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creedslove · 1 year

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°•° MASTERLIST °•°

HEADCANONS

• First headcanons masterlist HERE

• Second headcanons masterlist HERE

• Third headcanons masterlist HERE

PEDRO PASCAL

One Shot:

• Diamond Ring 💍 (angst)

• Pool Party ☀️ (fluff)

• The One Where Pedro Breaks Your Heart (angst)

Series:

• Betrayed - PART ONE

• Betrayed - PART TWO

• Betrayed - PART THREE

• Betrayed - PART FOUR

• Betrayed - PART FIVE

• Betrayed - PART SIX

• Betrayed - PART SEVEN

• Betrayed - PART EIGHT

• Betrayed - PART NINE

• Betrayed - FINAL CHAPTER

Requests:

• Pedro is asleep on set (fluff)

• Comforting Pedro after a nightmare (angst and fluff)

• Pedro finds your lost puppy (fluff)

JAVIER PEÑA

One Shot:

• At Gunpoint (smut)

• Keeping your picture 💋 (fluff)

• Cariño mio (fluff)

Series:

• Deserve It (angst/fluff) - PART ONE

• Deserve It (angst) - PART TWO

• Deserve It (angst) - PART THREE

• Deserve It (angst) - PART FOUR

• Deserve It (angst) - PART FIVE

• Deserve It (angst) - PART SIX

• Deserve it (angst) - PART SEVEN

• Deserve it (smut) - PART EIGHT

• Deserve it (fluff) - PART NINE

• Deserve it (angst) - PART TEN

• Deserve It (fluff) - PART ELEVEN

• Deserve It (smut) - PART TWELVE

• Deserve It (fluff/smut) - PART THIRTEEN

• Deserve It (angst) - PART FOURTEEN

• Deserve It (smut/fluff) - PART FIFTEEN

• Deserve It (angst) - PART SIXTEEN

• Deserve It (angst/fluff) - PART SEVENTEEN

• Deserve It (fluff) - PART EIGHTEEN

• Deserve It (fluff/smut/angst) - PART NINETEEN

• Deserve It (fluff) - FINAL PART

• Deserve It (fluff/smut) - EPILOGUE

Headcanons:

• Nail kink

• Kinks

• NSFW ALPHABET

Drabbles:

• We can't 💔 (angst)

• We can't 💔 - PART TWO (angst)

• You're mine (fluff)

• Macarena 🎊 (fluff)

• La Lluvia 🌧️ (fluff)

• Being a boy dad (fluff)

• Having an affair with you (angst)

JOEL MILLER

One shot:

• Sweet Hole 🍑 (smut)

• Sweet Hole 🍑 - PART TWO (smut)

• Sharing You - (smut)

• Who Knew? 💍💔 (angst)

• Who Knew? 💍💔 - PART TWO(angst)

• Who Knew? 💍💔 - PART THREE (angst)

• The Millers 💖 (fluff)

• The Millers 💖 - Halloween edition 🎃 (fluff)

Series:

BLISS

• Sleep Bliss 💤 (fluff)

• Shower Bliss 🫧 (fluff)

• Moonlight Bliss 🌙 (fluff)

• Baby Bliss 🍼 (fluff/angst)

• Baby Bliss 🍼 - PART TWO (fluff)

• Chocolate Cake Bliss 🎂 (fluff/smut)

• Storm Bliss ⛈️ (fluff)

• Family Bliss 🩷 (fluff)

• Rose Bliss 🌹 (fluff)

MEANT TO BE ❤️‍🔥

• Meant to Be ❤️‍🔥 (angst/fluff)

• Meant to Be ❤️‍🔥 (angst/fluff) - PART TWO

Requests:

• Joel's baby is sick and only calms down when he gets home (fluff)

Drabbles:

• Joel meets you at the gym

• The Miller Christmas 🎄

• Don't do this 💍

AGENT WHISKEY

Series:

• Heartless 💔 (angst)

• Heartless 💔 - PART TWO (angst)

• Heartless 💔 - PART THREE (angst)

• Heartless 💔 - PART FOUR (angst)

• Heartless 💔 - PART FIVE (angst)

• Heartless 💔 - PART SIX (angst)

• Heartless 💔 - PART SEVEN (angst)

• Heartless 💔 - PART EIGHT (angst)

• Heartless 💔 - PART NINE (angst)

• Heartless 💔 - PART TEN (angst)

• Heartless 💔 - PART ELEVEN (angst);

• Heartless 💔 - PART TWELVE (angst/fluff)

• Heartless 💔 - PART THIRTEEN (fluff)

• Heartless 💔 - PART FOURTEEN (fluff/angst)

• Heartless 💔 - PART FIFTEEN (fluff/angst)

• Heartless 💔 - PART SIXTEEN (smut)

• Heartless 💔 - PART SEVENTEEN (angst)

• Heartless 💔 - PART EIGHTEEN (fluff/smut)

• Heartless 💔 - PART NINETEEN (fluff/angst)

One shots:

• Whiskey Intoxication 🥃

• Utterly His 🥃

DAVE YORK

Imagine:

• Dave falling onto his knees for you

MARCUS PIKE

One shots:

• Re-encounter 🎨 (one shot)

• The Pike Christmas 🎄

____

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dreamskug · 15 days

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[ SUBJECT INTERVIEW: ÍVARR ]

NICKNAME:

NOT "Gramps". Not for you, anyway. Just my name.

GENDER:

Male.

STAR SIGN:

Why, checking if we’d match? Hah. Was told I’m a Scorpio. 'That check out?

HEIGHT:

With platforms or without?

ORIENTATION:

If we vibe, nothing else matters. An incubus with neat taste in personalities, I guess.

NATIONALITY / ETHNICITY:

So, some Scandinavian blood in me - half, actually. Can speak the language, too - 'least something neat daddy gave me, not that the fucker's outdone himself in parenting. Mom’s an American, born in Badlands. Ever heard of her clan? Messed with witchcraft a lot, and summoning even more. Know what I’m getting at? A perfect fuckin' match, weren't they?

FAVE FRUIT:

- Yeah no. Don't even start with anything citrus. Especially don't peel this shit in front of me, alright? Nasty shit. [Interviewer]: - Just wondering, how do you feel about cardboard boxes? [Ívarr] : - Ain't purring for you, man. But nice one.

FAVE SEASON:

Fuck summer. You ever felt what's that like - the real winter nights? Pitch fuckin' dark - quiet so thick you hear the snow falling. First time I saw those snowflakes as a kid - can swear I thought they were bees.

FAVE FLOWER:

Cherry blossoms? The fuck I know, man. Ask my mainline, I grab whatever he likes.

FAVE SCENT:

Expecting me to be like - "Muahaha, the smell of fear"? Seriously, it's apparently a pheromone released in your sweat or some shit. C'mon I'm joking, it isn't my fav - keeps stinking up this damn city. Alright, a freshly baked cake is something I'd kill for.

COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE:

Yeah coffee I guess? Rich, strong, black, with a splash of something fun, make it whiskey.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:

Woke up just yesterday 'cause my mainline was pulling back my eyelid, imagine? Scared the fuck out of him, no seriously, can sleep through a fuckin' bomb and I'm not joking. Average hours - a shitton honestly? That's how I got my very first cat - Dad got enough of me breaking down every single morning, cause fuck mornings. And he'd be like - this is Snowy, she's gonna live with us and she already had her breakfast, so get the fuck up. How'd I argue with Snowy? You don't mess with Snowy.

DOG OR CAT PERSON:

See? Check it out - cat fur. Here too. I'm claimed, man - gave up cleaning it up a long time ago. Not to be dramatic, but if there's anything human in me left - it's for them. Fur kids, all mine, what can I say. Two of them adopted - and you bet each of them has a bigger personality than an average gonk.

DREAM TRIP:

Dream trip, jeez... Somewhere not fucking hot?

FAVE FICTIONAL CHARACTER:

Balrog has style, y'know? Gotta be honest, I feel for the dude. Imagine yourself sleeping deep within the mountains for thousands of years to get awoken by a bunch of motherfuckers? I'd go nuclear too. And this one too, ehh you know GoT? The Targaryen, her, yeah. Burn them all, girl. Boss move.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH:

Man, your questions. I dunno, a half? With my ass covered, or not at all. Bed king sized, lights out, make it pitch black with the window open and you got me passed out.

RANDOM FACT:

One doesn't have to actually summon a demon to get them to come play, d'you know? There's one watching you through my eyes right fuckin' now. Should I introduce him?

Late to the party, but I remember many of y'all have more than one OC or just created new pixel babies that haven't participated yet, so I'm tagging (with no pressure):

@therealnightcity @wraithsoutlaws @sammysilverdyne @theviridianbunny @th3irin

@a-pirate @chessalein @halkuonn @luvwich @shimmer-like-agirl

@kdval @cybersteal @cyberholic77 @chevvy-yates @morganlefaye79

@anxious--ace @mhbcaps @wormskul @silver-samurai @androgymess

@winkyblinkyandstew @astarionhistears @valsilverhand @drunkchasind @themermaidriot

@pinkyjulien @skelior @medtech-mara @lokiina @timaeusterrored

@tokyofuturnoir @aggravateddurian @sifofasgard @elfjpeg @aurorartz

@lucky38-2077 @dustymagpie @gloryride @stannussy and anyone else who wants to! Also pls DM me if you don't wanna get tagged🖤

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levisrations · 9 days

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Modern! Levi x reader fluff

Warnings: none? A cat wearing a birthday hat? Certainly a lot of mistakes.

