#like literally all day yesterday there was a tornado warning every ten minutes in my area and i was just watching tv unfazed lmao

[mimiatmidnight]

The way I was not worried about this hurricane at all until all of a sudden this bitch is literally 1 mph away from Cat 5..........

[thorne93]

Unexpected Guest (Part 3)

Prompt: Imagine working a party and seeing a mysteriously handsome man who captures your entire attention. There’s one catch: you’re engaged to a different man.

Warnings: angst, fighting, negative relationships, flirting, language, smoking (cigs? Is that even a warning? idk)...

Word Count: 4366

Notes: Inspired by Gorgeous - Taylor Swift...Beta’d by my amazing @like-a-bag-of-potatoes. I’m so blessed to call you a friend, love. OFC/OC Jeremy

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94  @essie1876

@magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@iamwarrenspeace  @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527

@myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

@marvelloushamilton

@munlis

@thefridgeismybestie

@bubblyanarocks3

@random-fluffy-pink-unicorn

@hardcollectionworldtrash

@igiveupicantthinkofausername

@kaliforniacoastalteens

@feelmyroarrrr

​@kaeling

UG Tag: @bill-skarsgard-is-daddy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days after the premiere, you were going back to work, looking over inventory, going over accounting, checking for any quotes or inquiries. The staff didn’t have to work yesterday since they went so late last night and there were no events yesterday. But the kitchen would be full today as they prepared for a wedding later in the day.

You grabbed your uniform, slipped it on, pulled your hair back into a pony tail, and went out to the living room, which looked like a tornado hit it. In two days, it’d gone from half-assed decent looking to resembling a natural disaster had hit. The kitchen was stacked with dirty dishes and dirty counters, the living room had empty chip bags and glasses everywhere.

“Jeremy!” you exclaimed when you finally eyed your fiance on the couch, watching TV.

“Yeah?” he called back, not looking at you.

“What the hell happened to the house? Everything looks like shit,” you noted, walking around.

“I don’t know, babe. I was jamming with the guys yesterday. Must’ve forgotten to pick up.”

You suppressed an angry sigh. “So, you didn’t work all day yesterday, you played around with your bandmates, and failed to clean up this pigsty?”

“Hey, lay off, I don’t get on your ass when you’re out late all the time,” he remarked.

“I’m working, Jeremy! I’m late because I’m at events! But when I have off time, I’m cleaning. I would expect the same from you!”

“I wanted some time to relax. No one’s coming over,” he rebutted, irritated. You stormed over to stand in front of him.

“It’s not about whether or not we’re expecting guests. It’s about how I had this house looking pretty good, even though I’m up to my eyes in work, and then you and your friends trash it and don’t give a fuck.”

“I’ll clean it later,” he responded, still not looking at you as he waved his hand dismissively.

“No, you won’t,” you said. “You always say that, but you never do. Do you work today?”

“No.”

You took a deep breath before you lost your temper completely. “Okay, then can you clean up? Please? I just want the kitchen, living room, and hall bathroom done. Is that so much to ask?”

“God damn, Y/N, get off my back. The other guy’s don’t deal with this shit from their girlfriends,” he said, looking over to you and getting up.

“Because they work, they make most of the money, and they pay the mortgage,” you stated, not entirely happy with what you just said, but this was ridiculous. Jeremy worked forty hours a week if he was lucky, at a relatively easy job, with two days off every week and he couldn’t do simple household chores. Meanwhile, you were the breadwinner, worked sixty, sometimes seventy hours a week, and sometimes no days off, yet you still managed to clean up the house and keep it looking nice. So when you were basically the only one doing anything, it was highly irritating to have him just sitting the fuck around all the time.

“Oh, so there it is! It’s because I don’t make enough money!” he said, his voice raising as he finished getting a beer from the fridge.

“It’s not that you don’t make enough, Jeremy, it’s that you don’t contribute to our mortgage at all. I don’t understand that. If we’re going to be married, whenever that is, you need to help me with bills and payments.”

“Why should I? I didn’t pick this place out. Besides, I pay for water and electricity,” he stated as if that made up for it, before falling back onto the couch.

