesy of her mother in law’s FB posts). No one could prove anything but it was hate-inducing. Or the time my daughter called me in tears to pick her up after she attended Pat’s daughter’s birthday (Casey). My daughter had been ignored all night because she didn’t gift her the expensive gaming stuff Casey practically demanded. My daughter did ask, but I said no. We would buy her a very nice and thoughtful present according to her taste. So when I went to pick her up my daughter was sitting alone in the living room while Casey and her friends stayed outside.

Stories about Pat and her family multiplied. The owners at the farm (community center) decided keep their their gates locked unless they had guests or events because Pat got in the habit of driving in whenever she pleased and it was either her kids screaming and disturbing on-going weddings, throwing rocks at the koi in the lake or harassing the geese in the yard. Or how she stiffed another soccer mom with the lunch bill and then pulled the struggling financially card. Or how other parents hated her because she created unnecessary hostile competition.

When my daughter turned 13, I allowed her to wear my grandma’s ring. It's not an expensive piece of jewelry, but it's vintage and girls nowadays wanna look boho. My Granny gave it to me when I became a teenager so I passed it on to my kid so she could wear it on her birthweek.

It was weird that she became quiet and distracted after that. She also didn’t want to go to school and my husband and I became suspicious. She never opened up, and my other kids had no clue.

We went to her school but her teachers assured us nothing had changed in her environment. My husband and I suspected she was being bullied but our kid gave us no tools to support her. My kid is very sunny, and very compassionate. She has never had any problems with other kids. I called her best friend’s mom. Natalie, my kid’s BFF, told us what was going on. Casey (Pat’s eldest) and my daughter had become “close”. I knew this and wasn’t too thrilled. I found the age (Casey was 17) gap not exactly inappropriate but I’d rather see my daughter spend time with friends in the same age range. Casey is very beautiful and a gifted student. She is also very conceited. To make this story short, she asked my daughter if she could try on the ring and refused to give it back. She later claimed that she lost it but “would look for it” so my daughter was distraught. My daughter kept asking for her ring and as a result, Casey shunned her and spread the word that my kid was trying to steal HER ring. Some kids at school took Casey’s side. So now Casey just wore my kid’s jewelry to school like nothing happened. If that doesn’t qualify as taunting I don't know what does.

My guilt comes from not being able to get my daughter to open up and feel safe telling me the truth. I talked to her and she burst into tears. I was both pained as a mother and furious that some teenage b!tch was doing this under our noses.

I went straight to Pat’s car after school. I asked to talk as Casey was about to go in. So I grabbed Casey’s hand and asked to see her jewelry. Casey froze and she tried to make a fist, so I became relentless. Casey yelled “Mom!” and Pat struggled to get out of the car. I slid the ring off (Casey has tiny hands and wore the ring on her index finger). First Pat yelled at me. After I confronted her with the engraving on the band (my grandma's maiden name), she argued it was loaned to her daughter by my kid. Then she said she bought it. I paid no heed. I did warn them that I knew Casey had become an abusive friend to my daughter.

Pat called me to tell me off. She said she was trying to raise an assertive young woman and I had just messed that up by being “overbearing”. She never apologized for her thief of a child.

Pat's husband ( Hank) is what can be described as a doormat. Pat wore him down to a knob. He had no choice but to “obey” her to keep the peace. She was a bully who actively withdrew affection when he didn’t follow her wishes, even in public. So she got kids #4 and #5 after a relentless campaign that included leaving him for two months. Her pregnancies were a nuisance because she expected to be treated like the only lady who has even been pregnant. She strolled around in a wheelchair almost immediately after getting pregnant and she would “get very sick” on weekends, so her kids were often sent to friends and family so that she could “rest”.

Pat systematically bullied Hank. She would leave town and take the kids with her. Poor Hank would look distraught, drinking on his porch or just looking really lonely. This is how she got off the hook and was able to leave her job. Hank had virtually no voice, so he struggled to keep the marriage together. Everyone liked him, but hated her equally. Hank loved to talk to other people but seemed concerned that Pat would be upset. Over time, according to my husband, Hank began to show signs of depression and mental distress.

Our friend, Lenah, runs the wedding/prom dress initiative. It's not complicated. Dresses are sourced from donations, ebay, trunk shows, etc. Unusually beautiful dresses are retained so that more than one bride gets to wear them. In some cases, a bride will pay 50 bucks, but most of the time, the dresses are donated to the bride.

Pat was involved in this. Lenah kept her in because they never had any issues and her task was limited to just shipping the dresses out.

Pat decided to renew her vows and her bridezilla Karenzilla attitude became the icing on the cake. For starters, she bullied another couple into giving up their wedding date at the farm because she “needed her renewal to match her exact wedding date”. They were not impressed with her harassment, so they booked another venue. As a result, the farm owners were pissed because Pat was already costing them money after she had successfully negotiated a cut in their rate “because she couldn't afford it but will repay by doing maintenance work around the venue” (she never made good on her word).

Pat became attached to a particular dress that was already assigned to another bride. Lenah made it clear that she would need to pay for her own dress. So Pat played it cool and shipped the wrong gown instead. She was adamant that it was the right dress, despite all the notes on Leah’s agenda. The other bride was truly gracious about it. She was obviously disappointed, but never made a scene.

What bothered me most is that I picked that dress and bought it for 40 bucks at a garage sale (not my money, Leah’s money). It was a vintage dress, ankle length, white with lots of lace and a huge bargain. Again, when confronted, Pat “did a Casey” and used the “this is mine” strategy. We felt so bad for the other bride that we did our best to get her something nice to wear. The other bride was a true fighter, she had pulled out of welfare, earned her high school diploma and was working to get on her feet by trying to earn a certificate as an acrylic nail technician. So, her reward was to have some Karen steal her dress? Pat never admitted to messing up, but just by the fact that she claimed it was her dress, we knew.

Lenah never allowed her in her warehouse again. Their last phone fight ended with Pat bringing up the other bride’s past (like it mattered) and “this conversation is over, it's my dress and you are mistaken”. That was weeks before the other bride’s wedding.

Pat went all out on her wedding decor. She spent way too much. She hired a caterer for some food (mainly mimosas and appetizers), but the wedding invitation included a request for specific dishes for her Sunday brunch wedding. Either she ran out of banquet money or was on a complete moocher mode.I picture the penguin walking upon practically asking everyone to supply her wedding reception grub and I cringe.