Levi has gotten cakes on his birthday, but always store bought. This year you baked and decorated it yourself. First year of your relationship you took notes of his favorite flavors and searched for a recipe online that blends in his favorite flavors into cake. You didn’t wanna make him a simple vanilla or chocolate cake, you wanted him to feel seen, even with something as simple as cake.

He gets home from work, and you’re waiting for him in the kitchen with the cake, a few balloons, his presents and a homemade banner. You and your shared cat even have hats on! As soon as he steps in the kitchen looking for you he stops in his tracks, shocked. No one besides his mother has done something like this for him. At most he’s been taken to a dinner with some friends but nothing more. To be honest he hated the attention but he’s the best man you know and he deserves this level of attention at least once. And it’s just you and him in your home so he’s not being ambushed. Well and your cat, who’s being surprisingly good with the hat on right now.

Levi can’t come up with anything to say, he’s just so surprised. He knows this took some time especially that cake. He hasn’t cried in a long time and it’s the first time since he’s felt the need to cry out of happiness in god knows how long. So he just hugs you tight, mutters his “thank yous” and “i love you so much” into your neck. Now you’re crying for real. You tell him how grateful you are for him, glad he exists and glad you know him, especially in such an intimate level.

He opens his gifts, a nice watch, some very comfortable and expensive sweatpants (Levi likes good quality stuff, he rarely shops for himself for that reason) and a nice whiskey. He loves them all, gives you a big deep kiss, hand behind your head keeping you there, then a bunch of little kisses all over while you giggle. He also gives the cat a kiss on the head.

You both sit and eat the cake, he loves it. While you eat you talk about your days, you tell Levi the plan of watching whatever he wants on the couch, after a nice long shower together, and he puts in his new sweatpants and you both cuddle with your cat on the big ass couch you bought for the place, and fall asleep hours later under some warm blankets.

#levi ackerman #levi #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #aot #levi aot #levi ackerman fluff #levi fluff

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rookthorne · 7 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐅𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

It was always a rocky road, establishing new traditions within a family. Naturally, the two men wouldn’t make it that hard, but they wouldn’t make it so easy, either — it did not mean that it would be any less fun, or any less messy, that was for sure.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ༄ Fireman!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Fireman!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ༄ 2.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ༄ Fluff, crack, food fight

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ༄ I must admit, this was some of the most fun I have had writing. I couldn't stop laughing.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ༄ Almost (Sweet Music) by Hozier

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ༄ @rookthorne's Fright Night — Masterlist

𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Navigating the household that belonged to the two men that lay slumbering was no easy feat – not when there were two puppies hellbent on disrupting the peace of the early morning with their yips and demands for attention.

“Babies, babies- Come on, quiet now,” you hissed, petting their heads hastily. The loungewear you had thrown on when you clambered out of bed was being attacked by paws, claws, and tongues as the two puppies jumped from their crates. “Hush, shh!”

Cap and Cleo just stared at you from the floor, heads tilted. “Inside voices, alright?” you pleaded, scratching their chins. “They’re asleep–don’t wanna wake them up now, do you?” They huffed and grumbled low in their throats, then sat back on the floor. “Exactly. Let’s get you some breakfast and then you can go outside and play.”

The two puppies inhaled their breakfast with as little as a tail wag, and then they stormed outside onto the dewy grass that was covered in fallen leaves. You sighed and closed the sliding door behind them, chuckling as they tumbled through the leaves and chased one another.

Fall had arrived faster than you could anticipate, and with it, you were itching to get started for Halloween – carving pumpkins, drinking hot chocolate (which Bucky and Steve splashed a bit of whiskey in, ignorant of your displeasure), and heading into town for the Fall Markets.

Today, however, you had warned them that you were breaking out the flour and sugar; it was bake day, a tradition you had come up with on the spot when you had searched the web for Halloween cakes.

Bucky and Steve were both still asleep. When you had shuffled down the mattress to throw on some clothes, Bucky was the only one to stir, and he pulled Steve close in place of you. The sight warmed your heart.

It didn’t stop you from walking to the kitchen and mentally preparing for what was to come, though.

With Cap and Cleo fed and outside, you turned the coffee maker on with a whirl and you grabbed three mugs from the cabinet. “This should wake them up,” you mumbled as you placed the mugs in a line in front of the machine that hissed and gurgled as it worked.

The smell of fresh brew filled the kitchen, and you turned to the pantry, determined to set out the ingredients for what was needed.

“Flour.” A large white bag hit the counter with a dull thud. “Sugar.” The small container of raw sugar and the larger tub of granulated sugar thumped onto the counter. “What about- Hmm.” You stopped and stared at the shelves of spices, eyeing off the cinnamon amongst many others. “Fuck it.” The cinnamon moved to the counter as well as the salt and baking powder.

All of the other ingredients you needed lined the counter after a few more twirls, and you stopped to consider just how you were going to pull this off. The recipe, one you had found during your hunt for the perfect cake, promised that this was ‘The most faboolous Halloween treat’, and while the photo certainly made that impression, you were not the most successful baker – average at best, you hoped.

You hummed and looked towards the bedroom door where Bucky and Steve slept. They would have their work cut out for them, you decided – you needed their help.

The coffee machine beeped and steam flew from the now full jug of coffee. “Perfect timing.”

Just as you started to pour the dark, smooth, god-send of a liquid, you heard footsteps down the hall. Arms wrapped around your middle and you were pulled into a warm, strong chest. A chin rested on your shoulder and the person huffed.

“Good mornin’, Cherry, baby,” Bucky rasped, and he kissed you on the cheek. “Whatcha makin’? Smells good.”

“Hey, Buck,” you replied, smiling at him. “Coffee–I need yours and Stevie’s help today. Do you think you could go wake him up?”

He sighed. “Do we gotta, sweetheart? That bastard is grumpy in the mornin’s.”

“Yes, we do. And we're baking today, remember,” you reminded him, pointing a spoon at his nose. It dripped coffee as he pouted. “Please go wake your husband up.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, and he let go of you to pad back towards the bedroom. You turned then to look at him – grey sweats hung low on his hips and he shuffled his feet while he rubbed his eyes. His hair was in a messy bun that had more strands loose than tied back. “I can feel you starin’.”

“And?”

Bucky looked over his shoulder and winked before he disappeared behind the door of the bedroom. There was a squeak from the mattress, then a whooping call. “Wake up, husband!”

A loud groan answered Bucky’s shout and you chuckled. The springs of the mattress creaked and another grunt of surprise. “Get off’a me, you bastard,” Steve barked.

“Nope,” Bucky replied, and there was laughter in his voice. “Cherry said you had t’a get up, so you are gettin’ up, you lazy son of a bitch.”

“Boys!” you yelled over the arguing, and they fell silent. “I have coffee. Get your butts out here.”

There were rapid footsteps hurrying down the hall after your words, and you giggled. “I got ‘im!” Bucky said proudly, puffing up his chest. “See, it worked.”

You rolled your eyes and looked at Steve, who was blinking and smiling sleepily at you. “Hey, darlin’.” His body was warm as he pulled you into a hug, and you sighed happily. “Now that you sent this oaf after me, what are we doing?”

“We are baking a cake–I made sure to have everything ready.” You pointed at the ingredients lined on the counter, and Bucky reached over to grab his and Steve’s cup of coffee. “And you know I need my two best helpers to make this work. So, Buck,” you said, looking at him.

He stared back at you with wide eyes over his coffee mug, and he hastily swallowed before standing to attention. “Ma’am?”

You snorted. “You are on mixing duty. The bowls are there, and I need these amounts,” you explained, handing him a slip of paper with measurements for both the dry and wet ingredients. “Don’t forget, different bowls for the wet and dry.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky said seriously with a salute. He marched to the counter, straight-backed and with perfect military precision.

“Drama queen,” Steve muttered.

“And you,” you piped in before Bucky could snipe back. “I will get you to help me with the oven and pouring the mixture into the trays.”

“Got it.” Steve walked over to the cupboard that held the baking trays and pulled out a few to prepare them. You couldn’t help but stare at his navy sweats as they clung to his ass, and the tight, white tank top that was far too tight over his chest. “You stare any longer, honey, and we’ll be baking this cake on our own.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, averting your eyes as both Bucky and Steve chortled. “Anyway, I will get the things needed for icing–I want to make it purple and orange. What do you two think?” They hummed an ascension and you walked to the fridge to get the cream, having already organised the dye earlier.

The three of you worked together to start the cake off, somewhat successfully. Bucky was covered in flour after a much too enthusiastic moment of mixing, and Steve, the smug bastard, had thrown a handful of it at his husband and it landed on target – the side of Bucky’s head, turning his brown locks into white.

“You motherfu-”

“Language!” you laughed, arching a brow. “Or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Since the fuck when!” Bucky argued, his mouth falling slack at the incredulity. “I’ve been swearin’ like a sailor this whole damn time and only now you have a problem wi-”

A cloud of flour exploded over his chest and neck, forcing him to clamp his mouth shut so he wouldn’t inhale the powdered mess. You lowered your hand, now covered in the incriminating evidence, as Bucky blinked and coughed; clouds of white exploding around him.

“Cherry, run!” Steve warned, but you couldn’t move – you were rooted to the spot as your heart hammered and you fought the urge to laugh hysterically.

Bucky put the bowl in his hands down on the counter, shaking his head from the worst of the mess. His eyes found yours, and he stared – a flash of playful anger danced in his eyes before they darkened, that mischievous glint you were oh so used to there to stay. “Yeah, Cherry,” he said slowly, deeply. “You better fuckin’ run, ‘cause if I catch you…”

You hightailed it from the kitchen with a squeal of laughter, your feet slapping on the tile as you bolted towards the dining room. “Oh, shit!”

