taking Pale to the carnival. him bitching & complaining the entire time about the rides and the rigged games lol. maybe you even force him to go on the ferris wheel or a roller coaster with you and he hates every second of it. but of course, he’d do anything to make you happy, so he just suffers through it <3
no worries if you’re not feeling it, but I know you wanted to write Pale so I figured I’d toss this idea in the ring :)
Mrs. G, my love!! This was such an amazing idea, and it sparked something insde me lmao. Thanks for always inspiring me <3
Going to the fair + Pale
Contains: General fair activities (rides, eating, etc), mention of vomitting
*Please give me feedback on my attempt at a New York accent for Mr. Pale lmaooo, idk how I did
Pale parks the car in the packed parking lot, and you smile as you get out. The air smells of fried, fattening food, the worst kind of food if you’re asking Pale.
You love it.
“Alright, dollface, what’re we doin’ first?” Pale asks, stretching and groaning softly. You smile over at him. You’d told him to wear a t-shirt and jeans, something simple and comfortable, but no. Your man is nothing if not stylish. He’s got on dress pants and a nice button-up. The sleeves are rolled up, and his flashy watch is being shown off. You hum.
“We should probably go get tickets,” you say.
Pale rolls his eyes as he pulls out his wallet.
“How much is this gonna fuckin’ cost?”
“Not much,” you say, taking his hand. “I can pay, it’s really no big deal–”
“Nah, nah, my treat,” Pale says as the two of you walk up to the ticket booth. He purchases a fair amount of tickets, more than you probably need. You know it’ll last you through lots of games and rides, and you smile as the two of you walk inside.
The carnival lights up the night, and the sight makes your stomach flutter. It’s beautiful.
“Alright, what d’ya want?” Pale asks as the two of you walk through the fairgrounds.
You notice the ferris wheel, and your smile widens. He knows.
“Nah, I don’t fuckin’ do heights, dollface,” he says. You look up at him.
“Please, baby? I’ll hold your hand the whole time!”
“No.”
“Paaaale.”
He looks at you, huffing as he does so.
“You’re a real fuckin’ brat,” he mumbles, pulling you towards the ferris wheel. You smile.
“I’m your brat, though.”
“Mhm.”
You give the guy running the ferris wheel four tickets – two for you, two for Pale – and you and your man get in. Pale’s palms are sweaty, and he keeps looking around nervously. You put your hand on his thigh.
“It’s okay,” you say gently. “I’ve got you.”
He laughs softly.
“Yeah, dollface? You gonna catch me when I fall outta this thing?”
You smile.
“Well . . . No. But you’ll be fiiiine.”
“Ha-ha.”
The ride starts a few minutes later, and Pale’s gripping your hand like his life depends on it. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so tense, so anxious, yet here you are.
“Hey,” you say. “Breathe.”
“I’m breathin’,” he says, huffing once you reach the top. You smile softly. The ferris wheel completes a few full circles before it stops and you and Pale get out of the seat.
He walks away quickly.
“I ain’t ever goin’ on one of those again, ya got that?” he says, taking your hand again. You nod.
“I got it, baby.”
The two of you walk through the fairgrounds for a bit before you spot a fishing game. It’s a lot like a lazy claw machine, you notice as kids line up to play it.
“You want me to fish you a stuffed animal, baby?” you ask Pale as he lights up a cigarette.
“Do I look like the typa guy who wants a stuffed animal, dollface?” he asks, and you laugh. You see a stuffed cat deep in the large box, and you point to it excitedly.
“Pale! Look at the cat!” you say, squeezing his hand. He smiles. You’re real fuckin’ cute, he thinks.
“Ya want that, dollface?” he asks. You nod. He sighs. “Alright, I’ll get it for ya.”
“Oh, Pale, that’s okay, I can do it–”
“Nah, nah, I’m gettin’ ya the fuckin’ cat, okay?”
You nod, leaning your head against his arm.
“Okay,” you say softly, smiling widely. Your turn comes, and Pale does, indeed, win you the stuffed cat. You take it happily, and he kisses the top of your head.
“Thank you, baby,” you say to him.
“Mhm, you’re welcome, dollface,” he says. He likes seeing you like this: happy and excited and giggly. If playing some stupid, rigged games and going on cheap, dangerous rides will make you feel good, then he’d do it a million times over.
