#a SHIT tonne of gifs

[miamicommune]

why does it cost £10 and about an hour to get to my closest city driving but £40 and 2 hours to get there by train

[masgwi]

Just over a thousand pages of legislation left to read from the study list for the July exam

[ghoulishhx]

we (the voices in my head and I) need part 2 of please don’t go. So much angst omg!!

aaa all the love on pt1 has me so happyy, thank you!! i hope this satisfys the voices in your head until pt 3!!

part 1 - please don't go ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ part 3 - babygirl, i love you

My Masterlist!

──── ୨୧ ────

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Content: angst to the extreme, swearing, characters thoughts displayed with italics

Wordcount: 2k

Tags: @sydneybowbidney @tinyminxie (you two commented wanting part 2 so i thought you may want a tag too!)

──── ୨୧ ────

✦ acceptance

It had been two weeks since Frank left you alone in your apartment, ripping your heart out and tossing you to the side as if you were nothing.

It felt as if you were living in a nightmare, you kept pinching yourself trying to wake up, hoping its all your mind playing tricks on you. You hoped you would wake up in his arms as he embraced you, telling you it’s all okay because Frankie's here, kissing your forehead and rubbing the small of your back as the fear washed away.

But no, this is reality. Your new reality.

You swear you experienced all five stages of grief in the time without him, 

Denial. There was no way he meant what he said, right? He had to feel something for me, had to care about me even in the slightest, the way he made love to me, the way he held me and peppered kisses on my face telling me how beautiful I am. You mean to say that meant nothing?

Bargaining. Maybe I should call him, try and talk to him, sort this out. Being left in the dark like this, alone not knowing if he was dead or alive is slowly killing me, one call won't hurt.. right?

Depression. The first week hit you like a tonne of bricks, you barely left your apartment, your bed even, taking days and days off of work continuously. His outburst and disappearance hit you like a tonne of bricks, rendering you helplessly and barely able to function. 

Acceptance. Yeah fuck that right now, you're not ready for that. Let's skip to:

Anger. 

And this is how you're feeling today. How could he do this, after you exposed yourself so intimately in more ways than one, he was the only person to see you fully naked. He held you while you cried and told you he would never leave your side. You fully understand that it may have been far too much to handle in the beginning, knowing about his trauma and how it still affects him. But this was so unlike him to push you so far away, you think now that your relationship seemed to now have been purely transactional. You patch him up for free, no questions asked and then he fucks you until you can't walk as payment. 

Was he just fucking using me? 

The thought made your stomach churn, anger bubbling and sickness rising. You begin pacing back and forth in your dark and empty bedroom, subduing the urge to pick something up and toss it across the room. That's when you hear it.

tap tap tap

You have GOT to be shitting me

Leaving the room and walking towards the source of the noise, you see him. Sat at the fire escape, the rain pours as it drenches him. You honestly want to just leave him out there, hoping the harsh weather conditions wash him away. 

“Lemme in doll, it's fuckin’ freezin’ out here.. Please?”

You sigh as you stomp over to him, opening the lock on the window and turning away instantly as he climbs in. You leave the room, going into the kitchen to grab your first aid kid. Why else would he be here?

He fully steps inside now, removing his soaked boots so as to not mess up any of your rugs or carpet, taking his dripping coat off and hanging it on the nearby dining chair, you take in his form as he turns to face you. 

Dark circles are formed under his eyes, his five ‘o’ clock shadow heavily visible under the grown out stubble. You can tell he hasn't been eating properly in the weeks past without you, his cheeks hollow. Your eyes meet his for a second before you look away, there was an unrecognisable emotion displayed in them, one you have never seen before. 

He looks down at your hands, noticing the big red medical box. He can't help but chuckle at the gesture,

“ ‘M not here for that sweetheart, I just really needed to see ya.”

“Oh.. okay,” you mumble, surprised. You place the box on the table beside him. “Then why are you here, Frank? Made it pretty clear last time you didn't want to be around me.” you raise your eyebrow as you tilt your head, crossing your arms in front of you. 

“That’s why I'm here, actually..” He looks down at his feet, moving one of his hands to the back of his head. “I just wanted to say ‘m sorry, should never have said what I said.”

“Oh, you're sorry?” you laugh, genuinely dumbfounded by his words. “Where was this two weeks ago Frank, you just allowed this much time to pass without a fucking word, I-I didn't even know if you were okay, you could've died on some other person's fucking rooftop and I would never have known.” rage consumes you, all of your pent up emotions you've been harbouring finally spilling out. “I emptied my heart out to you, and you just fucking left me.” you can't fight the tears that are forming over your eyes, your vision blurring. 

“I know, I know baby I fucked up. I shouldn't have left it so long, I just.. didn't think you'd wanna see me, after the way I left..” he steps closer to you, reaching out his arms to you, you pull away, making him retreat his gesture as he looks down to the ground. You can tell he genuinely feels terrible, it's evident in his body language.

“You're damn fucking right. Leading me on like you did fucking hurt Frank, I thought we had something.. something good. But you made it pretty goddamn clear you don't want me. You said something along the lines of, you wish I left you to die so you didn't have to go through this.” you turn away, putting your hands over your eyes, not wanting him to see the tears that have bubbled over, the air in the room has suddenly thickened excruciatingly so. You struggle to breathe, your body finally catching up to itself after running on pure adrenaline during your entire interaction with him. 

“C'mon.. tell me what I gotta do to make it up to you sweetheart. You want me to go?” he inches closer towards you tentatively, placing his large hand on your shoulder softly as to not startle you. “Just say the words baby and I’ll go, alright? Whatever ya need doll, I'll give ya anything you want.”

───────────────────────────────

FRANK'S POV

It's been two long fucking weeks. No matter what he does, he can't help but think of you.