There is nothing wrong with potluck weddings. In fact, they can be a nice addition to a very cozy and family oriented wedding reception. But, don’t you need to at least be close to your guests in order to ask for such a thing? Even I got an invitation. I told everyone I wasn’t going because I was very uncomfortable being told what to bring and was probably expected to give them a cash gift on top of that. Some of the older ladies in our group agreed. Some said they would not decline in advance because she is a bully and they didn’t want a confrontation.

Lenah called me the night before Pat’s re-wedding. Lenah was there to close the Saturday night bingo and Pat was awfully friendly, but that’s what she does whenever things are going her way. Lenah peeked into the garment bag and saw the exact same dress while Pat was caught up supervising the wedding decoration.

The thing with Karens is that they expect everyone to suck it up, or make their dreams come true, or they simply underestimate everyone and think we are all fools.

Lenah is a very straightforward person with a “so sue me” attitude. She told me she would just ruin the dress. After all, it was hers, so she could do whatever she wanted. If Pat wanted to take legal action, and should things get ugly, she needed to prove ownership. However, the dress was the same, the marks inside the hem and the tags were the same. Even the tag numbers that were punched to identify each dress for logistics purposes matched.

Pat had the dress altered, with some extra beading and dyed to a deep cream color. But it was obviously the same garment. Lenah and I snuck in before the venue was closed for the night. All brides are allowed to stay in a small bedroom for a small charge, so that they don’t need to drive in on their wedding day. Honestly, the makeshift chapel was gorgeous, I don’t know how she paid for it but it was full of flowers and presumptuous details. I naively brought in some ink to spill on the dress, but Lenah said she wanted “something more awful, like a nasty surprise”. Ink would be too obvious and if she saw it ahead, she may be able to snag another gown from somewhere. No, the ideal thing was to have her trust the dress was fine. So Lenah locked herself in a bathroom stall and completely cut out the back panel. She patiently put it back on its hanger and zipped the bag. We left through the emergency door with the back of the dress stuffed inside Lenah's purse. I completely hate people who target and steal from anyone they (Pat and her kid) calculate to be in a weaker position.

The wedding was scheduled at 9 AM. Pat called me at 7 AM, but I ignored her calls. I picked up by 8 AM, both curious and wondering if she suspected anything. Pat was frantic.She was crying that her dress was “missing by half”. I purposely made her explain, being annoyingly dense and continually interrupting like she does, and stalling the conversation. She asked me if I could lend her my wedding dress. I said no, sorry. She then asked me if I would help her get a dress. I was satisfied to remind her that the town's bridal shops were closed on Sunday and the others that would open were almost an hour away. The farm is already almost one hour away from our town.

If Pat could get a shop to rent a dress, she would need to try the dress on, and get it steamed. Even if the dress was ready to wear, it would easily take more than two hours (roundtrip). She tried to ask me to go pick a dress (who would pay for this??). Even if a shop were open and brought her a dress, it would add to the cost. Also, these shops open at 10 or 9:30 at earliest. By time they got to her, it would be time to wrap up the wedding because she needed to clear the venue by 12:00 for the next event.

She broke down and mumbled some stupid stuff I didn't understand. So Pat hung up on me and called Lenah instead.. She asked Lenah to bring her “anything she had available”. Lenah and I ended up delivering the most outdated, moss smelling, oversized dressed. Pat’s disappointment was a mix between angry and emotional. She also tried to wear her knee length silk bridal slip as a wedding dress but it was too obvious and it really looked cheap. She tried to get her daughter to give her her own dress to wear with an open back zipper (due to fitting issues) but Casey refused, asking if she was supposed to attend the wedding naked (she got a point, plus Casey is petite).

The dress needed a petticoat to plump up the skirt, which wasn’t available. So it dragged all over the floor and Pat had to keep pulling it up. Pat walked down the aisle with one hand on her bouquet and another one grabbing her dress. The dress looked limp and weird with the arrangements of pins (they didn’t show) that caused the sleeves and neckline to pucker into messy rims. She spent the ceremony looking uncomfortable and out of place. Very few people attended but that was not part of any revenge, that was just how people reacted to her entitled attitude.

The dress looked awful. The reception portion of the wedding had all this princely decoration, a very nice cake and a bridezilla with a dress from hell. I didn’t stay, but I was told, she was so disappointed she spent her wedding sulking. There was no dance, no actual speech. She had to change into a shirt and leggings because the dress was too uncomfortable. Everyone talked about how Pat put on her flip flops and walked around aimlessly until she ordered the ushers to start folding up the chairs within one hour of the reception. So she practically kicked everyone out and the cake was never cut.

Pat wasn’t the same after this.She was not as loud and avoided everyone. I think she was disappointed that nobody ran to her rescue, not even her family who came from out of town.

Her husband finally cracked under all the pressure and sought some help. He was slaving away and coming home to clean the house while Pat used her kids as an excuse to spend like crazy. Hank also had to do kid homework because Pat never had time or never had patience. She also refused to get a partime job so her kids could attend an afterschool and get help with their school stuff. Therapy seemed to help Hank because the last time Pat left with her kids, he didn't seem distraught. He would be riding his bicycle and could be seen more relaxed while mowing his lawn. Hank told my husband that he had contemplated suicide after their third kid. When Pat returned, he maintained the routine but was interested in going out by himself and doing things for himself. We began to see Pat alone all the time. Hank was seen less and less in the same car and eventually moved in with his parents. He filed for divorce on the grounds of emotional cruelty and I don't think he won. Instead (I’m not sure of this because this is what I was told) there was some sort of a settlement or agreement that she would not get close or interact with him unless it has to do with the kids).

I also don’t know if Pat even actually suspected who/what happened to her dress. She slowly pulled away from the community center and became less active in social gatherings. Pat also removed me from her facebook as well as mostly everyone else from school and the center.

TLDR

Bridezilla stole a wedding dress from an underprivileged woman. The actual dress owner destroys her big day.

