#I just don't think I could do that to be frank ;m;

[meaningofaeons]

and if I finally give the people what they want (emotionally unavailable reader p3)

[bigwishes]

A Night at The Club

[Trade for: @bribri66]

It was a Friday night and Frank had just gotten off late from work and was driving down mainstreet out of the city. He saw a bright glowing neon sign coming up right before his turn. He'd never remembered it being there and he drove this way home every single night. The sign shone brightly "Men's Milk Bar" written in bright pink letters with the neon shape of a man in a cowboy hat under it.

Frank was slowly approaching the turn off to get on the road to go home or to turn into the car park of the new gay bar that had seemingly popped up in the middle of the day. Frank flicked his indicator on and turned off into the carpark of the gay bar almost without even realising.

Frank got out of his car and walked towards the building, he could hear the music pounding outside and could almost feel it through the ground as he got close, lights shined out of the windows and pinks and greens flashed around inside. Frank walked up to the front and saw an enormous muscular man blocking the door and next to him a long line of men. The giant man turned to Frank,

"What do you want Jelly Man?"

The bouncer laughed at Frank as he pocked his large fat stomach and dusted crumbs off his flannelette shirt.

Frank stared blankly at the door and the bouncer chuckled

"sure buddy, don't get lost in there"

The bouncer opened the door and a roar of moans erupted from the lines as Frank cut straight through. Light shot out of the open doors and the heavy thumping of music spilled out onto the streets and called Frank inside like a siren song. The large grizzled man clumsily stumbled inside almost like he was drunk.

Immediately walking through the door Frank was saw two dancers standing before him.

the two men were built like bulls and flaunted it with every movement they made. The both of them approached Frank.

"Well hi big boy" the first said rubbing Frank's shoulders

"We don't get many guys like you in here" the second said patting Frank's fat belly

Frank blushed embarrassed trying to get the words out as the two dancers paraded themselves around him and rubbed up against him. Frank became more and more flustered as the two ripped men toyed and teased with him, slight comments about his guy, his hairy face, his stained and worn out work clothes. Frank wanted to react to being borderline bullied but he couldn't focus as he felt his dick desperately try to uncurl against the tightness of his jeans.

"I don't think our friend hear likes how loud it is Georgie"

"I think you're right Joey"

The two dancers smiled at each other as they ran their hands down Frank's arms, taking his hands in theirs. The two lead Frank through the crowds of men dancing to the music to a large pink stained glass heart shaped door. There was a small neon sign above it the read "Love Factory". The sign pulsed like a heart beat. The two dancers opened the doors and took Frank inside. As the doors closed the music almost completely shut out like the room was sound proof.

Frank walked over to a heart shaped bar stool and sat down, it squeaked and moaned clearly not built for a man of his size.

Georgie walked over to Frank and leant his arms against his lap making the chair squeak even more. Frank's face turned a deep red as he was eye to eye with the almost naked man leaning on him.

"I know you wanna be with us big guy" said Georgie poking his tongue in his cheek

"and I know you wanna be like us big guy" Joey smirked as he pulled something out of a small fridge tucked in the corner.

"Should we Joey?"

"I think we should Georgie"

The two devilishly smiled at one another as Joey placed a glass pint full of ice cold strawberry milk in Frank's hands

"All you need to do big guy is have a drink"

"and we're all yours"

Frank looked down at the milk, slowly brining it up to his lips, his gaze meeting the two dancers as he started to drink. It tasted like strawberries mixed with something with a slight spicy tang, like paprika. It fizzed and bubbled in his mouth and in his throat.

The two dancers began rubbing themselves against Frank, gentle touches slowly turning into groping and kissing. Frank couldn't focus on anything, he tried his best to entertain the the advances of the two dancers but there was only so much of him to go around, and he couldn't focus as there was a strange feeling in his stomach and an terrible itching spreading across his body.

Frank desperately tried to keep up with the two men whilst taking breaks to scratch and itch. He tried to ease the annoyance but whenever to began to itch his face or under his shirt the dancers quickly distracted him pulling his hands away, but every now and again, when he got the chance he felt different. The deep black hair on his face and across his body was getting light and lighter, thinning up, the chunky weight and layer of fat on his gut, chest and arms started to feel tighter and tighter. Even his raspy voice sounded slightly lighter as he moaned.

A few moments later and Frank began to feel dizzy, the tang and bubbling that took place in his throat and mouth had made its way to his brain, it felt like tiny fireworks were going off in his head. Frank slumped slightly on the stool as his dirty flannel work shirt slipped off his arms and back onto the floor. Frank tied to speak but instead of words coming out his mouth simply fell open and bubbly giggles came out instead.

Georgie was standing in front of Frank holding his wallet.

"Looks like his name was Frank, Joey"

"Hmmm he doesn't look like a Frank now"

Frank mindlessly rubbed his face which now felt baby smooth

"What about Frankie?" asked Georgie

"Oh I like that, what do you think Frankie" Joey asked the man formerly known as Frank

He just sat there slack jawed struggling to comprehend what was going on. His hands, once leathery and thick now smooth and strong found their ways creeping up his naked torso, rubbing his new abs and grabbing his pecs as he moaned.

"I think he likes it"

Frankie just sat there admiring his new body and worshipping himself.

-------

A few days had gone by and nobody had seen Frank, a missing persons report was called it but it mysteriously got marked as solved when two cops came into the club and got a free hour alone with the new hottest dancer.

Frank, the big chubby lazy officer worker was gone,

But lucky Frankie, the horny himbo slut was there to fill his place...

[saintmurd0ck]

kiss and don't tell

masterlist

pairing: elektra natchios x f!reader + matt murdock and frank castle

summary: when frank and matt tap elektra's phone to figure out what she's up to, the last person they'd expect her to call is you

warnings: phone sex, matt and frank arguing like husbands, f!masturbation, elektra making everyone in her vicinity whimper, m!masturbation, exhibitionism

a/n: credits to my lovely @chvoswxtch for inspiration with elektra's phone background and @mikeymurdock for confirming darling matthew's birthday! this is my first time writing for elektra so be kind pls & HAPPY FUCKIN PRIDE !!!

“Thought you said she was always on that thing,” Frank grumbles, tapping on a flat-screen monitor displaying the layout of a phone lockscreen. He stares intently at the red supernova background, scrunitising on the halo of stars ringed around the edges of the phone. 

“She is,” Matt murmurs, furrowing his brows until they almost disappear beneath his glasses.

Frank sighs, leaning back in his chair, interlacing his hands behind his head. “It’s been four hours, Red. Why don’t ‘ya get some shut-eye, and I’ll stay up.” It wasn’t a question.

“Can’t be,” Matt breathes, mussing his hair. “It’s happening”–he pauses, fingers flitting over his watch–”tonight.” 

Disconcertion settles over Frank’s face as he wonders if this really is the way he’s spending his Friday night. His mouth quirks to the side. “First I’m gonna ask you how you know that, and second I wanna know exactly what we’re doing.”

“I know her, Frank. I just… know.”

“The fuck kinda answer’s that?” Frank glares, incredulous. “What, so you can listen to people breathing five blocks away, anticipate a bullet’s exact trajectory and now you can predict the future?”

Matt loosens his tie, looking more offended at the implication of being a fortune teller than at any other of Frank’s digs tonight. ”Of course not! S’just that… all of a sudden, she’s back in my life again. I wanna know what she’s doing, why she’s here, and what she has planned. You don’t know her like I do, Frank. Elektra isn’t good news.”

Frank yawns. “So? Ask her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Hmm.” 

A muscle feathers in Matt’s jaw, the tension more palpable than ever, especially with the time ticking idly by. He adjusts the earbuds connected to the laptop in front of him, straining for a single sound, or any hint of activity, but he picks up on nothing. 

They’ve got all her communications tapped, thanks to Micro and his–as Foggy so aptly put it–technological wizardry, but this inactivity is well beyond her arrhythmic patterns. Matt glides his fingertips over her activity logs; every record of data painstakingly collated by Micro throughout the last two weeks. If there’s one thing about Elektra, it’s that Matt could count on her being out on a Friday night. 

Matt’s aware of Frank’s narrowing eyes, in similar concentration on the monitor ahead. “You think she’s really gonna leave us hangin’?”

“No, no, it’s just– she’s smart, okay? She’s smart, but I don’t think she knows. She’d make it obvious otherwise.”

“I dunno Red,” Frank shrugs, “Baitin’ your ex like this? That’s ballsy. Even for you.”

Matt’s head whips to the side at the mention of that word, ears pricking at the sudden dilation of Frank’s pupils, and the acceleration of his heartbeat. He’s readying himself for a fight. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction of a response, Frank.”

Frank tsks. “Ah, but ‘ya just did.”

Click.

It’s the unmistakable noise of Elektra’s phone being unlocked.

2-1-1-0-8-7

Matt straightens up in his chair, pushing his earbuds further in. “Frank!” he hisses. “Screen!” 

“Ain’t that your birthday? October 21?” Frank smirks.

Reddening, Matt pushes the grating thought aside. He’d discuss her passcode later, when time wasn’t of the essence. “Keep an eye on that screen–”

“She’s calling someone,” Frank interjects. He squints at the display. “Who’s… ‘Darling’?”

“Darling?” Matt stumbles over his words as the dial tone rings a little too loudly in his ears. “I-I don’t know.” 

There’s a hint of amusement in Frank’s voice. “She ever call you that?” 

But Matt’s response comes out quick. Too quick. “No!”

Frank’s mouth curves into a smile. “S’what I thought.”

Matt goes to retort, but the purpose of this mission embeds itself in his mind. “We have full access to her calls, her internet history, all her devices…If she’s planning anything, it’s gonna be tonight.”

“Can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but I trust ‘ya,” Frank nods. “We got her.”

“Alright. I’m taking these out.” Unceremoniously, Matt yanks the earbuds out of his ears, wincing as the dial tone plays over the loudspeakers wired to the entire setup. 

Frank cocks his ear towards the speaker in the corner, glancing at the call logs laid out on his lap. He counts softly to himself. “I’m seein’ this Darling a lot. At least twice a day.”

Before they can deliberate further, Elektra’s ambient voice fills the tiny space. “Hello, Darling.” She pauses, hinting a smile. “Ready for me?”

Frank arches an eyebrow. “The fuck?”

“What took you so long?”

Matt stands up so abruptly that his chair falls to the ground, dizzy with the clang of metal on concrete. “That’s–”

Out of all the people they’d unassumingly characterised as the mysterious Darling, they would never, not in a million years, expect to hear you. 

“Did you look at the package I had delivered to you?” Elektra purrs, honeyed in a way that prickles the hairs on the back of Matt’s neck. “I would’ve sent it myself, but duty calls.”

“Shit, Red,” Frank chuckles. “You’re in deep shit.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, “and it fits perfectly. You know me so well, Ellie.”

“Ellie?!” Matt mouths. “What?”

“I knew it’d fit, Darling. Now be a good girl and spread those legs for me.”

In complete disregard of Matt choking on his own spit, Frank’s eyes fly open. “This part of your mission?”

“N-no. Definitely not. But–” Matt hesitates, swallowing dryly. “We need to keep listening. For all we know, our friend here could be a contact.”

“Fuckin’ perv.”

Feeling his temper rise, Matt takes a deep breath, willing his urge to fight dissipate. “S’there a way to turn the volume down?”

“Beats me,” Frank replies, nonchalant. “But small world, huh? Our friend–”Frank emphasises–“and your ex. A girl you’re into and a girl you used to be into.”

“I’m not into her.”

Frank snorts. “Yeah, you are.”

“Hmm,” Matt says, nodding, “so explain why your heart beats faster around her.”

There’s more than a hint of annoyance in Frank’s reply. “What?”

“I know you heard me correctly, Castle. You can’t hide shit from me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Frank growls, kicking his chair away, sending the call logs scattering to the floor. 

“I’m so wet for you,” you gasp, unknowingly diffusing yet another fight, your breathy moans barely audible over the speakers. 

Frank stiffens, his fists unfurling from his sides. “Wait, wait, wait. Did I just–”

The tips of Matt’s ears go pink. 

“Mm,” Elektra muses. “I can still taste you, you know.”

“And how do I taste, Ellie?”

Elektra laughs, the sound crystalline. “Delicious.”

All of a sudden, it feels as if the labyrinthine, constricting nature of Micro’s lab seals off from the outside world, trapping both men and their paramours inside. 

“Please,” you whimper, every stuttered breath punctuating the words that come to mind. 

“Use your words, Darling. Please what?”

“Tell me how to touch myself.”

Frank shifts uncomfortably in his chair, wringing his hands as his eyes search for a distraction. “Feels like we’ve crossed a line, Red.”

“Since when have you ever cared about crossing lines?” Matt asks, scowling. “It’s pertinent. To…the mission.”

“Cut the shit. We’re not in Catholic school. You can just admit you’re horny.”

“Jesus, Frank! I’m not…”

“Of course,” Elektra hums, but the inflection in her voice indicates the kind of coyness that tells Matt she’s in complete control, physically present or not. 

Strained nostalgia sends him into overdrive, even more so as he contemplates just how she knows you. 

You, of all people, he knows, would be better off without someone like Elektra. 

Yet here you are. 

“Use one finger, Darling,” she continues, “and touch your clit for me. Up and down, just the way you like it.”

“Fuck,” you murmur, squirming as Elektra conducts your pleasure. “I want more.”

“Greedy, aren’t you? You’re lucky I feel generous tonight. Do you think you could handle two fingers?”

Matt exhales softly, licking his lips as he falters back to his seat. “Maybe you’re right.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Anything you ask for, Ellie. I can handle it.”

“Good girl. Let me hear how wet you are.”

Tipping his chin towards the ceiling, Matt reaches forward, fumbling for the cable connecting the speakers to their set up. “We’ll try again tomorr–”

“No,” Frank murmurs, holding his hand out reflexively.  He hesitates swatting Matt’s hand away from the wire, but he still follows through, however unconvincing the gesture seems to be. It’s true; his stance was different just moments ago, but he thinks about it carefully now. Maybe Matt’s right, and the outcome of the call will be more useful than not, but maybe, buried deep down amongst the feelings he harbours for you…

“Why?”

Saying nothing further, Frank turns his attention back to you, still conflicted about whether or not he should listen in.

Positioning the phone between your legs, you lean down to rub your clit, alternating between featherlight strokes and deep-pressure circles. As you begin to splinter with the thought of your impending orgasm, you dip two fingers into your pussy, hoping the mic picks up on the slickness pooling between your legs. 

Slowly, you stretch yourself out, picturing her there, watching you. Savouring you. “God, Ellie, it feels so–”

“Mm,” Elektra moans, pausing to praise you as she ruffles around her nightstand. “Can you guess what I’m doing?”

You slide a pillow under your hips, groaning as you rock against your fingers. “I’m picturing you and your legs spread, your red silk robe draped over the side of the bed, and you’re– fuck! Fuck, Ellie–”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.”

Crying out, you arch your back into your own touch, riding your hand until your body recovers just enough to go again. “I know you’re… you’re grabbing your favourite dildo, so you can fuck yourself while you fuck me.”

“Hm, has anyone told you how clever you are?” 

“You’re picturing it, aren’t you?” Matt asks, his face indiscernible. “The two of ‘em, together.”

Frank nods, pressing his lips together. “Yeah.”

“I guess we finally agree about something,” Matt says, chuckling.

“Yeah? And what’s that, exactly?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you, Castle?”

Elektra huffs into the receiver, a faint buzzing emitting from her end of the call. “Put the phone down, Darling.”

“But–”

She continues, humoured and unfazed. “I can still hear you, don’t worry. I want you to use one finger on your clit, and hm… Three fingers in your pussy.” She poses her next words as a question. “Although, I know from the way you moaned my name that you added a third without asking?”

“Mm, Ellie–”

“I’ll let you off, just once.”

With every noise he picks up, Matt feels himself growing flustered. With all his tells laying out in the open–the flush in his cheeks, to his staggered breathing–he’s a dead giveaway. He pulls his tie over his head, unable to form a single coherent thought, the pretense of the mission long gone. Clearing his throat, Matt sits upright, draping his arm across his lap in an effort to conceal his growing erection. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but one of Elektra’s moans punctuates his focus, catching him off guard. 

Warmth singes Matt’s spine as he notices Frank’s gaze sliding to his lap.

“Shit, Red,” Frank murmurs, shaking his head, “I’m just… gonna leave you be. Okay? Call out when you’re… done.” He stands up promptly, stalking to the bedrolls in the other room.

“Wait–” Matt calls out, wanting to communicate that being left alone to act on his impulses is the last thing he needs…

But Frank makes a good point. Especially when he’s off to do the same thing.

“You know I can hear you jerking off, right?!” Matt yells. 

Frank’s retort bounces off the walls. “Mind your own damn business, Red!” 

“Whatever,” Matt mutters. Grateful for the privacy, he takes a moment to unbuckle his belt, tuning out the clinking of the metal in favour of the conversation overhead.

“Will you do me a favour, Ellie?” you gasp, pumping your fingers in and out of you with increasing speed.

“That depends on what you want.”

Desperation limns your voice, but you’re past the point of caring. “I want to hear you fuck yourself. Let me hear you cum.”

There’s a shuffle of fabric on the other end of the phone as Elektra makes a small noise of approval. 

Matt doesn’t need to be told that she’s moved in favour of a better position. 

Cowgirl was always her favourite.

He groans, still fully clothed, bucking into his hand as he concentrates on Elektra’s rhythmic breathing and hisses of pleasure. He palms himself, knowing she’s riding her dildo the same way she’d ride him, knowing just from the way she sounds that she’s getting close.

But she’s not the object of his attention tonight.

Not when you’re right there, unbelievably tangible yet barely within his grasp.

He wants you, affirming the thought as he pushes his underwear down; just enough to wrap his fist around his cock. He doesn’t have time to take it slow, so this will have to do.

In the other room, the noises you make echo in Frank’s mind, playing and replaying until he’s forced to hold onto the concrete wall to maintain any semblance of sanity. He squeezes his eyes shut as he fucks his hand, picturing you all stretched out, taking him until he has no more left to give.  

As if they both hadn’t just spilled into their hands, unable to shake the relief that gave way into yearning, they remember that there is still the matter of the mission at hand.