He took on extra shifts in his day job, keeping himself busy so his mind does inevitably wonder to you, he would patrol Hell's Kitchen into the early hours of the morning whenever he finished work. He rarely went back to his shitty apartment anymore, the thought of being alone was too daunting. He knew if he allowed himself to think even for a second he would instantly rush back to you. But this is for the best, right? He truly believed he didn't deserve you, your kindness, your compassion, your beauty. He was beneath you, you could have anyone you wanted but you chose him? He felt like it was an insult to yourself, settling for such a broken shell of a man. 

Everything reminds him of you, the moment he hears anyone speak your name in public he turns his head frantically, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

He'd find himself walking mindlessly through your neighbourhood late at night, stopping at your house and just staring at it for a while. Watching as your shadow moves through the apartment as you switch your lights off ready for bed.

God how he craved being in that same bed with you, holding you, feeling your soft skin with his calloused. The warmth of your body soothed him, knowing you were safe all tucked up in his arms. But that's over now, he made his decision. 

He couldn't help the words that flowed out of his mouth that night, the hurtful things he stated cutting you apart right before his very eyes. Just because he was too much of a pussy to come to terms with his feelings for you, too self absorbed to think about anyone else for a goddamn change. 

He couldn't stop himself from coming to your apartment tonight, his feet moving in your direction subconsciously. Only did he return to his body when he felt his knuckles against the cool glass of your window. He looked in, the soft ember glow of your candles, a sickly reminder of what he's been missing these past two weeks. The warmth of the room being a bitter reminder of the cold words he spat at you the last time he was here. That's when he saw you emerge from your bedroom. 

She looks tired, fuck has she been sleeping at all? Her clothes are hanging off of her, probably hasn't eaten much either. His eyes travelled all over your dishevelled form, feeling his chest tightens into a knot knowing he was the cause. The apartment is a fucking mess, she's never usually like this. Always scrubbing every fuckin’ surface everyday. It took every bit of self restraint to not rush to your side, lifting you up into his arms, cradling you into his chest begging for your forgiveness, to tell you that what you were feeling was reciprocated, 

He loved you too. 

───────────────────────────────

“Just say the words baby and I’ll go, alright? Whatever ya need doll, I'll give ya anything you want.”

The feel of his rough hand on your shoulder, the pads of his fingers on your skin for the first time in forever soothes the war inside your body. Your breathing stabilises, as you turn back around to meet his gaze.

His hand moves from your shoulder to your face as he rubs small comforting circles on the apple of your cheek with his thumb, once this action would instantly soothe you, now it evokes an entirely different emotion.

The way his body feels on yours sickens you to your stomach, knowing you would never have him again, he didn't feel the same way and that's just something you'd have to learn to live with. 

“Just go, Frank.” you shake his touch off of you as you step back. " I love you. We can pretend all we want that it doesn't change anything, but it does. I'm sorry I love you, I wish I fucking didn't.” you sound out in barely a whisper, shocked if he even heard you at all. "It's not fair on either of us. Just leave.”

You close your eyes to try and barricade the tears from falling. Your feeble attempts are rendered useless as the floodgates open, shaking sobs erupt from your core, each tear laced with anger and sorrow. He attempts to approach you once more, his hand reached out to you,

“Baby girl, I lo-”

“Fucking go, Frank.” you cut him off, your volume increasing to a yell as you point to the window behind you. Opening your eyes to look at him as the demand leaves your mouth, letting him know you were dead serious. 

“If that's what ya want.” his face is emotionless, his words stark and monotonous. He retreats his outstretched hand, shoving it into his pocket as turns from you, grabbing his belongings, climbing out of the window not even bothering to put his boots back on.

He looks back to you once more, hoping to catch a final glimpse of you, but you're already gone, already having climbed back into your empty bed as you sobbed hard into your pillow. 

Acceptance.

──── ୨୧ ────

a/n: this fucking hurtt to write i could sob. i wrote this listening to my sad playlist at 6am so LOL. hope you all enjoy, pt3 will definitely be out at some point too, i can't leave this series here with good conscious

my inbox is open!

[wizzdot]

Sunshine

Description: just an idea I had. Might make it a series. Might not. Reader’s callsign is “Ray”. TW - Reader is depressed and has been through some shit.

Not decided who I’m going to make the main love interest, if anyone at all. Hell, not even decided if it’s worth continuing. Hit me up with ideas if you like what you read…

The rain hammers against the living room window. The window of your shitty, little rented flat in a dodgy, shitty area. It was cheap though. And it was a roof -albeit a temperamental, leaky one - over your head.

It was your decision, after all. You could still be slaving away as a soldier. Giving your all, with no reward. What had you even been fighting for, anyway? Oh yeah! Arrogant men wanting to play a game of chess with your life. Nah. You’d choose your shit flat and shit job, thanks.

The bottle of cheap wine looks real nice right about now, what with the rain not letting up. But you hadn’t done a food shop for two weeks, and you’d used your last packet of instant noodles last night. Shit.

Your jacket is still damp from this morning, you notice, feeling regretful for not hanging it up over the radiator as you zip it up. It’s not as if you allow yourself the expense of using the central heating anyway. You tuck the stray bits of hair, that were poking out, underneath the hood and brace yourself.

“Once more into the void” you tut lamely to yourself, before stepping into the rain, on the hunt for dinner. ‘Goin’ fuckin’ mad, talking to myself now’ you roll your eyes at the voice in your head, sick to the back teeth of your failing life.

The familiar, chipped door of the local corner shop jingles as you enter. You stamp the wet off of your boots on the dirty mat at the door, not that it made a jot of difference to the trail of wet you left in your wake.

“Hello you!” Ravi, the (overly) cheery, elderly shopkeeper shouts. I nod, sending a tight lipped smile in response to his greeting. “This rain, eh! It’s pouring down! Madness out there!” his accented voice says chattily, as you try to disappear behind a shelving unit stacked with tinned soups.