All you could hear over the pounding of blood in your ears and Bucky’s feet on the floor as he chased you was Steve’s laughter in the kitchen – you could see him bent double by the oven, barely able to stay upright in his mirth. “Steven Grant! Help me!”

“You’re on your own,” Steve called, finally sinking to his knees in the kitchen, unable to stand any longer.

“You bastard!” you hollered back, dodging Bucky’s hands as he rounded the table. “Help me!”

“No one can, Cherry! I’ll get you!” Bucky sang, and he launched himself at you.

You shrieked and dodged to the side before running off again, this time straight back to the kitchen and directly towards Steve, whose bed head was all of what you could see of the blond, his head bowed in hysterics while his shoulders shook from laughter.

“Think fast!” you said quickly, and you jumped behind him, crouching behind his bulk as Bucky skidded to a halt. Steve straightened and held his arms out, placing himself firmly between the fuming brunette and you. “Thank you, finally you’re useful.”

“Excuse me?” Steve huffed. “For that, you can deal with ‘im on your own.” He put his arms down just as Bucky grinned wickedly.

You watched, transfixed with fear, as Bucky’s hand dug into the bag of flour. “Barnes, no, don’t- Don’t do it.”

“Or what?” he challenged, stilling his hand. “What will you do?”

“I will forbid you from having any cake, or cookies, that I bake!” The threat didn’t dissuade him, however.

Flour flew through the air and landed square on your middle while the residue fell to your thighs, and then onto the floor. Bucky cheered and fist pumped. “Bullseye!”

You looked down at your body, then back up at Bucky with a smirk. “Oh, it’s on now.” Launching yourself forward, you hugged Bucky tightly and spread the loose flour on his own shirt. As he groaned and squirmed to get out of your grip, you pushed him back so you could dig your own hand into the bag of flour.

“Cher-” Bucky warned, but he was cut off by a fistful of flour hitting him dead in the face. He sneezed continually and shook his head while you laughed. White powder covered his face and caked his stubble. The entirety of his front was covered and he looked like your very own Casper the Ghost. “Goddammit!”

Before you knew what was happening, another ball of the ammunition of choice landed on the back of your neck. You whirled around to see Steve’s hand covered in the powder. “That’s it!” you hollered. “All bets are off now.”

Flour flew through the air, landing on every surface of the kitchen and turning it white, much like your clothes, skin, and hair. You could hear laughter and curses as projectiles hit their targets, and the more you threw, the worse the cloud of white became until you could barely see where you were aiming.

“Uncle! Uncle–oh my god,” Steve coughed, and through the haze, you saw him bent double and panting for breath. He was as white as a sheet, and his eyes, the ocean blue you had fallen for, popped in the contrast of the flour that caked his face.

Bucky huffed and landed one final hit to finish off – right on top of Steve’s head. “Serves you right, fucker,” he said.

You panted and looked around the kitchen as the clouds of white settled. It was a mess – flour covered every surface, and the cake that you had put so much thought into sat abandoned on the counter with far too much flour to be worth saving.

“We made a right mess,” you sighed. “Look at it, and the cake can’t be saved.”

“Wasn’t my idea,” Bucky petulantly stated, crossing his arms. The action made another cascade of flour fall to the floor. “You two started it.”

“Did not,” Steve grumbled, frowning at Bucky. “Bastard.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk!”

“Boys!” They both looked at you, brows furrowed. “Let’s get cleaned up and then we can clean the kitchen, okay? We have a cake to bake, and this time, actually bake.”

“We look like ghosts,” Steve said suddenly, and he pointed at Bucky and you. “Look.”

“Oh my god, we do!” you giggled, while Bucky stared, unimpressed, between the two of you. “Fine. Come on.”

They followed you to the bathroom, and after over an hour of cleaning the flour from one another’s hair, you ventured back into the kitchen, hands on your hips. Bucky grumbled and pouted while he wiped down counters, and Steve huffed while he vacuumed and mopped the floor.

By the end of the afternoon, you stood proudly between the two men as you looked at the final product of all of the combined hard work – a triple layered cake, covered in white icing with small orange pumpkins decorating the bottom ring. Cutouts of purple bats and black cats covered the top. “It’s so pretty,” you whispered.

“We did good,” Bucky replied, kissing Steve and then you on the cheek. “But I think I know how to make it better.”

“How?”

“We eat it.”

Steve sighed and shook his head. “You’re impossible, babe.”

“What?” Bucky asked, looking at Steve. You turned and put your hands on Bucky’s chest, forcing him to walk backwards and away from the cake. He put his arms out with his palms up in a shrug, and he dug his heels in. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“After all I went through to make the damn thing?” you asked, arching a brow at him, and you pushed harder, making him stumble. “You won’t touch a single dollop of icing.”

Bucky sighed and hung his head. “Fine, whatever.”

“Drama queen!” Steve called from the kitchen, and Bucky flipped him off while you shook your head.

“You both are,” you said with an air of finality. “And I love you both for it.”

“We love you, too,” they both said at the same time, and then they devolved into an argument over who loved you more.

“No, punk–that’s a fuckin’ lie-”

“How would you know; all you love is her fucking baking.”

“I do! And the rest of her!”

You sighed and stared at the cake behind Steve’s back, happy that you had at least maintained the new tradition – not without causing havoc, but you would choose to have that flour fight as part of it, ‘till the end of time.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x female reader #stucky x f!reader #stucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #stucky fanfiction #stucky fluff #rookthorne's works

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lookashiny · 5 months

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(via Flourless Chocolate Whiskey Cake with Chocolate Whiskey Pudding Sauce - Baker by Nature)

#recipe #cake #chocolate #whiskey #flourless

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readychilledwine · 5 months

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From This Day Until Our Last

Summary - what do you buy the male who says he has everything he could ever want? Lyria has an answer, but her answer comes with a cost she's more than happy to pay

Warnings - smut, love making

A/n - The end of Azriel and Lyria is here unless I decide to come back to them for some random spice. 💙 where one Vanserra door closes, another opens, though. I'm staring at you, Lollipop lovers. 👀

Lyria and Azriel moved to doors of the townhouse, waving goodbye to everyone as they left the solstice party.

Rhys and Cassian were smirking at her, excited to hear about the present she had waiting for Azriel. Feyre smiled knowingly, the only one besides Eris and Lucien who knew what was waiting in Azriel's cabin.

He used his shadows to take them to the cabin faster, secretly excited and anxious to see what was waiting. "I need you to hide out in our room for a little bit while I get it ready," Lyria whispered as he backed her into the doorway. His mouth hovering above hers. "15 minutes tops. I promise."

Azriel stood, and nodded. He went instantly, following her request and not noticing the bags and boxes sitting on the counter.

Lyria went to work, pulling out the box from the fridge. She thanked Feyre in her mind for covering for her tonight regarding why she was late, and for secretly rerouting her mate's missions to his group of spies.

She pulled out the cake she had purchased for him, placing it on the pretty craved crystal plate, and smiled. Rhys had told her which bakery made it and convinced the owners to teach Lyria how to bake it for this one-time special purpose.

It was absolutely perfect. Cherries sat in swirled dark chocolate on milk chocolate frosting. On a chocolate cake with cherries baked inside and a middle cherry filling. To Azriel, there was never enough chocolate in the world. This cake was his absolute favorite due to its "complexity and layers," he had tried explaining to her one night as he was validating eating the whole thing within a 12 hour period.

She moved to the bag closest to her, grabbing the Autumn Court whiskey he had been hoping to try, but had not had the chance to. Knowing he would be very excited after having watched his jealous reaction to Rhysand and Cassian receiving a bottle from her as well. She centered it on the table, along with the gift Eris and Lucien had asked her to give him in private from all her brothers. A dagger and spidersilk gloves.

She took a few stilling breaths, whispering goodbye to the last few moments of her life as a technically unattached female.

There was no running after this, no way put that wouldn't destroy both of them. She had no doubts, though. She had never loved anyone else this deeply and unconditionally. She had never wanted anyone else this badly. She had never wanted anything the way she wanted to be his.

A shadow weaved into her hair before resting against her cheek. "Tell your daddy he can come out." She straightened herself and her dress. Instantly chewing on her lip out of nerves and her hands came in front of her, thumbs circling around each other in a dance.

Azriel paused when he came back to the little kitchen and dining room. "Lyria, what is this?" His voice broke a little, his eyes starting to water.

"Can you come sit down please?"

Azriel sat across from her, holding his hands out to take hers. "I love you," she stated simply. "And I can't imagine a world where I'm not yours."

She had a speech planned, but as she stared into his eyes, those spell binding emerald and golden eyes, everything went out of her mind. She had seen Azriel vulnerable, but the softness in his face, the joy in his eyes, the way he was already fighting tears, this was new to her. "I had this whole beautiful thing planned, and I can't remember what I honestly wanted to say."

Azriel laughed, his eyes sparkling. "You don't need to say anything, I can feel it everyday. You never close the bond. I can sit here, though while you think of your speech."

His eyes were glimmering with excitement and mischief. Lyria handed him the letter from Eris, then the package containing a dagger identical to all the ones she had made for her brothers as a teen, and those indestructible gloves.

The dagger had been a gift her father suggested as a joke to her. He had not realized his young daughter would find a way to get 7 illyrian steel daggers made. Now, an 8th one sat in a red and gold package, paid for by her 5 remaining brothers to ensure their newest sibling would also have the same dagger.

Azriel took the letter, "if you truly love me you'd open that whiskey your brothers won't stop raving about." His tone was playful as he used Truth-teller to open the letter.