The two of you walk around for a bit longer, and you come to the ring toss game.
“See any prizes ya like?” Pale asks you when he catches you staring.
You smile. He know you so fucking well.
“I like the–”
“The giant teddy bear?” he asks. You nod.
“Yeah, baby.”
Pale sighs as he walks over.
“I’ll get it for ya.”
He – unsurprisingly – nails the ring toss, and he picks out the giant teddy bear for you. He hands it to you, and you hold it close and him closer.
“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re too nice to me,” you say to him. He smiles at the nickname.
“Ah, it ain’t no big deal, dollface. Let’s get ya somethin’ t’ eat, hm?”
You nod.
“Thank you, Pale.”
The two of you get some funnel cake (which Pale doesn’t enjoy) and cotton candy (which he enjoys slightly), then sit down at one of the wooden tables. Pale takes a sip of his lemonade.
“God damn,” he says, face scrunching up. “This shit’s so fuckin’ sour. Try this.”
You laugh as you take the cup. You have a sip, and your face scrunches up, too.
“What the fuck?” you laugh. “Why is it so sour!?”
He shakes his head.
“Dunno. I’m still gonna drink it, though.”
You smile as you eat your funnel cake and cotton candy.
To finish off the night, you somehow manage to convince Pale to go on a roller coaster with you. It isn’t even a very big one, but he’s still turning, well . . . pale, and when the ride stops, he staggers off.
“Goddamn,” he curses, leaning over the trash can near the exit. You run to him.
“Are you okay!?” you ask quickly. He gags.
“I ain’t ever goin’ on one of those fuckin’ things again either, alright, dollface?” he says.
You laugh.
“Okay, baby. Let’s get you home.”
Pale gags one more time, then stands up properly, realizing that he isn’t actually going to vomit. He nods.
“Best thing you’ve said t’ me all night, baby,” he says. You laugh as he takes your hand and leads the way to the car.
Hi! I love your writing and have read everything on your page at least 3 times. I was wondering if you could do something with Pale where he’s been super busy for a few weeks and hasn’t had a whole lot of quality time with the reader and tries to make up for it with a really nice day spent together. Could have smut in it or not, up to you!
Thank you and P.S. you are also so great at being inclusive with your writing. It’s so difficult to find fanfics that make me feel included as a black woman. Thank you so so so much and be safe!
A/N: Hello my dear friend! Thank you so much for sending this request in and for your kind words. I hope that you enjoy the little something that I've written up, and that wherever you are that you're able to stay safe too!
It’s late in the morning, you can tell just by the sounds. Before your eyes are open, before you’re even really awake, the sounds of the apartment complex in which you live, and the little city surrounding it come to life. Traffic on the streets down below, doors opening and closing around you, people shuffling off to their jobs all make you stir in your slumber. The birds have already sung their morning songs, so it’s the lingering smell of coffee in the air and sunshine in front of your eyelids that coax you awake.
Turning on your side, you roll over into something hard, solid, sturdy. Something big and wide and warm, that has you instantly smiling, grinnin’ so damn hard before your eyes are even open that you know you gotta look like an idiot.
“Mornin’ sweetheart.” A deep rumbling voice presses a kiss to your cheek, and you don’t give him the opportunity of pullin’ away, before your arms wind around his neck and keep him close to you, smilin’ smilin’ smilin’.
“Pale?” You sigh dreamily as you finally blink yourself all the way awake, letting your vision focus on the playful smirk of your very own VSOP, who scoffs at the rhetorical question.
“No it’s the milkman -- ‘course it’s me. Who else do you think I’d be? You got a bunch of other boyfriends comin’ over and sleepin’ in our bed?” He smiles when he kisses you, his thick Jersey accent always a little heavier in the morning, and you chuckle as you stretch.
“Shut up, you know that ain’t true.” You snuggle back into the mattress, gettin’ a good look at him, something that’s become a rare sight these last couple of days, and you tell him as much, “I’m just surprised to see you here. You’ve been gone the past week whenever I wake up.”
Pale sits on the edge of the bed and rubs at the back of his neck. Work has been kickin’ his fuckin’ ass for comin’ up on ten days straight now, and he had hoped that you weren’t gettin’ pissed at him, thinkin’ he was trying to run out on you or nothin’. In fact, it’s been quite the opposite, he’s been workin’ his ass off to be able to spoil you rotten.