“Yeah, mad” you grit out, monotonously.

“Chatty as always, eh?” - “yep” good god, please stop talking to me! Not in the mood..

You grab two tins of soup, and three 29p noodle packets and head back to the counter to pay. Ravi scans your selection through and looks up at you with a raised eyebrow, awaiting something else. You sigh. “The norm, Ravi, if you will” you say. “Thought you might have quit! Bad vice to have, a young thing like you..”

You choose to ignore that comment, as he slides the packet of cigarettes over the counter. “£16.49”. You pull the slightly soggy twenty from your pocket and hand it over and he quickly counts your change and you’re on your way, the ding of the shop door sounding your departure.

The rain has somehow worsened, so you decide to run the mile and a half back to your flat, pissed off that you’d had to put any effort in, whatsoever. You’ve kept your fitness levels up since your military days. You huff a laugh at your own expense. Knew the morning jogs before work were worth while.. you think to yourself.

Work. Fuck. You’d not finished until 5am this morning, hence the wet jacket. Drunkards had crawled in after winning the football match, refusing to leave until gone 3am, and leaving a shit tonne of mess behind that needed cleaned up. You got decent tips though. Tips that your landlord would snatch off of you thanks to the fact that you were a month behind on rent payments. Easy come easy go, you thought to yourself, as you jog back to the flat.

You get back in record time but halt abruptly when you reach the door. The rain has, by this point, soaked completely through your jacket, but something else has caught your attention. The door handle (which lost its spring a while ago) is slanted down. Someone has visited while you’ve been gone.

“Fuck” you whisper to yourself, before quietly shoving the pack of cigs down your bra to try and keep them dry, and gently stacking the tins and packs of noodles into your post box, for safe keeping, while you investigate..

On second thoughts..

You grab one tin, and carry it as a weapon. Just in case, right? Old habits die hard…

You step in, silently, and notice the wet footprints leading to the kitchen. They weren’t even trying to be subtle, what the actual fuck?!

Slinking towards the kitchen, acting every bit the trained operative that you once were, you round the corner, ready to beat the intruder to ever lasting shit with your soup can, when your eyes meet something - or someone, for that matter - that draws the breathe from your lungs.

“Get out” you all but growl.

The intruder huffs a confident laugh.

“You’ve not changed much, apparently.. a ‘hello’ would be polite, Ray” the figure, with their back turned, lounging on your one remaining wooden chair, that you use to hang your washing on to dry, teases.

“I don’t go by Ray anymore. Now, get out” you spit, marching back to the door to grab your remaining tin of soup and packs of noodles, no longer threatened by the unknown, but instead, utterly pissed off at the fact they’re wasting your time.. You return to the kitchen, intruder still unmoved, and slam the tins down on the counter to try and convey the fact that they weren’t welcome..

“You’ve got about 10 seconds..” you warn.

“Until…?”

“Until I call your superior..”

“He knows I’m here..”

“I’ll call his superior, then” I threaten.

“You’ll call Kate? T’was her decision to send me..”

“Look, Lieutenant. I don’t give a single, steaming shit about whatever it is that you’ve gotten yourselves caught up in, this time. And if you think I want to be involved, you’re heavily mistaken. And it’s laughable that Kate chose you to try and retrieve me.. didn’t even think to send Gaz…? The only one of you wankers that I actually, borderline, tolerated?” You laugh bitterly.

“I really mean it, Ghost. Get out.” you practically spit his callsign, wanting him to understand that you really weren’t considering his, yet unspoken, offer.

“We’d have sent Gaz…” he pauses “but he’s broken. So I’ll have to do…”

Your stomach drops at that and Ghost almost almost sees the break in your facade.

*18 months earlier*

You’d gone through your entire military career with Gaz by your side. You’d class Gim has a friend, even though you were detached and fairly closed off. He was always determined to bring down your walls.

The pair of you were eventually split up when he was headhunted for the formidable taskforce, the 141. You didn’t see him for months, maybe even over a year, until your unit, which you labelled as ‘the Donkeys’, because they were all so shit, crossed paths with the 141 in Russia.

You, and Shepherd, you came to find out, who had been acting as the temporary commanding officer, visiting from America on a joint op, were the only survivors, not that Gaz knew.

The 141 didn’t stick around to check how us Donkeys got on. Just left us behind to do the grunt work, while they, along with Shepherd, moved on. Yeah. Still a bit bitter about that…

Mission accomplished, in their eyes. Necessary losses and all that.. the Donkeys were just collateral for them.. you included.

You returned to base, under your own steam, injured and forced to practically hitchhike back from Russia. When you limped back through the base security, flashing the dented dog tags, confirming that you were, in fact one of them, you were hailed a miracle.

Laswell called within the hour of your miraculous return and wanted to promote you to Lieutenant of your new unit, of strangers, that you’d yet to even meet. Hell, you were even ready for active duty, with your injuries. You decided that it was all for show. Or out of pity… you guessed that, seeing as the rest of the donkeys, and the existing Lieutenant, had been killed, they needed a replacement.

The day of the ceremony rolled around a couple of weeks after, the big names in the SAS, in their fancy suits covered in silverware and ribbons, turned up, to ramble on about what important work you’d all been doing and rewarding medals to hundreds of other soldiers. It was all bullshit.

When it was your turn to receive your medal of distinguished bravery, and to solidify your promotion to the rank of Lieutenant, you stepped up to the stage slowly, and glanced around at the huge crowd, dressed in their formal uniforms, and caught eyes with them. The 141. Gaz was smiling at you, sending a thumbs up your way, mouthing ‘proud of you!’ toward the stage.

You furrowed your brow, thoughts running rampant in your head. Proud of what, exactly? Proud that my entire unit were wiped from existence? Proud that, for some reason, I came back to base?

You froze on the stage. You don’t know for how long. You just remember gulping, trying to make your inner voice shut the fuck up.