As he read the fine lettering, Lyria opened the bottle of whiskey. It smelled like home. Like cloves, apples, and cinnamon. His shadows brought her his favorite glass and she poured it. They then brought her a knife as she turned to hand her mate the beverage. "Impatient little creatures," she whispered softly, allowing one to nuzzle into her hair and on her cheek.

Azriel didn't respond, his eyes were locked in on the letter, his expression unreadable. "Can you hand me the box, baby?" He finally asked, his throat tight.

Lyria handed it to him, her hands slightly shaking. "Did he tell you what it is?"

Azriel shook his head. "No, just that you made sure all of your brothers had one, so Eris and Lucien wanted to ensure I had one too." Azriel gently pulled the satin red ribbons, freeing the top of the box and opening it.

He pulled the dagger out, immediately knowing the weight of it was something much more familiar to him than it would have been an Autumn court male. "And how, little fox, did you get illyrian steel?"

Lyria looked down. "I um… there's one Illyrian blacksmith in the Autumn Court. He is close to the border of Winter, and I tracked him down when I was 16, and gave him a lot of money and tada?"

He watched as she rocked back on her feet, her lip tucked between her teeth. "Dangerous." He said simply before unsheathing the dagger. He whistled softly, admiring the ornately carved metal, it was almost too pretty to use with its dancing razor sharp leaves and dark brown leather hilt. The blade was made of mainly illyrian steel, but she had asked the blacksmith an almost impossible task.

She had asked him to marry the steel with Autumn Court's tradition of working gold into blades. "You never intended for them to use these?"

She nodded. "It was meant to be a beautiful thing. To remind them of home, of what we've all been fighting against, what we still fight for." Their mother, Azriel realized slowly. "Eris displays his in his office with a portrait of mother and I. Lucien keeps his at side, normally tucked near his heart. My other brothers keep theirs in their rooms in their night stands."

Azriel looked at her. "Lucien keeps a small portrait of you Feyre painted in a locket by his heart as well." She nodded. "They worship the ground you walk on." Azriel finished the letter in silence, now feeling those smooth but heavy gloves and sipping the whiskey with a small smile etched into his face.

Lyria took out the smaller box she had hidden, the one from her mother and Helion and slid it over to him. "You aren't supposed to open this infront of me."

Azriel held the small box, knowing immediately what was inside. He had flown to Helion a few weeks ago, asking the male for Lyria's hand, and then to her mother that day he also appeared from the shadows, watching as she spun threads And asking her the same.

He knew inside was a ring containing a large centered stone starlight colored stone. It was surrounded by Autumn's beloved moss gemstones and black diamonds, set in Day Court rose gold.

It had cost him a year of salary, but having her mother and true father check and approve the ring was too important to Azriel to pass up.

"I do not see a reason as to why I couldn't. It is your solstice gift after all." He began to open it. Removing the black velvet box from the container and opening it quickly with a smile before setting it in front of her. "It appears we had similar intentions, Lyria." He opened the box with one hand, staring at her.

Silence fell between the two of them. Comfortable heart warming silence as they unknowingly confirmed to each other they were on the same page. "Did.. Did you still want me to serve you cake?" Lyria's voice broke as her tears welled up. "We can wait."

Azriel shook his head, standing to slide the ring on her finger. "I see no point in us waiting for a wedding to be mated. Do you want me to do this properly?"

She shook her head, holding her left hand out. There was no need for long-winded speeches. For words of love to pass between them, there was no need to beg nor validate why they were doing this.

In this moment, all those things were dancing through the bond, serenading both of them in comfort, joy, and unconditional love and devotion.

Azriel put the ring on her finger, pulling her close to him and tilting her face. "I love you." The statement was final. There was no arguments to be had, pretty words to dress it to be more than it needed to be.

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

Azriel couldn't resist anymore, his hands trembling as he kissed her deeply and then rested his forehead on hers. “Cut the cake.”

He watched her like a hawk as those hands, those lovely hands, that started all of this cut into his favorite cake. He has been mesmerized by her pretty dress, the way her hair was curled and loose, the light makeup. Now, though, lust and longing fueled him. He didn't need a damn cake to solidify and accept that bond with her.

Not when his favorite treat was hidden between her pretty thighs.

She placed the slice in front of him, covering the rest and waited. He watched as she bit her lip and played with her hair. The normal signs of her nervousness coming into play.

They had sex countless times, sometimes multiple times throughout a day, never leaving her or his bed unless the need for food called. But it had never been sex like this. Sex that sealed them together forever. Sex that made her his, and he hers. He ate the cake, watching her again as she did the few dishes they had made.

He finished it in record time, going to her without grabbing the plate and standing behind her.

Lyria was a neat freak, while his mind had already begun to zero in on her, hers was locking on the dish behind them. She turned to grab it, gasping as a scarred hand gripped her by the back of her neck, turning her and pulling her into a deep kiss.

There was nothing gentle about what Azriel had in mind. He lifted her, carrying her to his room with those legs wrapped around his waist and laid them on the bed. Shadows were immediately on her, brushing her neck, her cleavage, into her dress.

Lyria thought she was on fire. The bond was screaming so loudly in her chest she could hardly breathe, and when she did, all she could breathe was him, all she could feel was him.

Azriel pulled away, flipping her over and unlacing the corset back of her dress. Every teasing brush of his rough fingers caused her to shiver. When he finished pulling that last piece loose, he pulled her up by her arms, growling as the beautiful dress fell down her body into a pool.

She had worn nothing below it, her bare body now exposed to him completely. “I've been thinking about how much better that'd look on the floor all damn night.” He pushed her down by her back, wasting zero time kicking her legs apart and removing his own clothing.

While his mind had locked on rough punishing sex, his heart ached for something else. For more. Azriel picked her back up gently again, turning her and tilting her head to place gentle kisses on her lips.

He felt every ounce of tension leaving her, melting down the bond completely as she relaxed into him. He laid them back down, pulling away. “Get on the pillows, princess.”

Lyria felt heat pooling in her core. She pushed her body back, resting against his silky sheets and felt her legs just dropping apart for him. Azriel growled in response, leaning in to kiss her neck. His hand immediately went to her soaking core, running along the length of it before barely brushing her clit. “Gonna worship you,” he murmured into her skin. “Love you so good you forget every moment of pain.”

Lyria gasped, her hips grinding against his hand, breaking every rule they had. “Take what you want baby,” Azriel kissed into her skin. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” the bond forced her to say. “Mother above, I just want you. Every second of every day I want you.” Azriel pushed two wet fingers in, curving them as he moved to kiss her deeply.

“Then you will have me, from this day forward until our last.” He began pulling her apart, using his fingers to open her up gently. “You know we have family breakfast tomorrow right?” She shook her head, focusing on the pleasure of him stretching her as he teased her. “We will skip it then.”

“Stop. Teasing,” Azriel pulled back surprised, keeping his fingers in time and rhythm with her hips movements as she chased her high. Lyria had growled. Growled at him.

He didn't know if it was the frenzy, or the anticipation she must have felt for weeks planning this, but it had Azriel desperate for her. He pulled his fingers out, taking them and running them along his aching cock. “I can't wait, princess.”

Azriel lined up and slid home, both of them going completely silent as the bond began to shimmer and dance, glittering from silver to gold.

Her legs were instantly around his trim waist, hands shooting to his upper arms and she began to whimper below him, begging him to move.

Azriel gave a gentle teasing thrust, then began.

He made sure each movement was deep and hard, hitting those spots that had her eyes rolling back and mouth hanging open as she moaned and cried in pleasure below him. “Feels so good,” she mumbled. “So so good.”

Every drag was delicious, filling her completely and knocking any second of doubt she had from her mind. Her legs squeezed his waist tighter, nails digging into his arm as he lifted her hips allowing him deeper into her. “Love you so much, Azriel.”

He went down to her immediately, kissing her deeply as he continued to make love to her. Her hands went to his back, brushing his wings accidentally. They were moaning in time, the tension building between them at the same rate. “Right there, angel,” he whispered into her neck. She nodded in return, eagerly moaning his name into his ear.

It took a few more moments, a few more deep well placed thrusts and she came, walls milking him. She cried his name, nails running down his back. He followed her over the edge, releasing into her and biting into her neck to try to hid the whimpers tearing at his throat at how heavenly and tight she felt.

He held her tight as they came down, head buried in her neck. “I love you,” he whispered. Then repeated it again. And again. And again. His hands laced into her red hair, scratching her scalp. “I love you.”

Lyria pushed him up slightly, forcing him to stare into her eyes, “And I love you. From this day until our last.”

“And well beyond that,” he held his pinky to her, watching as she wrapped hers around it, sealing that promise with a small mark staining their skin.

#acotar #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x vanserra!oc #azriel x oc #elizabeths.maternitycelebration

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honeygrahambitch · 3 months

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Wedding cake shenanigans

"Alright. Ready?" Hannibal asked as he handed Will a fork.

"So ready."

"We have to take this very seriously, Will."

"Relax and count on my sugar tooth."

Hannibal pulled a chair and sat down in front of Will. Various sortiments of cakes were resting on the table in front of their eyes.

"And I suppose you know what every cake contains? Every cake?"

"Yes. Pick one to begin with, dearest."

Will's gaze fell on the cakes. He pulled some of them closer to have a better look. He was examining them as if they were a boat engine which needed to be repaired.

"This." He said as he pulled a chocolate one between them.

"Sachertorte. Excellent choice. Austrian cake made from chocolate and apricot Marmelade."

Will nodded in approval and sank his fork into it, followed by Hannibal who was more interested in Will's reaction. He admired the way he frowned as he chewed slowly and had another bite. And another. But the delight was not on his facial features.

"What do you think, darling?"

"It's good. More Marmelade would definitely make a difference. Do we rate them?"