(source) story by (/u/forestcabin123k)

#prorevenge #by /u/forestcabin123k #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

176 notes · View notes

penguintransporter · 3 years

Text

Daisies (a short “anyone you want it to be” story) Part IV

part I | part II | part III | my masterlist

Hello my dear people of Tumblr and anyone who reads this story. And just heads up, there is one more chapter left, and I promise, it won’t end up like Winning The Game Called Love - which you can read here - and which started as a short story and ended up as being my longest project so far. Anyway, this is fourth part, make sure to read the previous three, and tell me what you think. Anon option exist and if you don’t want me to publish it, just make a note of it, and I won’t. Chapter is dedicated to @avenirdelight (I am working on that promise, just letting you know), and @footballerimaginess just because I feel like it (obviously, other tags will follow at the bottom, and if you want to be tagged, just let me know)

Love.

Unknown, incomprehensible, undefinable.

Many of us have tried, and many of us have failed to give a unique meaning to it, but no amount of vowels and consonants, no matter how tightly-tied together, cannot describe what is truly hiding behind something that is both pain and relief, suffering and pleasure; poison and remedy. Shy and eccentric, confusing and self-explanatory, love can be a complicated aria or a simple melody, all at once – embodied in four individual tones, intertwined together.

Love—four letters; a word.

He’s leaning against the small area of the wall between the doors and a teak shelf packed with random knick-knacks, plants and old-fashioned figurines – a vintage clock, hanging above his head ticking quietly. Familiar faces are surrounding him, their loud chatter filling the small, unfamiliar kitchen, but oddly enough, he feels like a surplus among them – almost as if he doesn’t belong there.

Just a trespasser with a strange feeling that he is not used to.

Small; insignificant.

Invisible. Locked inside his own tormented mind, guarded by his own thoughts.

He can feel his emotions are getting all over the place – stretching and pulling on his heart as if it was some kind of a rubber band containing his feelings, and not even hours later since they arrived at the place she called her home for the past few months, he doesn’t know what to do or what to say.

If he should say anything at all?

Are there words that would make a difference?

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Foolishly, he had hoped that it would be easier – being in the same room with her again, hearing her voice and her laughter; watching her move gracefully around the room, but it is not. If anything, it is more difficult than he ever imagined; more everything.

And what pains him the most is that the whole ordeal feels strained – the way they interacted with one another since they stepped into the small, and oddly decorated house, the way she spoke to him, the way she moved around him – almost like a ghost; afraid to say too much, afraid to make a wrong step.

He looks at his knuckles – dry skin slightly chipped from the wind.

The ring on his index finger is staring back at him, feeling a bit too tight; a bit too heavy, so with a twist, he takes it off and stashes it in the pocket of his jeans before rubbing at the swollen skin that now throbs in pain.

Looking up, he glances back at her – eyes taking in all the tiniest details of her silhouette.

How was he able to miss it when he had it in front of his eyes all this time?

So close, yet so far away.

The look in her eyes is a surprised one as she turns around and gasps at whatever one of their friends had been telling her before she shakes her head in a childish manner. Finally, a simple laughter escapes her lips and she throws her head back in amusement, and he can see the happy tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. A sudden wave of sadness washes over him, and he can feel the knots in his stomach tangling and twisting.

Will he ever be able to hold her, to make her laugh; make her happy?

Will he ever be able to utter the words that float on the tip of his tongue – light as a feather and heavy as the stone at the same time?

I need you.

Suffocating.

With a heavy breath he pushes himself away from the wall and makes his way towards the patio doors that are ajar – small breeze taking the thin curtains out for a dance. No one in the small kitchen, not even her, flinches or says something when he walks out, all of them heavily invested in the conversations about this and that – filling up the blank pages of the colourful storybooks with memories and happenings.

Distant.

Pots and pans; pinch of this and pinch of that – the smell of food filling up the space.

A loud laughter, espresso machine noises; a sound of yet another wine bottle being open – the cork rolling underneath the dining table.

The intense smell of the rain is still in the air, and the breeze that hits his face is crisp and cold, miserable and melancholic at the same time. For a moment, he closes his eyes as he leans over, resting his elbows on top of the wooden railing before letting his mind wander – eyes focusing on a row of cypress trees swaying in the distance.

A passerby walking along the cobbled path – yellow raincoat standing out in a sea of green.

A dog on a leash.

Silence.

He wonders if there is a field of daisies nearby.

He shivers.

Upon arrival, as they stood outside the small airport – drizzle of rain brushing against their faces, she had hugged him; arms wrapping gently around him as if it was a scarf made out of the finest silk. He had missed her so much, that in that exact moment, nothing else mattered and all he could think about was the fact that she was there, in his arms, and for a second, it felt as if everything was okay; as if everything was like before.

As if he deserved her.

He never wanted to let go.

She didn’t flinch as he held her, and instead, she tightened her own hold around him, and let him take a deep inhale of her scent, filling every fibre in his body with it.

‘I am glad you’re here…’

‘I am glad you wanted me here...’

He hears the doors slide open, and without looking, he knows that it’s her because for some reason, he feels it, and when he glances over her shoulder, she’s standing behind him – dressed almost identically as when they first met.

“Rubbish weather, eh?” she jokes lightly as she looks up at the grey sky before stepping beside him. “I thought you might want this.”

He looks down at her dainty hand that hold the familiar dark blue flannel shirt.

The same shirt he borrowed her many, many months ago as they sat outside his house, chatting away their summer evening.

The same shirt she never bothered to return.

Not that he minded or wanted it back anyway.

“Thanks,” he musters up, clearing both his throat and his thoughts before taking the garment from her hands, but instead of putting it on, he looks at her for a short second, meeting her eye.

She is looking at him – a timid smile on her lips, but he can only see the shadow of sadness glazing over her orbs and it makes his stomach twist in pain, so he turns away and leans against the fence.

She does the same while he nervously wrings the shirt in his hands as they both stare at the ground in front of them.

A watering can and some empty flowering pots scattered around the patio. A chair and a plaid blanket resting on top of it; pair of Birkenstock slippers in the corner.

He had imagined this moment way too many times – but now that they were finally alone, the script that he wrote carefully seemed to be lost, cut into bits; rearranged and scattered around his brain.

He cannot help but wonder why and when did it become so difficult to just be honest with himself; honest with her?

When did it become so difficult to say what he wants?