Autopilot took over for a few seconds, and you step forward again, towards the important guy, holding the medals and sashes. “Y/n y/l/n. I present to you…” all you hear is your name, and then his muffled voice.

You take one final glance around the ceremony, and take the Lieutenant badge from the silver tray, earning a few gasps from shocked spectators.

“Fuck your promotion. I quit”

And you left the stage, head held high, and walk away. Away from the SAS. Away from the chess game of life. Away from the danger and greed of those in charge. You were done. Even the donkeys didn’t deserve their fate. They were someone’s child. Someone’s parent. Someone’s brother. And they were gone. Without a second glance. But they were oh so thankful for their service, right?

Bullshit.

Canon fodder. That’s all you were sent in for that day.

Pawns to be banished from the board for the next step of the game. Bigger picture. Greater good. All that grandiose bullshit.

You remembered rushing to your old room at the barracks and hastily packing whatever you had left. Hoping you’d be gone before someone detained you. Surely what you’d done was some sort of illegal, right?

What you didn’t expect was for Gaz and his Captain to come knocking on your door.

“Y/n? You in there..?”

“Piss off, Garrick” you snapped in reply.

“Soldier, open the door” the Captain’s, you’d assumed, rough voice commanded.

“Sorry Cap” you popped the P, immaturely, “no can do, don’t take orders anymore, remember? I quit..”

There was one heavy crash at the door, followed by some splintering sounds of wood, and then the Captain, followed by a sheepish looking Gaz, invited themselves into your room.

“Ray, is it? You don’t need to do this... You’re a valuable asset. You have so much to offer. I’ve read your file. You show a lot of promise. Garrick, here, backs that up. Says you and he came through the ranks together, said that you were the only one who could beat him in your year. Is that true?”

You kept your back to the men, continuing to blatantly ignore them and stuff your belongings into bags.

“You don’t have to rush, Ray. I have my other two men blocking the hallway”.

You remember furrowing your brow at that, not that he could see. Why was he protecting you? Why was he being… nice… about it?

“All due respect, Captain, but I’m out. Done. Finished. Yeah? Understood? I’d love to think up some more words to try and get through to you, but I need to get off base asap, before I’m detained. Hell, they’ll probably decide that what I just did is some sort of war crime. Now.. if you’ll excuse me..” you said, pushing past the men and out of the door.

“Ray!” Gaz shouted.

“Here, at least take this..” he presented his wallet.

“Help you find somewhere, yeah?”

You recall being caught off guard at his offer before nodding, sending a tight lipped smile his way.

“Thank you”

*now*

That was the last interaction you’d had with Kyle Garrick. Probably the last act of kindness thrust upon you since, hell, since you can remember...

And now his Lieutenant is in your shitty little flat, that Gaz’s money helped pay the deposit for, telling you that he is hurt.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the scraping of the chair against the wooden floor, and the massive Lieutenant, skull covered face and all, standing from said chair, his head practically touching the ceiling light.

“I’ll pass on your regards to Gaz” he grumbles, heading to the door. “Enjoy your soup, Ray.”

You wait until his back is turned and he is out of earshot, before gulping and scratching your damp hair. I hope Gaz is ok.. I - I wonder why they’ve came to me..? What the hell has happened..

More thoughts run through your head, and the squeak of the springless door handle jolts you again. Christ, hasn’t he gone yet..? He’s taking his time..

“Good bye, Ray. Trackers in the wallet. If you want to disappear again” Ghost speaks quietly, as if to himself, before stepping out into the curtain of rain.

Your eyes flash back and forth, furrowed brow. That slimy little prick, they’ve known where I was this entire time.. probably kept an eye on me.. what the actual fuck..

You rush to the door, opening it and seeing the Lieutenants broad figure stalking away into the darkness, the splashing of his steps the only thing you can hear over the pounding rain hitting the street.

“How hurt is he...” I shout into the darkness.

You don’t see, but Ghost smirks under his balaclava, before turning to face you.

“He’s not taking visitors, Ray. Let’s leave it at that..”

Cunt. Fucking bastard. He knows what he’s doing. Dangling a piece of string in front of a cat..

You growl.

“Arghh! FINE. Fuckin’. Fuckin’ FINE. You win. You happy? You fucking win, Lieutenant. Give me 5 minutes..”

He smirks again, and this time you swear you can see the smugness shine through his eyes. It won’t take you long to pack anyway. Not like you’ve unpacked in the 18 months you’ve been here.

You rush back into the flat and grab the two loaded rucksacks, untouched since you left base for the, what you thought would be, final time. You grab the door handle, and rush back to grab your tins of soup and noodles. Oh - and the wine!

What? It’s a waste not to use them..

You join Ghost back on the street.

“Welcome back, Ray..” the Lieutenant says in a cocky voice.

“Don’t call me that” you snap, bitterly.

“Need to have a name, woman. You’re the newest member of taskforce 141…”

“Piss off…” is all you can muster for the time being.

You wrap your soaked jacket, tighter around your body, and pray that the cigarettes in your bra are still dry.

You’re gonna need them…

[beautyinsteadofashes]

i know the curtain bang girlies love a s1 rafe moment but honestly that boy gives such LDE. I keep thinking about his introductory scene and how I'd totally forgotten about it and mostly remembered his argument with Ward on the balcony. Let me explain...

Now I'm not saying that Drew suddenly got buffer or taller he probably always was those things. But s1 rafe is like a tiny little mafia don type kid who thinks he's the shit. He's vacationed in the Caribbean but he's never crossed state lines or met new people. He's still a kid with size and height issues and toxic masculinity and a tonne of insecurities. He's still an entitled junkie frat boy. Loose clothes that swallow him and he feels too young for. He's overcompensating all the time. Then slowly over the seasons Drew's performance and the crew's costumes and camera work changes. He gains more power in scenes and takes up more of the frame. He's framed as soft and fragile at times and also big and evil and strong. To all the girls who think he's cocky and dominant I disagree but that's literally how the camera wants you to feel.