"Like in a tiktok video?"

"I mean, you use that app, I do not. But, sure, like in a tiktok video."

"Yes, we rate them, then."

"8/10. You?"

"6/10."

"Alright, Doctor, and here we thought I would be the difficult one."

"Will, I will always appreciate Sachertorte but I feel like it would be too basic for our wedding. Too simple. Choose another one."

Will sighed dramatically even if, in fact, he did not mind eating as much cake as he wanted.

"This."

Hannibal sighed loudly.

"Why do we even have a red velvet slice if you have a problem with it?" Will asked an arched an eyebrow as he greedily sunk his fork into it.

"The one thing that I love is the red and white contrast. It is aesthetic enough for what I have in mind. But as far as I'm aware, it's been extremely overused."

Will grabbed another bite and fed Hannibal.

"A bit too dry. But the cream is nice. 7/10" Will commented as he watched Hannibal think about it, as if it was the most important decision in his life.

"5/10. It has no flavor. Just sugar. And I agree, too dry. If it was not for the color, it would have been a well deserved 4/10."

Will laughed. "Choose another one."

"This. Sponge bathed in whiskey, dark chocolate and mint-orange glaze."

Will made a face which Hannibal pretended to ignore and they both tried it while their gazes remained locked.

"This is as if you had sex and then immediately went to wash the dishes."

"Elaborate on that." Hannibal said with an amused smile on his lips. Watching Will trying so many cakes was one of the most entertaining things they had ever done.

"So the texture is great, and the orange bit is also great...and that would be the orgasm. And if it ended there, the cake would have been brilliant. But then there's the mint. Tastes like toothpaste. Then there's the dark chocolate. Too bitter. So instead of having a nice ending... you end up regretting life choices."

"Wonderful description. I am not a fan of the toothpaste taste. But the subtle whiskey flavour is lovely."

"I was harassed by so many flavors at the same time that I could not even identify the whiskey. A 4/10 for that."

"I will give it a 6. It has potential. Your turn."

Will looked at the remaining cakes and immediately went for the cheesecake to Hannibal's dismay.

"A passion fruit cheesecake. But it can be other type of fruit too."

"But?" Will asked as he dug in.

"It's... cheesecake. I can make it for you any other day. It does not scream "wedding"."

"Well, now we know the issue. You want our cake to scream. That should not be a problem, right?" He said as he devoured the slice.

"I unfortunately cannot incorporate human meat in our cake. Since you insisted to get it done somewhere else."

"I don't want all that pressure on you. You shouldn't be doing so much while I am not doing anything. You are definitely worrying about the decor, the flowers, the invitations, the food, the suits-"

"I am not worrying, I actually enjoy doing most of the planning. And you are doing enough by tasting the cakes. You are helping a lot. The other things would not be as entertaining to you anyway."

Will knew he was right. "Well, thank you. And everything you have updated me on with looks brilliant. I think navy blue and silver are a great combination."

"You remembered it was navy blue." Hannibal said as he was about to propose to him once again.

"Of course." Will said as he finished the cake. "9/10."

"0/10 since you ate it all."

"Oh. Next."

The next five cakes were not it. They were either too dry, too basic, too sweet, too flavoury, nor flavoury enough.

"This was all?" Will asked as if he did not tried 9 types of cake.

"I am afraid so. We can try a different cake shop tomorrow."

"No. I have a better idea. The best compromise."

"I'm listening."

"We both like a moist sponge. And we both like coffee. And we both like Italy."

"Tiramisu."

"Exactly."

"You are pulling the Italy card because you know I will not refuse it."

"That and also the fact that we actually really like Tiramisu."

"I love you so much that I could marry you right here in the kitchen."

"I would gladly do it here in the kitchen."

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal series

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boozenboze · 1 year

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Scream For Me~

Tf 141 x Ghostface!Male reader

Summary: After failing to detain and possibly recruit SCREAM, a new recruit ends up enlisting

This is a continuation of the last GhostFace reader fanfic

Females She/Her She/They DNI

M/n could be seen wiping of the blood from his mask, some of the blood being caked onto it leaving light red stains.

"Assholes made me twist my damn ankle." The male muttered as he continued to scrub the blood off his mask. He placed the mask on the side to dry before a sudden static came from his T.V . The male turned around and looked at the T.V until the news channel came on. The male sucked his teeth before going to his cabinet and grabbing a snack. Those fve politics were at the top of the headlines, and the reporters discussed the writing that had been left at the scene.

"For the families watching at home, we'd like to warn you the following images sha'll be disturbing. Viewer discretion advised." The female reporter said as the screen faded before showing the writing. It was obviously written in blood due to its crimson red color.

"I WILL BRING BACK THE TRUE MEANING OF HORROR" Is what was written on the brick wall, a few intestines could be seen in the corner.

"I WILL MAKE YOU SCREAM" Was the final thing shown on the screen. The h/c haired male smirked, letting out a chuckle in response to his own words.

"I sure as hell will." The male said as his phone buzzed. He smiled at the venmo of $800 dollars, and examined the picture of a black haired woman as well as a short description on where she'd be. The males smirk got wider before grabbing the now dry mask, examining his f/c dyed hair and leaving the apartment.

"I think i'm gonna be sick." Gaz spoke as he past the picture back to Price after examining it. The Task Force along with Laswell had met at the bar to discuss the SCREAM situation.

"How are we gonna catch the bastard?" Soap asked as he took a sip of his whiskey. Ghost glanced at him before turning his attention back to the table in front of him.

"He hurt his ankle, I saw him limping when he was running from me." Ghost said as Laswell hummed in response. At that moment, a new face came through the bars door. An f/c haired male examined the bar as many others around stared at him with interest. The guys watched him as he took a seat at the other end of the bar.

"Well isn't he a sight for sore eyes." Laswell said with a smirk on her face, seeing how the Task Force hadn't taken their eyes off the man. The men looked away in shame but Ghost kept his eyes on him, noticing how his eyes examined the place. It was almost as if he was looking for someone. The bartender approached him and the male looked like he was glaring hard. The man took his order before making his drink. E/c eyes met Ghosts chocolate ones, and Ghost saw how the males eyes widened before looking away.

"Seems like you caught his attention L.T ." Soap said teasingly with a hint of jealousy in his tone. A few moments passed by and thats when a black haired woman stepped in. The f/c haired male abruptly stood up and made his way to the door. As he passed up Laswell, his phone began to ring which caught their attention. He stopped not to far away from them before answering the call.

"Hello?" The male answered while eyeing the woman that was now seated where he originally was.

"Yeah I'm a block away, you said it was a brick building right?"He continued as he began to exit the premises. Price looked at Laswell and she reciprocated his actions and nodded her head. He gave the others a look before they all stood up and followed right behind him.

Timeskip

“I don’t see you anywhere are you sure your on the right block?” The woman said as she glanced down the alleyway the f/c haired male said he was coming towards. The lady looked around in slight fear when she heard a bag rustle near one of the dumpsters.

“Hey I think I see you....wait hold on can you wave?” The male asked on the other end as she proceeds to lift her arm and wave her hand.

“I see someone.... wait they have a knife! Holy sh-!” The male screamed on the other end of the phone as the lady started yelling.

“Hey...hey! Are you okay what happened?!” The lady yelled in worry as a new voice came on the line.

“Hello Mira.~” A dissorted voice said on the other end of the phone.

“W-who is this...?” She responds nervously as a deep chuckle rang through her ear.

“I don’t know...but I do know who you are~.”The voice said as her eyes widened. “Your the dumb bitch in every horror movie, who always wanders away from the crowd. Hell, you were dumb enough to walk into an alleyway alone.” The voice explained as she looked in every direction.

At that moment her phone died and a wave of panic ran through her body. Suddenly, pressure could be felt around her throat as she was slammed into the concrete walls. A sudden pain was felt in her gut and she tried to scream, but the pressure against her throat made it hard to do so.

The sudden jabs of a knife going in and out of her gut could be heard, as well as her drowned out scream. SCREAM retracted his hold around her throat before slashing the knife across her chest. The man stared at his work, smiling slightly. Nobody would miss her to much, besides she had no family plus she was part of the cartel.

Timeskip

The Task Force had lost sight of the f/c haired male moments ago, but the muffled screams are what caught Ghosts attention which led them all where they were now. The man whom they failed to catch before, standing in front of a mutilated corpse. The male wiped his knife before pulling out his phone and taking a picture of his work, and sending it to his payer.

The male turned around and saw the Task Force staring back at him. He lifted his knife and waved with his other hand before kicking the corpse and running off. Price began to run after him and Soap went the other way to hopefully block the males path.

It was another game of cat and mouse, except this time they were determined to capture the real life scream. Knowing that the suspect would probably throw something at them to slow them down. So, when Price ran into him he threw a box of matches at him, causing the masked man to loose his footing. To top it off, Gaz was following close behind so he was able to wrap his arms around the mans neck. He applied pressure to his hold in attempts of making the masked man pass out.

Unexpectedly and without warning, SCREAM wrapped his arms around Gaz's torso before hoisting himself up and kicking Price square in the face. He used the rest of his strength to lift himself up higher before wrapping his legs around Gaz's neck and slamming his head onto the ground. Both men groaned in pain as SCREAM ran off agian, not even taking a chance to catch his breath. He ran down a few more blocks before he made it to his vehicle. He got in the backseat and ripped all of his clothes off, specifically the old coat and mask before hopping into the drives seat. He turned his car on and took a deep breath to try and regain his composure. He let out a startled yelp when he turned to his side and saw a dirty blonde women with her haired pulled back looking at him. She did a circular motion with her finger, signalling him to roll his window down. He rose a brow, keeping a good grip on his gloved knife.