“So because you didn’t pick this house that we’re sharing, you’re refusing to help pay for it? That’s not what a partnership is…” you reminded, your voice getting softer.

“I thought me paying utilities and you paying the mortgage was a good way to split the difference,” he said, shrugging, indifferent as his eyes were on the screen.

“No...Jeremy, that’s not…” You sighed, letting the argument fall off. “You know what? Fuck it. Forget it. Please clean something today. I have to get to work. The place that keeps a roof over your head and your friends when you want to ‘jam’.”

You grabbed your purse and went out the door, slamming it on the way. You were fuming at this point. How could he think that paying only that little helped the financial situation? How could he sit there and not clean or grocery shop or do anything and just think that’s okay? Why did you let it go on for this long too?

Three years, you’d been engaged to him, dating two years before that. With no end in sight for the engagement. No date had ever been set. Every time you brought it up, he shot it down and said to not rush things.

For the longest time, he was dedicated to his music and you wanted to support him, like he supported you for going through culinary school. Their second album did very well last year, but since then, they haven’t recorded one note. They all just hang out. Occasionally they have an idea or tune here or there, but it never transforms into a full song. Now, he worked a go-nowhere job as a cleanup guy at a company. There was no room for progress or growth or promotion opportunities. He refused to look for another job or find anything better. When you had stressed to him that his job had no prospects, he argued that it did.

For years now, he seemed to refuse to better himself in any regard, and lately, it was starting to wear on you more and more. You were giving him less of the benefit of the doubt, less of the devoted, supportive fiance and you became the woman that was trying to kick his ass into gear. If he was going to be your husband, he needed to step up and act like an adult and take responsibility to push himself to be the best he could be.

You arrived at the office and a few minutes in, your meat guy came by to deliver the meat to be butchered. You attended to that order, having Ryan help you stock the other meat until you could get to it and telling Eva to get the marinade ready for when you were done cutting the meat. Once you were done butchering all the meat, you checked where everyone was at for prepping for the wedding later. Everyone except Oscar was on time. You stressed he needed to pick up the pace then you went into your office to begin the paperwork side of the business.

After ten minutes, Ida came into your office.

“Mornin’,” she greeted.

“Hey,” you said as your eyes were glued to the screen, trying to read through a request from a new customer. “What’s up?”

“Not much. Got the finger foods done for the wedding, they’re labeled and stocked. What’s next?”

“Start on the soups. The list is on the action board,” you informed, your eyes still not meeting hers. When you didn’t hear her leave, your eyes snapped up to her. “What’s wrong?” you wondered. Was she not feeling well and needed to go home? Is something wrong in the kitchen? Ida typically never hung around unless your attention was needed. She worked fast so if she was lingering, there was an issue.

“Nothing. You just seem...off today, everything okay?” she inquired, her big, bright eyes concerned as they remained planted on your face.

You were going to lie and say you were just busy and tired, but you felt like you needed to tell her the truth. Probably because she was your best friend and deserved the truth.

“No, Jeremy and I had a fight,” you confessed, sighing as you looked up at her.

“What about?”

“Him being lazy.”

“What’s new?” she remarked, half-under her breath and you gave her a warning look. “I’m sorry,” she gently offered. “But seriously, he’s never exactly been the go-getter. Why are you just now getting upset?”

“That’s the other thing I don’t know. I guess I gave him the benefit of the doubt for so long, but it’s always bothered me. I used to just think ‘That’s okay, I’ll take care of it.’ But as time goes on...Ida, we’re supposed to be married at some point. He’ll be my husband, help me raise kids...But he can’t even do laundry or pick up his own socks? He can’t help with bills except paying two of the utilities? What does that say? Not to mention, he doesn’t ever look at me anymore and we aren’t even married. I guess as I get more and more work with the business and he does less and less, it’s really starting to put a strain on us,” you confided, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

She nodded slowly, pressing her lips into a thin line as she thought.

“Well what’s the biggest issue?” she inquired as she leaned against your desk, her own arms crossing across her white smock.

You let out a breath. “I guess...the cleaning. If he cleaned more, it would be less for me to do at home. I don’t mind the bills so much and the sex thing is just a phase probably because I’m busy and tired and if he wanted to do anything I’d probably say no anyway because I have no energy.”