Man I love cinematography. The growth is 👌🏼 I wish they would let him go full villain instead of joining the pogues.

[itsrlymine]

mini success storyyy!!! soo on jan 1st i scripted and wrote down how i wanted my 2025 to be and I wrote down I have my dream wardrobe bc before my wardrobe was like pretty trash like there were no like statement peices or whatever and thats bc nothing in store is anything I want. But anyway today I went shopping and girlll i have a shit tonne of clothes now and theyre all SO CUTE and ALL OF IT WAS CHEAPP WHEN ITS USUALLY EXPENSIVE AFF THEY WERE ALL ON SALE

ugh yess i love this so much babe yes!!!!! you better work babe and you better come back here with more successes this month bc i know this is just the beginning!!! i'm so happy for you!!

[red1culous]

Glass Castle

Rolling onto your side you groan curling up into a fetal position. It seemed the best one to relieve the stabbing pain in your stomach. Once the worst wave of pain passed you wiped the tears from your eyes and grab the remote control deciding to distract yourself with something, anything on the telly. 

Water and medication would have been beneficial but you had no energy and the thought of getting up sounded like a form of medieval torture. Part of you wished you could call someone for help. If only your phone wasn’t out of charge. A self berating wave of self pity washes over you as you finally fall asleep, rigid and spent. 

You were so out of it you barely hear the front door opening 22 minutes later. 

“Y/N? Y/N?” Her voice filters through the fog of your brain. Your eyes flicker open but they feel heavy, like lead. The lights are bright forcing your eyes closed. You will them open again and a blur of dark blue and red hair move in front of you. You feel yourself being shifted. A light shines in your eyes. 

“Nat?” you groan when a light sting spreads across your cheek. 

“C’mon now you need to drink some water” she says leaning over you helping you get upright. 

The minute her hands are on you, you remember you hadn’t showered in days and probably looked like death personified. 

“You shouldn’t be here. You could get infected” you try but fail to hide the numb, somnolent panic to your plea. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says calmly, staring her determination into you. Her green eyes blazed, indomitable, and she was never more beautiful than she was right then. 

She hands you a glass of coconut water. “Drink” she instructs.

You gladly accept it taking a generous gulp. A little trickles down your chin and you quickly wipe it with the sleeve of your shirt. You notice that your clothes aren’t stiff with your own crusty dried vomit. The realisation hits you like a tonne of bricks when you look down and see yourself in a fresh set of joggers and matching tee. 

“You changed me?” you ask. 

“Yes.” She nods as your face turns a beet red. “I also gave you a sponge bath well because…” she trails off before quickly adding, “Why? Self conscious?”

“Urgh,” you groan loudly and she chuckles. “Only that I shit myself and was covered in vomit. Not exactly how I pictured you seeing me for the first time, you know?”

“You pictured that huh?” she asks smirking.

You screw your eyes shut and wrinkle your nose realising that you had just exposed one of your deepest secrets to her. 

“You’re not a good person, picking on a dying person” you say your eyes still closed. 

She starts to laugh and you feel the whole bed shake with her. “You’re not dying. And I never said I was a good person” she says enjoying herself. 

This makes you look at her. And once you do you’re trapped by the foliant blaze of her green eyes. She doesn’t look away. You watch each other. Her eyes were softer, far softer than you had ever remembered them. 

She then pushes a lock of hair behind her ear with her thumb and forefinger. You find that you liked the hard-edged cleverness of her conversation, and the easy way she held your eyes until the precise moment when it stopped being comfortable, like right now, and then smiles, softening the assail, but never looking away. 

She knew. She had to know. 

-----

I have a taglist if you want to be on it.

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[heartofbusan]

TLDR: re-entry into the bangtan gravitational field at your own pace in 2025. Guilt free!

2024 was such a re-set year for me when it comes to engaging with bangtan. Can I be fully honest and say that their enlistment has been relaxing for me? Sure, we had a shit tonne of content to wade through, but without the members themselves being present for any of it, it meant a less direct engagement with the work during their 2024 releases. For me, that meant fewer feelings of guilt towards 'being present' with them. Does that make sense? It's like I got room to engage at my own pace and on my own terms. Or I might just be getting older, lol. Not discounting that possibility.

The music we got still had great impact on me. It felt sensual to engage with it as if it was a new discovery and less of an obligation. Time constraints sometimes meant it took me weeks to watch an mv, or listen to an album without distractions. Quite a different way of being army than I was before.

I became an army during the pandemic, right at the very start of our first lockdown. I allowed myself to delve into something that had only existed in my periphery. With their amazing music, which was second only to their interactions and personalities, came a whole boatload of content to wade through. All the while, Dynamite was being launched as my first official comeback. Growing up with that juggernaut meant feeling deeply invested and also responsible for their success. The results were very much a shared success. The perfect fertilizer for the parasocial relationship I'm currently involved in with seven Korean men I've never even met.

It took me away from my own life. Kept me in that state of detached social contact that was created thanks to the pandemic. Yet, I felt sated, my joy became engaging with these men, their art. What need did my surroundings fulfill that couldn't be met by army as friends and by bts as my sole purveyor of art?

Fleeing the horrors of Twitter and learning to navigate this platform also meant a deeper focus into one aspect of army that I never felt fully comfortable doing there. Jikook.

What can I say? They have my full attention. I lost some, what at the time I thought were some very good friends in this process. I barely gained any new ones. Yet, in this year, I did discover the power of a restful thought written into sharp observation. And nothing compelled me to write as much as jikook does.