"Hey, sorry to bother you...I was wondering if you heard any screaming?" The woman asked as M/n furrowed his brows in response.

"I'm sorry I didn't hear anything...I was looking for my date." M/n explained as Laswell hummed, but it wasn't one in belief. They maintained eye contact for a while before Laswell sighed.

“Alright... thank you anyways.” Laswell said as the male smiled in response.

Timeskip

The h/c haired male woke up and had already removed the dye from his scalp, revealing his natural h/c hair. The man yawned as he grabbed his phone and saw the date. His eyes widened as he sprung up from his bed. In case your curious the e/c eyed male had been enlisted in the military. Crazy right? Well it isn’t and heres why. He had been in the military at one time, his code name being what it is currently. Had he been fired..no...did he just disappear without a trace....yes. Like mentioned before, theres no other information on him because just like in the Scream movies he wanted his identity to be anonymous until it was time to reveal himself. Now here he is,putting on his black uniform and small accessories. Like before, his new file would have no useful information about him, only his code name which would be C/n.

Timeskip

M/n was being shown around the base, pairs of eyes being on him as he walked by. As fast as he got there was just as fast as rumors about him being there was brewing. The Task Force, Soap specifically, overheard a few soilders talking about him which made him curious. He had told the other members and they were suprised just like some others, and had also became curious on this new guy. This led them to go to the cafeteria where everyone was eating. Their eyes scanned for an unfamiliar face for a while until they caught it. S/c skin, e/c eyes, and h/c hair. A very beautiful man sitting near a few other’s that had been attempting to make conversation with him.

Gaz and Soap being kinda eager to introduce themselves made their way over to the male who seemed to have already noticed them. When they made it over the male stared at them with shiny e/c eyes, that seemed to draw them closer.

“Hello my names Gaz, who might you be?” The brown skinned male asked as the male chuckled. He tilted his head before smiling at him.

“It’s c/n and heres a bit of advice.” The male said as he looked the two men dead in the eyes.

“Never trust the new guy”

#male reader #cod x male reader #gaz x male reader #lgbtq #mw2 x male reader #captain price x male reader #soap x male reader #ghost x male reader #male y/n #gay

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makeyoumine69 · 7 months

Text

Call Me Babydoll 3

— PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: This game of cat and mouse between you and Patrick continues, and it seems that his patience is thinning. During a very heated makeout session, Patrick finds out about a shameful secret of yours.

— CONTAINS: Smut, Dom Patrick, semi-public masturbation (female receiving), Patrick being an asshole (as always), cursing, use of pet names (babydoll, etc), mentions of food, a little bit of corruption kink, Daddy kink, dry humping, dirty talk, nipple tugging/sucking/biting.

— WORDS: 3.3k

— A/N: Hey guys, thanks a lot for your support and patience! I'm so happy you like my story and I hope you enjoy this chapter too!🤞

— LINKS: [Ch.2]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]; [buy me a coffee]💓

Your favorite local café welcomed you with the invigorating aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Despite the fact that it was quite crowded tonight, you couldn't stop smiling because you had been dreaming about that delicious cup of cappuccino since the morning.

"I can't believe you dragged me into this shithole," Patrick scowled in disgust, ignoring all the curious glances from the group of women sitting at the table next to the exit. "I was ready for anything but this..."

"You could just send your driver after me if you didn't want to leave Manhattan," you unbuttoned your coat, took it off and casually handed it to Bateman — the poor guy didn't even know how to react, so he just took it and held it over his hand. "Why don't you buy me a cup of coffee? They make a great cappuccino and latte here."

You accompanied your words with a brief lick over your lips that Patrick couldn't miss, his nostrils flaring with heat. With a mischievous smile, you pointed in the direction of display cases full of various desserts like cakes, pies etc.

"Do you want one?" You asked him, pressing a finger to your lips as you thought about the cake you wanted to try.

"No," he growled, but followed your gaze anyway, staring at the different cakes with a disapproving expression. "I'm on a diet, and I'd advise you to stop eating such junk food since…since your physique is far from good."

No matter how much Patrick tried to mock you, you wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing you affected by his words. You knew your body was not perfect, but you loved yourself anyway because it was your body and anyone who thought otherwise could fuck off.

"Oh yeah, you're right," you glared at him without ceasing to smirk. "But that didn't stop you from pouncing on me the day you visited my father."

"You can think what you want," Bateman replied, looking around with undisguised hostility at everyone who walked past you, especially guys who ogled you. "If it makes you feel better."

It appeared like you could continue this game of trying to cut each other with sharp words forever, but since you were quite hungry, you finally decided what you wanted to try today. Innocently batting your big eyelashes, you suddenly grabbed his hand, shaking noticeably at the size of his palm in comparison to yours, and led him to the barista who was standing on the other side of the counter.

"Hi, how can I help you?" A young girl asked you, her friendly smile widening as she saw Patrick behind your back.

"I'd like a large cappuccino with a piece of chocolate cake," you murmured before locking eyes with Bateman — the difference in your heights almost forced you to stand on your toes, but as soon as you did, he gently wrapped his arm around your waist and rested his chin on top of your head, making your heart skip a beat. "Pat-Patrick, are you sure you don't want anything?"

"Do you have any whiskey? Scotch, brandy or anything?" He asked, his other hand already fumbling with his black leather wallet.

"Uh, no, sir," the barista replied, a little embarrassed. "But we do have amazing teas…lots of different kinds," the girl hiccuped when she saw Patrick's hand shamelessly tracing up to your breast, squeezing it through the soft fabric of your long sleeve, and you didn't even make a sound or try to push his hand away. "W-we also have juices..."

"Mhm, juices sound good to me," the undertone in his words set your body on fire and you couldn't fucking believe he was doing it right in front of the poor barista in the fucking café. "Do you have the orange juice? Is it fresh? I love fresh juice, it tastes so delicious."

Holy shit.

"Yes! Yes, of course we have orange juice," she started to dial on the cashier, her cheeks turning red by the second. "So a cappuccino, a piece of chocolate cake and a glass of juice?"

"That's right." You confirmed in a shaky voice and gently covered Patrick's hand to bring it back to your waist.

Bateman didn't wait for the barista to say how much they should have paid, he just offered her a hundred dollar bill with a charming smile. "Keep the change, baby." He winked at her, watching your reaction from a distance, but you remained still. "Uh, thank you, sir. Please take a seat, I'll bring you your order."

At first, you thought you'd have to persuade Patrick to sit at a table, but to your surprise he didn't even say anything, just followed you until you chose the place you liked. In a few minutes, your coffee was in your hand and your mood brightened with the first sip of your favorite drink.

"Well, that barista is the only good thing about this shitty place," he grumbled, taking his drink and swiveling it in his hand to see the liquid splashing against the edges of the glass. "I hope I don't die trying this."

With that, he sipped the orange juice and looked over your shoulder to see some random girls at the table next to yours, gossiping and occasionally looking at you.

"This cake is amazing," you smiled as you took a bite. "Are you sure you don't want some?"

Your calm demeanor was oddly irritating to him, and Bateman just growled in reply before setting his glass back on the table with a thud. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," your tongue slipped along the fork, and you almost moaned with pleasure, this cake was so damn yummy. "Did I…miss something?"

"You did," Patrick suddenly took the cigar and the silver lighter out of his jacket pocket. "One thing I don't understand. Why do you visit such places, since your father is not a poor man?"

Frowning, you quickly cleared your throat before answering. "What does that have to do with my dad?"

Patrick opened the lighter with a click and wrapped his lips around the cigar, twisting it nonchalantly before lighting it. "In this world," he paused, blowing several rings of smoke. "Money is power."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, suddenly losing all appetite. "Oh, please, don't lecture me. I have a job and I don't need anyone to give me money. Believe me."

"I see."

"Money is just a tool," you explained, his walnut eyes never straying from yours. "With which you can build something that can make you happy. But money itself cannot make you happy."

"What an interesting hypothesis," Bateman replied sarcastically, and then, puffing on his cigar, he reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small, soft box. "Here, I have something for you."

How primitive and obvious — you thought, but curiosity took over, and you quickly grabbed the box to open it. To your surprise, there was a beautiful pen with a color that reminded you of white gold.

"Oh," an unexpected chill swept over you like a bucket of cold water. "This is such a beautiful pen. But…but how did you…?" You took the pen in your hand, enjoying the pleasant touch of cool metal. "...my Dad told you this too?"

"What? That you wanted to be a writer and publish your own book?" He chuckled and put the cigar in the ashtray. "Well, he told me that you work in a publishing house, so I made some theories about your job and I thought you should at least have a good pen."

"At least?"

With a smug grin, he tilted his head to the side and ran his finger along the top of your hand holding a pen. "Do you like it?"

Embarrassed, you swallowed a lump in your throat and looked up at his arrogant face.

Damn it! Of course you like it, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't.

"Yes, Patrick," his name falling from your lips sounded like music to his ears. "This pen is amazing, really. I've never had a pen like this before!" You rumbled like a child who got a toy he dreamed about. "Can I try it?"

Bateman couldn't help but giggle and squeezed your hand a little before pulling away. "Sure, go ahead."

You didn't hesitate to take out your notebook, set it down on the table next to your coffee, and opened it to the last page you'd written. Carefully, you picked up the pen again and began to write.

"I wonder what you girls write about in your diaries," he chirped with a boyish smile, rubbing his neck just above the mole. "Always wondered."

"It's not a diary, it's the notebook I use for my work," as you lifted your eyes to him, you noticed how relaxed and comforted Patrick looked now, casual even. "But I do have a diary…it helped me a lot during my darkest days."