“I… I think they’re finishing up,” Matt rasps, rolling his chair up to the laptop on the main desk. 

Frank replies with a curt nod, taking his place on Matt’s left. 

“Better?” Elektra exhales, satisfaction now evident in her tone. 

“Always.”

“Same time tomorrow, Darling?” she asks, cheerful. 

“Why don’t I come over to yours, Ellie? We can leave the curtains open again, give New York a little show.”

Elektra clicks her tongue. “Ah, like the one we put on tonight?” 

Frank shoots a sideways glance at Matt. 

She continues, more resolute than before. “I think an in-person show might be better. Don’t you think so, boys?” 

“No goddamn way,” he mouths.

Elektra pouts. “You both came awfully fast, didn’t you?”

Frank was right; they’d listened far too long. To something far too personal. 

Matt swears, searching for a way to end the call. 

“You really think I wouldn’t find out? Amateurs.”

Frank sighs as the dial tone rings in their ears, clapping Matt on the back. “Well, I think our cover’s blown.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Nice knowin’ you, Red. Nice knowin’ you.”

tags {x} for everyone who interacted with the original post/people who might like this 💗 @v4leoftears @devils-dares @chvoswxtch @itwasthereaminuteago @castlesnchurches @reborn-rekall @qu1etwolf @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass @murdock-and-the-sea @fxlsealarm @hailey-murdock

[hunny-bean]

Sugar & Spice

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank likes you best in blue. Happy Anniversary!

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex (M & F Recieving), Fingering, Unprotected P in V, Obnoxiously Fluffy at Times, Lingerie, Teasing, Light Bondage, Kinda Mean Frank, Sub Reader. Ok, I think that's it! Let me know if I missed one.

A/N: Needless to say, I'm expanding my comfort zone. I added a splash of mechanic!frank because he's a guilty pleasure of mine. Sorry if he's a little OOC, it's hard to imagine Frank untraumatized and in a happy relationship. Anyway, I hope this turned out alright. Enjoy! Let me know what you think! XOXO.

P.S. I'm open to requests, if you've got any cool ideas! I love writing, but I have experienced writer's block many times before, so I may need a little assistance at some point. I'll write for any Jon Bernthal character as well as a plethora of others that I don't have time to list. If you want to ask for another character, just take a gamble and I'll let you know if I can do it! Also, nothing immoral or illegal, please. Sorry for the insanely long author's note.

You may proceed :)

Read on AO3

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

'Curse this stupid lighting,' you thought, examining your makeup in the floor-length mirror. The dim yellow light bulb in Frank's walk-in closet was seriously throwing off your perception of colors. For example, you were pretty sure your blush was looking natural and sweet, but there was always that slim chance you would look like a clown in a different room.

You were tragically forced into the closet by the sound of Frank's keys rattling in the lock. Before that, you had been enjoying the luxury of a bathroom counter. Unfortunately, Frank only had one toilet and you figured he might need it, so you grabbed your bag and sprinted to the closet the second he opened the door. Under no circumstances would you let Frank catch even the slightest glimpse of you. At least, not until you were finished getting ready. You were planning a surprise, after all.

When Frank finally got home, he instantly knew something was off. Usually, when you spent the night with him (which was most nights), you'd come meet him at the door whenever he finished up at the garage. You'd slide through the kitchen in your fuzzy socks to give him a hug and a kiss and ask how his day was. It had become such a routine for the two of you, that when it didn't happen, his first thought was that you weren't there at all.

Frank pulled his boots off and hung up his jacket before wandering into the kitchen to see if you had left a note. Maybe your roommate had another "crisis," he thought, or you had to make a quick run to the grocery store. Finding nothing, he grew slightly concerned. It was very unlike you to just take off without so much as a text explaining why.

Then, Frank heard a faint rustling noise coming from the bedroom. He smiled softly, all of his previous worries evaporating as he went down the hall to see what you were up to. You were probably just taking a nap, he thought, but when he got to the bedroom, you were still nowhere to be found. Frank was just about to try calling you when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the light on under the closet door.

"Hey, baby. You in there?" he asked, knocking gently.

"Be out in a minute!" you called back, fluffing your curls that you barely got done before he showed up.

"Whatcha doin' in the closet?" Frank asked, and even through the door you could hear the amusement in his voice.

"It's a surprise," you replied deviously.

"Come on, darlin', you know I hate surprises," Frank griped.

"You'll like this one, I promise," you proclaimed. "Just be patient."

Frank sighed dramatically. "I wanna see you," he grumbled. Smiling, you meticulously straightened the bow you added to pin two small sections of your hair behind your head.

"Oh, trust me," you muttered. "You will."

Taking a step back, you admired your full body in the mirror. You had bought this underwear set a while ago, and were just waiting for the right occasion to use it. It was a beautiful baby blue color, and it hugged your body perfectly. The bra was a short, sheer corset top that showcased your cleavage without being too obnoxious. The panties were soft and lacy, pulled up high in the sides to accentuate your hips. They weren't quite a thong, but they certainly came close. Decorating both pieces were small embroidered cornflowers that made you feel pretty and delicate. On top of it all was an elegant lace robe that you somehow managed to find in the exact same color. It was almost completely see-through and it barely brushed your mid thigh, so you weren't worried about it obscuring any of your best assets.

You looked good. There was no denying that. In fact, you couldn't think of a time you'd ever looked better. You just hoped Frank's heart was strong enough to withstand the sight of you.

Quickly, you added your finishing touches, brushing on your favorite lip gloss and putting in a pair of dainty diamond earrings that Frank got you for Valentine's Day that year. You gave yourself one more once-over in the mirror. Everything was perfect. At long last, you were ready to execute your master plan.

You were a little nervous, but what you were about to pull off wouldn't work if you let it show, even just a little bit. With that in mind, you took a few deep breaths and rolled your shoulders back. Holding your head up high, you slowly opened the closet door.

When you stepped out into the bedroom, you found Frank laying on top of the covers with his arms positioned behind his head and one leg propped up. He was barely doing anything, and still he was the picture of dominance. Even while wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans, he looked incredible. In fact, just seeing him was enough to have you fantasizing about crawling on top of him and hiding your face in his chest. But alas, you could not. You had to stay strong.

As soon as Frank saw you, his eyes lit up like a little kid's on Christmas morning. He immediately sat up straight, looking utterly dazzled. It seemed you were right. This was one surprise he could get behind.

"Do you like it?" you asked beguilingly. You gave him a small spin, showing off all the intricate details.

"That's the stupidest question you've ever asked, sweetheart," Frank replied, rising to meet you across the room. "You're a fuckin' angel."

He pulled you in by your waist to leave a soft peck on your lips. Seeing his mouth shine with your lip gloss when he pulled away made your heart skip a beat. You weren't always a possessive person, but that changed when you discovered what it felt like to leave your mark on someone. Especially someone as desirable as Frank Castle.

"Happy anniversary, baby," Frank drawled sweetly.

"Happy anniversary." You were sure you were smiling like an idiot, but you couldn't help it. You and Frank had been together for four years now, and it felt like the shortest lifetime you'd ever experienced. The love you felt for the man in front of you was stronger than anything you had ever felt before, and you knew in your heart that would never change.

Frank wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back in for another kiss, this one considerably longer than the last. The two of you stood there for a while, making out while your hands explored the familiar planes of each other's bodies. Frank was fucking your mouth slowly with his tongue, kissing you like a promise in the way he knew made your knees weak. You almost gave up on the plan right then and there, but your excitement for what was to come later that night saved you from falling into the trap.

You reached a hand down between you to palm at Frank's growing erection. You heard him let out a low hum, and you felt the vibrations travel from his chest through yours, relaxing you from the inside out. It didn't take long for him to start pushing back against your warm hand, seeking some relief, but he didn't find any. . .

because that was when you stopped moving. You pulled away from the kiss, keeping your hand perfectly still and looking up at him sweetly through your eyelashes.

"What time is it?" you inquired, focusing all your energy into keeping a straight, innocent face.

"Uh. . . 'bout 6:30?" Frank was obviously not thrilled that you had stopped kissing him to ask that of all things. 'Perfect,' you thought maliciously. Unable to fight it any longer, a sly, excited smile slowly overtook your face.

"It's dinner time," you whispered.

Before he could react, you slipped out of Frank's grasp and sauntered away to the kitchen. You went straight to the pantry to gather everything you would need to make spaghetti and garlic bread, and set it on the counter next to the stove.

When Frank was finished staring blankly at the wall, mystified, he joined you in the kitchen to find you filling up a pot with water at the sink. He crept up behind you, wrapping you up in a hug and leaving a soft kiss on your cheek.

"What'd you do that for, hmm?" He was using a voice that you were all too familiar with. It was the voice he used when he wanted something from you, and most days it had you folding instantly. He sounded so condescending, and it was playing right into your more submissive side. He was being an asshole, but he was just such a hot asshole, and somehow it always. freaking. worked.

Except it wouldn't work today. You would make sure of it.

"Go sit down, Frankie," you requested, gesturing to the bar behind the sink.

"Dinner can wait a little while. Your tomatoes aren't gonna go bad in an hour, sweetheart." You shut off the faucet and tried to move over to the stove, but Frank tightened his hold on you, refusing to let you go.

"I'm hungry," you complained.

"So am I," Frank teased, making sure you could feel the proof of his statement pressed up against you. You rolled your eyes at how audible his stupid smirk was.

"I'm trying to make us a special anniversary dinner. Now go sit down, Frank."

Frank knew you weren't actually upset with him, and he wasn't stupid so he knew what you were doing. You weren't stupid either, so you knew he secretly liked it. You were having a competition, and you couldn't wait to finally beat your insufferably headstrong boyfriend at a game of wills. All you had to do to win was hold out until you were finished eating, and this time around you had some tricks up your sleeve.

Frank groaned defeatedly. No matter how much he wanted you, his chivalrous upbringing prevented him from denying his lady what she wanted. So, he gave in and trudged around the counter to sit on the barstool across from the sink. You could feel his eyes following you as you went about making your dinner. His gaze was burning holes all over your body, heating up your core and exhilarating your mind. Every movement you made was intentional, perfectly executed in a way that kept Frank on edge and his jeans too tight.

When you needed something from the lower cabinets, you would bend over to show off your panties, and the fabric would stretch tighter around the swell of your ass. When you needed something from the top cabinets, you would stand on your tiptoes and stretch to reach it, revealing more of your tummy and causing the underwire to push your chest out a little further. While you were reading from the recipe book, you would "absent-mindedly" twirl your hair around your fingers or lean forward on the counter, subtly arching your back.

Once, when you were finished blending your home-made spaghetti sauce and it was heating up on the stove, you dipped a finger in the pot and delicately licked it clean. You didn't look at Frank while you did it because you're sure you would have laughed at how ridiculous it was, but you knew he saw it (and liked it) from his small frustrated sigh.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked, semi-sarcastically.

"Nope!" you replied happily, dropping your handful of dry spaghetti in the boiling water.

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure, yeah." You smiled at him, walking past the bar to put your leftover garlic in the pantry on the other side.

As you were walking back, you failed to notice Frank had hopped to the barstool closest to you until he had already sprung his attack. Lightning fast, he snatched you up and pulled you towards him, slipping a hand under your robe to grab at your ass and wrapping the other around your waist to hold you still. He buried his face in your neck, and you felt him shudder and tighten his grip as he inhaled deeply. The special occasion perfume you wore never failed to drive him wild.

"It's just that I feel so useless sitting over here, doing nothing," he purred, his lips tracing patterns across your collarbone.

"You're definitely not doing nothing," you mumbled.

"That right? What am I doin' then, hmm?"

When you didn't respond, Frank slid his hand away from your ass and dragged two of his fingers gently over the lace covering your arousal. When he drew his hand back and held it up, you saw his fingers were significantly shinier than they were before. That was the biggest downside to fancy underwear. Sure, they look nice, but they do nothing to absorb moisture.

"Is that what I'm doing?" You nodded. "Yeah? But I've just been sitting here," Frank teased.

'Goddammit,' you thought. 'How did I ever think I could make it past dinner with this asshole?'

"Know what I think? I think you just like attention. You put on a show for whoever's watching and you get soaked right through, is that it?" He moved his hand back down to start rubbing gentle circles on your clit through the fabric.

"No, I don't," you fussed, pushing at Frank's bicep to try and dislodge his hand. He just pressed down harder, making you desperately wish you could squeeze your thighs together and grind on his fingers until you were dripping on the floor.

"No? Then what is it, sweetheart? What's got you so wet, huh?"

"Just you," you mumbled. "Just your attention."

"Yeah? That's sweet, baby. Well if this is all my fault, then I should do somethin' about it, shouldn't I?"

Unable to fight back any longer, you nodded. The ache in your core was running too deep, and the relief Frank promised seemed more satisfying than any victory possibly could. Grinning dangerously, Frank released you and stood up before pulling you back into a feverish kiss. You got so lost in the contact that you didn't realize Frank was pushing you until your back hit the counter.

Suddenly, Frank's hands traveled down to settle on your upper thighs. This was a signal you were all too familiar with. Barely a second after you felt it, you jumped, wrapping your legs around him as he set you down on the counter.

As soon as he had you where he wanted you, Frank latched onto your neck, kissing and biting wherever he could reach, leaving faint red marks in all your most sensitive places. You squeezed your eyes shut tight and bit your lip hard as voltaic sensations zipped up and down your spine. Frank slipped your robe gently off your shoulders, leaving light kisses along the newly exposed skin.

Frank left a darker bruise on the base of your neck before tenderly grabbing your jaw to trace his tongue along your bottom lip. With one hand (and a little cooperation on your part), he pulled your robe the rest of the way off and tossed it to the side. Then, he began moving slowly down your torso, stopping to nip lightly at your rigid buds through the flowers hiding them and lick a few gentle stripes up your stomach. When he got too far down to bend over comfortably, he pulled his barstool up behind him and tugged you to the edge of the counter before sitting back down.

At first you didn't know what he was planning, but you figured it out pretty quick when he grabbed your legs and tossed them over his shoulders. Your tailbone was aching and the faucet was digging into your back, but you couldn't bring yourself to care when Frank began leaving hot kisses up your thigh. His stubble was rough against your skin and you were secretly hoping you would still be feeling it in the morning.

You felt Franks nose bump against your clit as he swiped his tongue over your obvious wet spot. The sudden feeling surprised you, and you didn't have time to prevent a small whine from slipping out. Smirking, Frank drew his tongue tortuously slowly from the very back of your cunt to your sensitive nub. When he reached it, he sucked gently at it, feeling your thighs tremble around his head.

"Frank, please," you gasped, throwing your head back when he sucked harder.

Frank finally started slipping his fingers in your waistband, and tapped your hip to get you to lift up. He tugged your panties down to your knees and-

*hisssssssssss*

"Oh, shit!" you cried, pushing Frank away from you. Your spaghetti was bubbling over! You hopped off the counter and pulled your underwear back up, running to stir the pasta with your wooden spoon. As soon as you got the water to settle, your timer went off, signaling that it was done.

You grabbed Frank's strainer (which was actually one of yours that you brought over to encourage Frank to eat better) and drained your spaghetti over the sink. While you were shaking out all the water droplets, you looked up to find Frank moping with his head resting in his hand.

"Oh, come on," you said, noticing his pouty face. "What did you want me to do, let your kitchen burn down?"

"You can't start a fire with spaghetti."

"You'd be surprised."

"I just needed five more minutes, baby. That's it," Frank complained.

"Five more minutes and we'd be eating spaghetti-flavored mush," you retorted. "Besides, dinner's just about ready now. You've only gotta wait another half hour, and then you can have whatever you want."

Frank brightened slightly at the prospect, though he tried to hide it. Turns out, after four years of dating, you learn to spot the little emotions flickering behind your partner's eyes.

"Why are you doing this to me, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Don't pretend like you're not enjoying it."

"I just wanna touch you. Why won't you let me touch you, hmm? I know you want me to," Frank grumbled.

"I did let you touch me," you argued back lightheartedly.

"Yeah, but that wasn't part of the plan, was it baby? You're still trying to stay away from me."

"Why does it matter what I'm trying to do if you got what you wanted anyway?" you reasoned.

"I didn't get what I wanted."

"Tough luck. You will."

"You would've lost if it weren't for those fuckin' noodles," Frank jeered.

"Why do you think I set so many timers?"

*ding*

You switched off the oven and grabbed some potholders to extract your garlic bread.

"Go sit at the table. I'll bring you a plate," you ordered.

Frank sighed, but he did as he was told. As the two of you ate together, you actually had a very nice conversation, laughing and talking about your days as if nothing had even happened. Frank told you about a guy that was trying to save the ugliest, most broken car that had ever entered the shop. You told Frank about the return of one of your nightmare customers. For the entire time you were seated at the table, there was no torture whatsoever on either part. You were both content to celebrate your anniversary with good food and the best company you could ask for.

When you were finally done eating and talking, it had been well over half an hour, but it didn't feel like it. Your time spent with Frank never dragged on endlessly like it seemed to elsewhere. His presence was like a multipurpose drug to you, and it worked better than any stimulant or depressant you could find in even the sketchiest of back-alleys in Hell's Kitchen. There was no doubt in your mind that you had found the person you would be spending the rest of your life with.

You stood up to begin clearing your dishes, but Frank caught your wrist before you could touch a single utensil.

"Oh, no you don't," Frank said, pushing you back down into your chair. "You did the hard part, let me handle all the easy stuff."

"Yes, sir," you giggled, watching him work. When everything was cleared, you joined Frank in the kitchen, where you found him rinsing the dishes with warm water and loading them into the dishwasher.

Copying what he had done to you earlier, you wrapped your arms around his midsection, hugging him tightly and pressing your face against his back. He patted your arm with his wet hands, and you smiled into his shoulder before wiping it off on his shirt. Closing your eyes, you relaxed into him, enjoying his warmth and his familiar scent.

"You can just leave them in the sink for now," you suggested sleepily.

"Now who's impatient?" Frank teased.

Groaning softly, you gave him one more big squeeze before letting go and walking away down the hall.

"When you're ready, you can come meet me in the bedroom," you called behind you. Frank finished up pretty quickly after that.

He entered the bedroom to find you laying down with your eyes closed. Smiling at how peaceful you looked, he carefully laid down on the bed next to you. Almost immediately, you rolled over on top of him, enjoying the feeling of his warm chest against your face. He was like your own personal space heater, which made him very useful to have around in the colder months.