“Okay, why do you think he doesn’t get it done?”

You shrugged. “He says he forgets, but I don’t get how when he’s literally sitting on top of the mess.”

“Hmm. I know it’ll sound weird but maybe he needs a to-do list, or a chores list.”

“A chores list? Ida, come on, he’s a grown fucking man.”

“Hear me out,” she started, “maybe he does forget or maybe the entire house being a wreck is overwhelming. Maybe just text him like three or four things to do. You want the kitchen spotless? Text him and tell him to do the dishes, clean the counters, and sweep the floors. You want dishes done and the bathroom sparkling? Text him that.”

“I don’t know. If he needs all that, that’s a little alarming,” you said.

She shrugged. “Not necessarily. I mean, he does work too, not as much as you but granted. He doesn’t need to spend all of his free time cleaning. So, this way he can do a few things in his off time, he’ll get done what you want, he has no excuse to say he forgot since it’s on a text, and then you can do a little bit when you get home. So, now it’s divided and fair.”

You nodded. “I’ll give it a whirl.”

“Great. Now let’s go make some soup.”

-------------------------------

While you worked on the meals and prep and unloading deliveries, Ida continued to try to talk to you, but this time it wasn’t about Jeremy.

“So have you talked to Bill?” Ida wondered idly, a curious tone snaking into her voice.

“No,” you responded, a little short.

“Oh, did you not get his number?”

“No, I did, but I’m not reaching out to him,” you informed, a bit curt.

“Why not? You two seemed to hit it off. You disappeared all night to be with him,” she stated, confused as to why you wouldn’t reach out.

“That’s precisely why I don’t want to. Talking to him while I’m pissed off at Jeremy is just inviting trouble,” you remarked as you worked.

“Or, he’ll be a nice shoulder to cry on,” she encouraged.

“Why are you supporting this? You’re the one who told me to stay away from him and reminded me I’m engaged.”

She shrugged as she cut vegetables. “I was just being overly protective. Maybe this guy just wants to be friends. Nothing wrong with having another friend to talk to about your fiance. Maybe he can even help, offer a guy’s perspective,” she suggested.

“Maybe,” you mused, not entirely sold on the idea.

---------------------

The main crew was out at a wedding, leaving two cooks behind to help clean up the kitchen, with you assisting. By the time you all were done, it was around 7:45 pm, and you were exhausted. Everyone had vacated the kitchen and you were locking up, when a voice sounded behind you.

“Hey!” the smooth voice called, startling the wits out of you.

You jumped and dropped your keys, but your instincts forced you to look at who had made you jump in the first place, before trying to recover them. Your eyes landed on the unmistakable face and you saw Bill, dressed in a black sweater and blue jeans, again, looking delectable.

“Bill? What are you doing here? You scared the shit out of me!” you yelled, glaring at him before picking up the keys on the ground.

He laughed softly as he approached. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to come by and see how your day went.” He flashed you a smile that made your pulse race.

“You came all the way to my kitchen to ask that?” you wondered, curious and a little uncomfortable about that. While Bill was handsome and you liked him, you still didn’t know him very well and he could be a psycho killer.

He shook his head and looked down, kicking pebbles on the sidewalk as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking like a nervous kid, about to ask something. Strange, it was odd to think someone as good looking and charming as him could be nervous about anything. A small laugh escaped his mouth before he admitted, “Uh, no, not quite. I was hoping you’d text me and I could ask this but...You never texted so…” He shrugged, letting you fill in the blanks. “I wanted to know if you wanted to go out to dinner.” He lifted his face to give you a direct look, asserting his question.

You shook your head and put your things in your purse. “Uh, I’m not sure, Bill. We just met...” Of course you wanted to..God, did you want to. You wanted to get to know him, like he had tried to get to know you that night at the premiere. The worst part was you knew you shouldn’t want any of that, yet...you still did.

He nodded slowly. “Well, having dinner we could get to know each other better?” he inquired, that innocent look popping onto his face again, making him irresistible.

“I can’t,” you said, shaking your head, uncertain about all of this. Knowing you should just tell him goodnight and get in your car.

“You can’t eat?” he questioned, knowing full well what you meant.