There was a brief pause between the two of you after your words. Bateman wasn't in a hurry to resume the conversation, instead he continued to smoke, glancing at the window from time to time.

"The rain could start at any moment, if you don't want to get wet," he paused and a nervous laugh escaped from his chest. "I mean, if you don't want to get your clothes wet, we'd better go home soon."

Oh my God, why was he so fucking unbearable?

"Okay, just a minute," you admired your handwriting for a moment before rolling up your sleeves to make yourself more comfortable. "I'm shocked at how this pen fits in my hand."

Patrick's eyes narrowed as he saw the beautiful tattoo on your forearm. "I never knew you had a tattoo."

"Really?" You pressed the tip of the pen to the corner of your lips and threw one leg over the other. "That's not the only tattoo I have," you could see the interested glint in his brown eyes, so you decided to continue. "Have you at least noticed my nose ring?"

"I'm trying to pretend you don't have it," he urged, putting his cigar out on the ashtray. "To be honest, tattoos and piercings and stuff like that are not…my thing."

That was not surprising, so you just hummed and continued writing. "Yeah, I know guys like you only date blonde bimbos with fake tits."

Bateman chuckled softly at your words. "Oh, Babydoll, you don't have to be jealous. It's just that high society women don't spoil their perfect bodies with stuff like that." He pointed at your tattooed forearm before standing up to put on his coat. "'C'mon, it's getting late, and I've got a lot of things to do."

"Like what?"

"This," he paused as he buttoned his coat. "It's none of your business, sweetheart."

"'Mmm, your poor girlfriend is probably waiting for you," you clicked your tongue before tucking the notebook into your bag. "Just don't tell her you were here with me, or she won't let you cross the threshold of her apartment again. Patrick Bateman visited the cheap café in Brooklyn. How did it happen?"

Bateman stared at you like a cat ready to pounce, though his face remained straight. "The limo's outside, I'll wait for you there."

No, you were not disappointed, you were furious at how masterfully he thwarted all your attempts to needle him. At the end of the day, he was just treating you like a silly little girl, but you had your own leverage because you knew that he wanted you, that he thirsted for you, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual mask that he always put on when he was in public. Yes, yes. It was a dangerous game to play, but the thrill of the rush was so tempting, the irresistible urge to dive into the abyss of the unknown. It was crazy, and you knew that one day you would burn like a moth flying to the light, and you could only ask yourself — was the game worth the candles?

Inside the limousine, you couldn't take your eyes off of the beautiful interior; the luxury was almost palpable in the air.

"Is this your first time in a limo?" Bateman asked when he noticed your curious look.

"Uh, to be honest, I used to ride in pretty expensive cars with Dad, but not the limo," you turned to face him, his side profile looking amazing in the dim light. "And you were probably born for cars like this, right?"

His deep chuckle echoed around the car. Cautiously, Patrick closed the distance between the two of you and placed his warm palm on your knee, stroking it as gently as he could.

"My family is fabulously wealthy, it's true," he began, turning in your direction, a broad smile forming on his perfectly sculpted face when he noted that you didn't try to remove his hand. "But that doesn't mean it's the only necessary condition to become successful."

"It does," you replied immediately, fidgeting in your seat as his hand slid up along your inner hip. "Because if you are born in such a family — all doors are open for you, you can apply to any college, any university...even if I don't agree that money is happiness, money is, as I said, a key that opens many doors."

"But not yours?" He whispered into your ear, scorching your tender skin.

"W-what?" You hiccuped and sensed your heart pounding against your chest.

For a brief moment, the two of you found yourselves looking into each other's eyes, the surrounding air as hot as if the limousine had suddenly driven around the mouth of a volcano. As Patrick pulled you closer, you understood that the source of this unbearable heat was his body — so strong and huge. In the blink of an eye, your lips locked together in a thirsty kiss, and Bateman immediately parted your mouth wider, sliding his tongue inside to take the lead in this lewd game.

"Mhm," you murmured through the kiss, wrapping your trembling hands around his neck while he worked to undo your coat. "Pat..."

Patrick didn't let you finish whatever you wanted to say because the blazing desire had already consumed his mind, and now it was your turn to get scared. You thought you could play with this man, test his limits and try to provoke him, but now you ended up writhing on the seats of the expensive limousine as his chiseled arms explored your small frame so delightfully, kneading and squeezing in all the right places.

"Ugh, you're so needy," he grabbed your throat possessively, pulling you closer, marking you with his tongue, his lips, his teeth. "You should see yourself, honey," Bateman murmured, alternating between licking your cheek and nibbling your neck. "So innocent, yet so hot, and all for me."

With one swift motion, he removed your coat and forced you to mount him, groping your ass without shame. Right now you didn't care about the driver who might see you doing this, you didn't care about all your stupid attempts to taunt him, because everything ended up exactly as you planned, even if Patrick might think otherwise, but let it be.

Growling in a raspy voice, Patrick lifted your long sleeve to quickly get under your bra and damn it, his mouth felt amazing on your engorged nipple and you couldn't deny that you had been thinking about this sensation all these days since that dirty episode in your bedroom.

"Patrick," you moaned, bringing him closer, his strong tongue swirling around your little tip as he stared at you from under his beautiful lashes. "A-aww, that feels so..."

"Good?" He asked in amusement, unbuttoning his coat. Then he grabbed your hips to make you grind against his hard groin, the friction making you wild.

"Yes, y-yes." You hitched from the hard slap on your ass.

"Arrghh, such a nasty Babydoll," Bateman left a painful hickey on your nipple and held you close in his sturdy arms, forcing you to move faster. "Is this what you want, huh? You want Daddy's cock so bad?"

Oh shit.

You wanted to say "yes," but instead you just whimpered against his mouth, not willing to ruin the moment with a confession that you were a virgin.

"Daddy," you purred suddenly as he cupped your pussy through the tight fabric of your jeans. "Oh God...did I really say that?"

His devilish grin spoke for itself. "That sounded so good," he kissed you hard on the lips before returning to your swollen breasts, his sneaky hand beginning to unzip your jeans with expert ease. "I liked that."

Having said that, Patrick pressed you closer, lifting his hips to meet yours so that your mound rubbed against his fully erected cock, and you could swear to God — it was so damn huge that your inner muscles were already cramping in pain.

"Babydoll," he crooned in a sweet voice when he noticed you were getting anxious as he slipped his hand inside your pants, outlining your oozing lower lips through your soaked panties. "Fuck, I can smell your arousal in the air."

"Aww!" Your high-pitched wail bounced off the interior of the limo from the sudden touch of his thumb on your bare skin, especially your throbbing clit. "Pat-Patrick...Patrick!"

"Shhhh, honey," he cooed to you, his voice laced with pure passion. "Daddy knows what he's doing...mmm...gonna make you feel so good."

Paralyzed by the new sensations, you arched your back into his face, letting him take your hard peak into his mouth once again, while his thin fingers rubbed invisible semi-circles into your bundle of nerves, smearing your flavor around your folds.

"Good girl...you're so good for me," he praised you between sucks on your nipples, watching you tremble on top of him. "Let it go, Babydoll, I know you want it."

Fucking hell! How in the world did this man manage to treat you so right, as if he played you like his favorite musical instrument, knowing exactly where to press.

"Daddy," you couldn't even hear your own voice, and you didn't realize that you instinctively started to hump his hand, allowing the blissful rapture to wash over you at any moment. "I—I…! This is so good—I…!"

"I know, I know," Patrick brought you closer, gently kissing your collarbone and increasing the intensity of his rubbing motions. "You're literally riding my fucking hand," he groaned, watching you throw your head back, and then he could feel your whole body shaking so violently that he had to hold you to keep you from falling. " Just like that, Babydoll, just like that."

A soothing touch on your lower back seemed to have the opposite effect, fueling your orgasm, you screamed loudly, but there was no sound. "P-Patrick...mhm!" You hugged him like a lifeline, burying your nose in his soft brown curls. Everything felt so perfect, but then the sharp pain cut through your body like a flash of lightning as Bateman tried to shove his fingers into your moist cleft, and you even had to claw at your own skin to prevent yourself from crying. "STOP!"

Patrick literally froze and stopped doing everything as he realized that he had just found some resistance with his digits. "What the fuck?"

The limo was still moving, and for a few seconds you both remained silent. Only after almost a minute did you dismount him and get back to your seat, quickly zipping up your jeans and adjusting your top. All the while, Bateman was looking at you with a strange expression that was hard to read — a mixture of shock, irritation and lust.

"(Y/n), talk to me." Patrick raised his voice after cleaning his fingers by licking off your sweet juices. "You're a fucking virgin? And you didn't tell me?"

Yeah, this time you actually fucked things up.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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foreverrandomwritings · 7 months

Text

Worth It In The End

Summary: Almost a year after an amicable divorce Beau finds himself still reluctant to participate in social gatherings. However he just can't seem to say no to the Bates family. He finds more than he bargained for when he attends their annual Halloween party.

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Divorce, children, marriage counseling, alcohol, fake blood and Beau being a bit of a dumbass.

Word count: 2387

Masterlist

Beau had been particularly annoyed at every social gathering he had attended this year. Everyone asked where his now ex wife was and then he had to awkwardly explain they had divorced. They had spent the better part of two years in couples therapy that ended up being an epic fail at the end. Frankly he wasn’t really sure why he had gone to his fellow admirals annual Halloween party. The plan had been to stay home and nurse a bottle of whiskey and watch old black and white films.