“I know babygirl, I know. But get this, your old man finally gets some time off and I’m spendin’ the whole day makin’ it up to you. I got it all planned out, see.” Pale’s fingers walk up your sternum and pluck at the gold chain that rests against your sleep warm skin, toying with the way it sparkles in the sunlight.
You’re naked, because you always tend to sleep naked when you’re with Pale, save for the jewelry he gives you. You’ve never taken the chain off, not since the day he gave it to you, something that you just know he’s got to be eyein’.
“Why don’t you come closer and tell me all about it?” You pat the empty space next to you, the soft white sheets turned a creamy golden color from the way the sunlight streams in through the curtains.
“Nah nah nah, you gotta come here.” Pale shakes his head, he’s fully fuckin’ dressed after all, only needin’ to put on his shoes before he’s ready to walk out the door.
“No, I don’t want to.” You on the other hand, just woke up, and aren’t in the mood to get up just yet.
“Why not?”
“I’m cozy.”
Pale looks at you with a deadpan scowl, and you only look back at him with a big cheesy grin, and eventually, after a little bit of silent suffering, Pale grumbles as he slides his blazer off his arms, shucks back the covers and climbs back into bed with you.
“Alright but look we can’t stay in bed all day, you hear me? We got shit to do. I got it all planned out. We’ve got breakfast in the city and then the morning in the park, I’m takin’ you shoppin’. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you in somethin’ new. And don’t fuckin’ argue with me about how you don’t need nothin’, I know you don’t, but I don’t need half the shit I got -- I get it because I like it, and I get you shit because I like you, end of discussion.”
One of the things you always loved about your man was how he just went on and on and on, letting you snuggle up against his solid, muscular chest while he does. You rest your head on his pec instead of the pillow, and at once, his arms encircle you and he presses small kisses to the top of your head as he continues,
“Then I figure we built up an appetite so I got us a reservation for lunch in Central, and then you’re gonna put one of the new outfits because we gotta go to Broadway for dinner before a show, and then maybe, if you’re good, I’m gonna fuck your brains out nice and slow, right here in this bed when we come home. Whattaya say sweetheart, sound like a good deal?”
“Hmm, I can’t think of anything better honey, you sure know how to treat a lady.” You chuckle, letting yourself relax against his sturdy frame.
“You’re goddamned right I do.” Pale scoffs, before lightly patting at your cheek and clickin’ his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “So, all that said, you gotta get dressed dollface, breakfast is waiting.”
“Okay, okay, one more kiss?” Your eyes implore him, and who the hell is he to deny you? He leans in and kisses you softly on the mouth, but you shake your head, smiling, “No, that didn’t count.”
“Okay, there.” Pale gives you another one, tilting your face up to meet his better, for his tongue to tease right at the edge of your lower lip.
“No, that one didn’t either.” Whispering, you shake your head again, rolling onto your back and bringing Pale with you.
“How about this one?” Pale asks before gently holding onto your jaw, letting his eyes close as your mouths part in unison, sighing against each other’s lips, letting a full week of nothing but quickies and busy fucking fade away, reveling in the closeness of being together at last.
“No.” You reply, your fingers threading through his hair, not wanting to give him up yet, “One more...”
Like that, you and Pale stay for quite a while, entwined in the feeling of one another. And if Pale decides to strip down and give you a couple orgasms before he takes you out, if that means you miss the breakfast reservation and grab something from the bodega instead, if you wind up covered in hickies for your shopping appointments, well, you certainly don’t give a shit -- just glad to be with your favorite man after some time apart, together at last.
Hey Zannah! I saw requests are still open so as a funny maybe sweet piece I had an idea. Maybe reader and Pale have a tornado warning and he’s the one who’s scared and reader’s just like “I want to go outside and watch” lmao. Just something silly possibly. Thanks babe, sending love to you today!!!!!
A/N: Thank you for this request! I have 0 experience with tornadoes I'm afraid, so I hope that you don't mind that I've changed this to a hurricane <33
1.2k, briefly NSFW
Somehow, during the hours and hours of heady lovemaking -- because really that’s what this was, that’s what this had melted into from the lack of energy after such a brutal fucking -- the world around you and Pale grows dark. It isn’t noticeable at first, how could it be? With the weight of your man on top of your body, pushing and pulling you further into the mattress, gasps and moans spilling from your lips. When you’re with Pale, your eyes shut so tight that the whole of the fuckin’ universe might as well be dark.