But, all good things must evolve in order to be sustainable in the long run. I don't want that period to sour, to become just a hyper fixation. BTS' enlistment period meant I could take a step back and re-evaluate what it all meant to me and how I could keep it for the long run. As we roll into the sanctified year of 2025, the year that means the end of bangtan's mandatory enlistment period, we'll being sucked back into that vortex. I want to do it on my own terms.

My personal goals for 2025.

More: engaging with new content in my own time. Less: obsessive streaming and the feelings of guilt others put upon behavior that might be detrimental to your peace. Sorry, but this behavior is not sustainable in my life as it once was.

Less: buying dopamine. More: buying with intention, whether it be music or merchandise. Those tickets will not come free of charge, i hope you have been saving up ☺️

Less: engaging with content as it drops. Yes, even lives! Argh. As much as it pains me to feel like I'm ignoring someone. More: Being present in my real life.

No one gets to dictate who is army and who isn't. These are arbitrary rules set upon by some who are willing and able to direct a lot of time and money to a singular goal. I know as I write this that I'm making excuses for myself. Yet, I need it to be true. I want to carve a place for bangtan into my life, not the other way around. Let's not let a corporation dictate our genuine feelings for the sake of capitalism.

Most of all, I hope health and general well-being are what carry us all into 2025. Nothing is certain, but love is a very powerful feeling. One which can move mountains. Sometimes to great personal cost. Yet, it is worth it in the long run. Wouldn't you agree?

I hope you have a very calm and enjoyable end of year. Be safe and tell your loved ones how they make you feel. It's important to hold on to the things you have control over and to let go, nay, expell the things that are beyond your reach.

[maggotmouth]

TIME: two-thirty. LOCATION: café marta / group six ; savannah ( @whimsyhearts ), kit ( @distortedblurs ), ava ( @livebedroom ), avarice ( @kismutt ), micah ( @fvlmincre ), maude ( @tra1trs ), juliet ( @lowtieds ) / any stragglers. @langstonstarters NOTES: pls do not reply w more than one paragraph or i will self-delete. i got carried away. do not match length<3

“bored,” monty announces, a festering king unamused by the circle of eunuch jesters his court have provided him with. a sigh like a horse’s whinny pulls deep from his lungs, head thrown back against the wall. only so long he can spend slurping up cardamom flavoured chai lattes before he gets restless like a match on the cusp of being struck. “this is dull as fuck,” his forefinger swipes at an incessant rate against the static background of tiktok, sound leakage overspilling from a solitary earbud hanging casually as a popped-collared marlon brando from his left ear. “why do we have to do a tour, anyway?” he asks his touring partner, in what’s meant to be under his breath, but with his classical training and elocution lessons, comes out as more of a stage whisper. alas, poor yorick... “they’ve got google maps, haven’t they?” despite a history of giving factually-inaccurate tours of the west wing of the family’s buckinghamshire house to unsuspecting fuckwad tourists with a national trust membership, his enthusiasm for showing foppish yanks around is waning. there isn’t the gordon-lennox suite here to wax lyrical about the wild fictitious orgies thrown by his parents in yesteryear, or the library where he insinuated benjamin disraeli had his first blowjob, or the old ruins out by the mill where he’d once told a guest they hosted annual ( illegal ) tiger fights purely for shits and giggles, only to later learn they were from PETA, and thus launching an investigation. unfortunate, but unavoidable. here, there’s simply four walls and a fuck tonne of ‘twee’ furniture cosplaying as hogsmeade.

“listen. fine, fine. we’ll do the tour.” unfolding himself from the armchair he’d flat-pack-furnitured himself down into, monty leaps up, counting out on a signet-ringed finger anything he deems slightly useful. “so this is café marta. or ‘the stodge’ if you’re a local.” ( literally no one except monty and his fellow private school hooray henrys calls it that... ) “they do a perfectly acceptable macchiato, but truth be told the croissants are shit and probably out-sourced, marta’s a saucy little minx, and it’s always full of mopey fucking postgrads crying because they spunked their money up the walls on some useless english degree so…” monty shrugs, tongue clicking against the inside of his cheek, and throws his motorcycle jacket lazily over his shoulders, a slogan cap labelling him ‘daddy’s favourite princess’ tugged down onto his mop of dark hair. “rather than pretend this is useful, why don’t we go somewhere that actually has atmosphere?” there’s a devilish little twinkle in his eye as he singles out each palladian new-comer with a jab of his finger. “rabbithole? rabbithole? what about you, with the teeth?” they really ought to have had those fixed. aren’t the british supposed to be the ones with bad teeth? “you coming rabbithole? fuck it, four o’clock’s the new five o’clock.” it’s actually half-past two, but who’s keeping score. “and by the way, bugs, i know an excellent orthodontist.”

[kitkatscabinet]

Being from Miles's universe and meeting Peter when he's at his lowest hcs.

(Gn reader so all my lovelies can enjoy)

Instead of Miles running into Peter first, you do. You're walking home and find what at first you think is a homeless man unconscious face down in the snow.

You aren't stupid, armed with pepper spray and a pocket knife you quickly but carefully walk towards him, nudging him with your foot when he doesn't respond.

Turning him over, you then worry you've stumbled across some idiot deciding to try and fill the void of the recently deceased spider man that then got his ass kicked.

you go to call the police but are stopped by a surprisingly strong grasp your wrist.

What happens next is what feels like supporting a drunk elephant back to your apartment. The man weighs a metric shit-tonne and is so uncoordinated it takes what feels like an eternity to make it back to your shitty run down apartment

More than once you have to dissuade people from calling the cops on what looks like a suspected kidnapping/murder and it leaves you even more furious at the deadbeat you now wished you'd ignored.