You shivered at the feeling of his hand running through your hair. 'How did I ever relax before I met him?' you wondered. You felt dangerously close to falling asleep, and as good as that sounded, there was something you had been looking forward to for a while that sounded significantly better.

Forcing yourself to sit up, you sat straddling Frank's stomach, staring into his eyes and waiting for him to make the first move. You had been having fun all evening; the night belonged to him now.

"I know what you were after earlier, sweetheart. You look a little tired now, is that still what you want?" he asked. He was always so gentle with you. Even when he really wasn't.

"Yeah," you confirmed, "But I want you to do whatever you want."

"Whatever I want, huh? That's a dangerous thing to say, baby."

"I trust you," you whispered. "And I already know I'm gonna like it, whatever you decide."

Frank hummed, running his hands up and down your thighs as he thought about what to do first. You knew he had reached a decision when he grabbed you and tossed you onto the bed beside him. You yelped at the sudden motion, looking over at him to see exactly what it was he was trying to do.

Frank was taking his belt off. He slid over to sit in front of you, belt in hand, and pulled you back onto his lap.

"You know I can't let you get away with all that bullshit you pulled back there, right?" he asked patronizingly.

"I mean. . . you could," you responded.

Frank scoffed. "You should shut your mouth before you make this worse for yourself. You wanna get to the fun part, don't you?"

"This is the fun part," you confessed.

Frank grabbed your jaw roughly with one hand, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him.

"You're gonna take that back in a minute, baby," Frank growled. He released your jaw to catch both your wrists in his hands, pinning them behind your back.

"All I wanted when I got home was to make my pretty girl feel good, but you decided to be a fuckin' brat." There was a darkness in his eyes that you knew was just for show, but it thrilled you all the same. "I'm gonna show you exactly what that feels like."

Holding both your wrists in one hand, he took his belt and wrapped it tightly around them, latching the buckle and securing them together. When he was sure it would hold and wasn't too uncomfortable, he pushed you off his lap so you were laying on your back on the bed.

"Now," he said, "I'm gonna finish what we started."

He immediately sprung into action, forcibly spreading your legs and slipping your panties all the way down. He tossed them aside and fit himself between your legs, leaning in to kiss you. At first you weren't sure how this was supposed to be a punishment, but you figured it out pretty quickly.

Frank kissed you so deeply, tugging at your hair and tracing your curves with his fingertips. He gripped your waist and your thighs, his dull fingernails leaving behind little indents when he'd get carried away. He could put his hands all over you, wherever and whenever he wanted, but you couldn't do the same. You wanted to pull him closer and squish his biceps teasingly to make him laugh. You wanted to feel his stubble in your hands and rub his shoulders as he bit your neck. You never realized how important your hands were when kissing someone until they were taken from you.

As Frank took to reinforcing the fading red marks he left earlier, he slipped a hand between your thighs to cup your dripping pussy in his palm. You gasped as he used the heel of his hand to rub it a few times, the pressure creating an addictive friction that had you grinding down against him.

Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, finding your g-spot with practiced ease and stroking it gently. You cried out softly at the sudden stretch. Frank's fingers filled you up so much better than yours ever could. Sometimes you swore he knew more about what made you feel good than you knew about yourself.

Your thighs shook as he began pumping his fingers slowly in and out, stopping every so often to grind his palm against your clit. Your arms were falling asleep underneath you, but that didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of Frank's hair tickling your stomach as he moved down to replace his fingers with his tongue.

You whined at the loss when he pulled his hand away, but your disappointment didn't last long as he truly began to finish what he'd started. Your thighs clamped down around his head when you felt the first swipe of his tongue, but he forced them back open, his wet fingers marking your thigh with your slick.

You moaned as he gave your cunt several long licks, cleaning up the moisture that had pooled between your folds. The need to reach out and push his head down or grab onto his hair was overwhelming, but you couldn't move. All you could do was take what he gave you. When he decided you'd had enough teasing, he dove in fully, eating you out like it was his favorite thing in the world. He tongued at your clit, sucking it at random intervals to see what noises he could coax out of you. Sometimes, he would lap gently at your entrance, just barely dipping inside so you could feel how empty you really were. He gave you one more rough lick before plunging his fingers back inside you and sucking hard at your clit. You almost sobbed as you came over his hand, trembling through your release. Frank groaned softly against you, enjoying the feeling of your walls fluttering and pulsing around any part of him.

He patted your thighs lovingly, coming up from between your legs to kiss you. You were still slightly out of it and breathing heavily, but tasting yourself on Frank's tongue brought you back to the present.

"See what you did to me now?" he asked when he pulled away.

"Yeah," you breathed.

"Think we're even, then?"

"Uh-huh," you answered, struggling to sit up with your hands tied.

"I don't."

"What?"

"I didn't let you touch me, but I still made you feel good, didn't I? All you ever did was tease me. Do you still think we're even, baby?" Frank questioned, stroking your lip with his thumb.

"No," you mumbled.

"So what are you gonna do about it?"

Instead of responding verbally, you parted your lips and sucked his thumb gently into your mouth. After a few seconds, Frank pulled it out and replaced it with the two fingers that had previously been inside you, encouraging you to clean them off.

"That's a good start." Frank pulled his fingers back, satisfied with your work. "But you're gonna need to do more than that, sweetheart."

You hesitated, trying to figure out how you were supposed to lean forward without falling flat on your face.

"You know what I want, baby," he encouraged. "What are you waiting for?" Frank knew very well what you were waiting for, but his sadistic side wanted to watch you figure it out.

Rising up onto your knees, you spread your thighs apart for better balance, and slowly began to lower your head towards Frank's zipper. You made it all the way down without crashing, but you refused to make a fool out of yourself by trying to unbutton his pants with your teeth. Instead, you gazed up at him desperately, pleading for assistance with just your eyes.

Unfortunately, Frank wasn't budging. He raised his eyebrows at you expectantly, letting you know you were gonna have to work for it. Huffing, you lowered your gaze back to the zipper, bracing yourself for your impending embarrassment. You were just about to attack his button with your tongue when you were struck by an idea. There was more than one way you could work for it.

Leaning in closer, you started mouthing at his bulge, kissing it wetly through the fabric. You could tell it was affecting him by the way he twitched under your tongue when you licked lovingly at (what you hoped was) the tip. Using your nose, you nudged at the hem of Frank's t-shirt, and he pulled it up for you so you could leave little red marks and sweet kisses across his abs. Frank grunted quietly when you sucked at a sensitive spot, petting your head softly so you'd do it again. He was really enjoying the sight of you bent over, begging for his cock with your mouth. So much so, that he almost didn't want to give it to you.

He held out for a while, only giving in when the warmth of your mouth soaked fully through his jeans, wetting his dick and making him want more.

"Shit, alright," he groaned, reaching down to unzip his jeans. He tugged them down just enough to get to his boxers, reaching inside to pull out his hard, leaking cock.

"There," he murmured, tapping it sweetly against your cheek. "Have at it, pretty girl."

You were concerned about catching it in your mouth without your hands, but Frank generously decided you didn't have to everything on your own. When you turned your head towards it, he held it still and fed it to you slowly, stroking your hair as you went at your own pace.

You paused for a little while in the beginning to pay attention to his dripping head, laving at the sensitive bottom and sucking softly at the tip. You left a dainty lick on his slit before you took more of him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around his length. You stared up at him as you dragged your tongue teasingly along the underside, tracing a prominent vein that you were very familiar with.

Frank's breathing was getting heavier, letting you know you were doing a good job. Feeling emboldened, you carefully took him all the way to the base, choking softly as he hit the back of your throat.

"Attagirl, fuck," Frank breathed, pushing your head down farther. He held you there for a moment, subtly grinding his cock against the roof of your mouth. Jolting at the feeling, he pushed a little too hard by accident, triggering your gag reflex. You pulled back to catch your breath before continuing to bob your head up and down along his length, taking him as deep as you could without coughing. Before long, your jaw was aching and tears were streaming down your cheeks from choking a few too many times.

Finally, after nearly fifteen minutes of working Frank over with nothing but your mouth, he groaned deeply, signaling his impending release.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna-" he warned, sighing as he came in hot ribbons down your throat. You closed your eyes and relaxed into the feeling of his cock pulsing on your tongue, waiting for it to soften slightly before letting it fall from your mouth.

You sat back up and watched Frank pull his pants the rest of the way off before tucking himself back into his underwear.

"Are we even now?" you asked.

"Yeah, I'd say so," Frank smiled. "Come here, I'll get you untied real quick."

You turned away from him so he could take the belt off you, wiggling your fingers and rolling your wrists to regain the feeling you had lost in your hands. Twisting back around, you pounced, knocking him flat on his back and pushing his shirt up as far as it would go. Making up for lost time, you began rubbing at his chest and his shoulders, and tracing his abs with your fingertips. He chuckled at your neediness, pulling his shirt off to give you better access, which you happily took advantage of. Cradling his face in your hands, you left dozens of little kisses all over his mouth and his neck. It felt so good to be able to touch him again, you didn't think you would ever let go.

Still holding you close to him, Frank turned so his back was against the headboard and he could cuddle you in a more comfortable position. For a while, you laid in silence, syncing your breathing with his and seeing if you could find a way to match your heartbeats. So far, not much luck, but you were sure you'd figure it out someday.

Checking the clock on the nightstand, you saw that you'd been laying there for about ten minutes. "That should be enough time," you thought. You looked up to find Frank's eyes closed, but you knew he was awake.

"Frankie?" you called, almost inaudibly.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think it's time for the 'fun part' now?"

Frank smiled. "Do you want it to be?"

He opened his eyes, watching you closely as you unfastened your bra in the back, and slipped it off slowly. You dropped it on the bed beside you, leaving you completely exposed for Frank to admire you.

"Yeah, I do," you whispered.

Frank surged up to kiss you again, this time much gentler than before. He ran his hands up your sides to tenderly massage your bare chest. You whimpered into the kiss as he rubbed at your nipples, the little buds sensitive from being previously neglected.

Feeling impatient, you tugged his boxers down and quickly began stroking his growing length. Frank hissed at the shock, but he was thrusting up into your hand before too long. As soon as he was half hard, you lifted up and positioned his cock at your entrance before sinking down all the way. You cried out at the intrusion, feeling him curve perfectly inside you to brush your sweet spot on every thrust.

You sat there for a minute, just barely circling your hips as you focused on the feeling of him hardening fully inside you. When he was finished growing, you began to ride him, slowly pushing your body up and down on his cock as he raised his hips to meet you half-way.

Frank punched little noises out of your chest with every bounce, leaning in to hide his face in your neck. He breathed in the wonderful scent of sweat, sex, and expensive perfume, groaning desperately into your skin.

After a while of thrusting and grinding and bouncing, your thighs began to ache, and you weren't able to maintain the same speed anymore. Picking up on your sudden change, Frank took charge almost on autopilot, and flipped you over so you were underneath him.

You moaned at the relief and the change in tempo as he fucked into you faster and harder and deeper, but still with so much love and care behind every movement. When you caught his eyes, it felt like you were staring into your future, and you saw nothing but inevitable happiness.

Your gasps and whines got louder and louder as you chased your release. Your soaked cunt was pulling Frank back in harder, squeezing tight around him to try and keep him from pulling out. Every sensation you were feeling kept building and building until finally, the tension snapped. You almost screamed as your climax washed over you like a rising tide, whiting out your vision and sending waves of pleasure washing over you.

Frank was right behind you, as the feeling of your walls constricting and fluttering around him pushed him over the edge. He came deep inside you, filling you up perfectly before pulling out carefully and collapsing beside you.

The two of you laid next to each other, holding each other tightly and soaking up the afterglow permeating the air all around you. You couldn't have asked for a better anniversary, or a better special someone to share it with. In that moment, as you got ready to drift off to sleep, everything was perfect.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

[bethanydelleman]

So I asked a while ago about which of our main men would change the most/least of their novels if they went back to the start (and I really loved the answers)…

But how do you think it would work vice versa? If our leading ladies went back to the start who do you think would change the most of their respective novels?

I feel like Marianne and Emma would probably change the most… but most of them would change things quite a bit I think.

Except maybe Fanny not out of lack of want to change things but because she has so much difficulty speaking up. I’ve got to admit I’m swaying back and forth on Lady Susan and Anne though. Bc Lady Susan is just arrogant enough to think that if she knows when/how things are going to go wrong then she can prevent them even when it’s something out of her control or that she doesn’t know the actual cause of. And Anne is quite a lot like Fanny in that she has trouble speaking up and also bc up until Lyme Wentworth is still very angry with her and I’m not sure there’s anything that she could do to mitigate that before then…

Thoughts? 💜

This question is in reference to this question.

I think the person who would change the most is Elizabeth Bennet, she's the only one who has someone she absolutely needs to save. (And Jane Bennet if we are counting her as a heroine.) Fortunately, I think rescuing Lydia would be in their power. Elizabeth would actually flirt with Darcy and she could drop hints about Jane loving Bingley. I think they could prevent Bingley from leaving and through that, prevent Lydia's trip to Brighton (ie take her somewhere else exciting with their wealth, as they take over the care of Kitty in canon). Also, knowing his true nature, they'd likely start some sort of whisper campaign against Wickham.

If only Elinor time travels, she would hopefully be able to inform Colonel Brandon about Willoughby earlier and stop W's romance with Marianne, but I don't think she could stop W&M on her own because she doesn't have any evidence of Willoughby's wrongdoing. She'd at least be prepared for the Lucy reveal and she knows it will turn out okay. I think she'd be intelligent enough to just not touch that and let nature take it's course.

Marianne would go for Colonel Brandon and snub Willoughby, it'd be delightful!. Poor Willoughby would have an ego crisis losing to an "old" man.

Anne Elliot doesn't have trouble speaking up, in my opinion, she just knows it's useless. She's been living with her father and Elizabeth for long enough to know that they won't listen to her. However, she would know the future which would be comforting at least and maybe she could prevent the Lyme fall. I think Wentworth would still wake up to his true feelings even without the fall and Anne is selfless enough to risk it.

Catherine Morland would likely avoid Isabella and her best to keep James from entering into his engagement. She would eagerly look forward to each time she knows that Henry Tilney is coming and would not even accuse General Tilney of being a murderer, not even once!

Fanny Price is actually kind of cruel, because the future would horrify her but I don't think she could do anything to prevent it. Edmund is ineffective, Maria wouldn't listen, and I don't think Fanny would dare approach Sir Thomas. So she'd just be EVEN MORE of a Cassandra and in acute pain the whole time. The fact that she ends up with Edmund would only be a minor consolation, given her personality.

Lady Susan would try again with her better knowledge, she might even succeed 😬 the horror!

Lastly, Emma. She's a tricky one because I don't know what she would do. She knows Elton sucks, she knows Jane and Frank are engaged, she's ashamed of her behaviour... Does she encourage Harriet to accept the first proposal or do the same thing as last time so she can enjoy a year with a friend? I think she would refrain from encouraging Harriet about Elton, and therefore avoid that heartbreak. Could she wiggle out of Elton's proposal? I don't know. It's going to happen eventually. She may discover that without her flirting with Frank, Knightley doesn't discover his feelings, so she's got to stick as close as possible to her original actions to prevent disaster! However, she would avoid the Box Hill debacle and refrain from bringing up Mr. Dixon with Frank.

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Raisins and Dates

Summary:

A beautiful stranger catches Hob’s eye during a night out at a bar. Spurred on by his cheeky friends and a fair amount of alcohol, Hob makes his way over to court him through the most daring method possible.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7,874

Square/Prompt: C3 - Bad Pickup Lines |  @dreamlingbingo

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, First Meeting, Pick-Up Lines, Bad Pick-Up Lines, But they both find it cute so it's okay, Drunkenness, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunken Confessions, Temporary memory loss because of drunkenness, Hangover, Sweet, Sweet/Hot, Domestic, Kissing, Neck Kissing, French Kissing, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Smut, Eventual Smut, Cuddling & Snuggling

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57613603

—

“Look, I've seen you use pickup lines,” Hob reminded his friends, his words only slurring a bit. It was their first night out in weeks because of conflicting work schedules and they might have gotten a bit enthusiastic at downing shots. “Half of you lot got rejected within seconds of saying them. Pickup lines are…” he furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to remember what adjectives were. “Stupid. The only reason you even attempt them is because that's what people do in bars. But not me. I've seen enough of you crash and burn. I've made up my mind,” he took a drink from his beer bottle. “I'm never gonna use any pickup line.”

It wasn't the most world-changing principle to hold onto, but Hob tended to run his mouth whenever he'd had more than a few drinks, and when his equally drunk friends dared him to get any stranger's phone number with a pickup line, Hob suddenly felt like giving an entire lecture about it.

“You're an idiot, Robbie,” Ken called him by the nickname he knew Hob disliked the most. “You're just saying that ‘cause you know you'll get rejected like the rest of us.”

Frank piped up. “Maybe I'll take you up on that dare, Ken. You think a pickup line would work on that lady in the black shirt?” He nodded over to the bar where a woman with curly hair and a nice smile was talking to a man who had his back to them.

“Oh, honey,” Hal gave Frank a pitying look. “I don't think anything you say would work on someone so out of your league. And it's a tank top, not a shirt.”

“And that guy could be her boyfriend,” Ken pointed with a nacho to the man leaning against the bar.

Hob was about to say something, but whatever it was fled his mind when the man turned around to speak to the bartender.

His face reminded Hob of those Greek statues in museums; lined features on smooth marble, cheekbones so sharp that Hob would willingly risk getting his hand cut if it meant he could touch them.

“I don't think they're dating,” Hob managed to remember what he was about to say, but this time he knew he sounded a bit hopeful.

“Oh?” Hal arched an intrigued eyebrow. “Would you mind confirming for us, darling?”

“Hey,” Frank elbowed Hob. “If you get that bloke’s number with a pickup line, I’ll get the tab for our next three nights out.”

“Now, we’re talking!” Ken piped up.

Hob was barely listening, still staring at the man who had now turned his back again to continue his conversation with the woman. He stood up—to the surprised and slurred cheers of his friends—and made his way over to the bar.