Except, it shouldn’t really be, the more you think about it, when Pale comes for the you-don’t-know-how-many-fuckin’-times-it’s-been, and he slumps against your exhausted body, limbs shakin’ from the effort of it all. The more you think about it, your senses slowly startin’ to return to your mind, even hazy and cloudy and foggy as they are from the pleasure, it shouldn’t be that dark.
And then, you hear the crack of thunder, and are reminded of the weather report the night before, a category three sweepin’ into the city. Somewhere, deep down in your bones, the ache of the pressure from the sky outside has you wanting to climb out of bed, much to your man’s dissatisfaction.
He’s got his eyes closed now, Pale does. You don’t blame him, he’s got to be tired from that spectacular performance, but you can’t tell if he’s asleep or not yet. The even rise and fall of his chest isn’t deterred by another loud smack of thunder, so you think it’s safe to try and peel away the sticky sweaty sheets, you think it’s safe to detangle your legs from his, getting one foot on the floor before a hand grips your wrist and a deep disgruntled voice asks,
“Where the fuck do you think you’re goin’?”
Smiling ever so gently, you lean over and press a kiss to his scowling face. Eyes still closed, his brow furrows, his nose crinkling up, like the thought of you getting out of bed for any reason is completely unacceptable.
“Outside.” You reply softly, already anticipating the protesting.
“No.” He doesn’t disappoint, cracking one eye open at you as he fumbles on the nightstand for a cigarette, “Absolutely fuckin’ not. In this weather? You gotta be outta your damn mind. Get back here, right the fuck now, under these covers, and let me kiss on you for a while.”
“C’mon, please? Just for a few minutes?” You grin at him as you reach over where he seems to be struggling, grabbing the box and sticking one of the cigarettes into your own mouth just long enough to strike up a match, light it, and pass it to him.
“What the -- did I not fuck you hard enough? Is that it? Is this you tellin’ me to plow you over the fuckin’ moon because I will -- let me just smoke a minute and then I’ll be right back fuckin’ to it but you ain’t gettin’ swept away by no goddamn hurricane on my fuckin’ watch.” Pale sits up fully now, his gold chain swaying ever so gently and bonking against his muscled neck.
“You fucked me plenty hard, honey.” You reassure him, letting him wind his arms around you, letting him drag you back against him, giggling the whole way.
“Not if you’re still talkin’ I didn’t.” He’s angry in the way that he always tends to be angry, and you just let him kiss you the way he wants, the way you both want, all the time. It’s a fucking wonder you get anything done, when you’re together.
Lightning peals across the sky, and Pale flinches this time, making you cock your head to the side a little, a soft smile gracing your lips as you card your fingers through his hair.
“Are you afraid of storms?” You whisper, like someone is listening and judging Pale for his answer, “It’s okay if you are.”
“Me?” He only scoffs and splutters and rolls his eyes at you in that way that says of course he’s fuckin’ scared, even as he wrangles you down to the bed a little more, kisses and sucks at your throat, “Oh now you’ve gone ahead and done it sweetheart, your VSOP ain’t afraid of no fuckin’ storms, but this ain’t a normal storm, is it? This is a hurricane baby girl, ain’t that supposed to have winds over one-hundred miles per hour? Nah nah nah, the last fuckin’ thing I need is for you to get swept away. Who the fuck would suck my dick then?”
Rolling you underneath him, your legs automatically wrap around his waist out of sheer instinct, and you laugh and smack a hand playfully against his strong stomach.
“Aw, you do care.” You roll your eyes right back at him, and even though he’s scowling at you, you can see the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
This was how things usually went -- you want something, he says no, you accept that response, and then he changes his mind anyway. In your two years together you think he’s only ever truly denied you once, but that was because he had been away. So when Pale decides to give you what you want, it’s not much of a surprise, even if you’re still pleased.
“Alright alright, just for a few minutes. If you get struck by lightning that’s your fuckin’ fault. Don’t go expectin’ me to rescue you, you got that?” Pale grumbles as he pushes himself away from you, reachin’ for the dresser and a clean pair of clothes to throw at your naked body.