But when his best friend all but pleaded that he be in attendance he relented and showed up. He had even adorned a costume, a cheap vampire costume from Spirit Halloween. Pale makeup had been caked on his face by Warlock's thirteen year old twin daughters. Black eye shadow around his eyes to give a hollowed out effect and fake blood dripped down his chin. They had even coerced him into adding fangs to his teeth.

“Are you actually going to eat something or are you going to just stand here glaring a hole into all the food?” He had been standing by the snack table for what felt like hours trying to figure out what he could eat that wouldn't have his fangs coming out of his mouth, the glue holding them in place was very delicate he had been told.

“Mallory and Stephanie talked me into putting fangs in then lectured me for a good thirty minutes about not eating anything that could pop them off my teeth. I am trying to figure out what would be soft enough to not heed the wrath of your daughters.” Beau gave Solomon a pointed glare, to which the man let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head in a disapproving manner.

“How in the world did the Navy allow you to be an admiral when you get swindled into things by teenagers?” Solomon’s voice was teasing as he picked up a chocolate dipped pretzel rod and took a large bite of it. Beau cursed the teeth he had been swindled into as he glared at the pretzel rod.

“Those girls are very persuasive Solomon and you know it.” Beau’s eyes narrowed at the man as he took another large bite of the pretzel. The white that was to look like a mummy was almost all consumed by the man.

“I think you’re just a pushover Beau. Have been since the girls were born.” A smile graced both of the men's features at the memory of the mid winter day the girls were born. The same day that Solomon had asked him to be the twins' godfather. Which he had graciously accepted. The second they were placed in his arms he knew he wouldn’t be able to say no to them.

“You don’t have much room to talk.” Beau looked down at the cowboy costume Solomon was wearing. Him and his wife were dressed as Barbie and Ken per the request of said daughters.

“Touche, Beau, Touche.” Solomon held his hands up in defense two more chocolate covered pretzels held in one hand. The black eyes of the mummy seemed to mock him.

“Oh Beau there you are. I’ve been looking all over the place for you.” Solomon's wife popped up from behind him at the words. She came to stand next to her husband and gave them both a mischievous smile. His eyebrows both shot up at the look she was giving him. The girls had definitely gotten their power of persuasion from their mother.

“I have someone I’d like you to meet.” he tried to hide the surprise from his face but guessed he had failed as his best friend gave him a cheeky knowing grin. He should’ve guessed there was an ulterior motive for Solomon being so persistent on his attendance tonight.

“She is actually on her way over to us right now so please behave.” With those words you walked into sight. You had on an obnoxious Hawaiian shirt and a name tag that Beau couldn’t read due to the dimmed lights of the room. You stuck your hand out with a small smile on your face as she introduced the two of you. He couldn’t help but take in the absolute beauty you were. Hair tied in a half up bun, makeup done ever so slightly, eyes bright and smile wide.

“Honey, I think we need to go and fill up the fog machines.” Solomon put a hand on the small of his wives back before leading her away from Beau and you. But not before the couple sent you both respective winks. To which you both rolled your eyes at.

“I like the fake blood.” The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. He struggled to not bring a hand up to his chin where the bright red liquid had surely stained his skin. He took in the rest of your outfit quickly, the sunglasses tucked into your hair even though it was night time, the sandals adorning your feet and the solid colored flowy pants that matched the leaves in the Hawaiian shirt you were wearing.

“I have no idea how I’m gonna get this stuff off later.” The sentence was true, the girls hadn’t told him how to clean the makeup. The only thing they had told him was to not mess it up. Mallory had actually pointed a sharply pointed end of a makeup brush his way while Stephanie uttered the words to him, a threat more than a suggestion.

“A wet washcloth should do the trick just fine. If not then a few makeup wipes should help.” You had cocked your head to the side as you assessed the cheap pale layer that had been smeared across his face. He racked a hand through his hair, working loose some of the hair gel that had been slathered on the dark locks.

“Thank you for the tip. I’ll be sure to file that information down for later.” He gave you a thankful smile to which you waved your hand in a dismissive way, as if to say no problem. It was that moment he noticed just how much younger than him you seemed to be. A little bit of worry gnawed on his brain.

“How do you know Gina and Solomon?” You picked up a glass of punch that had been pre-filled after eyeing the ingredients and scanned the table of snacks as you asked the question. He shifted from one foot to the other as he answered the often asked question. Relief flooding through him that you were a new person, meaning you weren’t going to ask about his ex wife.

“I’ve known Solomon for years through work. How do you know the couple?” He took a sip of the Jack and Coke he had snagged from the kitchen earlier in the night as he once again eyed your outfit. This time he could read the word on your name tag which simply said City.

“I actually ran into Gina a couple of months ago at the library. I was donating a few of my books. She happened to be doing volunteer work reading for the little ones. We struck up a conversation over my work. She then graciously invited me to her book club and we’ve been friends ever since.” Your eyes lit up as you finally found a suitable food grabbing a plate with a cheesy spider web design and adding a few fruits, vegetables, cookies and plain pretzels.

“You said you were donating your books. Were they ones you’ve read enough to be satisfied to donate or ones you’ve had forever and never gotten around to reading?” You picked up a snap pea from your plate, peeling away the string and snapping off the ends.

“I actually wrote a children's book. I was dropping off a few copies of it!” Beau let out a surprised hum at your response. Taking in the way your eyes got slightly wider on the topic of your work. You ate the snap pea quickly before working on the next one on your plate.

“Have you written many books?” He decided he wanted to keep the light in your eyes so he would ask you as many questions as he could think of. Plus it got the topic off him, when people heard about his work they typically questioned him relentlessly about it.

“This was the second book in the series. I am contracted for two more of this series before being able to move on.” you seemed to ponder what you said for a second before adding on.

“Not that I want to move on from it. I have actually grown quite attached to the characters. I know my brother is just as reluctant to move on as I am.” you popped a strawberry into your mouth at the end of your sentence.

“Is your brother a co-author?” He watched as you cleaned the corner of your mouth with your thumb before wiping the liquid on your napkin he hadn’t seen you pick up. He found himself already desperate to feel your lips against his own. But quickly shook his head to clear the thought away, focusing on your conversation once again.

“He is actually an illustrator, thankfully. I was dreading having to find an artist when he stepped up.” a grin took over your features at the mention of your brother. Another topic seemingly important to you he decided, filing it away for later.

“I’m assuming you work for the Navy?” he straightened his body a little bit, pride evident in the way he held himself. Even if he was reluctant to talk about his job he seemed to want to please you in any way he could. Plus he was very proud of the position he held.

“I am Vice Admiral at the local base.” Even with the cheap costume on you could see the way he flexed his arms and chest as he spoke the words. Seemingly puffing himself up with authority. You weren’t complaining though, drinking in the way he simply existed in this moment.

“Oh you’re Cyclone then!” The realization seemed to hit you in one foul swoop. From the look on his face you could tell he was confused. Your cheeks heated as he gave you a bit of a bewildered look.

“Gina and the girls talk about you all the time. They all absolutely adore you. I can see why.” Beau preened under the praise. Something he didn’t even know he was capable of until you uttered those words.

“Would you like to get dinner with me sometime?” It was his turn to blurt out words. He couldn’t help himself with the way your eyes scanned his form. Then he remembered just how ridiculous he looked and he felt his throat closing slightly.

“I would actually love to have dinner with you. I’m free this Friday if that works for you?” Your eyes crinkled at the side from how wide you were smiling, teeth on full display, lip gloss shining slightly in the dim light from the pumpkin lights lining the top of the room.

“Friday works great, do you have anywhere in mind?” He wasn’t really sure of any good restaurants around town. He hadn’t been out much since even before his amicable divorce. He preferred eating at home rather than going out.

“We could make dinner together at my place. That way we can actually get to know each other without the awkwardness of being in public?” You were nervous as you asked the question, taking a large gulp of the untouched punch you had set down on the table beside you. The flimsy material of the cup with a matching spider web as the plate you had, left with an indent from your teeth as you chewed on it anxiously waiting for his response.

“Dinner at your place sounds lovely. I can bring a bottle of wine if you’d like?” Your shoulders released some of the tension they held as he agreed to your proposition. You nodded in reply to the question, losing a breath as you did so.

“I’ll give you my number and we can decide a time and what to have tomorrow.” You set the plate of mostly eaten food on the table. Then slipped your phone out of your back pocket, unlocking it and handing it to him. He typed in his number quickly before sending out a quick text to himself. He then slipped his phone from his own pocket, asked you how to spell your name and then added you to his contacts.

“Can I ask you a question?” He seemed almost sheepish as he spoke, you simply gave him a reassuring nod telling him to go ahead.

“What in the world are you dressed as?” you giggled at his words, your fingers playing with one of the buttons on your shirt.

“I guess it isn’t as obvious as I hoped it would be. I’m dressed as Paradise City. The Guns N’ Roses song.” Recognition dawned on him as he took you in once more, the outfit fit for a beach and the City name tag did kind of give it away.

“Guess I was too distracted by your beauty to figure it out.” He wasn’t sure where he got the confidence to say the words from but he was happy he did. The way your nose crinkled at the compliment and your feet shifted told him you seemed just as nervous as he did. Which gave him some relief.

You guys ended up talking for the rest of the night, eventually moving away from the snack table to the porch outside, where he gave you his cape to fight off the slight chill of the October night. You promised to give it back to him when you saw him Friday as you climbed into your car and he waved you off telling you he wasn’t worried about you stealing it. Which you would laugh about years down the road as you had never given the cape back, it had ended up finding a home in your closet instead. He decided it was worth it in the end.

A/N: This little piece was written for the Rocktober event @roosterforme is hosting! Thank you everyone for reading! As always likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Tags(open): @wkndwlff @sylviebell @kmc1989

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