“It used to be different, no?” she states, looking at her hands. “And it makes me wonder...Did I say something? Done something wrong? It’s really bothering me.”

His words although unspoken, have a sour taste in his mouth and he feels defeated. He doesn’t want her to think that it was her fault; that it was her who has to carry the cross of his behaviour.

She doesn’t deserve that burden.

“No, it’s just, I—,” he stops himself from speaking because he doesn’t know how to say it. “I know about…” he runs a hand over his face, taking a deep breath, “I know how you feel about me? Or at least, how you felt about me.”

His last words are barely above the whisper, but he knows that they were loud enough, and that she has heard them because she’s suddenly quiet; too quiet.

And it feels like forever, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself, with his aching heart; with the realisation of what he just said.

“I was aiming high when it was quite obvious that I will fall flat on my face, no?”

“I am one to blame,” he manages to utter, but it’s not what he is supposed to say. It is not what he needs to say; what he desires. “and I want to say that I—“

No.

“No one is to blame,” she interrupts reassuringly, looking up at him with a sad smile. “You shouldn’t beat yourself up for not feeling the same for me.”

But I do.

Even more than you think.

🌼

Part V

tagging these lovely people: @rosie7703, @emwritesfootball, @alexajanecollins, @afootballimagines, @footballcloud , @englishfairylights @footballerimaginess , @footballxwrites, @just-imagines, @emwritesfootball, @macybeckham7, @hnrfc @nuestraluzdelaluna

46 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 3 years

Text

FIC: Knick Knack Paddy Whack (BAON)

Summary: As far as Stretch is concerned, there's only one solution when you're addicted to thrift stores. Selling all the crap you bought so you can buy more!

Notes: Stepping outside of the main storyline for a moment, we'll get back to the aftermath we're all expecting in a moment. 😁

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch was a bonafide thrift-a-holic, he honestly was, and he knew it. It was an important thing to know about yourself, really, because certain problems arose from bad case of oooh-shiny-itis.

Sure, one ceramic zombie hand thrusting up from the dresser to hold his rings and change was an awesome thing to behold, but an entire collection of zombie hands was a tough sell to the person you were living with, especially if that person was Edge. Not that he’d managed to find a collection of zombie hands and if he had, that thrift store would have been on the weekly check list, for sure. But the same premise applied to ‘zombie hand plus an entire horde of other bizarre ceramics surrounding it’.

Stretch wasn’t bitter about the limitations when it came to his collection, nah, he got it. There were certain things you couldn’t ask for from the person you love, and a house filled up with weird tchotchkes that looked like they belonged to the grandmother of the chainsaw massacre family was a step too far. Plus, asking Edge for more space would be unfair. He’d either agree because he didn’t want to tell Stretch no, or he’d say no and feel bad about it. Nah, the set of porcelain dragons playing instruments in a rock band he’d found wasn’t that important, not if it gave Edge a case of the guilts.

Problem was, Stretch really couldn’t resist sometimes. How was he supposed to turn away a wedding painting of Yoda and Kermit the frog? Or a coffee mug with a penguin orgy on it? He couldn’t, that’s how, but his allotted space was filling up in the house proper and soon he’d started to amass quite the collection in his lab, too. It was when the overflow expanded enough to start infringing on his erlenmeyer flasks that he decided he needed a new strategy. Science waited for no one and definitely not anything with the word ‘taxidermy’ included.

That’s when Stretch came up with the plan. Okay, it wasn’t a plan, exactly, more like a flash in the pants of brief inspiration, but hell, he’d been flying by on those his entire life, why stop now?

One of the places he frequented was an antique mall, which was a fancy way of saying one rung on the ladder above actual thrift store, except they rented stalls for people to sell their stuff, so maybe it was more like a glorified garage sale. People carted in their junk for other people to buy and the cashier up front handled all the transactions. Minimal time, minimal effort, that was exactly what he and his kitsch needed, so Stretch went ahead and rented a stall of his own.

The not-exactly-a-plan worked out pretty well. He could buy something at the thrift shop and proudly display it for a while around the house, and then when it came time to replace it with a new find, he’d add it to his stall and whatever money came from it, he donated to the local kid’s charity that the Antique Mall supported. That meant he got in his kicks and joy without looking like a prequel to a Hoarders episode and Edge only had to deal with the octopus tentacle ashtray for a few weeks.

Seriously, it was a win-win all the way around.

A few things did take up permanent residence, of course; he couldn’t give up his zombie hand. But so long as it wasn’t a clown, (clowns were disposed of by Edge immediately and with great prejudice), he was allowed things like his nested Matryoshka dolls of Nicolas Cages for a time.

About once a week he went down to add new things to his stall, mostly during the weekday hours when the buses were on the empty side and he could take up an extra seat with his box of additions. It wasn’t exactly a secret, Andy came along a few times to help, but he never really mentioned it to Edge. Not until today when Stretch realized he’d let things go a little too long and he had some extra boxes to haul down.

Better to take care of it while he was thinking about it, otherwise it tended to turn into an endless cycle of ‘oh, I should do that today’ and him forgetting, but aside from the extra lugging required, it was also Saturday and the bus would be loaded. Hitching a ride would be required, plus a little extra muscle, and his husband was his favorite source for both.

He found Edge in the kitchen, sitting at their temporary table with his laptop and yeah, it was Saturday, time to drag him away from whatever bullshit work he was doing. Stretch put on his best wheedling face and asked, “babe? can you give me a lift today?”

“Of course.” Edge didn’t look up, what a total waste of Stretch’s beguiling charms. His gloved fingertips were soft against the keyboard as he finished whatever he was typing before glancing up at Stretch, and maybe his schmoozing wasn’t entirely wasted; the way Edge closed the lid on his laptop spoke of a guilty conscious for working on his day off. “Where are we going?”

“downtown,” Stretch tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “i need to hit up my junk and disorderly shop.”

That got him a pause, “Your what?”

“heh, you’ll see.” Stretch curled a finger at Edge in a ‘come hither’ motion that his husband didn’t follow, only watched suspiciously. “c’mon, i need you to help me carry some stuff.”