“I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.” Expertly catching the slip dress, you pull it up over your head and let the cool silk slink down your body, a reprieve from the heat of the Floridian summer.
What a way to start your vacation, you can’t help but think, knowing Pale had whisked you away to Miami in an attempt for some tropical paradise shit that had to go get interrupted by the hurricane. It was only passing through for today, the weatherman said, and it wasn’t supposed to do much damage, but still.
Sitting outside on the balcony of your hotel room overlooking the ocean, it’s one of those sights that reminds you of the glory of nature. Something about the huge clouds, thick and dark, the choppy waves, the thunder and lightning make you feel very small, and it’s exhilarating. Yesterday the beach was crystalline blue, with the rainbow dottings of umbrellas and swimsuits, and tomorrow it’ll likely be that way too. But for this moment, it feels like you and Pale are in another world, one where the crisp rainy air fills your lungs, and the thunder shakes the sky.
“See? Isn’t this nice?” You turn to your man, who is smoking on the balcony, one arm slung around your waist, looking for all the world like he’s going to beat the shit out of the hurricane himself.
“You got a fucked up idea of what’s nice, you know that.” Peering down at you, he shakes his head, and you can tell he’s reaching his limit for how long he’ll go out of bed before complaining.
“Maybe.” You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder, watching as the horizon turns green with the oncoming storm, “But you like it.”
And despite all his bitching and moaning and groaning, he can’t help but huff out a laugh because, “Yeah, I do.”
Hello Bab, could I please see what your pretty mind comes up with for “voice kink” + Pale? Thanks a bunch!!! ❤️
700w, NSFW
Pale has one helluva mouth on him, he does. That was the very first thing you had ever had as an introduction to the man -- the sound of his voice, shouting out in the late night alleyway between your two apartment buildings. It was a voice you'd certainly never heard before, and one you were likely to never forget, even if you had never had another earful of it again.
But you did, oh you did, and somehow along the way, you wound up tethered to this man like a ship to its buoy, wound up falling so hard and so fast for him that you got more than you could have ever bargained for.
Sure, he was a fast talkin' cursin' dirty-minded sonofabitch, but then again, it's the 08s and you live in New York City, who wasn't? No, you didn't mind the way he spoke, in fact, if you really have to think about it...you find that you really really like it.
There's something sensual about the way he talks to you when he fucks you. Not in the usual sense, not in the sense where he's sweet, because he sure as shit ain't sweet in the slightest. But there's a deep resonating kinda quality to it that has your knees go weak when he rambles on and on about how good your cunt feels on his cock.
When he presses his mouth right up against your ear, it sends shivers down your spine, because you know he's going to growl and grunt something out in that thick accent of his, and you're going to come all over him.
It's a fuckin' wonder how he doesn't run out of air in those lungs, from how much he smokes, the air in the city, all that smog. It's a wonder how he's got the energy to go on and on the way he does, when he's got your naked body bent over the fuckin' coffee table in the living room, balls slapping against your ass.
"Goddamn honey you take my cock so fuckin' well, look at that pretty pussy swallowin' me whole, you were made for me, just for me, you're the best fuckin' girl I've ever had swear to god on that."
"I'd do anything for you, for this tight cunt, I'll kill for you baby girl, I'll come so deep inside you that you'll taste me on your fuckin' tongue. You want that?"
"You like that? Like my big cock? You like the way I fuck you? Goddamn you're pretty baby, I love the way you cry for me, be a good girl and take my cock just how you want. It's all yours you perfect fuckin' slut yeah that's it, that's it right there -- "
It makes you come so hard every time, the seedy way he growls. When he eats you out and he moans, the vibrations of his baritone make your eyes roll back into your head, your bones and nerves alive, electric.
Sometimes you keep your hand on his head and hold him down there so he can make out with your pussy and you can get the toe-curling sensation of his inner monologue spilling between your thighs.
Other times you insist on sitting in his lap so that he can lick and suck and bite at your earlobe, murmuring and moaning against your neck.
And other times still, it's enough to hear the hot crackle his moans over the phone lines, when he's got to work too late down at the theater or the restaurant, and he can only get away long enough to jerk off in his office.
Some other girls might have told him to clean his language up a little -- you try not to think of his wife -- but not you.
No, you like him just the way he is, and you hope, whenever he bitches and complains and moans and groans, that he never changes.