You're covered in sludge and snow and now your sheets are too, but you find it a little easier to ignore when you pull off the mask to find a boyishly handsome face

You can tell he's seen better days, but then again, so have you, and there's something endearing about the wet cat qualities he seems to possess

It's him that wakes you up in the morning, a shriek leaving your throat and a soft toy hurtling at his face as you register there is a man you don't know in your living area before the night's memories come rushing back

"Eggs?" you blurt out and that's how the two of you end up spending the morning. eating breakfast in silence and staring in confusion at one another

This is also the day you get introduced to the multiverse. Causing a freak out that lasts even longer than realising the man - Peter Parker with a striking resemblance to Spiderman was indeed A Spiderman.

He stays for a week before you run into one Miles Morales and Gwen Stacey.

Somewhere along the way, your nights turn into late-night conversations commiserating over life. The man is so pathetic, but what started as pity quickly turns into genuine empathy and friendship

During that time you learn all about MJ and about Peter's fears of being a dad. You are quick to assuage his fears, pointing to how good he is with teens as a reason

It's after one of these conversations that you start sleeping in the same bed. You wouldn't let him take the couch and he felt bad taking your bed for so long.

Peter wakes before you the next morning, having pulled you into him during his sleep, and for the first time since MJ he truly feels at peace.

It's selfish of him but he decides to pull you closer and go back to sleep, not noticing the fact you'd woken up too.

you both know he has to leave soon, but neither of you can quite stop yourselves from indulging in the little fantasy you've created

[mysmorgasbordoffantabulosa]

“Also, what keeps me going... knowing that Brian probably has a closer relationship/friendship with Suga than he ever had/has with JK. And that JK spends a shit tonne of his freetime with Tae.”

LMAOOOO. Not you casually admitting that the thought of Jk and Jm being close actually scares the shit out of you and makes you so damn insecure about your ship. If you were secure in your ship you wouldn’t care how close Jk is to Jimin but you need them not to be as close so you keep living in your delusions.

The solo era has really made you tkkrs grow wings and you lot seem to have forgotten your history. You know the history where the only hangouts you had of Tae and Jk were the ones you had to make up or exaggerated because your ship went years and were only seen hanging out about once or twice while Jk quiet literally was known to spend all his time with Jimin. See you boldly screaming about Jk spends all his free time with Tae and this “free time” happened to be in the solo era, a period of months out of the many years Taekook have known each other and you are not even embarrassed. Well if life worked the way you bird brained taekookers thought it did, where after years of little or no evidence that two people hung out outside of work, they suddenly start hanging out after talking and promising to work on the growing distance in their friendship you immediately think that is prove that they are closer or in a relationship then you would have been right but life doesn’t work that way.

Taekook hanging out in the solo era doesn’t magically erase their past of literally confirming themselves that they drifted apart and didn’t even have deep talks with each other. The solo era you are bragging about was actually the biggest debunk of your ship but you are not ready for this conversation. You are foaming at the mouth at the thought of jk and Jimin getting a haircut together, pookie, they literally spent the night together before they travelled to jeju. Going to get a haircut is the least of your worries so don’t try too hard to debunk that. They are in the military together as we speak, singing in the shower, having deep talks before bed, helping each other go through one of the most difficult moments of their lives and do you know what this does to people? It strengthens their bond and makes them grow closer so even if by some chance they had drifted apart, their time together in the military will bring them closer. Instead of living on past glories of the solo era, pray that Taekook don’t get awkward with each other again. You know the last time Jk said parts of their friendship started to feel awkward as they started spending time apart so instead of trying so hard to prove that Jimin is closer to someone else, pray that history doesn’t repeat itself.

I remember you making predictions about military and saying that there would be Taekook sightings. They have 4 months left and there have been no sightings so far, as a matter of fact, the last time we saw Taekook together at Jin’s discharge, they were giving each other the awkward side hug. Jimin is the least of your worries. You know the way tkkrs mocked jkkrs saying they were living in past glories of jikook’s hangouts? Well the solo era which you people worship is in the past now. Pray to whatever you believe in that Taekook post military don’t go back to their pre solo era no hangout ways because then what will you cling to? The same past you mocked others for clinging to? The future will be so interesting!! Can’t wait for things to unfold.

My... you lot do love to waffle on don't you.

Also, predictions are just that, and 9 times out 10 we find out stuff months, sometimes years, later. Also, just because we don't hear about it at the time means nothing.

Finally, I can admit that Brimothy hang out together, yet you seem to think that the solo era was just a blip for TK.

Deep down though you that's not true, and do you know why I know that? You lot keep coming into spaces TK spaces claiming this and that and 9 times out 10 every you claim is not true.

But hey ho...

[ghoulishhx]

Hiiiii! I’m loving all the Frank love and I’d like to ask from the smut prompt list #15 or #9 (maybe a mix of both) something about jealous Frank is just so 😋

15 & 9.) revenge sex & jealous sex in the alleyway behind the bar

omg i am SO sorry this took like a week im AWFUL. but i hope you enjoy this one, i had so much fun writing jealous/possessive frankie and would lovee to do more in the future!!

18+ MDNI !!

My Masterlist!

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Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: S M U T. angst too :3, a fuck tonne of dirty talking, praise, swearing, unprotective p in v sex (wrap that shit up irl purlease), public sex, possessive frank

TW: mentions of attempted sa, depictions of violence (cmon its frank are we surprised he's being violent?)

Wordcount: 2.5k

Tags: was noodling this idea w/ my besties, please go check them out i love them sm @yur1addict @carbonfiction @nogoodbee also @thesoccerenthusiast requested 15 as well so here you go :3

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✦ my girl

“No way! That’s so cool, tell me more!” you place your hand on his bicep and flutter your eyelashes at him. This is the first date you’ve been on since Frank broke up with you 6 months ago, it has to go well. So you can prove to yourself that you can move on, be with someone that isn’t him. 