The woman saw him first, meeting his gaze over the man’s shoulder. For a second, Hob was afraid that they really were dating, and the woman was about to drag the man away somewhere else.

But she smiled warmly and said to the man, “I think someone wants to buy you a drink, brother,” nodding in Hob’s direction.

Brother. Hob knew he was already grinning.

The man turned to face him, and Hob’s breath hitched, suddenly realising how close they were to each other. Piercing blue eyes fixed on him, before flicking down to the bottle he still held in his hand.

“I do not think you should buy any more drinks,” the man said, an amused smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you like raisins?” Hob blurted out.

The man looked at him curiously. “I don’t believe they sell raisins here.”

“Well how do you feel about a date?” Hob said cheekily.

The man’s face showed a combination of surprise and confusion, but he wasn’t walking away and Hob was taking that as a win.

The woman laughed good-naturedly behind her brother and patted him on the back. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

Her brother raised an eyebrow. “You are the one who pestered me to go out tonight, and now you will leave me alone?”

“I'll just be over there by the tables if you need me,” she smiled reassuringly before walking away.

The man turned to Hob again. “Do such lines usually work for you?”

Hob chuckled, leaning against the bar. “Nah. I’ve never even used a pickup line until now. I just heard one of my friends use that one earlier.”

“And did it work?”

“Not at all,” Hob shook his head. “The guy didn’t know that dates were a fruit, and it was just an awkward time with my friend trying to explain the wordplay.”

Amusement twinkled in the man’s eyes, softening his features. “Then why use the same line if it proved ineffective?”

“Had to say something, didn’t I? And we’re having a conversation right now so I’d say it’s effective enough.” Hob grinned and finished the last of his beer, placing the empty bottle on the bar. “Y’know, my friends thought your sister was your girlfriend.” Was that relevant? Hob wasn’t sure, but it was something to say.

The man’s eyebrows lifted. “And that is why you approached me? To settle an argument among your friends?”

“S’no argument,” Hob frowned to try to remember. He hadn’t really been paying attention to the table conversation at the time. “Yeah. I just thought you’re beautiful and I’d regret it for the rest of my life if we never talked,” he chuckled and looked down, sheepishly tugging at his earlobe.

The man had a look of mild surprise on his face. “You are… sincere.”

“What? Well, yeah. Why would I lie about that?” Hob asked in confusion.

“Some people do,” the man gave a half shrug. “It’s why I dislike going to these places,” he muttered, eyeing the crowds.

“Oh,” Hob remembered what this man said about his sister just pestering him to go here tonight. He shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “Um, I can just go back to my friends. If that’s what you want…?”

The man looked at him for a moment, then he opened his mouth to answer—

“Here's your order, sir.” The bartender placed a drink and a small basket of pretzels on the bar. He handed back a credit card.

“Thank you.” The man took the card and turned back to Hob. “Do you like pretzels?”

Hob blinked. He looked at the basket and back at the man. “I— Yeah.”

“Then would you care to join me? I believe we can find a table somewhere.” His eyes seemed to glitter with intent before he gracefully turned and walked away.

Hob could do nothing but follow, determined to find out just what sort of intent the man had in mind.

They sat across from each other at a table, and Hob felt a bit more confident at being invited. “I never caught your name.”

“Finally remembered to ask, didn't you?” the man arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“Technically, I still haven't asked,” Hob replied with a cheeky grin.

The corner of the man’s mouth twitched up. “Dream.”

“What?” Hob furrowed his eyebrows, unsure if he heard correctly.

“My name is Dream.”

“Uh-huh,” Hob said, playfully skeptical. “Because you look like a dream?”

“I am telling the truth,” the man’s eyes were twinkling with mirth as he took something out of his wallet, then showed it to Hob.

Hob leaned forward and saw that it was an ID card. “You’re a director?”

“For theatre plays, yes.” The man—Dream—put the ID back in his wallet. “The latest production we’ve done was a retelling of Twelfth Night.”

“Ah, Shakespeare.” Hob must have looked unimpressed, because Dream tilted his head curiously.

“You are not fond of The Bard?”

Hob shrugged. “I’ve always just preferred Christian Marlowe. Though I wouldn’t mind having a Dream for a midsummer’s night,” he winked.

Dream’s lips curved into an amused smile. “It is only the 7th of June, weeks away from midsummer.”

“Well I’d love to see you again then,” Hob said easily, endeared by how Dream knew exactly when midsummer would even be.

“I do not tend to have meetings with strangers,” Dream leaned back in his seat with a playful gaze.

“Oh! My name!” Hob suddenly realised. “Right, sorry.” He got his own ID from his pocket and showed it to Dream. “I’m Hob.”

Dream read it with a curious expression. “Your ID says Robert.”

“Yeah, but my friends call me Hob.” He pocketed the ID again.

“And that is what we are?” There were equal parts intrigue and wonder in Dream’s voice.

“If you’d like…?” Hob said, suddenly unsure what Dream wanted out of this interaction.

Then there was that small smile again, and Hob knew he'd do anything to see it more often. “I would. Hob Gadling.”

The way Dream said his name made Hob’s breath catch in his throat. The soft rumble that came out of those pink lips seemed to caress each syllable as if it were something precious.

“So you’re a manager at a coffee shop?” Dream brought a pretzel to his mouth and his tongue darted out to get it.

Hob tried not to stare too much at that and almost succeeded. “Uh, yeah. I came here to meet up with my mates straight from my shift. I’ve switched jobs a lot, though. I’ve been a handyman, mechanic, even managed a flower shop for a few months.”

“I see. And you enjoy this lifestyle?” The evident interest in Dream’s voice made Hob feel heady.

“I do,” Hob nodded sincerely. “I get to meet different sorts of people, and I learn a lot too. There’s so much to see out there, you know?”

Dream stared at him thoughtfully for a few moments. “But?”

“But… what?” Hob furrowed his eyebrows.

“You seem wistful. Do you wish for a job you haven’t tried yet?”

Hob was so taken aback he felt himself sober up a few degrees. He hadn’t expected to be figured out so quickly and easily by someone he just met.

“I apologise,” Dream said with a concerned frown. “I didn’t mean to ask such a personal question.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Hob hurriedly said, willing himself to calm down from whatever facial expression he’d been wearing. “I was just surprised, that’s all. No one’s read me that well before,” he smiled to lighten the mood.

“Perhaps they weren’t interested enough.”

“In my experience?”

“In you.”

Hob felt a warmth in his chest that seemed to reach his ears. He chuckled and glanced down for a moment. “Well, um, I always wanted to be a professor. Got my degree and everything, all that's left is to actually apply but…” he shrugged. “Things were pretty rough a few years ago, and I wasn’t in the right headspace to have a career with that kind of responsibility. So I took on other jobs first, and I guess I just haven’t broken that habit yet.”

Dream nodded. “I see.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, and Hob recognised that curiosity.

Normally he would redirect the conversation; people didn’t like emotional baggage being brought up during what was supposed to just be a night of flirting, but Dream didn’t seem like the type to prefer shallow conversations. And Hob wasn’t either.

“It was a nasty breakup,” Hob said. “I proposed. Turned out that while I was spending weeks looking for the perfect engagement ring, she was planning her breakup speech.” He huffed out a chuckle. “Took a while to pick myself back up.” He reached for a pretzel and ate it just to have something to do. He hadn’t talked about it in a long time, and he wasn’t sure what reaction to expect.

“I was engaged once,” Dream said, making Hob glance at him. “We had moved to Greece for our jobs. Eventually we realised we were too different, and that the engagement was our last desperate attempt to make things work between us. We broke it off, and I moved back here.” He finished the drink in his glass.

“Ah.” Hob searched for the right words to say. “I didn’t mean to remind you of all that, sorry. And now I feel like a sod complaining about what happened to me,” he chuckled lightly. “You had to move countries and you’re still doing really well in your work.”

Dream shook his head. “Comparing our suffering only compounds it,” he said gently. “Better to focus on what we have now. ‘It’s good to touch the earth with your bare feet,’ as my sister would say,” he gave a small smile.

Hob felt himself smile back. “You said she was the one who dragged you out here tonight, right? I’ll have to thank her for this spontaneous date, then.”

Dream made a huff that was almost a chuckle. “A date? I have not even bought you a drink yet.” He raised a hand to call the attention of a passing waiter. “A glass of vermouth, please. Sweet.” He handed over his empty glass to the waiter and turned to Hob. “And for the gentleman…?”

“Oh, uh, a gin and tonic, please,” Hob told the waiter.

“Right away,” the waiter nodded politely and headed to the bar.

“Hey,” Hob turned to Dream. “I was the one who approached you, I’m the one who should buy you a drink, right?” He had been planning to, but Dream invited him to a table and it took priority in his mind.

“Perhaps you could buy me one on our second date,” Dream smirked playfully. “I believe you said midsummer?”

“I don’t think I can wait that long,” Hob said without thinking. He almost said it was just a joke, but the look in Dream’s eyes was far from disapproving.

The waiter arrived with their drinks and placed them on the table. Dream thanked him without breaking eye contact with Hob.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t.” Dream picked up his glass. “Wait that long.” He took a drink, and Hob’s eyes got drawn to the bob of his throat.

“Are we already planning a second date when the first one isn’t even done yet?” Hob grinned.

“Do you object?” Dream raised an eyebrow.

“No,” Hob said, probably louder than necessary. “Just can’t believe my luck, that’s all.”

They talked over their drinks and pretzels, and Dream turned out to be as good of a talker as a listener. Hob enjoyed listening to his deep voice as Dream told him about the process of reimagining the plays at the theatre, and the cat that he had adopted ever since moving back here, a black Main Coon named Sable. Dream spoke of him with such fondness that Hob almost asked to meet him.

Hob told Dream about his varying work experiences, his realisation that he loved learning new things and meeting all sorts of people, and that was why he couldn’t seem to stay in one job for very long. He talked about how he started buying coffee beans and a coffee maker a few weeks into working at the café because he wanted to experiment with his own recipes, and the regulars who always seemed to cheer up whenever they find a misspelling in their names on the cups, and so Hob sometimes misspelled their names on purpose when they looked like they were having a bad day.

Dream listened, and gave those small smiles that Hob was very nearly getting addicted to. They ordered more drinks, and Hob insisted on paying for some, so Dream paid for chips and then nachos. He encouraged Hob to be a professor on his next career change, and for the first time in a long time, Hob actually considered it.

At some point Hob told the story of his first attempt at making his own espresso drink at home, how he had more confidence than skill and ended up spitting out very expensive ingredients. Dream laughed so brightly that Hob sent a quick message in the groupchat with his friends that he wouldn’t be leaving the bar with them tonight. No matter how this night would end for him and Dream, Hob wanted to spend as much time with him as humanly possible.

***

Hob woke up with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. He groaned and moved to roll to his side, then nearly fell off when his body met what felt like a small table instead of the other side of his bed.

He blinked himself to full consciousness and realised he was on a couch. A fluffy black cat was sitting on the armrest at his feet, regarding him with yellow eyes that shone in the dimness of the living room.

I don't have a cat, Hob’s hungover brain managed.

Bits and pieces of the night before flashed in Hob’s mind. Blue eyes sparkling with mirth. A deep chuckle. Rosy pink lips forming a name.

Hob sat up properly and stared at the cat. “Sable…?” he guessed.

The cat's ears perked up and his tail swished once, his eyes still looking at Hob.

I'm in Dream’s house, Hob realised with awe.

He looked around and took in his surroundings.

Thick curtains were drawn at the windows and the lights were off, keeping the room dim, so he wasn’t sure what time it was. The coffee table appeared to have been dragged to be right next to the couch, judging by the tracks on the carpet. On the table was a glass of water with a plastic lid, next to a small packet of painkillers. There was a Post-It note beside it, and Hob leaned over and squinted to read the smooth cursive.

For your headache. -Dream

He felt himself smile, despite the disorientation. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember what exactly happened last night.

“How do you plan on going home?” Dream asked as they exited the bar into the cool night air, Hob leaning against him for support because walking properly was a sober man’s game.

“That’s not fair, you know,” Hob frowned as Dream gently propped him up against the wall. “You drank about as much as me, how are you not wobbling?” he pointed an accusatory finger at Dream.

Dream smiled in amusement. “Did you have dinner at all tonight? Chips and nachos do not count.”

Hob tried to recall the last few hours. “S’pose not. We were gonna order food, me and my mates. But then we saw you and then I walked over and…” he gestured vaguely to nothing in particular. “Here we are.”

Dream sighed, but his gaze looked fond. “If I had known you were operating on an empty stomach, I would have ordered more substantial food with our drinks.” He furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Will you even be able to take a cab in your state?”

“Sure, I can call one.” Hob pulled out his phone and pressed uselessly at the unlock button a few times before realising the battery was drained. “Hm. S’just a brick now.” He tapped it firmly on his palm a few times as if jostling it would do anything.

“I live just a few blocks from here,” Dream said, watching Hob repeatedly attempt to return his phone to his pocket and finally succeeding at the fifth try. “Can I invite you to stay at my place? Just so you won’t have to travel by yourself tonight.”

Hob perked up at that. He straightened up to agree, but in doing so left the support of the wall. “Woah—”

Dream caught him by the waist before he fell face-first onto the pavement. “Careful.”

Hob grabbed Dream’s shoulders to steady himself, and realised Dream’s arms were around him. “You’re really nice,” he said with a dopey grin. “Your serious face is a bit scary at first, but under that you’re really sweet.” He tapped the tip of Dream’s nose with his finger.

Dream was trying to hold back a smile and only partially succeeding. “You’re drunk.”

“And you’re pretty.” Hob leaned forward to emphasise his point, which made Dream stumble a bit backwards.

Dream chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Come along, my car is parked nearby.”

“Oh my god,” Hob whispered, putting a hand to his reddening face. He probably looked so idiotic last night. He had to find Dream so he could apologise profusely and buy him breakfast or something. Was it even time for breakfast yet?

He turned to Sable. “Hey, buddy. Do you know where I can find your human?”

Sable walked in a circle three times before curling up on the armrest, facing away from Hob. Evidently not wanting anything to do with whatever mess Hob had gotten himself into.

“Yeah, I don't blame you,” Hob sighed.

He straightened up on the couch and took a painkiller, gratefully finishing the entire glass of water. He glanced at the smaller couch next to the wall and noticed that a phone was charging. His phone.

Hob smiled. Dream really was sweet. His drunk self had it right.

He stood up, slowly, because his head still hurt with every movement and it somehow felt very rude to disrupt Sable's nap. The cat had an air of sophistication to him much like his owner; Hob wouldn't be surprised if Dream spoke Greek to Sable.

Hob sat on the smaller couch and turned on his phone. After a few seconds, the screen showed that it was past 10 AM. Bit late for breakfast, then. Where was Dream? Hob doubted that he would leave his house with a practical stranger in it.

A series of notifications on his phone drew his attention. Some of them were messages from last night, replies from his friends in the groupchat when Hob said they could leave the bar without him. They were playfully cheering him on and that was that.

Though the next batch of messages was still coming in, arriving one after the other now that Hob’s phone was able to receive them.

Hal: @Hob darling did you make it home safe?

Ken: how was tall pale n handsome

Frank: guys he’s not even seeing the messages 👀

Ken: probably still asleep

Ken: all shagged out

Abel: what’s happening? i don’t join one night out and suddenly hob’s getting laid???

Hal: hopefully 💕

Frank: holy shit did the pickup lines work

Hob chuckled and shook his head. He began to type out a reply that yes he was safe, and no he was not shagged out by any means and only just made a fool of himself.

He was about to hit send when he realised he wasn’t wearing the same shirt he had on last night. In fact, he didn’t recognise these clothes at all. He was pretty sure he didn’t own a white sweater with the design of a black cat on it, and the grey sweatpants he was currently wearing wasn’t his either.

What.

He locked his phone and placed it down beside him. What else happened?

They stumbled into the living room, Dream closing the front door while Hob’s arm was around his shoulders. He switched on the light and got Hob to sit on the couch. It was cooler indoors compared to the warmth of Dream’s car, and Hob made a noise of complaint when Dream made a move to disentangle himself from Hob’s side.

“I shall get you some water,” Dream explained and stood up.

Hob’s brain didn’t process the words and at that moment he only cared that Dream’s warmth was leaving him. He reached out and clumsily pulled Dream back; Dream gave a surprised shout as they both flailed and fell over, Hob landing flat on his back on the couch with Dream on top of him.

Dream’s blue eyes were wide with surprise, his dark hair looking as soft as clouds. Hob wanted to touch but was afraid of ruining it somehow. Clouds weren’t meant to be touched, only admired. Or else they would disappear into mist or raindrops and be gone.

“You’re beautiful,” Hob breathed, his hands resting on Dream’s back.

Dream’s gaze softened and his lips lifted at the corners, and Hob felt his heart race at being so close to that smile. So close.

“As you are,” Dream said quietly, his warm breath caressing Hob’s mouth.

“‘Specially your eyes,” Hob continued. “They light up. When you talk about your cat. And that bloke Shakespeare. What’s so good about ‘im anyway?” he frowned.

Dream chuckled and dipped his head, lightly touching their foreheads together for a moment before looking at Hob again.

“And then I thought…” Hob tried to find the words. It felt important to say them. “I’d do anything for you to look at me like that. With that bright fondness in your eyes.”

Dream’s smile melted off his face, replaced by a look of surprise.

“And then you did,” Hob’s kept speaking quietly, just loud enough for Dream to hear. “When I told you I’d live a hundred more years because there’s so much to live for. I dunno why you looked at me that way when I said it, but you did. And I wanted to kiss you right then.”

Dream swallowed, his eyes dropping to Hob’s mouth.

“I still do,” Hob whispered. He reached up and brushed a lock of hair from Dream’s forehead.

“Hob,” Dream’s tone held a warning, though it was softened by the waver in his voice.

“Dream…” Hob let his hand drop to the side of Dream’s face, his thumb lightly brushing over a pale cheekbone, watching a hint of pink blossom on the skin.

He kept his gentle hold on Dream’s face as they moved closer, their noses touching, their breaths mixing as their parted lips were only a hair’s breadth away—

Hob’s eyes were wide as he sat frozen on the couch. His heart raced and his cheeks flushed at the memory. But… that was it. His memories ended there.