“I’m engaged,” you stressed, your eyes hard on his.

“Your fiance won’t let you eat?” he asked, pretending not to know what you were getting at, and keeping a very serious and straight face while he did it.

“No,” you retorted, your voice firm. “But I’m not sure it’s a good idea…”

“A good idea to go get food?”

Man, he was good at this. Bastard…

You huffed out air.

“When was the last time you ate a meal you didn’t prepare?” Bill suddenly asked you. You were about to answer when he cut you off. “Delivery pizza doesn’t fucking count.”

Nodding your head side to side, you acquiesced, “Fine. It’s been awhile since I’ve been out to eat. Happy?” Truth be told, you think the last time you had been taken to a restaurant was when you got engaged and Jeremy took you out one night.

“On the contrary, no. Someone like you should be taken out often. What do you say?”

“I say you’re rather obvious,” you retorted, a small amount of venom in your voice as you went to walk past him. Even if he was rather hard to say no to, part of you didn’t like him coming on so strong to you when you repeatedly told him you were engaged. Maybe he could sense that you wanted more than what he was offering though, deep down.

He turned to follow right beside you.

“I’m sorry. Look, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just want to take you out, get to know you, be your friend. Okay? I don’t want anything more if you don’t.”

You slowed and turned to face him.

“Just dinner?”

“Just dinner and two people who just met getting to know each other. Please? Come on, won’t it be nice to eat something you didn’t slave over?”

A sideways smile crept onto your face. “Well..Yeah..”

“Great! Where do you want to go?”

--------------------

You insisted you drive, and you picked the italian restaurant about six blocks over. You’d heard great things but clearly had never been. As soon as you got there, you texted Ida to tell her you were with Bill and where you were, just as a safety measure. You really didn’t think Bill meant any harm, but you could never be too careful these days. Then you shot a text to Jeremy telling him you’d be out for dinner with a friend. He said he’d go out with the guys for drinks then. You rolled your eyes, knowing that meant he probably wouldn’t clean or didn’t clean.

After you got seated and ordered food and drinks, he jumped right into it.

“So how was work?” he wondered, delight dancing in his eyes as they glued themselves to you.

“Uh, hectic. We had a lot to catch up on, then we had a wedding today. Three more weddings got booked, a couple of private house parties, another premiere in two months…” You stopped there, figuring he got the idea. “Just a normal day in the life of a caterer,” you mused, a slight smile on your face.

“Sounds exciting,” he commented.

“It can be,” you agreed lightly. “Some days it’s a mad house, some days it’s all prep work, most days it’s a full mixture. It’s just constant work of stocking, inventory, prepping, cooking, cleaning. Then it’s on repeat.”

“And do you still love it as much as when you first started?” he inquired.

“Um, I think I love it more,” you admitted. “When I first started, you know, it was a lot of rejection, a lot of critiquing, a lot of hearing how I wasn’t good enough. But countless hours in the kitchen and subjecting Jeremy to taste test after taste test, we finally got it. I recruited my best friend and basically started a business out of my home, just the two of us. Then we needed a third person because we were getting booked so much. Eventually, I took out a loan, bought a kitchen, hired some more staff and with the extra hands and more room to properly work, we could fulfill orders better.”

“That sounds like you’re living the dream,” he commented, a grin pulling at his pouting lips that made a fire come alive inside you.

“I really am. I’m really fortunate. I’ve gotten to meet a lot of great people through this and go to so many events I never thought I’d even dream of going to.”

“So the fiance, does he support your work?” he asked, his green eyes intense on yours, forcing you to look away.

“Uh, I suppose he is. I mean, he was at first. And he likes that it pays the bills, but he doesn’t care much to hear me moan and groan about the complaints of a business owner.”

“Shouldn’t he be there for you when you’re having a tough time? Isn’t that what partnerships are for?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said a little hesitantly. You never really liked airing your dirty laundry to people, except maybe Ida because she was your best friend and you’d known her for close to ten years, but to strangers or anyone else, you never felt it was their business if you and Jeremy were on the rocks. “But he’s busy with his stuff too,” you defended.