Howdy folks! It’s officially April and you know what that means, a little compilation post of all the writing I posted over the past month. I’m sorry that March wasn’t a particularly active month for me, but I’ve got some plans up my sleeve for April that I really think you guys will enjoy! I hope you will anyway lol.
Some housekeeping:
If you’d like to be added to my taglist for future writing uploads, please click here!
If you’d like to see my complete collection of works, please visit my Masterlist here!
If you’re new to the blog, I invite you to please read through my FAQ!
I also upload all my chapter fics and oneshots to my archiveofourown account which you can find here!
Alrighty, now on to the compilation!
Oneshots:
Gold Medal Girl ; Biker!Kylo Ren x Reader**
Happily Ever After Part 1, Part 2** ; Flip Zimmerman x Reader (Fantasy AU)
Poolside ; Flip Zimmerman x Reader**
The Rabbi Is Coming ; Flip Zimmerman x Reader
Burnt Bridges & Goodnight Kisses; Flip Zimmerman x Reader x Kylo Ren
Character Headcanons
Which of the boys are best at eating pussy HCs***
Ticklish spots for all the Kylo AUs HCs
Lawyer!Kylo Ren & Bond Villain!Kylo Ren’s grudges/vendettas HCs
Supreme Leader Kylo mini HCs
Flip Zimmerman boxing recreationally HCs
Flip Zimmerman’s kids trying to find the afikomen during Seder dinner HCs
Flip & Pale’s grudges/vendettas HCs
Paterson mini HCs
Character Imagines:
Flip Zimmerman
Sex in the woods with Flip Zimmerman on a family camping trip***
Flip Zimmerman being very possessive & beating the shit out of some creep***
Flip Zimmerman learning morse code and using it to tell you secret messages
Flip Zimmerman and his Darling Jewish Wife wrestling over the last piece of matzo toffee after Seder dinner
Clyde Logan
Skinny dipping with Clyde Logan*
Clyde being nervous about attending his first Passover Seder
Kylo Ren
Supreme Leader Kylo making his Knights watch him fuck you on his throne***
Pale
Pale fingering you at the piano where he rehearses***
Charlie Barber
Charlie Barber showering you with excessive PDA post-divorce
Paterson
Paterson explaining the steps of Seder dinner
The total wordcount for March comes in at 56,420!
Thank you so much to everyone who sent in prompts (I’m still working on a big chunk of them lol) and to those who read and interact with the writing!! Your comments, likes and reblogs mean the absolute world to me! I hope that April treats us all kindly, and I’m sending everyone my love!
For Flip and Pale, I’d love to hear their grudges and vendettas, but it make their most absolutely petty grudges and vendettas!
Also, what scars does Flip have?
12. Grudges and vendettas
Listen, Flip is Jewish. Holding grudges is in his blood. I think he honestly has more grudges over stupid things than he knows what to do with. The man’s motto is ‘never forgive never forget’ but for things like “remember that one time he forgot to give you extra cherries in your drink?? dead to me.”
The most famous vendetta, is that Flip has a stupidly petty beef with the Colorado Springs Fire Department that goes back over a decade. It’s honestly been going on for so long that he’s not so sure he even remembers what started it. He likes to say that it all began when one of the firefighters started questioning his virility, but that could really just be something made up. Either way, whenever he has to see them he gets high-school level petty. The annual Colorado Springs municipal charity games always bring out the worst in him -- see above: Flip telling Ron how they have to beat the CSFD in their basketball championship or else.
Unrelated to that, but Flip also has big beef with this one guy at the post office. He refuses to go to the post if this guy is working there but he won’t tell me why so I’ve giving up trying to figure that one out.
3. Scars or painful spots
I’m literally so in love with this man but he’s such an idiot sometimes -- the man is absolutely covered in scars. None of them are particularly painful to talk about, aside from maybe the ones he got in ‘Nam, but on the whole he’s picked up scars over the years just from being fucking stupid.
Like the time he and Jimmy went snowboarding and he broke his collarbone and cut up his face, giving him scars on his cheek. Or the time he went running around a swimming pool and slipped and busted open his chin. Or the time he decided he should punch the glass on a door to shatter it because he needed to get inside somewhere and wound up just slicing open his entire hand. Or the times he got stabbed in the gut, and the back, and the thigh because he doesn’t learn his lesson that wrestling perps wielding knives to the ground is not a good idea. Or the time -- you get it, lol.