He shut his eyes tight and desperately tried to remember what happened next. If he and Dream kissed then surely, surely, he would remember it? The press of those soft pink lips, the slide of tongue against his own…

He opened his eyes and huffed out a breath in exasperation. Nothing. And he’s wearing Dream’s clothes! If they did shag and he couldn’t remember a second of it, he would never forgive himself. He would swear off drinking forever if it meant he could remember it all.

“Ah, I see you've met Sable.”

Hob’s eyes snapped up to the sound of that voice.

Dream was standing by the other couch and scratching Sable under the chin. Sable was purring appreciatively and leaning into Dream’s touch, and Dream glanced down at the cat with such soft fondness on his face that it calmed Hob’s nerves.

“Would you care to join me in the dining room?” Dream turned to Hob again. “I just finished cooking.” He was wearing a blue apron over a black sweater similar to Hob’s, and black joggers that hung low on his hips.

“I…” Hob had so many questions and no idea how to voice out any of them. “You cooked?” he said instead.

Dream nodded. “Given that it was my fault you didn’t get to eat dinner last night, I thought it only polite to make breakfast for you. Although it’s technically brunch now.”

“Yeah, um…” Hob stood up but wasn’t sure what to say. He still couldn’t remember the entirety of last night—to his eternal regret—and he didn’t know what their dynamic was supposed to be now. “Thanks for charging my phone,” he smiled and gestured to it.

“It’s fortunate that we have the same model,” Dream returned the smile. He gave Sable a few scratches behind the ears before the cat decided to move to where Hob had been sleeping, scratching his claws a few times into the cushions before stretching his body and lying down to continue his nap.

Hob remembered reading somewhere that cats scratched at furniture to leave their scent and mark their territory, and Sable doing that to the place where Hob had been seemed quite telling.

“Shall we head to the dining room while the food is still warm?” Dream asked.

Hob nodded and followed him.

The rest of the house wasn’t nearly as dim as the living room; all the curtains were open and sunlight streamed in, dappling softly on the floor and furniture.

“Oh, should I keep the curtains closed here as well?” Dream must have noticed him staring at the windows.

“What?” Hob turned to him. “No, it’s fine… Wait, you kept the living room dark for me?”

Dream nodded. “Bright light is painful for hangovers. I can draw the curtains here too, if you’d like. Have a seat, please,” he gestured to the dining table before removing his apron and hanging it on a hook in the kitchen.

“No, it’s okay, I don’t mind the sunlight,” Hob said as he sat down.

Dream took a seat across from him, and without the apron Hob could see that his black sweater was dotted with white stars.

“Hob,” Dream’s voice resurfaced in Hob’s memory.

“Dream…” Hob brushed his thumb over a smooth cheekbone.

Dream’s pupils were blown wide, almost covering all the blue of his eyes. They reflected the light, and Hob could imagine the pinpricks of white to be galaxies, and he was more than willing to get lost in them.

Dream’s weight was pressing him down pleasantly on the couch, and Hob’s eyes fluttered shut, his breath held in anticipation as Dream leaned in closer.

“Hob? Are you alright?”

Hob grabbed the pitcher of water and poured himself a glass, gulping everything down. “Mm-hm.”

He kept remembering that moment on the couch, and he could feel his mind dangerously close to filling in the blanks of what could have happened, and he really needed to cool down instead of fantasising about the man in front of him who he may or may not have slept with.

“Did you take the painkiller?”

“Yeah, I did. Thanks for that, by the way,” Hob tried for a smile, but he still couldn’t quite meet Dream’s eyes. He looked around at the food and tried to decide which one to get first.

“I… apologise.”

Hob looked at Dream and saw that his shoulders were tense and drawn up, like he was trying to look formal and hide himself at the same time.

“Is this… too much?” Dream’s gaze was guarded but Hob thought he glimpsed a hint of sadness in them. “You may leave anytime you wish, of course. I just thought… you might want some food.” He glanced down but kept his posture straight. “But if you prefer to go—”

“What? No, Dream—” Hob suddenly felt panicked. Did he just hurt Dream somehow? “I don’t wanna leave. Why would you think that?”

Dream met his eyes and frowned in confusion. “You seem… uncomfortable. I am aware that our agreement was only for you to stay the night, and it is nearly noon now. So I understand if—”

“Dream, it’s not that,” Hob didn’t want him to think those things at all. “I just…” he shifted in his seat. “Why… Why am I wearing your clothes…?” Might as well be direct about it.

Dream’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“I don’t remember, I’m sorry,” Hob blurted out. “I— Fuck,” he breathed, running a hand down his face. “I want to remember. God, the first time I wake up with missing memories in someone else’s home and it’s with you of all people. I’m… I’m so sorry, Dream,” he shook his head in remorse.

Dream blinked, his shoulders relaxing. “Hob. Why would you apologise for such a thing?”

“Well I don't want you to think that it didn't mean anything to me,” Hob’s eyes dropped to his plate and he fidgeted with his fork. “Which it did, whatever it was. Whether it was just a— a kiss or— or something else—” he stammered and looked to see Dream’s reaction.

Realisation appeared on Dream's face, and an amused smile slowly graced his lips and brightened his features. “Hob Gadling. If we had slept together, why would you be on the couch and not my bed?”

“I don't know!” Hob said defensively, his cheeks heating up. “Maybe we didn't make it to the bedroom? I don't remember!”

Dream looked down and was really trying hard to fight a smile. The adorable sight of it began to calm Hob a bit, especially when Dream met his eyes again. “I would have taken you to my bed. I'll have you know I'm a gentleman. Unless requested otherwise,” he added in a low voice and smirked.

Hob’s breath hitched. God, this man was going to kill him.

Then something sparked in his mind, a memory that surfaced after Dream's remark about being a gentleman.

Dream’s lips were so close to his that Hob could almost taste them.

Then Dream pulled away and placed a firm hand on Hob’s chest. “Tomorrow,” he said decisively, a slight tremble in his voice.

Hob opened his eyes.

“Tomorrow. If this is still what you want,” Dream explained, then he pulled away entirely and stood up, disappearing from Hob’s field of vision.

Hob blinked repeatedly, still reeling from the whiplash. Dream was going to kiss him, right? What happened?

“For now, you must hydrate or your mouth will feel so parched tomorrow.” Dream had returned, and Hob instinctively sat up at the sound of his voice.

He knocked over the glass that Dream had been handing over to him, spilling the water all over his shirt and trousers.

Hob flinched back and grimaced. “Cold.”

“Oh dear.” Dream picked up the now empty glass that had fallen on the couch and placed it on the coffee table. “I shall get you a change of clothes. Wait here, and please don't touch anything else or you might hurt yourself. Stay here, do you understand?” Dream cupped Hob’s face and gently lifted it to make Hob look at him.

Hob smiled at the feeling of Dream’s hand on his skin, and he nodded. “I'll wait for you.”

Dream smiled fondly and walked away.

“Oh,” Hob said in realisation, the memories coming back to him.

“You remember now?”

“Yeah,” Hob nodded. “You handed me the clothes and I just took off my shirt right there, because somehow it made sense to me to just change in front of you,” he cringed. “And then that was when you left, right?”

“Yes,” Dream said with an amused smile. “I said a hasty good night and retreated to my room before you decided to take off your trousers as well.”

“Yeah I remember that too,” Hob put a hand to his temple, his headache had dulled but the sudden wave of embarrassment seemed to be worsening it. “Can we eat now? I think I'd rather forget about everything again.”

Dream laughed, a soft and bright one that immediately put Hob at ease. “Of course.”

It was a pleasant surprise, how easily they slipped back into comfortable conversation after all the misunderstanding and awkwardness. They finished eating and Hob insisted that he would wash the dishes since Dream already cooked everything.

“Thanks again for letting me crash at your couch,” Hob said as he put the last of the dishes in the drying rack. “I don't think I've gotten that drunk since uni.”

“I just didn't want you waking up at a bus station somewhere,” Dream quipped and finished putting the leftovers in the fridge.

Hob chuckled and leaned back against the counter. “So uh, do you have any plans today? What do you usually do on Saturdays?”

Dream stood beside him and leaned on the counter too, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “It varies. Sometimes I’d go to a restaurant I’d never been to before, or visit my friend who works at the library. Oh, and there’s a museum a short drive away that holds a different art gallery every month. I try to see the new exhibits whenever I can. I had no prior plans for today, though.” He tilted his head slightly to the side. “Do you have anything in mind?”

Hob grinned, he couldn’t help it; Dream wanted to keep spending time with him. “I do, yeah. There’s a park here that recently displayed murals because it’s summer, they got a theme going on and everything. I think the artworks are made by high school and college kids. I’ve passed by it a few times but never really got to see it yet. What do you think?”

Dream’s eyes lit up, and Hob knew he’d take him anywhere just to see that again. “I would gladly see the murals with you. Are they accessible at any time or is there a scheduled exhibit?”

“Let me check. They posted it online.” Hob instinctively reached for his pockets but found them empty. “Oh right, my phone's in the living room.”

“Ah. I would check the schedule myself, but I'm afraid something's wrong with my phone.” Dream took his phone from the counter, then unlocked it and looked down at the screen.

Hob furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Your phone number's not in it.” Dream held it out to Hob, a smirk playing on his lips.

Hob just stared in surprise for a few seconds before chuckling in disbelief. Of all the people he would have expected to use a pickup line, Dream wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t complaining about receiving it, though.

He took Dream’s phone and began typing in his number. “Couldn’t wait, huh?” he said playfully. “You know I’m not just leaving, love. We’re still going to that park.” The endearment slipped out without Hob intending it to, and he snapped up his gaze to look at Dream’s reaction. Luckily Dream didn’t seem to mind.

“I enjoyed our conversation so much last night that I had forgotten to ask for your phone number. I would not risk it happening again,” Dream said as he took his phone back.

“I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Hob sheepishly tugged at his earlobe. “I’d been a bit worried that I was too knackered last night and might have made such a fool of myself. I enjoyed our time together too, and I’m glad I remember all of it now, even the embarrassing moments.”

“Oh make no mistake, you were undoubtedly knackered last night,” Dream said with fond amusement. “But I never once thought you were a fool.” He pressed something on his phone and Hob heard his ringtone coming from the living room. “And now you have my number as well.”

Hob grinned. “Am I supposed to follow the three-day-rule and wait three days before calling you?”

“Already planning a second date when the first one isn’t even done yet?” Dream repeated Hob’s words from last night.

“And a third, if you've got no objections,” Hob raised his eyebrows playfully.

“Oh?” Dream straightened up and took a step closer. “And what third date activities do you have in mind?” His gaze lowered and slowly climbed back up, scanning Hob’s body until their eyes met again.

Hob felt goosebumps prickle on his skin as if Dream were actually touching him. He wet his lips with his tongue, catching how Dream’s eyes followed the movement. “I've got a few activities in mind, yeah. Though I don't know if I wanna wait until three dates.”

“Is that so?” A smirk pulled at the corner of Dream’s mouth as he took another step closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Tell me, what do you desire?”

Hob swallowed. “You can't just say things like that with that voice.”

“What voice?” Dream took another step and he was near enough now that Hob could see how soft his eyelashes looked.

“Last night, you said something…” Hob reached up and traced with light fingers the star patterns on Dream's sweater, near his neckline, his shoulders, because if he didn't touch Dream in some way he might just implode.

“We both said a great deal of things last night.”

“You said…” Hob lifted his hand to Dream's chin, his thumb sweeping softly just under the bottom lip. “If this is still what I wanted…” he stared into Dream’s eyes, his heart hammering in anticipation.

Dream surged forward and suddenly Hob was pressed back against the counter, Dream’s lips against his.

A surprised—and very pleased—groan slipped out of Hob, his hands flying to cup Dream’s face.

Dream’s hands were on the counter, Hob caged in his arms. And damn if Hob didn't feel a certain way about that.

Hob could have lived forever in this moment, the soft slide of their tongues, the warmth of Dream’s body against his. But Dream’s mouth brushed down his jawline and onto his neck, clever lips and tongue making his blood run hotter.

Hob could only whimper and throw his head back to give Dream more access. He buried his hands in Dream’s hair, soft midnight threading through his fingers. Dream nipped at his sensitive flesh, and Hob’s hips twitched of their own accord.

Dream made a pleased hum and moved his kisses upwards. “My bedroom is nearby, unless you are partial to the couch. I could ask Sable to give us some privacy,” he said teasingly, his breath hot against Hob’s ear.

“Anywhere,” Hob gasped as Dream gently bit his earlobe. “Fuck, you can have me on the dining table.”

Dream chuckled and slid his hands from Hob’s waist to his stomach and up to his chest, fists clenching in the front of Hob's shirt. He pulled away just enough to look at Hob. “Nonsense. Gentleman, remember?” He stepped back and yanked Hob towards the bedroom with a force that was decidedly not gentlemanly.

Dream’s back slammed against the closed door as Hob pressed their lips and bodies together again, the few seconds they were apart becoming too unbearable. Dream managed to turn the knob behind him and they stumbled into the bedroom, only parting long enough to practically tear each other's sweaters off.

Hob fell backwards onto the bed, bringing Dream down with him. They were a tangle of limbs and sighs and groans, then Dream was straddling him, grinding his hips down and driving Hob near delirious with want.

Dream was breathing heavily above him, and Hob wanted more of it. Wanted to see this beautiful creature give in to pleasure.

He reached a hand between them and palmed at the hard bulge tenting Dream’s joggers.

Dream gave a cry of surprise and broke the kiss to gasp, and Hob wasted no time in freeing Dream’s cock from the confines of his clothes. He began a slow stroke, and Dream leaned forward to latch his mouth onto Hob’s neck, lavishing it with attention that sent more heat straight to Hob's groin.

Hob clenched his jaw—even as a moan escaped him—and sped up his hand around Dream’s length, precome slicking the way and causing Dream’s hips to twitch.

“Hob,” Dream breathed against the shell of his ear, and for a second Hob thought he would come just from hearing his name in that voice, with Dream’s hips erratically rolling above his cock through layers of fabric.

“Let go for me, love,” Hob’s voice sounded wrecked to his own ears.

He twisted his hand and Dream came with a whine, burying his face in Hob’s neck and spending all over Hob's hand. His hips were still stuttering when he pressed their foreheads together, his eyelids fluttering as he caught his breath.

Hob slowed his strokes to a stop, his other hand cupping Dream’s face. “Good?” he asked gently, fond and teasing.

Dream pulled away to meet Hob’s gaze, and it was enough to melt Hob’s grin off his face as he saw the intensity in those blue eyes.

Dream shifted to move further backwards, and before Hob knew what was happening, Dream had positioned himself between Hob’s parted legs and pulled down the sweatpants to reveal Hob’s straining cock.

Hob couldn't look away, anticipating Dream’s long fingers wrapped around him, and so he yelped when Dream used his mouth instead, the soft heat enveloping Hob and setting his nerves on fire. Hob’s eyes fell shut, his elbows trembling as he leaned back on the mattress.

Dream worked him slowly, taking him in inch by torturous inch as his tongue swirled in ways that left Hob breathless and squirming and doing his very best not to thrust into Dream’s sinful mouth.

Hob sank further down Dream’s throat, and his arms finally gave out as he felt Dream swallow around him. His head hit the pillow and he clenched his hands into the sheets, a wounded groan reverberating in his chest.

“Dream… Dream… Fuck—” his hips jerked upwards when he felt a light graze of teeth on the underside of his cock. His thighs were trembling, and desperate moans laced with Dream’s name kept slipping past his lips.

Dream hummed around him and moved his hands to stroke the inside of Hob's thighs, all at once soothing and fueling the fire that was very quickly pooling low in Hob’s belly. Dream bobbed his head up and down languidly, and it was all too much and not nearly enough.

“Please,” Hob sobbed. His entire body felt aflame, and he couldn't take another second of it even as he wanted it to last forever.

Dream took him down to the hilt and swallowed repeatedly, his fingernails raking lightly along Hob’s thighs.

Hob arched his back and came with a garbled cry, unable to stop the tremors running through him.

Dream kept swallowing, making Hob thrash his head from side to side as he was flung higher and higher.

Hob must have blacked out for a second, because when he opened his eyes, Dream was looming over him with a satisfied smirk.

“Good?” Dream licked his bottom lip.

Hob was still panting, and it took a few seconds for enough oxygen to get into his brain for him to form words. “I'm so glad we did this today and not last night,” he said breathlessly. “No way in hell I'll forget this.”

Dream huffed out a laugh and nestled himself beside Hob, his face snuggled at the crook of Hob's neck, his hand idly drawing circles on Hob’s chest.

“You can stay the weekend, if you'd like.” Dream's voice was quiet, tinged with hesitance, as if Hob would ever say no to that while of sound mind and body.

Hob regained control of his limbs and wrapped an arm around Dream, turning to face him and pulling him closer. “Sounds perfect, love,” he rested his chin on Dream's hair. “Would give me more than enough time to get you back for what you just put me through.”

Dream chuckled low in his chest. “I would love to see you try, Hob Gadling.”

“Oh, I will.” Hob closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the even rhythm of their breathing, settling into their embrace as if they were always meant to fit in each other's arms.

—

Author's Note:

Thank you to @patchyegg87 for all the help with this fic! <3

—

(Dreamling Bingo Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[thestalwartheart]

RADI00Q: 31 SONGS FOR BOND AND Q GUEST SPOT: It Had To Be You - Frank Sinatra

Today's guest spot is for our fabulous fandom friend @foxsoulcourt. Here she is explaining why it had to be this song for 00Q:

I love the quality of Frank’s voice because I think it matches both DC!Bond’s classic sharp guy (those suits! or rather : his whole wardrobe! that haircut!) and BW!Q’s t i m e out of time looks. In the song there is yearning, one for the other. There’s devotion and adoration. And there’s hints of pain too. Each of these aspects are things I see, through canon and fanfic, as part of who these two men are with one another. There are two parts of this song which sound like Q to me. The first: Why do I do just as you say Why must I just give you your way Why do I sigh, why don't I try to forget It must have been that something lovers call fate Kept me saying I have to wait I saw them all, just couldn't fall, 'til we met And the second: For nobody else gave me a thrill With all your faults, I love you still It had to be you Wonderful you It had to be you This is the bit which sounds like Bond to my ears: It had to be you It had to be you I wandered around, and I finally found The somebody who Could make me be true And could make me be blue And even be glad Just to be sad - thinking of you

Thank you for writing in, Foxy!