“This ride is starting to sound less like transport and more like a chore.” But Edge followed him to the basement for the boxes, and, surprise surprise, his willingness to help went up a few notches from wary to eager when he figured out what Stretch was doing. Eh, couldn’t blame him. At the top of the pile was a plush frog with the top hat that played ‘hello my baby’ whenever you pushed on its foot, something Red did every single time he walked past it, plus anytime he’d felt like shortcutting in for a quick press. Time to let it damage the sanity of another family.

The boxes were tossed into the trunk of Edge’s car, frog and all, and soon they were on the road, heading downtown. Truth be told, Stretch wasn’t sure what Edge would make of the place. He tolerated thrift stores well enough, but the antique mall was a different kind of beast. An entire building of obscure collections cluttered together into eclectic displays that others were trying to barter and sell.

There were stalls filled with milk crates of old records, shelves and shelves of antique glassware and dishes. Some stalls had vintage clothing, feathery boas mixed in with disco pants and ruffled aprons. Old instruments, rusty farm equipment, strange kitchen gadgets that looked more dangerous than useful, this place had everything and then some.

Plus, the mall had a certain sort of smell, a musty, dusty scent verging on decay that settled into the sinuses and hung around for a while. Stretch thought it was the smell of a life well-lived and he kinda liked it; after years of thrifting, he associated it with finding treasures, but who knew if Edge felt the same. His tastes in smells (heh) ran more to clean and green, not old-timey funk. Could be it reminded him of shower mildew.

Whatever his opinion of the odors, Edge kept it to himself. He helped with the box carrying and checked out Stretch’s stall curiously but didn’t say much. Probably recognized the stuff on the shelves as having once been on a table or Stretch’s nightstand, until the glee wore off and it ended up gathering dust in the basement. He wandered off at some point, heading into the depths of the mall, and left Stretch to restock his meagre wares.

It took longer than he’d expected. Since he’d opened up his stall, not everything Stretch found thrifting found its way into the house proper anymore. Some of it he bought as a straight-to-video option and he was getting pretty good at finding interesting doodads at the thrifty places that might sell better here, location, location, location, that was the ticket.

Stretch always priced his junk reasonably, usually not much more than he’d paid for it. Wasn’t like he needed the money, and besides, Stretch knew himself pretty damn well, therapy did that to a guy. At the end of the day, he knew what this was really about; all an elaborate scheme to satisfy the inner packrat in his soul that struggled sometimes with giving things away.

Bartering had been built in him before he could say the word; in the Underground, he’d gotten damn good at getting deals for what he could scrounge at the dump. This was the same thing, really, just with slightly different stakes. Dinner wasn’t riding on his latest stash of dvds anymore, always a plus, and these days he could simply look at the empty shelves, content in the knowledge that his Smeagol cardboard cutout had found a new home.

Hey, therapy wasn’t the only way to work out a few kinks in your internal lines.

When the last box was emptied, Stretch wandered up to the front desk to give the lady who ran the front register his new inventory list. That was when he heard it.

There was an old piano up front with a sign on it that said, ‘Do not ‘play’ if you cannot play’. Most of the time it sat silently but someone up there was giving it a good try today. The notes were slower, with obvious hesitations as the player searched for the correct keys, but the song was one Stretch knew. Gently melancholy, a match to the cautious playing.

His curiosity piqued, Stretch wandered over to watch and he wasn’t entirely surprised to see Edge sitting on the piano bench, his attention on his hands as he slowly played. It was a tough choice between watching him play and simply listening to the song and Stretch found himself trying to do both. The uncertain skill in hands he knew so well as they coaxed the music free.

When the last note faded, a faint smattering of applause came from the different stalls around them. Stretch waited for it to end before sitting on the bench next to Edge.

Quietly, Stretch said, “i didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t,” Edge said. He smoothed a hand over the keys, not pressing down, simply touching them. “Not really. I can’t read music, but I know a song or two by rote. A friend of mine pushed me to memorize them.”

Welp, Stretch didn’t have to ask what friend, now did he. An old friend back in another world, and people weren’t replaceable even if they wore the same face. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to; Stretch understood in a way only a few people could, and he settled a hand on Edge’s leg, squeezing his knee gently.

“that was really good,” Stretch offered, “you have a good memory, babe.”

“Some of my memories are better than others,” Edge said. The words were more contemplative than sorrowful, and he didn’t look at Stretch, only touched the back of his hand briefly with his gloved fingertips. “You tend to feature in the best ones, love.”

He reached for the keys again and started to play. The song was more confident this time, bright and cheery, with only the occasional missed note. A handful of other people drifted over, some pausing to watch and some moving on, going about their day with a song to carry them along.

Stretch only tapped his toes and listened as Edge played, more than willing to let him go on until he was ready to stop. If Edge wanted to take a brief dive into the past, then the antique mall was a place for it, where memories and times past mingled with the present.

Besides, a new memory to take home was better than any knickknack.

-fin

Note: The first song Edge was playing was 'Clair de Lune' by Debussy and the second was 'The Entertainer' by Scott Joplin. In case you were wondering. 😁

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

24 notes · View notes

outerbankspreferences · 4 years

Text

The Roommate - Austin North

Chapter Three - The Party

Word Count: 2213

MASTERLIST SERIES MASTERLIST

The party at Chase and Madelyn’s apartment was all anyone could talk about. Everyone had been working hard lately it was nice to blow off some steam. They were all sitting around Rudy’s trailer talking about filming and who was all going. “Did Oliva say she was going to come babe?” Rudy asked his girlfriend who was talking to Madison. “Uh yeah, she said she would try and make it. I think she might have to work in the morning though.” She spoke up a little to be heard over everyone.

“Is that the person you want to live with Austin and Drew?” Madison questioned. “Yeah, she’s my old college roommate, you guys are going to love her.” Elaine promised, sending her friend a text to remind her about the party.

Oliva was in line getting a coffee when she got the text message. Don’t forget about the party tonight. You promised. Elaine was a force to be reckon with, and she knew better then to forget another date with her. Oliva didn’t really want to go, but she also desperately needed roommates, so she needed to impress. Once she got her coffee, she headed back to her office.

They’ve been working on a difficult case that hit close to home for her. She got back to her office, listening to her voicemail, and checking her email. It took her almost an hour for the fact that she never worked in her office. She was more of a remote worker, and by that she worked from her car. It was her job to get information on people that the lawyers needed for witnesses or other things. Working for a defence lawyer had its perks, better pay, more opportunities, but she didn’t always agree with the cases she had to work.