Flip has scars everywhere on his body, not one limb is free of them (there’s even one on his ass from the time he tripped and fell down a short cliff up in the mountains on a hunting trip and cut himself open on sharp rock) but that’s okay, because scars mean that he survived whatever dumbassery he got himself into, and that’s all that matters lol.
12. Grudges and vendettas
Pale’s got a lot of issues and we love that for him. He holds grudges like nobodies business, but he fuckin’ remembers each and every one of them and exactly why. Most of them are from food suppliers who screwed him over back in the restaurant manager days -- shitty people tryin’ to cut corners on quality or overchargin’ him for ingredients.
Some other grudges are from schmucks at bars he gets into fights with: people who owe him money or who try to bad-mouth him or his girl.
And other grudges still, are from people he knew back in Jersey, even though he doesn’t live there anymore.
And still, other grudges are from people he has only met once, doesn’t even know their name -- but will remember their face for as long as they fuckin’ live.
He just likes to be angry, I think, lol, because he’s always got something to be angry about with all those vendettas and grudges he harbors. But as long as he doesn’t have one against you, you don’t mind listening to him bitch about them all night long.
Hello dearest! Could i request a combo of ‘grabbing the butt while hugging’ and ‘picking up while hugging’ with Pale? I miss that hunk
(1.1k, NSFW-ish: Public groping, getting handsy, fingering, exhibitionism)
He’s scribblin’ some notes down on the sheet music on stage, when there’s a tap on his shoulder. With an annoyed sigh, he sucks down a long drag of his cigarette, careful not to let ash fall over the keys of the grand piano he’s been playing away and rehearsing at for the better part of the afternoon, and lets out a snappish, “What?”
It’s only then that he hears a familiar chuckle, and a pair of even more familiar hands smooth around his chest, as the face of his favorite girl peeks at him from around his shoulder, and you grin at him with a twinkle in you eye.
“You know you ought’a start bein’ a little nicer to people.” You point out, and Pale would have a comeback for that, if he weren’t so surprised that you’re here.
Getting off the piano bench, Pale stands up to his full height in front of you. He wraps you in a tight hug, lifting you clean off the floor, your ankles criss-crossing in the air as you laugh and hug him back. In typical Pale fashion, he squeezes the flesh of your ass with one of those baseball mitts he calls a hand, kneading at it for a moment or two before he sets you back down onto the floor.
“Baby girl what the fuck are you doin’ here? I thought you had work today – you ain’t cuttin’ your shift just to visit this ugly mug, you better fuckin’ not be because I thought I told you to save up them vacation days of yours for the trip I booked for us and I’d be real fuckin’ pissed if – ”
“I’m not cuttin’ my shift, I promise. Fish called me up and gave me the rest of the day off’s’all. Thought I’d come over here and see if I couldn’t keep you company.” You smile at him, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth for a second to give him a kiss.
Pale huffs and smacks your ass, chasing your lips for another kiss before he snatches the cigarette back, and sits down on the bench, facing away from the piano to get a good look at you.
“You went on the subway like that?” He asks, eyeing you up and down. You bit back a smile – it didn’t matter what you wore, Pale would think it’s too sexy for the general populous, they didn’t deserve seein’ you in all your glory, even if that glory was a sweatsuit.
As it stood, you thought you’d dress up for your man, in a short short short skirt and blouse set that had him rakin’ over your legs slowly, eyes then flickin’ up to yours.
“Mhm.” You nodded, wriggling your shoulders at him suggestively, watching the way that muscle in his jaw jumps, watching how he chews on the inside of his cheek.
One of his hands trails up up up the inside of your thigh, until you can fee the warmth of his palm skating just below your pussy. You smile, because you can see the exact minute that he realizes you ain’t wearing any panties.
“Nobody gave you any problems, did they?” He demands at once, and you shake your head, spreading your legs ever so subtly for him, that hand of his pinching and grabbing at your thigh.
“Nope.” You take a step toward him, “I gave ‘em a real mean stare, just the way you always do.”