[jolalibrary]

the yearly round up

so, i am not someone who tends to toot their own horn a lot, but i thought i could be forgiven since it's my birthday. if there were a party, i'd maybe give a speech, right? so, instead of talking about myself, i thought id talk about my work and some of my fave things I've written this year and a little bit as to why. for this list, i have not included late night texts purely because i gave it a lot of love on my last secret birthday. and equally, as do me yourself comes to a close during this one, i feel it's having such a hot moment in the sun, i didn't want to bore everyone. also because if you ask me anything about dmy i won't shut the fuck up. to ask anything about these just add an 🍊.

anytime javier p x f!reader

best friends who go to a wedding only to realise they're in love? sounds like jo. this story fell out of me upon seeing a moodboard by /wildemaven and god i love them. i think about them so often and it makes me want to write him like this again. just fun, easy. it helped me find my nerve to tackle him again after a break when LNT finished, so it was nice to hang with him again.

in my room javier p x f!reader

this idea lived in my head for so long, it went through so many variations until we landed on this. i loved writing it because i hadn't written him like this, and how closed off they both were was so much fun. not having a resolved ending was tough to, but it was also really nice?

i like the way you frankie m x f!reader

would it even be a list if i don't include this? it's a work that on the surface might just feel like a lot of fun. and it is, for sure. but also this fic really taught me a lot and helped create a new relationship with sex. i won't bore or dwell on sad things, but even with therapy, a solid and healthy relationship, this fic helped heal some lasting wounds with my relationship with sex. all through the eyes of two friends who were just trying not to confess they loved one another. so very jo.

up sky, low high frankie m x f!reader

im not sure why this man makes me write some incredible smut (IMO, ofc) but he does??? this one wouldn't exist without @morallyinept urging me on, because honestly i wouldn't have had the guts without her convincing me. but, god i think about this fic a lot? i write a lot of lovely romance, but the romance in this with the smut? i never EVER thought id find that balance. and i did, have, yay!

be good, be you joel miller x f!reader

never in a million years did i think this would have been so popular. and that's not why it's on this list. it's on this list because i lived with this fic for weeks. every bit of rain the UK we had, i thought of this. anyone who knows me, knows how much i love bill + frank joel, so this was like giving into an idea that i thought would only live in my head. and now, it's there, and I'm not ashamed to say i re-read it a lot.

meet you once, saw you thrice lucien flores x f!reader

who'd have thought this would make this list? not me. but it has, and god. i really tested myself with this one. creating him was days of churning over interviews of other actors, of finding who he is in the centre of fucking nothing. and then pouring my heart into it for lovely @pedgito and god am i grateful that's the moodboard i was given. i was terrified (ali will attest) but now i am so proud of it. i love it, and him. I'm almost terrified now to see the movie and watch this version die and wilt hahaha.

din and the travelling of planets din djarin x f!reader

not a one shot, but a collection, because i spent longer trying to choose than i did dwelling on choosing the rest and writing this post. i never thought id step back into star wars, but i'm so glad i did. din and his girl, seeing different planets together, letting us see the world through her eyes. there's a lot of my writing I'm proud of, but I'm most proud of the lines in this. because i get to describe in a way where i don't feel its redundant. because we're seeing it at the same time as she is. i also have so much fun each time i get to write him, and that, makes me happy.

[garglyswoof]

the space we'll fill with time

For Come What May May 29th: Say the Quiet Parts Out Loud A conversation you don't think they'll ever have but wish they would. | What are some offscreen moments you wish you could see? I won't be around much tomorrow, so posting early.

“What was she like?” Karen’s question is soft as it breaks the comfortable quiet. Frank winces before realizing the reaction is just instinct - he's unbothered by the question. Not when it comes from her.

He turns the wince into a smile that stretches across his face as he remembers. “She was a ballbuster, that’s for sure. Didn’t take any shit from me. Made me understand what a real man needed to be, y’know?” He glances up at Karen where she sits, patient and interested. 

“The married guys in my unit would bitch and moan about taking care of their kids when they were on leave, or doing dishes or some shit. And y’know, sometimes that stuff settles into you, right? So I came home once, before Kandahar, and I started complaining about having to do laundry or something, and she let me have it.” Frank shakes his head, grin wide. “God damn my life flashed before my eyes she took me down so hard. She was just merciless,” he laughs.

Karen smiles. “Sounds like she could keep up with you.”

“Yeah. More than.” It’s quiet for a minute as they both sit with their own thoughts. Frank’s the first to break it.

“M’ not saying everything was sunshine and roses, no way," He shakes his head firmly. "We both had our faults. She had trouble letting the kids be independent, and I wanted them to grow up and help their mom out. ‘Specially because I wasn’t around. I guess that was a selfish ask.”

“I don’t think so. I mean I get both sides. They’re just different.”

His hand scrapes the stubble on his face as he agrees, the sound loud in the relative quiet of the apartment. “You want another beer?” He gets up at her nod and grabs them both a bottle, frosted from the refrigerator’s chill. He opens her bottle with his own, an old party trick he learned back in recruit training that never fails to make Karen smile. She lifts a brow and holds her hand out when he can’t find an opener for his own beer, then proceeds to open it for him with a key of all things.

“I’ve been practicing,” she says with a proud smile that slams him in the chest. He sits down at the end of the couch and tugs her into him, her back against his front, her silken hair tickling him until he sweeps it away to gently lay a kiss on her neck.

Karen asks another question, her voice soft again. “Who gave the best gifts?” Frank’s surprised huff is loud in her ear.

“Not me, that’s for sure. I had to learn. She never wanted jewelry, shit like that.” His chin rests on her shoulder and he tilts his face to hers. “You sure you’re okay talking about this?”

“I want to know. She’s a part of your life.” The tense doesn’t go unnoticed, nor does her brief kiss to his lips, silencing his concerns. Part of him wants to get lost in it but he can feel she’s hungry for his words, for the little things that made up his life before.

Before. God, what a small word to fit too much into. 

He thinks it over and Karen lets him, he hears her bottle lift and drop, the slosh of liquid and the displacement of air. 

Before. Before grief so strong that the only recourse was rage. Before he let himself become The Punisher. He tenses up and Karen places a gentle kiss on his cheek. He slows the thoughts from spiraling, for her. It takes him a few moments to center himself as the living room clock that he swears he's going to find a way to secretly throw out one day ticks loudly, resolutely.

“Y’know that whole thing, not that Women are from Mars shit but the other self-help thing. Uhhh,” he lifts his head from her shoulder and takes a swig. “Your love language, yeah?” He sees her nod and continues. “Maria was an acts of service person, so it worked because that’s what I’m good at. Fix the washer, take the kids to the dentist, she could care less about gifts when it came down to it.”

“What about you, what’s your love language?” And god if the question isn’t so strange, because part of being with Karen is realizing that they haven’t known each other all that long, the moments stretching out like hours through the violence were just that.

“Touch, for one.” He nuzzles into her neck again, as if to illustrate the point. “I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy. After they died, that was the hardest, I think. To know I’d never be able to wrap my arms around her, around the kids.” His chest constricts; his heart knows it will never not hurt, same as his head.

She sits up and turns in his arms. “I should be the one asking if you’re okay.”

He blinks once, twice. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Because he knows this is part of the after.

After. He met Karen in the space between, he knows that now, just as he knows she's the one that stretched the moment out, turned time on its head, helped him have this. He smiles and Karen looks at him curiously, her eyes bright and warm. After. Yeah. That word can't hold it all either.

He pulls her into his arms, arms that cross over her back more than they did with Maria. Karen feels different and he’s glad for it. Doesn’t want to confuse the two, ever. Feels disrespectful to both of them. His voice is a little more broken than he intended when he speaks again. 

“I love you. And I love her.”

“I know.”

It’s gentle and soft and everything, to the both of them.

[han1nn]

comrades in war

Frank castle x m!reader

Summary: you and Frank are comrades and also roommates in the marines and get along very well. You've always found him attractive but he's absolutely into women, that's definitely what you believed, till one night changed everything.

Warnings: they just kiss intensely

Requests open!!

(Please write requests😭)

09:27 pm:

I were in my room and read a book. Frank were somewhere outside, he said he still has something to do. But it's getting late and I slowly worrying about him. I lay my book on the table and walk down the hallway. me and Frank shared a small apartment. It wasn't even an apartment, there were four rooms, one for me, one for Frank, a kitchen and of course a bathroom. I open the door and looked at the large hallway that leads the other rooms. We're marines so each of us got a roommate and not a room for himself.

Then I finally saw him. The man that I find so attractive, my roommate and my bestfriend. He just walking down the hallway till he comes to our apartment. I looked at him with relief.

„Where have you been, man?"

I asked him as i leaned against the door. I looked right into his eyes as he stand in front of me. He was a half head taller than me and I think 2 years older but that doesn't matter for us, we were still bestfriends.

„I told you that I had something to do. You forgot that?“

He giggle and go inside the apartment. I grabbed his arm and turn him to me so he had to look at me.

„Nah.. I didn't forgot that but you were gone for so long. I started to worry about you."

I said to him with a worried look. He patted me on my shoulder and his touch let my body shiver. I loved it when he touch me even when he just give me a handshake. I blushed slightly.

„it's okay l'm here now. You don't have to worry anymore.

he laughed and finally goes to our apartment. Frank goes straight to the kitchen and drunk a bottle of water. I closed the door behind me and followed him into the kitchen. I leaned against the door again and watched him. I loved everything about him: the way he stands, the way his body moved around or even his hands. I swallowed hard as he looked into my eyes. I immediately looked away. I was starring at him and he noticed it. i started to get a bit panicked.

„It's pretty late.. I should go to bed now.“

with this sentence I'm trying to escape this unpleasant situation. Frank just nodded and sit down on the chair in the kitchen. I go to my room and closed the door. I hit my head against the door and wondered how stupid I could actually be. I can’t stare at him in this way, he’s my bestfriend and he never would love me. He’s into women and I have no chance with him.

„shit-“

I yelled at myself. I can’t get him out of my thoughts. It’s like I can’t even help but thinking about him. Frank and his wonderful brown eyes, his muscular body, his big and strong hands… I hate me for what I felt, I’m here to keep my country save and not to find the love of my life. I let out a big sight and then I threw myself on my bed. My hand grabbed the book on the table and I started reading again to clear my mind.

01:12 am:

I can’t sleep. Again. My thoughts are full of Frank and I can’t get him out. I sit up in my bed and my hands run threw my hair. Why does he affect me so much? I decided to stand up and fresh up with water. I open my door silently and the first thing I saw was Franks door. It was a bit open but I don’t wanted to bother him, he probably sleeps now, so I don’t risk a sight.

I go into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I looked tired. I just turned the faucet on and filled my hands with water. With the water in my hands I washed my face. As I looked in the mirror again I saw him. I saw Frank. I immediately turned around and looked right into his face.

„Wha- what are you doing here?“

I asked him surprised. We were face to face now and he’s so near against me. I support myself on the sink with my hands.

„nothing, just heard something and wanted to make sure that you’re alright.“

As I heard his words I blushed slightly again. I don’t want him to see my face so I looked away. Did he really mean that? Did he really care about me?

„I‘m fine you can go back to sleep“

I turned around again and my hands filled again with water. I noticed he was still behind me. Why didn’t he go back to sleep? Suddenly I felt two big hands on my hips. I shivered and my hands grabbing the sink. What is he doing?? I began to sweat I didn’t know what to do… my heart was beating so fast.

„continue, don’t let me distract you..“

He whisper into my ear. I was shocked. Why would he do this? Why does he do this? His hands grabbed me tightly and my breath go heavy. I blushed and just stand still i don’t know what to do. Then he moved closer to me and our body’s touched. I let out a little sight. I can’t believe that this moment is real. Then he started to kiss my neck and I can’t but let out a moan. I was just completely overwhelmed by this situation.

„w-why do you..? why-?“

I can not even talk straight anymore. He drives me crazy with his kisses on my neck. I tried to hold myself and keep still but I was trembling, my whole body was trembling.

His kisses started to get more intense and his hands go under my shirt. From this moment I didn’t questioned anything anymore, I just knew that I wanted him. His big and cold hands started to stroke my whole body and I can’t take it anymore. I let out a moan every time his hands moved. I tried to stop my noises by biting into my lip. Then I heard a giggle.

„Don’t hide these noises, not when they’re sound so cute..“

Franks hands leaved my shirt and turned me around to him. I blushed so hard right now and I don’t want this moment to ever end. He pushed me against the next wall and kisses me right on my lips. This moment was indescribable.

I closed my eyes and reply his kisses. He took off my shirt and kissed me from my neck, down to my upper body. My heart was beating so fast it’s like it wanted to jump out. Frank kissed me down my stomach and knees down. I looked at him and breathe so heavy I really can’t take it anymore. His hands resting on my hips and he still kissed my stomach.

I was waiting for this moment so long and now we were here. Two man kissing in a bathroom. We kissed the whole night and it was the experience I made in my whole life…

End

——————————————————————————

This was my first fanfic. I hope you guys liked it. You can write feedback for mee :)

[loveandleases]

How would MC's parents, Jade, Chris and the ROs react to an MC who was formerly passive and docile become the kind of person that doesn't take shit because of Jade and Chris' affair? (to the point of pushing back and actively mocking people who try and step on them)

Love this one, answer is below of course!

💩 Chris - Will automatically believe MC is just being mean. All the things, the lead-up, none of that matters to them at that point. To Chris, MC will come off as just being rude/argumentative for no reason. Going out of their way to hurt them.

☢️ Jade - First she will kind of freeze, MC has always and I mean always been there/supported Jade. She won't expect it, and when that shock value wears off Jade will be slightly worried/scared might be a better word. To see someone who has always been kind to her no longer act that way, she won't truly understand. Nor will she care to think as to the reason why. She will just think MC has changed since living with Cam, like that's the problem instead of what really is.

👫🏻Mc's parents - "Why are you being so rude? You were raised better than that. Do you realize how dramatic you're being right now? Do you want to alienate everyone from you?" (Their assholes) ❤️ Cam - Imagine Cam just in the background pumping his fist in the air. He supports this so much. While Cam is sad that MC has changed some he understands it. He is so used to being the one standing up for MC it will take him a minute to realize they don't need his help anymore.

💙G - Will be taken aback but will also laugh about it. Like expect a giggle. G is similar in a way to former MC. G will appreciate that MC is sticking up for themselves, they will respect that. Especially if they can witness MC stand up to a specific person.

💚Kara - She is slightly turned on. Kara gets why MC is no longer taking things lying down. (Unless she gets them to). She will be a bit uncomfortable depending on her relationship with Chris at that time, but she understands why MC doesn't take anything from them, so she will let MC say/do what they need to.

💛M - As someone who has bouts of anger come out, their mask slip just a little M will see how MC acts and find it slightly freeing. Even going so far to be more upfront about how they really feel, which will result in telling many to fuck off and not always wearing their nice act. Part of M feels like MC could protect them, and they love that.

💜Isaac - Not really one for drama, Isaac will be a bit cautious. Isaac doesn't do well with fights with emotions to be frank. So for them, it would take getting used to. Once they do and fully understand that what has happened has brought MC to this point, they will actually come to respect that.

🖤 Ardent - Thinks it's fucking hilarious. Loves that MC just takes no shit, doesn't care what the others (especially MC's parents) think about them anymore. Ardent will find this trait very attractive, even though he will still be quick to the draw to stand up for MC. He doesn't mind when MC can and will tell someone how they feel.

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

Man sometimes I just think about how Haruka's newfound confidence had very, very little to do with his forgiven verdict.

MILGRAM Portal Timeline (2020/12/15, Kotoko's Birthday) Haruka: Um, Koto-Kotoko-san. I h-heard that it’s your birth, day…… Kotoko: Ah, that’s right. ……what about it? Haruka: !! A-ah, no, um, it’s, uh, nothing…… S-sorry for, bothering… L-later……! Kotoko: ......what was that about??

MILGRAM Portal Timeline (2021/4/19, Fuuta's Birthday) Haruka: U-uh, um, Futa-kun! Um! Um!! Fuuta: Huh? Shut up already… Didn’t I already say not to make a big fuss about my birthday. I’m not some kid who gets excited by stuff like that anymore! Haruka: ……?? Ah, er, i-is it your birthday……? Th-that, ah, um, h-happy birthday…… Fuuta: ………… You will tell nobody about this conversation.

Both of these conversations take place after Haruka's verdict was set-in-stone in September, and in both of them (mainly Kotoko's) he still shows an immense amount of nervousness and low self-confidence. You could say that he slightly improves in the Fuuta conversation, but Haruka has always liked him because he gives him attention, so I think it could be chalked up to him just feeling more comfortable around Fuuta

(x) Haruka: The ones who often talk to me are Yuno and Mahiru and, uh, Mikoto. Haruka: Also Fuuta. He's a little scary, but he pays attention to me. I sometimes speak to Muu as well.

However, things really start to take a turn for Haruka when...

MILGRAM Portal Timeline (2021/06/22, Haruka's Birthday) Muu: Haruka-kun, are you awake……? Happy birthday. Haruka: M-Mu-san? I… I-I’m awake…… Th-thank you, very much. I’m… glad…… Muu: ………… Shall we talk? You know, recently I’ve been pretty interested in you. Haruka: ……!! I-in me…? Hehe, hehehe…… interested, in me.

This timeline conversation marks the true beginning of Haruka and Muu's friendship to me. Even though they had talked before this point, this is where their relationship began to form, and also when Haruka really started to change.

MILGRAM Portal Timeline (2021/09/02, Yuno's Birthday) Haruka: Y-Yuno-san. Good morning! T-today’s your birthday, right……? Ha-happy birthday……!! Yuno: Oooh…… Thanks? You’ve definitely changed a bit huh, Haruka. You speak a little louder now, and actually look people in the eyes when you talk. Haruka: Eh, ah, i-is that so…… I wasn’t, aware of it myself, but…… Heh, hehe. Is that so. Yuno: Ding ding! My sensor is telling me…… this is probably a girl’s influence. Well, everyone here is slowly changing, I guess. Even me.