She was pulled from her thought when her boss Max, came through the door not bothering to knock. “Wow Bennet, you’re actually in your office for once.” He spoke leaning against the door frame. “What can I say, I work better in an open space.” Oliva retorted, taking a sip from her coffee. “Have you given any thought to my offer about LA. I really need someone I can trust out there.” She knew what he meant; she knew Max back in law school. He was a good-looking man but didn’t have the personality to match. Max was selfish, he always had been. “I was still thinking about it. It’s expensive, and I’m going to need a roommate.” She spoke, trying to gain more time to think about it. “I want an answer by Monday or I’m giving the job to Wendy in finance.” That was a bold move, Oliva figured he was bluffing she was the best paralegal they had. Even with unorthodox approach at things. Wendy would just mess things up even in a smaller firm, she didn’t have the experience needed.

Her phone started to ring as Max was leaving. She looked to see a picture of Elaine pop up on her screen. “Good lord Elaine, I’m not going to forget about tonight.” She thought. She accepted the phone call. “Hello Elaine” She spoke blandly into the phone. “Oh, don’t sound so disappointed to hear from me. Did you get my text? You didn’t forget, did you?” She asked laughing on the other end. “No, I didn’t forget, I’m just at work right now. What time did you want me to come over?” She asked, trying to figure how much time she needed to get ready. “It’s actually not at my place, it’s at my friends. I’ll text you the address, show up for like seven, does that work?” She said as more of statement then a question.

“Yeah, it does, how should I dress? Do I need to look nice for this?” Oliva asked, not really looking forward to getting dressed up too much.

“Uh, no just causal, don’t forget the jello shots, for me of course.” She laughed thinking of the many times Elaine got out of control from drinking one to many jello shooters. “Yeah, I’ll bring them don’t worry.” Oliva reassured her. “Oh, I almost forgot, Austin and Drew will be there so you can finally meet them! It’ll work out perfect.” Elaine spoke, and Oliva could hear someone yelling her name in the background. “They need me, but I’ll see you tonight!” Elaine spoke hanging up on her. Oliva sighed wondering what the hell she got herself into.

“Who was that?” Rudy asked his girlfriend pulling her into a tight hug. “Oliva, just making sure she was still coming tonight.” Rudy knew how much this meant to her. Elaine talked about her all the time. What he didn’t like was how many times Oliva had blown her off. He figured she wasn’t going to show tonight, but didn’t want Elaine to get upset, “don’t get to upset if she doesn’t show up babe. She’s already bailed on you before.” He warned knowing how she got. Elaine knew there was truth to what he was saying, but he also didn’t know Oliva like she did. She knew that Oliva would show up because it was something important to her.

Oliva left her office around five, grabbing something to eat on the way home. She knew better then to drink on an empty stomach. Once she got back to her apartment, she started to eat the crappy Chinese food, and rummaged through her closet to find something to wear. She was trying to not overthink it, but she also wanted to impress these people. She had seen pictures of them on Elaine’s Instagram and figured a pair of ripped skinny jeans and vintage band shirt would suffice. She turned on her hair curler letting it heat up. She kept her makeup simple, adding a little bit of winged eyeliner and then loosely curled her hair. She checked the time, 6:30. When she looked up the address earlier, it was about a half hour from where she lived. She grabbed her container full of jello shots and text Elaine to inform her she was on her way.

Once Oliva got to the house, she sat out in her car debating whether to go in or not. She could leave now and make up some stupid excuse as to why she needed to leave. She could tell Elaine it was traffic, or she got rear ended, or maybe food poisoning. She knew whatever excuse she made; nothing would be worth jeopardizing their friendship. Oliva looked at her phone one more time before popping back one the jello shooters and going inside. When she got into the apartment building it looked nice, much nicer than hers. She could tell the hallways had been cleaned regularly. She got in the elevator, riding it to the third floor. She could hear music playing from one of the apartments. “Perfect” she said to herself “not hard to find.”

Oliva knocked on the door and all sudden became very nervous. She needed these people to like her if she wanted knew roommates. Giving herself a small pep talk on the inside, the door swung open to a tall man with shaggy brown hair.

“Hey, you must be Oliva!” He spoke, “I’m Chase, one of Elaine’s friends.” He extended his hand out to her. Oliva smiled grasping his hand, “yeah I am, I’m sorry for being late.” She half heartedly apologized, not really meaning it. Of course, she wasn’t going to tell him that it was because she was sitting in her car debating whether to come in or bail again. “Don’t worry about it, come on in. I can take those.” Chase went to grab the jello shots, Oliva handing them over stepping into the apartment. It was loud and faintly smelt of weed and sweat. She looked around for her friend, hoping for everyone sake she didn’t get there before Elaine.

Oliva followed Chase to the kitchen, it was small and there were already people in their mixing drinks. “Oliva this is JD, Maddie C., and Maddie B.” Chase pointed to each person as they gave the foreign girl a small wave. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you guys, I’ll apologize now if I forgot your names.” The two moved on to the living room that she could see through the kitchen. It was a moderate size, big enough that a fair amount of people could fit in and not be crowded. It led to a small balcony that she could see some people out smoking. Oliva jumped a little from Elaine coming up and hugging her from behind. “You made it, I told you guys she would come.” She squeaked and Oliva giggled, smelling the vodka from her drink.

“Of course, I made it, I told you I would be here.” Oliva responded turning around to hug her friend properly. Elaine was wearing a blouse and a pair of jeans, with her camera around her neck. She couldn’t go far without the camera; it was one of the things Oliva loved about her. “Well, you’ve bailed the last couple of time, so who knows with you. Did you bring the jello shots?” Elaine asked dragging her to the kitchen. “I did, I think Chase put them in the fridge.” Oliva spoke, following the only person she knew. JD, Maddie C. and Maddie B. were gone someone knew was there. “Oh, this is perfect,” Elaine spoke causing the man to look at her, “Oliva this is Drew, Drew this is Oliva the girl I was telling you about.” He smiled at her, extending his hand. “Hey, nice to meet you, Elaine was telling us that you’re moving to LA in a couple of months.” “Yeah, I got a new job out there.” Oliva explained not giving anymore information.