Bill slightly nodded as the waiter came by with bread and the drinks, making you want to change the topic. As much as you loved talking about your work, your entire life was work and you wanted to get to know him. Besides, you really didn’t want to talk about Jeremy any more today.

“So, are you from LA? Did you grow up here?” you asked before sipping your ice water.

He looked down for a brief moment. “Uh, no. I grew up in Sweden,” he answered, seeming a little embarrassed or perhaps shy.

You nearly choked on your water. You had no idea he wasn’t a native American, his accent didn’t really give it away. Not to mention you had a thing for just about any European guy. A red hot blush filled your cheeks as you tried to regain your composure and not let your hormones take complete control of the situation.

“That must be...different,” you tried. You had very little knowledge of Sweden. If it was cold, hot, dry, humid.

“From LA? Yeah, just a little,” he commented, causing a chuckle to escape, making your insides warm at the sound.

“What’s your hometown, if you don’t mind me asking?”

After he finished his sip of water, he answered you, “Vällingby.” When his accent came into play, you thought your underwear would slide right off you. Maybe talking about his home town wouldn’t be a prudent idea. But you did want to know about him.

“Do you miss it?”

“Every now and again, but most of my family is over here now so, not much,” he informed. “It is this suburban town right outside of Stockholm so...LA is a lot more trafficy than it was there.” A laugh went between the two of you.

“Yeah I bet. So why did you move?”

“I--” he started before the waiter came back to tell you that the food would be out in just a moment and to refill your glasses.

When he was gone, the two of you smiled at each other, trying to pick up where you left off.

“So, you? You from LA?” he questioned, gesturing with his chin at you while his long fingers danced around his glass, mesmerizing you. Your mind went to places about those fingers of his that it shouldn’t have.

Snapping from your fantasy, your eyes peeled from his fingers to his face, the heat rising in your cheeks. “Uh, no. I’m from Sacramento.”

“Oh wow, long way away,” he noted.

“Just a little. Not quite as far as yours though,” you teased with a laugh.

After that, the conversation flowed smoothly. Talking books and your favorite things to do in LA. You told him of your dream to travel the world and he had made a passive comment about wishing he could take you all over the world. At one point he noted that you looked young to have amassed what you have. You explained you graduated high school a year early, then the same with college, and culinary school went by in a flash. That’s why you were only twenty five and had a lot under your belt already. He seemed highly impressed with that which made you become even more attracted to him, until you quashed those feelings deep down.

When dinner was done, you went outside to share a smoke break before getting into the car. Again, your eyes and mind were fixated on his hands, his mouth, and that tobacco between his lips, with salacious thoughts entering your head. You drove back to your restaurant to drop him off at his car. Once you parked, you turned to him, the car still running.

“Thank you for dinner,” you said sweetly.

“My pleasure,” he assured. “I was happy to finally have some one on one time with you.”

“Me too,” you agreed with a wide grin. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, making the air in the car thick and hard to breathe. You broke the spell, shaking your head, a light laugh escaping your lips. “Bill...I...I want you to know that this between us, it can’t go any further. I’m engaged and even though he and I are...having a rough patch, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not the sort of girl that goes around with random guys, flirting. Don’t get me wrong, you’re great and really handsome but...I just...I can’t go further than friendship and I don’t want you to think I’m stringing you along.”

He frowned a fraction of a second before looking at you. “Y/N, I don’t want to ever do anything that would make you uncomfortable. I really do want to be friends. You’re a cool chick. You’re pretty laid back except for when it comes to your job, and that’s sort of what I look for in friends. People who work hard at their job, but when it’s time to kick back, they do.”

You nodded at him. “Well, good. I didn’t want you to think I was leading you on.”

He shook his head. “No. Not at all. We flirted a bit, but you’re a really beautiful woman and you’re successful and independent. Can you blame me?” he asked with a wicked smile that shot through to your core.

You laughed through the blush and shook your head. “No, I guess not.”

“Thanks for the fun evening,” he quietly said when the two of you had calmed down a bit.

“Yeah, you too.”

“Goodnight,” he said as he leaned over to give you a hug that you happily returned. He jumped out of the car and then leaned back in the open window. “Now text me. I’m not a stranger anymore. You’re out of excuses.” He winked, patted the car with his hand, and walked away.