Haruka's change doesn't come from being told he's forgiven, it comes from being shown, for the first time in so long, what it's like to be loved and cared for by someone. And this love that Muu shows him is what makes him continue to improve himself, to the point where in his most recent interacts with the prisoners, he is not stuttering at all and speaking with much more conviction.

MILGRAM Portal Timeline (2023/12/15, Kotoko's birthday) Haruka: …Please be quiet about this. And you, please don't get involved. All I can do is ask this of you… Kotoko: Fufufu, fufufufufu. You're thinking some outrageous things. To be frank, it's abnormal. But I don't dislike it. If only all sinners were like you. Haruka: No… That's not it… I don't mean it that way… This isn't for me… it's to protect… so, Kotoko-san… please… Kotoko: Eh? Yes, yes. Well, I promise not to interfere with your plans. Even though I'd like to do it myself, I'll leave it to you. What happens after that… depends on Es, doesn't it?

Comparing this to the first timeline I shared in this post, it's so clear to me that Haruka's confidence was not motivated by the verdict, at least not as much, but was instead motivated by the love that Muu showed him. And I think that's very important for two reasons 1) It highlights how truly unhelpful the Milgram prison system is even towards the ones it chooses to forgive, because Milgram as an institution disavows rehabilitation 2) Even though this system continues to fail in helping these prisoners with what they really need, which is a chance to improve, that chance can still be offered by the ones they grow close to as exemplified by Haruka here (and though not the point of this post, Fuuta and Amane are also a good example of this). And that is so damn important to me

[gerardpilled]

New fan here!! What exactly happened at pro rev? I see people talk about it a lot but I can't find out exactly what went down

Lol I love seeing this question asked on my dash and thank you for trusting me with the response. This kinda became longer than what I was expecting but I love to over explain sorry:

Okay so pro rev is kinda famous in the fan community because of how insane everyone seemed to have been acting during it. mcr was always known for their stage antics - even in the early days - and specifically for how they responded to homophobia (and to be clear- they faced a lot of it) by not denying being gay, but encouraging the idea. Specifically Gerard and Frank would kiss each other or Gerard would kinda feel-up the other guys in what people coined as “stagegay”. Although mcr fans were kinda weeded out to expect and accept this, festivals like Warped Tour were always the biggest issue for them because they were in front of thousands of people who didn’t necessarily want to see guys in eyeliner and eyeshadow*.  

Then comes 2007 - Linkin Park hosts another “Projekt Revolution” which was kinda a mini traveling festival with about 10 or so bands in the lineup and would run from July 25th to September 3rd. Mcr was actually second bill so while not nobodies, most of the audience still consisted of Linkin Park fans. I know nothing about the music or guys of Linkin Park, but they simply attracted a different kind of crowd and might have heckled mcr more than a mcr-headlining show. The guys really played this up and seemed to turn up the stage antics A LOT. (I say ‘seemed to’ because I do think the number of people in attendance and the fact more people had access to digital cameras in 2007 than 2004 might have just resulted in more examples being recorded and uploaded)

They were grinding on each other, chewing on condoms, licking each other, fake masturbating, fully making out, and fighting on one occasion. Gerard would ask the boys in the audience to take their shirts off during Prison to which Ray joined in once. Frank specifically was acting kinda wild and was just commonly writhing around on the floor and flinging his guitar a lot. The main famous “frerard kiss” was said (by Gerard) to be the result of Frank rubbing his bloody finger on Gerard’s face and Gerard opting to seek revenge by kissing him.

The funniest part of all this is that it could theoretically be explained away by the fact they were probably just frustrated from being away from their families on tour for so long at this point (notably, Mikey did not attend prorev because of his recent marriage and/or mental health issues) if it weren't for the fact that at the start of tour Gerard began dating Lindsey (m. Ballato) who played bass in another band. Gerard was seen watching her play a few times and the couple would also have matching slogans written on their bodies (presumably by each other). The couple then got married on the last night of tour by an ordained member of the crew backstage while wearing matching airbrush unicorn shirts with each other's names. This was all very sudden for fans especially because it was only around May of the same year when Gerard is thought to have broke off an engagement with his ex girlfriend.

Another notable point is that this was the first time mcr had two tour buses because Frank brought his WIFE. I don't see a lot of people pointing this out, but I believe Jamia was there. Also Frank appeared on an episode of Kat Von D's tattooing show in the middle of tour lol

The aftermath of the tour has kinda become equally as famous due to rumors and theories. Specifically the fight has been speculated to be the result of deeper drama where people think Frank was hurt by Gerard's new relationship or whatever. All that is speculation and mostly baseless. Bottom line is this did influence a ton of fanfiction and kinda made the band known for their stage behavior. They really calmed down on the more homoerotic aspects of their stage personas in later years which more conspiratorial fans contribute to Gerard's marriage. More likely is that they realized the intended reaction of pissing homophobes off was being lost, and instead people were into and sexualizing it more than anything. Gerard once tweeted about it.

I think it's all very funny because to be honest and until they talk about it in any meaningful detail, we still have no idea what going on with them. Just a fun period in mcr herstory.

Links to magazines covering the tour:

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Other stuff I couldn't think of a place to mention:

David Cassidy

Gerard singing Umbrella

"it's like having buttsex"

gerard hugging worm

infamous hickey gerard had that he tried to cover with a bandana

Gerard on "my super sweet 16" in the middle of tour

____

*That's not to say mcr was facing the most discrimination ever at this show. I have no knowledge of how people who were outwardly lgbt (such as Brian Molko of Placebo) were treated. Also it's important to note that there was a severe lack of racial and gender diversity when it came to this tour's lineup. There was not a single band with a non-white front person and only 1 band with any women in it.

[anonymous-chicken-was-taken]

What the Ace Attorney Villains Could Get Charged With (to the best of my research) (in America laws)

Game One

!Disclaimer! I know nothing about law take this with a grain of salt I was just bored.

Frank Sahwit

Burglary - This one is obvious. He was a thief. He stole stuff. How many charges exactly depends on how many he admits to or can be traced back to him.

Breaking and entering - At least one charge from Cindy's case, potentially more depending on any other burglary charges.

Assault and battery - Hitting Cindy with the Thinker. The assault may or may not be aggravated depending on whether it was technically intended to be used in a way that would readily and likely cause death.

Second-degree murder - This one could potentially be brought down to voluntary manslaughter. It depends whether he intended to kill Cindy when he hit her, and if he was in enough emotional distress that hitting her would be semi-justifiable.

Incrimination - In pinning the blame on Larry, he did this.

Fraud - Even if pretending to be a newspaper salesman to steal from people didn't constitute fraud, Payne stated this as his job. This means he lied about his job to the court by saying he was a newspaper salesman. Which is fraud.

Perjury

Redd White

Incrimination - This is when he tried to frame Maya, and when he shifted the blame on Phoenix. This may lead to two charges.

Obstruction of justice - In incriminating Maya, he tampered with the crime scene. Plus, blackmailing a judge is probably illegal and probably falls under this.

Corruption - He was a corporate official, which makes some of this other stuff constitute corruption, mostly the blackmail.

Blackmail - Speaking of, he could be faced with countless charges of this, depending how much could be tied back to him.

Assault and battery - Punching someone in the face multiple times is illegal, kids. So is hitting someone on the head. If Frank gets aggravated for the thinker, so does he. Phoenix's assault probably wasn't aggravated, though, as I doubt his rings/fists would be ruled a deadly weapon considering the intent.

Intimidation - His threat for an "accident" to happen to Phoenix is more than enough to be considered a threat of violence.

First-degree murder - His murder of Mia was completely premeditated. There's little he can do about this.

Criminal threat - Threatening to injure or kill someone is bad. And using flowery language like "accident" doesn't negate it.

Wiretapping - While he didn't actually put the wiretap there, it can be inferred he ordered it. This makes it conspiracy, so there is some shared guilt.

Conspiracy - The wiretapping was a joint effort between him and April. He may try to claim otherwise, but its degree of success is debatable.

Workplace abuse - It's a real good sign when your secretary fears you murdering her like you did to that defense attorney a couple days ago, Redd, I'm sure you could never get in legal trouble for that.

Perjury

Dee Vasquez

Racketeering - Oftentimes, people in organized crime are automatically found guilty of this. This being charging someone for a service they haven't requested (think mafia "protection").

Blackmail - This one is also pretty obvious. Jack Hammer.

Obstruction of justice - This is her tampering with the crime scene when she moved the body. Also potentially when she tried to kill a lawyer involved with the case.

Attempted murder - By proxy, two charges, when she ordered her goons to kill Phoenix and Maya.

Voluntary manslaughter - Hammer was trying to kill her, she's got that justified self-defense plea. Not that it matters much, because...

Countless other mafia-related charges - We don't know the exact details of her mafia connections, but she's entrenched enough to have goons. We can safely say she did a lot of illegal stuff in organized crime.

Intimidation - Mafia goons trying to kill you is pretty intimidating. That and the threats of erasure.

Criminal threat - See above threats of erasure.

Conspiracy - She works together with Sal Manella in the obstruction of justice.

Perjury

Manfred von Karma

Forgery - He's known to forge evidence constantly.

Obstruction of justice - See above. Plus, tazing lawyers and stealing their evidence is pretty frowned upon. So is intimidating witnesses.

Assault and battery - The evidence room fiasco. Potentially aggravated depending on the actual voltage of the tazer and if he lied about it or not, but given they didn't die, probably not.

Theft - He stole evidence from the evidence room.

Intimidation - Brandishing a taser at someone is generally considered this.

Corruption - Being a government official, most if not all this stuff constitutes corruption.

Incrimination - Due to his conspiracy with Yogi, he is guilty of attempting to frame Miles by proxy.

First-degree murder - He sees a gun and a man he doesn't like in the elevator, and he does think about it before doing it. Thus, it is premeditated and first-degree. Also, given his conspiracy with Yogi, he may also be guilty of murdering Hammond by proxy.

Child abuse - Both Miles and Franziska could push for this, even just with what we have explicitly stated. Depending on interpretation and how poor of a guardian he was, this charge could have some serious ground to stand on.

Emotional abuse - Pretty much the same hat as the child abuse charge, only less uncertain.

Criminal threat - I don't know what you want from me, man. He threatens everyone all the time.

Torture - I haven't played investigations yet, but from what I'm looking at, he psychologically tortured a guy, so. That's pretty non Geneva convention certified of him, even if this isn't a war.

Workplace abuse - Again, this is hearsay because investigations, but he's pretty crappy to his subordinates, it seems.

Solicitation - He heavily encourages Yogi to kill Hammond and frame Miles.

Conspiracy - He provides Yogi with the means to kill Hammond, so while there is technically no mutual agreement, he's also guilty of this.

Perjury

Damon Gant

Corruption - As a government official, a great deal of his crimes constitute corruption.

Forgery - A great portion of the conflict of his case comes from the forged evidence he made.

Obstruction of justice - Most of the rest of the conflict of his case comes from the evidence he withheld.

Blackmail - Quite a severe case of it, at that. Multiple years against a single person is nothing to sneeze at.

Incrimination - That's what it was when he made it look like Ema killed Neil.

First-degree murder - He thought about killing Neil long enough to consider the pros and cons of doing so, and went through with it. That's pretty premeditated. A good lawyer may be able to get him down to second degree for Goodman, but it's highly doubtful considering.

Conspiracy - He had Lana hide Goodman's body, and while there was blackmail involved, there was still a mutual agreement. Thus, conspiracy.

Concealment of death - There are a few different names for this, but it's when he had Lana hide Goodman's body. It was unsuccessful, but there were still significant steps taken to have it happen on both their parts, so he may get a partial sentence.

Criminal threat - He makes so many threats.

Workplace abuse - I think using a pipe organ to punish your employees violates some international laws or something. Speaking of which...

Torture - Of the audio variety. Seriously this guy is the police how did this fly for so long that is BAD.

Vigilantism - This is actually very interesting. Despite the fact that he is a member of law enforcement and Joe Darke did kill multiple people, he still used illegal means to bring him to some form of justice. Depending on how much he wanted Darke convicted, it could be argued that his actions constitute vigilantism.

Assault and battery - One case of assault against Goodman, and two charges of battery against Neil and Goodman. Assault is the threat of violence and the means to follow through, and battery is the actual act of violence; seeing as Neil was unconscious, he could not have been threatened. The assault was aggravated, as a knife is a deadly weapon.

Perjury

GAME TWO

[makeyoumine69]

Hello! Congratulations on 200!! Can you do knife play and rough sex please? <33333

Thrill

● Pairing: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

● Summary: Patrick takes you to his family vacation house.

● CW: Knife play in its truest sense(!), hard prone sex, oral (f&m), possessive behaviour, Patrick has a filthy mouth and some more.

● Wordcount: ~4.1k (I know I am terrible! 🙈)

● A/N: So, this is the longest thing I ever wrote about Patrick. Thank you so much for this ask! I hope you like it!🥰

Also, I want to thank @ladyalexandranna @jacktorrancekinny @sosweetcupcake for brainstorming with me over this fic!💗

● Useful links: │BWC Masterlist│ │Main Masterlist│

It was the longest day that you thought would never end as you were in the middle of a party in Patrick’s friend's fancy vacation house; his name was Timothy Bryce, as you could remember and he was the only interesting person Bateman knew, besides you of course.

Drinking another glass of wine, you quickly glanced at a group of people standing close enough to you so you could hear them talking.

“Did you see who Patrick came with?” A good-looking woman asked her dark-haired friend, fumbling the necklace with a finger as she seemed to be anxious. 

“Not really. But I am curious about what happened to Evelyn.”

“I heard they broke up… Bateman literally tore her heart into pieces.”

“Ohhh, what a poor thing.” A brunette laminated before she turned her gaze in your direction, looking over your back.

When you were about to spin around and check what was the object of her attention, you bumped into a solid male chest and almost right away, you felt the enveloping scent of expensive masculine perfume.

“Drank too much, sweetie?” Patrick crooned in a cute tone, wrapping your waist in a second.

“N-no, you just showed up so suddenly,” frowning a bit, you shook an empty glass in front of his eyes. “You’re lucky I didn’t stain your suit.”

With a soft chuckle, Bateman pulled you closer to whisper: “Let’s sneak out of here, Sugar.”

“Wasn’t it you who persuaded me to come here?”

“Yeah… I know,” he murmured, tickling your earlobe with his hot breath. “I just want to show you something…”

“What is it?” You rejoined, looking up to find his eyes glowing with an undisguised thrill.

“What an impatient girl…” 

“Say what you want to say, Patrick.”

Bateman smirked before he pecked your cheekbone, stroking your shoulders as if he wanted you to relax. “Just wanna take you to a really luxurious house.”

Stunned by his sudden offer, you quickly looked around, tagging a ruthless lock behind your ear. “Your friend won’t be offended?” “I don’t think he will even notice us leaving.”

With a soft smile on your face, you placed a glass on the table nearby as you knew him too well–that was not a suggestion to visit his house; it was a statement, so you didn’t really have a say in that. 

After a while, Patrick’s limo was taking you further and further away from Timothy's cottage by the second. Trapped in your thoughts, you pressed your cheek against the cold glass as you were watching the scenery outside the window changing so fast.

“You never told me you have a house…” 

“Well,” Patrick gasped, turning in your direction to hold your hand. “It’s my family vacation house where we used to spend a lot of time. But since my parents have divorced, all those days are left in the past.”

“Oh…” biting your lip a bit, you faced him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay, Sugar.” Grinning cocky, he shifted his palm to your hip, moving further to its inner side.

Excited by his unexpectedly frank touch, you covered his palm with yours as you felt yourself getting wetter with each second, but you still had one very pointed question.

“Who is Evelyn?” You asked abruptly, watching his face change into a tense grimace. 

“Why do you ask?”

“Just heard someone talking about you two,” you sensed his grip tighten on your hip with your words. “Patrick, you don't have to say it…”

You heard him laughing smugly in response as he hugged your shoulders with his other hand. “Well, if you really want to know,” he got closer to your neck, nuzzling against it a bit. “Evelyn is my ex-fiancée.” 

“I got it,” you stated, running your fingers through his perfect hair. “Thank you for… For being honest with me.”

“Of course, (Y/N),” he took you by the chin to lock his brown eyes with yours. “How could I not be open with you? You’re the only person I can really trust.”

Damn Bateman, what a devil–you scoffed to yourself, admitting his amazing ability to play around with all the words he was saying. To be fair, you expected any reaction from him to your question but not this; especially when he pulled you into a sweet kiss, sucking your tongue as you allowed him to.

The rest of the way to the vacation house, you both kept in silence as you pressed your head against his broad chest, playing with the fabric of his fancy coat while Patrick was patting your shoulders and your back. What an unbelievably strange harmony—you concluded, remembering the aphorism about a calm before the storm. 

Soon, you arrived at a beautifully constructed house with a large yard, which had a magnificent garden planted.  Amazed by the open view, you were looking through the window like a child who saw the snow for the first time. 

“(Y/N), are you thinking?” Patrick joked as he already got outside the limo and was waiting for you to follow.

“Sorry, I’m just so fascinated by the beauty of this house,” the fact that you couldn’t hide your emotions made him so proud of himself and you didn’t really mind. “Can’t take my eyes off of it.”

“I bet,” he gave you a hand to help you move out. “I wonder what you will say when we get inside.”

Finally, you stepped on the ground and as a true gentleman, Patrick offered you to walk arm in arm with him and you couldn’t refuse this sweet gesture. A cool breeze was blowing around you as you were walking on a stone path that led to the main door.

As soon as you walked inside the house, Patrick helped you to pull off your coat and asked in a sweet tone: “Sugar, are you cold?” 

“No, I’m fine,” you smiled at him before you looked around. “This house is as huge as it looks from the outside!”

“You can say that, huh,” he hugged you from behind, pushing you a bit to move forward. “Let’s proceed to the main area here–the living room.”

Grinning, you were totally tempted to know what the walls of this house had prepared for you. Switching between looking to the left or to the right, you were following Patrick and your heartbeat was rising with each step you made as you couldn't figure out what he was up to yet.

“Well, here we are,” he declared, his extremely masculine voice sounding even deeper. “You can make yourself a small tour of the house, while I’m setting up some things.”

“Which things?”

“Find us a drink, for example,” Patrick chuckled, gliding his hand against the expensive brown-leather couch. “Go wherever you want, you have my permission.”