“Oh now we’re doin’ impressions, huh? Alright let me see, show me this mean stare of mine.” Pale demands, and you shake out the muscles in your cheeks because there ain’t no smilin’ when it comes to Pale, and you give him a real nasty look that has him nodding with appreciation. “Well fuckin-A baby, that’s a pretty impressive impression.”
Ego blooming, Pale pulls you down onto his lap fully, swiveling the two of you around to face the piano once more. Instead of touching the keys though, he just keeps touching you. Even though the two of you are on stage, that doesn’t stop him, his hands groping at your tits, giving them a squeeze.
“Did you miss me?” You kiss his cheek, right on one of his beauty marks.
“Miss you? Did I miss you? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me kid of course I missed you – every second of every fuckin’ day I ain’t with you I miss you get the fuck over here – miss you, shit you think I like sittin’ in this auditorium all day long away from you?” Pale gets offended at that, yanks you even closer, impossibly closer, those hands of his gettin’ such a grip on your thighs, your tits, your ass, that you’re sure you’re gonna bruise.
“Mhm, I think you like makin’ me wait for you to come home.” You tease him anyway, knowing how easy it is to rile him up. He’s getting a little too riled though, because without so much as a look around to make sure the coast is clear, he’s pushing two fingers into your pussy, making you suck in a breath. “Pale, honey? Don’t you think you should take me somewhere nice and cozy?”
“Nah, I think I’ve got you right where I fuckin’ want you, let me show you what these hands can do.” Pale smirks, smokes and smokes his cigarette.
He fingers you slowly, discreetly – or at least as discreet as he can be on stage in the theater. It ain’t even an empty theater, people workin’ there getting ready for some concert in a few days. You gasp gently, and Pale grins, sharklike and mean, fingering you just long enough to get you almost to the edge of coming, before pulling away.
Pale sucks the slick off his fingers, and kisses you real deep.
“You’re awful, you know that?” You chuckle against his lips, before trying to slide off his lap.
“Hey where the fuck d’ya think you’re going?” He only frowns and grabs at your wrist, not wanting you away from him.
“Just, letting you practice.” You shrug, knowing that he’s got to get to work for a concert of his own.
“I don’t think so – I practice better with you next to me, get the hell over here.” Pale shakes his head and tugs you right back down onto the bench, this time next to him instead of on top of him.
And you know that little admissions like that aren’t something Pale gives up too often, so you stay sitting by his side as he begins to play the piano, a dreamy smile on your face as you listen along to his music – until you realize the real reason he wants you here: the vibrations of the piano go straight through you.
Pale knows it, you know he knows it, he knows you know he knows it, and as you try not to sigh, still on the cusp of coming, you can’t help but think you’re so glad that you decided to visit him today.
Gordon Ramsay! Pale! That’s my thought for your AU ficlets. Thank you, Zannah!
Pale enters the room the way he always does – in a whirlwind. Door flung open, keys tossed to the side, big hulkin’ leather jacket thrown into the closet with little care. He’s had a real long fuckin’ day, a real fuckin’ tirin’ day at that. He never really understood that, why nobody could just pull their weight to make his life a little easier. No no no, it’s always gotta be somethin’, Pale thinks, and today it was menu tastin’ for a buddy o’his’ restaurant uptown. That restaurant sure as shit wasn’t gonna last long with a menu like that, Pale had told him as much, had dodged a punch for the remark, and now was home to you with a scowl and his lips already puckered up.
“Before you open that big fuckin’ mouth of yours, come in here and have dinner.” You tell him, giving him the kiss he wants more than anything, more than even the coke he inhales like it’s free, as you steer him to the dining room. You worked hard the past few hours, cookin’ up somethin’ real nice for him, knowing he’d need it, “You’ll get to fuck your bad mood out into me but first I want you to eat.”
Pale just stares at you, incredulously. It was an unspoken arrangement between the two of yous that he does the cookin’, and you do the moanin’. You were a spoiled brat and he liked it like that, liked keepin’ you happy and taken care of – and that included usin’ his chef skills to the best of his ability. So for you to take the initiative to prepare somethin’ for him, for his ugly mug…well shit, he’d be lyin’ if he said he wasn’t sentimental. Especially when he follows you into the dining room where you’ve lovingly prepared a whole three course dinner of his favorite dishes, and he sits down next to you, gets one bite into the meal and exclaims,
“Goddamn, that is delicious. Finally, some good fucking food!”