Drew took a moment to take her in, trying to get a read on her. He was still a bit apprehensive about living with a girl. She seemed nice, quiet but nice. Before he could question Oliva, any more Elaine came up to drag her away, “come on, I want to introduce you to everyone else.” She slurred already a bit tipsy.

Elaine dragged Oliva back into the living room. The only other person she recognized was Rudy from pictures, and he didn’t seem overly happy to see her there. Everyone was sitting around drinking and playing a card against humanity. Elaine went right through the living room to the balcony where some other people were out smoking. “Hey guys, this is Oliva.” Elaine introduced her friend while searching for a lighter.

When she turned around, Oliva came face to face with a very handsome blonde. ‘What the hell is with all the blondes?’ she thought to herself. The man stuck his hand out, “I’m Austin.” He smiled at her. “I heard you were going to be our roommate, have you met Drew yet?” He asked, handing Elaine the lighter in his hand. She thanked him, “Oh yeah I did meet him, but I never mention anything about being roommates, I wasn’t sure if Elaine had brought it up or not.” Oliva responded. “You weren’t supposed to bring it up Austin.” Elaine giggled. She warned Drew and Austin not to bombard Oliva because it would just scare her off. “oh shit, yeah she did tell us that.” He spoke half scared of the brunette in front of him. Oliva could tell he was nervous “it’s okay, maybe the three of us can meet up for coffee and work all the details out.” She smiled at him.

The night went on well after that. Considering it was just a small apartment Oliva didn’t run into ether of the boys again. She was in the kitchen filling up her last drink of the night when Rudy came in. “Surprised you showed up Oliva.” He spoke causing her to jump. She turned to look at the blonde who walked in. “Elaine wanted me here, so I came.” She responded. “She’s been trying to get together with you for weeks now. She stuck her neck out for you to help you find a place to live and you couldn’t even bother to show up.” He wasn’t wrong. Elaine had done a lot to help her, but she also had to work. “I know, but I can’t help it if I have to work, not all of us can be actors.” She spoke up, not wanting to have this conversation.

Oliva didn’t know Rudy that well, and in his defense, they did get off on the wrong foot, but if he thought for one minute, he was going to grill her about not showing up he had another thing coming. Before Rudy had a chance to speak again Oliva had dumped her drink down the drain and headed for the door. Just as she was about to walk out the door Elaine stopped her. “Are you leaving already ‘Liv? It’s not even that late.” When Oliva turned around, she could see the see a bit of hurt in Elaine’s eyes, but when she spoke, she looked directly at Rudy. “Yeah, I have to work in the morning, say my goodbyes for me?” She asked forcing a smile at her friend.

TAG LIST: @drewstarkeysbitchh afterglowsb-tch13 lostsoulwalking @lemur46 @taylathornton

#austin north #austin north imagine #austin north x reader #austin north x you #austin north x oliva bennet #theRoommate #Outer Banks #outerbanks

37 notes · View notes

mulderist · 4 years

Text

Wicked Game

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Read on A03

Washington, D.C - 1948. Fox Mulder is a detective on the top vice unit; scandal, corruption, and lies come with the territory. He is forced to investigate a fellow officer and finds the lies go much deeper than the truth.

tagging @today-in-fic

CHAPTER 5

The phone rang three times before she answered. My jaw ached as I tried to mask the slur in my voice when I told her who was calling. I realized it was a long shot ringing her number but I needed something to get my head on straight. I told her I was in Georgetown and as luck would have it she did not have a shift at the hospital that evening. She accepted my invitation to have a drink. I confirmed her address and I said I would wait outside the building to meet her, adding to look for the forlorn gentleman with a grey fedora. We disconnected and I exited the booth then walked to the curb to hail a cab.

Scully’s apartment building was tucked into a quiet tree-lined block on Q Street. In a town built on history this neighborhood dripped vintage charm with neat colonial rowhouses and brick sidewalks. I paced a slow line in front of the staircase then stretched a foot on the bottom step. The sound of a door opening and heel clicks on brickwork caught my attention. There she was. A vision in a short-sleeved olive green sweater with a high neck, wide-leg trousers gave way to dark t-strap shoes that peeked out from under her pant cuffs. Her ginger-red hair was pinned up halfway and decorated with a small flower. I straightened up and tried to smile as she landed on the last step.

“God, what happened to you?” she questioned before I could even greet her properly.

“And hello to you too.” I replied.

“Oh, your cheek,” Scully frowned, “This reminds me of when we first met.” She inspected my face without laying a finger on me. I tipped back my hat slightly so she could get a better look. In the afternoon sun her eyes processed a diagnosis and she reached out a caring hand to touch my jawline but withdrew it quickly. Fingers formed a loose fist instead as her hand dropped slowly towards her hip. I cleared my throat.

“Serves me right for interrupting someone’s lunch, huh?”

“Must have been someone important for them to leave a mark like that,” Scully said, stepping back and adjusting her handbag. I shrugged then said,

“No, just me being a nosy cop.” I found myself staring as she smiled.

“So now that we’re here, where are we off to?”

“There’s a little place I visit when I’m in the neighborhood.” I slipped my hands in my pockets and gestured with a nod down the block. She joined me at my side and we strolled for a few silent moments. Her presence helped to mute the extra noise in my head. Though with each intersection we crossed I was still checking my corners, making sure we weren’t being followed. After the little scene I caused at the restaurant my guard was up. I knew I could never be too comfortable with my surroundings and I certainly didn’t want to put her in danger.

We walked farther down Q street and crossed over to 33rd to a small bar named The Blue Note. I opened the door for her and followed inside. It was your standard set-up with a small stage on the side arranged for a jazz combo. Too early for a gig, so the jukebox in the corner played the matinee performance. Regalia from the university littered the walls but in a more dignified fashion, like the proprietor was trying to distance the establishment from looking like a run-of-the-mill college bar. Still, it was dark, smoky, and my kind of familiar. Only a couple of bar flies had landed to start their day-drinking. I ushered her through a fresh haze of cigarette smoke to an empty spot at the far end of the bar. She took a seat and I adjusted my barstool, sitting close but not too close. Scully caught the attention of the stout bartender.

“I’d like a vodka tonic and my friend here will have?”

“Whiskey.”