That was really weird, no mistake. 

Humming to yourself, you clicked your tongue and decided–right now you were not in the mood of solving any puzzles, so you just nodded to him before you left the living room as you were on your way to new adventures.

You didn’t remember how many rooms you’d already seen, there were a lot of them for sure. When you were about to come back to Patrick, you noticed a heavy door made of some dark high-quality wood; you could almost see your reflection on the doorknob. 

As soon as you entered the room, you looked for a light switch, tracing your hand against the wall. Once you found it, you made a loud gasp at the picture that had opened up to you–plenty of animal heads were looking at you from the opposite side of the room, causing your blood to freeze in your veins. 

It seemed like you accidentally got into the hunting room or maybe the study? Along with the hunting trophies, you saw a lot of different weapons: knives, rifles, daggers, and…even a sword?

Puzzled, you were thinking about to whom all of this stuff belonged as you came closer to have a proper look. You couldn't remember Bateman saying anything about him being into hunting, but maybe his father did—because this type of free time was quite suitable for people of high society. Reflecting on all these things, you didn’t notice your finger sliding against the handle of one of the big hunting knives. When you spotted a beautiful engraving on it, you squint your eyes in order to read it, but almost right away you were caught like a bratty baby whose curiosity led it into the trap.

“Aren’t you afraid you might cut yourself?” Bateman’s raspy voice sent shivers down your spine.

“Oh! I was just looking and…” you spun around to see Patrick standing in the doorway with his arms crossed on his chest. “Well… I wasn't supposed to touch it.”

For how long was he standing here, and how did he sneak up so quietly that you didn’t even hear a sound to detect him? Sneering, Bateman pushed off from the doorway, his dark eyes tracing all over your shaking frame as he must have been already so aroused. 

“Are you gonna join me in the living room or have you suddenly decided to become a huntress?”

Embarrassed, you moved towards him to peck his cheek before murmuring: “Sorry, daddy. I hope you will forgive me for this little lapse in judgement?” 

“Mm-hmm,” he muttered, giving your butt a brief slap. “I need to think about it. But now, I want you in the living room. Is it clear?”

You nodded in agreement as you moved to the door, leaving Patrick behind your back, so you couldn’t notice him taking exactly that knife you were touching before.

Once you reached the living room, you immediately saw a lighted fireplace which made the entire atmosphere so cozy and warm–you felt your heart melting from the heat it was radiating. Then, you found a glass of red wine which was waiting for you on the coffee table. Taking a sip of the tasty liquid, you placed yourself on the leather couch, watching the flame dancing like it was alive. 

“Enjoying the drink?”

“I’m not an expert on wines, but this one tastes amazing,” you looked up at him before you froze in place. “Patrick, w-why do you need that thing?”

With a devilish smile on his face, Bateman was twirling a knife in his hands as he was slowly getting closer to you; the way his brown eyes were burning with an animalistic bloodlust made you feel a terrible drop in your stomach.

“Relax, Sugar,” Patrick let out a small laugh as he took pleasure in the look of fear you had mastered. “Those weapons definitely got your attention, didn’t they?”

“I… I was just curious, nothing special about i-it.” You hiccupped a bit, feeling an uprising panic inside your chest the closer he was getting.

“Do you like the feeling of danger?” he crooned in a provocative but seductive tone before he reached your place. “When adrenaline is rushing the blood in your veins, hmmm?”

At this moment, a sense of reality drowned in the theatre of madness and you didn’t even notice yourself breathing heavily with your heart beating so fast–he could hear it without a doubt.

“Okay… Now it’s not funny at all,” your voice cracked into a whine as you were going to break away from him, but he stopped you with his grip on your neck the second you tried to do it. “P-Patrick, your words were sufficient. You don’t have to do this...”

“Do what?” Bateman was shamelessly playing on your nerves cause he was so good at it and as a result he could sense the artery on your neck pulsing really quickly. “Do you want to know more about this knife?”

With that said, Patrick pressed a blade to your cheek in a way that didn’t hurt you, but you could feel the coolness of the metal on your skin. Gulping, you looked up at him, watching his fingers going up to your chin and then, he traced them along your lips, forcing you to open your mouth as he slipped his thumb inside of it. Suckling it with a true devotion, you were attempting to soothe your breathing as you were scared to get a cut.

When Bateman pulled his digit out, he drew near to kiss your neck but before he did it, he heard your muffled babble: “Tell me… Tell me more about it…”

Grinning against your skin, he left a notable wet hickey on your bare shoulder as he proceeded his way with the knife, going down to your cleavage. “This knife was exclusively made on my orders, from high-quality steel to the imported wood for the handle. The perfect combination of an extra sharp blade and a special decorative wooden handle.” 

With each word he said, the heat of his body became unbearable to resist as you felt your nipples tense so hard–Patrick wouldn't miss it for sure and soon, you ended up being sprawled on the coffee table, panting and trembling from how he was using the knife, slicing your clothes here and there.

“D-daddy,” you sobbed, fidgeting in your place as you sensed the cold metal gliding over the inner side of your hip. “I’m scared…”

“Don’t be, Sugar. Just stay still if you don’t want to get hurt,” he sneered in a hoarse voice, pulling on your black tights to slice them without hurting you. “Mmhm, I forgot to say–I gifted this knife to my father, so it’s his favourite one from his extensive collection. The fact that you chose exactly this knife turned me on so much…”

Closing your eyes, you wailed in response as at last Patrick cupped your pussy, rubbing your blushing clit with the thumb through your damp underwear; for a moment you even forgot about the blade pressed against your thigh as your body was desperately yearning for more.

“So, I was right when I said that being in danger excites you? Such a nasty risky girl, huh?” Bateman taunted you before he planted a sloppy kiss on your mound, going lower to your little nub and then, he cut your panties, throwing them away like useless trash. “Once I entered that room I could smell your arousal in the air, you're a dirty little slut!”

“T-that's not true! Auhh-Patrick…” 

“C’mon, baby. We are not at school,” he ran his fingers along your moist folds. “And I am not your teacher, you don’t need to hide your perverted vices from me…”

When you looked down to see him pressing a handle of the knife against your clit, you immediately suddenly cried out, leaning on your elbows: “Pat...Patrick! What… What are you doing?”

“You don’t see?”

“S-stop…Mmm-hm….”

“Do ya really want me to stop?” Mocking you, Patrick pushed the handle harder as he was massaging your clit with the tip.

These suddenly blissful sensations made your toes curl and your peaks were painfully tight, just like your whole insides as you felt the building tension in your lower belly.

“Your thirsty pussy certainly needs more,” he growled from watching your slickness running down the handle. “Much more…”

Biting his lower lip, Bateman placed his one hand on your cunt to spread your folds for better control as the thing he was going to do next, was totally destructive to your already clouded mind.

Almost with no resistance, he stuffed your little hole with a handle, fixating you in one place as you were jolting all over the wooden surface of the coffee table and moaning wildly like never: “O…G-God, a-ahhh…Daddy, this… this is…”

“Too much for you?”

“A-aww, y-yeahh,” you had to shush yourself with a palm from the friction the handle was making. “I…”

Paralyzed, you were falling down into oblivion the moment you felt him lapping at your throbbing clit besides the stretching penetrative feeling he was giving you with the handle–these things were pushing you over the edge insanely fast like a high-speed train. Twitching erratically from the intensive tremor, you clung to the wooden table top until your knuckles hurt. Arching your back like a tensed string, you were desperately catching the air between your moans, as all this time Bateman was licking and sucking on your pulsating nub, extending your delirious orgasm, while fucking your roughly with the handle. 

Little drops of sweat were running down your face, when Patrick finally let you come back from your high as he left your body almost breathless.

“And what would you say about that?” panting, he briefly fixed his hair and only then, he pulled out the handle as he was going to clean it up. “According to what I saw–that was not too much for you.”

With all the strength you have left, you got up a bit to watch him licking your wetness off the handle. “No comments from me…I guess.”

His loud chuckle echoed in your head before he demanded: “Get yourself on the couch, we’re not done yet.”

Gulping, you thought he must have been joking, but when you looked into his dark eyes–you had no doubts about him being so damn serious. With shaking knees, you stood up and moved to the leather couch; Patrick was watching your every step as he was undoing his suit. Still quivering, you took the same place you had before, feeling yourself uncomfortable from the endless wetness between your legs. 

“Sugar, look at me…” he purred, coming close to you as he was stroking his fully erected cock. “I’m not gonna face fuck you now, since you were a good girl last twenty minutes… But next time, I will ruin your mouth and your throat and I won’t stop even if you beg me. Understand?”

“Mmhm.” You muffled, giving him a foggy glance. 

“Use words, slut.”

“Yes, Pat… Daddy,” you watched him smirking in satisfaction and then, Patrick got his leg on the edge of the couch, still having a knife in his other hand. “What do you want me to do?”

“Now it’s your turn to taste me, babe,” he pulled you closer to his groin by the back of your head, shoving his dick into your warm mouth. “A-argh…Yes, just like that…”

You mewled against his hot flesh, grabbing on his hips for support but almost instantly, Bateman removed your hands and squeezed your cheeks.

“No-no, I said to taste–not to touch.” His whisper sounded more like a feral growl as he brought the knife right next to your face once again. 

Trembling, you swallowed hard and looked at the blade that could cut you at any second, feeling your heart about to jump out from your chest. Meantime, Bateman displaced his palm onto your swollen tits, pulling down the upper part of your dress to have a better access to your very sensitive nipples, pinching and rolling them painfully between his long fingers.

“Mmmm-hm.” You mewled, feeling his cock twitching in your mouth whenever you tensed your lips around it as if you were sucking your favourite ice-cream. 

“Fuck, Sugar…You’re making daddy feel so good…”

Once you adjusted to the lack of the air in your lungs, he suddenly broke away from you, putting a knife on the floor nearby. Without saying a word, he manhandled you to turn around and lay flat on the couch, with your face pressed against the leather material. When you tried to lift your head, you were harshly pushed back and then; you felt his weight covering your little body. Fuck, Bateman was so powerful–he could easily pin you against any surface he wanted to, leaving you no chance to make any resistance.

“A-awww, Daddy… please! It’s so fucking deep, aa-ahh…” You cried out beneath him as he bottomed you out completely in one smooth thrust.

In return you only heard his low growl, flesh-meeting-flesh sounds bounced against the walls of the living room and there was nothing left for you to do but to be a good girl for him, accepting him the way he was. 

Leaning on his fists, Patrick was pounding into you so briskly–you could felt each vein on his beefy shaft as he was literally fucking you into the couch.

“Patrick…Aaamh!…” Moaning, you turned your head to the side, looking down on the floor and spotting the knife on it.

Right away, Patrick noticed the direction of your gaze and grumped into your ear, giving your butt a hard slap, which would definitely hurt for a while. “My little bitch didn’t get enough of knife games?”

“N-no…I…I just, uu-uaah….”

“Can’t hear you,” he laughed and leaned down, taking the knife in order to press it against your throat. “Do you forget how to speak?”

“I’m…So f-full, mmmhm!”

“Oh, come on!” he slammed into your cunt till his heavy balls, coaxing something incoherent to erupt from your mouth. “I’m fucking your pussy, not your brain…”

Harshly, Bateman pulled on your hair, forcing you to look into his eyes as he was railing you raggedly, making your whole body rock whenever his solid hips were meeting yours. It felt so crazy, being fucked by him like an animal with a knife gliding against the delicate skin of your neck…and yet, you could sense the upcoming rapture in your gut as you couldn’t deny–you liked this man and all the things he was doing with your body cause you were probably as insane as he was.

“Fuck! I’m so close, Sugar… I wanna cum into your pretty mouth,” he blurted out, breathing furiously as he was trying his best to last longer. “Get on your back.”

You heard a knife fall on the floor with a loud thud, when you were changing your position and then, Patrick set himself on his knees over your face, almost straddling it. With a slight push, he buried himself in your mouth, yanking on your hair as he was desperately cresting his high. 

“My perfect b-baby, sucking me so well…” Patrick looked down at you, groaning so loudly as the picture of you devouring his thick cock with such innocent eyes, drooling so badly from how vigorous you were bobbing your head–pushed him over the cliff, making him completely lose his mind. “A-hhh, (Y/N)!”

With closed eyes, Bateman moaned your name as he was spilling his warm seed into your throat and you almost choke on his beefy girth, clawing at his hips. When he slowly pulled out of you, leaving a string of liquids which was extended from your mouth till the blushing tip of his cock, you could feel his body shaking from the tremendous release–his cum was dripping on your tits from your chin as you couldn't swallow all of it and that sensation irrevocably turned you into a ruined sobbing mess.

Huffing, Bateman got his hair out of his face before he spun around in a half as his fingers found their way to your overstimulated pussy once again.

“D-daddy…It feels…So g-good….a-awww!”

That was the last thing you pronounced as you inner walls began to spasm so hard, Patrick had to press you against the couch with his weight as he was finger fucking you in a perfect rhyme, hitting all the right spots inside your cunt. Wrapping your neck, he leant over to your face to kiss your lips, tasting himself on it and consuming all the nasty sounds you were making as you were trembling uncontrollably in his brawny arms.

Later, after you both cleaned yourselves, you were lying on the couch, covered with a blanket which Bateman brought you some minutes ago; it was so warm and soft, you nearly purred from the pleasant feeling as you were totally naked cause you didn’t want to get dressed yet. 

Resting on your elbows, you looked at Patrick who was standing near the fireplace and smoking his favourite cigar. Unlike you, he was wearing a white t-shirt and grey pants, which were perfectly outlining the shape of his tight ass.

“I can’t imagine what your father will say when he knows you took his knife…” You sighed sadly, rolling on your belly.

“He won’t say anything at all.”

“Why?” “I’m gonna borrow this knife from him,” he grinned as he turned in your direction, puffing on his cigar from time to time. “Coz I don’t know when my sugar baby will decide to play this game once more…”

“Me?!” you nearly squealed, getting up on your knees. “That was your idea!” “Really?” he crooned in a teasing way, admiring the view of your exposed body as the blanket slipped down a bit from you moving.  “You know what? Next time, I don’t mind if you use this knife on me. I've got some shirts I don’t really like–you can slice some of them.”

The last thing you remembered before you fell asleep was him rumbling about the modern techniques of making different weapons and that one day, he should definitely take you to the shooting gallery. Simply irresistible man…

[allgoldenelite]

okay so here's my summary of ibushi's latest 2 videos (here and here) from his youtube channel

pls make sure to read this at your own discretion. it's honest, but not exactly cheerful.

this summary is not entirely chronological; i've grouped some points together for cohesion

the vids were taken about 2 weeks after marufuji vs ibushi was announced, so around 12/17 ish (i'm just bringing this up bc i saw some confusion bc ibushi was reported by noah to be in the us rn until at least the 27th)

ibushi starts out the 1st vid by saying how completely different american and japanese wrestling are; the example he uses are cheers, [in aew] whenver anyone makes their entrance the crowd is chanting their name

in japan it has a different quality to it; [i assume he's talking about coming out at the noah show to challenge marufuji here] it's strange to him when he can only hear his theme and there's neither boos nor cheers, but he was glad it got a reaction

as for how he's doing physically: says he'll be frank: his left ankle and the back of his right hand (there's a visible dent on one side of the back of his hand and he says he doesn't have much grip strength there but for powerbombs and germans he grabs his wrist with his left hand so he can still do those) are fractured and his shoulder isn't healed cause he never got surgery for it

the ankle is the worst out of the 3, he can't jump or do highflying and walking 400 m (0.25 miles) is his limit, even walking around everyday is pretty rough

he's been able to benchpress 88 lbs now, with 200 as a one time thing, but he can't do much actual wrestling match practice, worries about what he can do; sums it up as that physically things aren't really on the up and up at all

but he believes marufuji is going through the same thing [being hurt in a lot of different places] and that the match won't be bad because of that; he believes it will be good precisely bc of the shape they are in, the injuries they've sustained

as he's said in the past, he doesn't care about what place he is on the card even tho ppl care a lot about match order, but he has the opportunity of being in the main with marufuji, so [he'll make the most out of it]

the ring remains a place for him to express himself, unable to highfly or injured as he may be, that's part of it too

he could go out there and be like "no i'm recovering i'm practicing hard everything's going swell" but that wouldn't change the fact that it's not true

he's doing what he can do get better, but operating within the limits of his body and how he can workout

even so, he won't give up and expresses confidence, [he seems motivated for the match and to go through with all of this], he's been doing this for 20 years and nothing scares him anymore

he says his instinct/6th sense for wrestling isn't as sharp [anymore] either since he doesn't really wrestle outside of aew these days, and again japanese and american wrestling are completely different and he's matching himself to wherever he wrestles, so he will do the same for the noah match

as long as it's getting a reaction out of ppl, he's happy; as long as he's getting something out of it he's happy, there's no right or wrong here for him

he's not nervous for the match at all, just hopes he can put himself out there in his purest form, so that ppl can decide for themselves what it is he represents for them/how they experience them

the video ends with him saying that he doesn't wanna be gloom, but if something unfortunate happens [i interpret this to mean another injury] this will be his last [match]

[he also then says make sure to watch his matches (since you won't know which one will be the last), and while i don't think he's lying with the sentiment here at all, my suggestion would be to take this as it is for now but not despair too hard about it]

the 2nd vid is mostly a recap of him seconding a kickboxer he trains for his match at korakuen hall on 12/17, interspliced with more footage from ibushi talking in the secret base

just as the fictitious "ibushi pro wrestling research institute" represents his status as a freelancer and a means by which he express himself in his purest form to ppl, it's also a means by which he can take on ppl under his wing

[ibushi has talked on twitter before how he has several trainees who are former/current kickboxers or MMA fighters wishing to become pro wrestlers] he thinks more of them will make their debut in the future; he's not doing this to boast that he's the one training them, it just naturally happened this way

even tho the ipwri is not actually a promotion, [ppl he's training and ibushi himself] get announced/lower third-ed as being from there, so it has established itself in the world

[there's a backstage scene here of ibushi talking to machida (machida lost the match) and altho there isn't much to tl (it's just ibushi basically giving him a pep talk), i still think it's worth checking out, it's very sweet]

lastly he says the institute is taking applications and as long as your feelings/motivations come across, he's happy to read them, even tho there are already too many ppl showing interest rn