The man nodded and scuttled back to fix our drinks. I put my fedora on the bar and ran a hand through my hair.

“Can you tell me about this case you’re working on?” Scully asked as she placed her handbag in her lap. I thought about how much I wanted to divulge so I kept the names and places to a minimum.

“It involves a drug ring, fairly standard for the vice unit. However the fly in the ointment is that it also involves an investigation into my partner.”

“Wait, the one who was buried at Arlington?”

“The very same,” I answered as the bartender delivered two short glasses. I grasped the drink and raised it, she mimicked the motion. “Cheers,” I said before taking a long sip and swirling the ice cube around. Scully sampled her drink as well and I continued.

“The papers painted it that he was killed in the line of duty. Now, I was there that night. It was the same night I got a hot lead kiss on the shoulder and I think my partner was bumped off in a deal that went sour.”

“Your partner was a hophead?” she asked as she twisted the bottom of her glass on the bar napkin.

“I didn’t suspect he was a hophead,” I said after I downed the last of my whiskey, “but the medical examiner ordered blood work that confirmed he was sky high.”

“Did you see who shot at you?” she asked after a beat, tracing a fingertip along the edge of the highball.

“No, but we did get a match on the weapon. So all I need to do is take him in .”

“Let me guess, that’s who gave you the bruise.”

“Very perceptive Scully. It was one of his goons actually.” I said as I rubbed my left cheek and glanced reflexively over my shoulder. She held her glass close to her lips and thought for a moment before taking another sip to finish it off. Scully pressed her lips together and focused on her now empty glass. I caught the change in music from the jukebox; a heavy piano piece that fit the tone in our little corner of the bar. I flagged the bartender and ordered another round. She was hesitant at first on the refill but I guess she didn’t mind my company and decided to stick around. Time seemed to slow to a halt, dripped down like molasses on a winter day.

“Enough about me and the DCPD, I want to know your story.”

“My story, Mulder? I don’t think I’m as interesting as all that,” Scully said as she glanced at her hands, admiring the tidy red varnish on the nails.

“Try me,” I replied as our second round arrived and my attention was now only on her.

“Let’s see...you already know I’m a nurse,” she began with a gesture, “I’ve been one since before the war. Schooling was no cost and once the conflict started I opted to stay home in Maryland to fill the nursing shortage. My brothers had gone through the gauntlet at the naval academy and were sent to San Diego then the South Pacific respectively. It would have broken my mother’s heart if I joined up and got shipped off too” She paused and took a drink. “My sister and mother stayed in Annapolis but in ‘45 I headed to Washington to continue with medicine. There was more I wanted to learn and more ways I felt I could help.”

“And that’s how you ended up in Georgetown?”

She nodded and softly exhaled.

“After I buried my father, I buried myself in studies, work, and other hobbies. I figured if I kept myself busy enough I wouldn’t have time to think about the loss.” Her shoulders shrugged and she absentmindedly toyed with a strand of hair then swept it behind her ear.

“Any travel in that time?” I asked, hoping she had an answer. I was shit at small talk when I wasn’t using my badge.

“California after the war ended to see my brother Bill and his family for Christmas, then last year I took the train up to New England for a change of scenery.”

“Ah, I’m familiar with that area. My parents live on Martha’s Vineyard.”

“It’s really lovely. I was fortunate to visit in the fall.” A hint of a smile crossed her lips as she recalled the memory. A pleasant silence then fell between us. More small talk followed, less personal this go around. Filler subjects like the weather and sports weaved their way into conversation. I was pleased to learn she was a baseball fan and was hoping for a better season than last year.

The bar was getting more clientele and as much as I wanted to stay and extend my friendship with Mr Jack Daniels, I figured we should make it last call. I paid our tab and escorted Scully outside, placing a featherweight touch on her shoulder as I guided her through the open door. The air felt cool as the sun hid behind passing clouds, setting up for another storm. She thanked me for the drinks and though she was a captain’s daughter who could certainly hold her liquor, I offered to walk her home.

As we turned the corner and walked back up the block I still felt that we weren’t alone. I kept a close stride next to Scully as we neared her building. She ascended the steps and I joined her at the door. This time her hand found my cheek.

“I hope to see you again,” she said as she gently stroked my jawline, “But next time without any occupational damage.”

“Can’t make any promises, doll,” I said moving closer, feeling her fingers twitch, catching a flutter of her eyelashes as she exhaled. My gaze was soft, hypnotized by her features. She grazed the stubble on my skin then Scully raised her chin and placed a soft sweet kiss on my injured cheek.

“Take care of yourself, detective.”

Through the narrow pane of glass on the building’s door I watched her walk up the stairs, she looked back over her shoulder giving me a final flash of that flower nestled against her red hair. As I turned and walked down the steps I noticed a car parked across the street and a man with a sharp suit and glasses leaning against the side.

“Are you following me?” I called out once I was on the sidewalk, my hand on the butt of my weapon.

“This is your surveillance detail?” Skinner questioned.

“Chivalry isn’t dead yet, Captain.”

“Something’s come up. Get in,” Skinner said as he motioned to the car. I walked around the front of the cruiser and opened the passenger door joining him inside.

“I heard about your incident with Carlo Lodi today.”

“Word travels fast.”

“You’re damn right it does, Mulder. This city is more connected than ever. I had a conversation with our friend Alex Krycek when he returned the squad car you lent him. Seems that he was privy to information regarding a Vincenti heroin shipment tonight.”

“Ha! What did you have to trade for that info?” I asked. He tensed his jaw then said,

“Continued protection. It appears he’s been sitting on this since we first interrogated him.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“There will be a boat arriving at the Navy Yard tonight. Small crew. They are going to make a transfer to one of the warehouses, but it’s up to you to find how they’re moving the shipment from there.”

I took a moment to process the details of my assignment.

“Will I have back-up?”

“Via radio. Do not engage after you make the mark. Follow standard tailing procedure.”

“If you’re going to send me on a suicide mission, can you at least drop me off in Alexandria. I could use a shower and something to eat.” Skinner gave me a sideways glance and turned the key in the ignition, bringing life to the cruiser. He shifted into gear and we were on our way back across the Potomac.

#i wrote this #historical au #mulder pov #xf fanfic #my fic #noir fiction #wip

41 notes · View notes