You swirl your drink around the cool glass as he tells you some mundane story from his job, your mind can’t help but wander to thinking of someone else however. Your thoughts of Frank bullying you once more, how he would never yap on and on if he noticed your physical discomfort. How you both shared hundreds of interesting conversations in this very bar. It’s part of the reason why you chose this place, before today the thought of stepping foot in Josie’s made your stomach knot. This is where you and Frank met, where you’d go together almost weekly to unwind, drink and laugh together. Looking into your date's eyes tonight as he goes on and on about fuck knows what, you hope for a glimpse of him, a glimpse of feeling you would feel looking into Frank’s.

“I-I’ll be right back, look after my drink, ‘kay?” your body defies you as you suddenly rise onto your feet, your mind screaming at you that this was a bad idea.

“Yeah, okay. Will do.” he winks at you as you saunter off to the bathroom, phone in hand. You burst into the room and your fingers begin typing Frank’s number, you memorized the digits after all this time, something you’ve been trying to shake from your muscle memory for this exact reason. You sigh, sinking into an unoccupied stall, clicking the call button and holding the phone to your ear and biting your thumbnail. You know if he was here he’d take your thumb out of your mouth and replace it with his own to soothe your oral fixation. 

Ring.. Ring.. Ring..

He isn’t picking up? He always picks up, even now since the split. You feel pathetic, he has obviously moved on and you can’t even go on one date without trying to run back into his arms. 

“I’m sorry, but the number you have called is temporarily unavailable, please leave your message after the to-”

You click the call away, pushing your phone back into your purse. You can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes, feeling utterly helpless and alone. No matter what you try to do, you can’t escape him. You’ve tried everything possible, but your heart still belongs to him.

You sniffle and wipe the tears away with the back of your hand, fixing your makeup in the cracked mirror above the sinks. Taking a deep breath, you emerge from the bathroom and go to resume your date. That’s when you see him, his head being slammed repeatedly on the side of the bar, blood pooling amongst the broken glass. Your jaw drops to the floor as you approach the altercation, finally noticing the perpetrator.

Frank. Your Frank. Well not your Frank anymore, but it was him.

You rush to your date's aid, stopping Frank from brutally murdering him in front of your face with a hand to his chest.

“What the fuck are you doing Frank? Are you out of your damn mind?” you shout, shoving him away as you go to check your date over for damages.

“I don’ think I’m the one ya should be askin’ that doll.” he grumbles, rage encompassing his words as his chest rises and falls in rapid succession. “Don’ touch him, he doesn’t deserve ya takin’ care of him.” he spits, reaching down and grabbing his collar, tossing him towards the exit. 

The man you arrived with scrambles to his feet as he bolts through the door, gratefully accepting his chance to escape Frank. Your gaze turns from the door and back to your ex boyfriend.

“And you know that, how? You broke up with me remember, can’t just follow me around and try to fucking kill any innocent guy that shows interest in me.” you grab your stuff and leave the bar from the side exit, pushing through the door that leads to the alleyway. Your body is shaking with rage and the cool air that washes through you as you leave the stuffy bar. you reach into your purse to pull out your carton of cigarettes. God knew you needed one now, even if you were trying to quit.

“Thought ya quit huh?” Frank says, dipping his head to get out the door to join you in the dark, nodding towards the cigarette in your hand.

‘Yeah well, I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind to quit.” you mutter under your breath, kicking the stones beneath your feet, refusing to look at Frank.

“Look kid ‘m sorry, okay? I told myself I wouldn’t interfere, would let ya go on your date. But when you left to go to the bathroom..”

“Oh how noble of you Frank, allowing me to go on a date. Thank you so much for the permission.” you interrupt, spitting at him as you take a long drag of your cigarette. “Next time I’ll tell you beforehand, so you don’t have to follow me. Save you the trouble.” you stub the sweet nicotine under your boot and return the lighter to your purse.

“If you’d let me finish,” he starts, visibly getting annoyed from your tone, usually when you spoke to him like that he would end up fucking the attitude out of you, but things aren’t the same as they used to be. Stepping towards you, only being inches from you now, “When you went to the bathroom, I watched him slip something in your drink.” 

Your jaw falls slack, feeling violated, sick at the potential ways tonight could’ve ended if it weren’t for Frank. You don’t know how to feel in this moment, anger courses through you but that rage is softened by the way he’s looking at you, a familiar surge of emotions jolts through your body looking into his eyes the way you are.

“So just as well as I was followin’ ya, should’ve fuckin’ shot him right there and then. No one tries to harm my girl.” he looks away, obviously he didn’t mean to let that last bit slip. His face flushes, stepping away from you again.

“I appreciate what you did for me Frank, I really do.” you whisper, “But I’m not your girl anymore.” the words cut through you as you say them, the gravity of the situation weighing down on you, the confession slicing through you.

“I know, I mean.. I mean no one is good enough for ya sweetheart. No one. I just wanted to make sure you were ok..”

“No ones good enough for me? Tell me Frank, what is good enough for me?” you start, walking towards him as you get up in his face. “You leaving me after months of patching you up for free after your stupid fucking fights? That good for me? Opening my home to you, giving you every bit of my heart and soul for you to just throw it all away. Is that good enough for me? Huh? I’m not fucking yours to protect anymore.” you shout, finally unlease your pent up emotions, your face turning red and tremors encompass your body. You turn away from him and storm off out of the alleyway, to go home and rid your mind of thoughts of Frank.

Instantly you feel his grip around your wrists, pulling you back and twisting you until your body is up against the cool brick wall.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” he places his arms on each side of your head, caging you in. “You are mine, ya always have been. Don’ matter if I’m with ya or not, you’re mine.” he places a kiss to your cheek, “Puttin’ yourself in danger like this, I thought I taught ya better than that pretty girl.” he whispers, while kissing your other cheek. “I fucked up, lettin’ ya go so easily.” he says pulling away from you, placing his forehead against yours. 

“Lemme make it up to ya, huh? I know you’ve been missin’ me too, thinkin’ bout me. Escaping from your first date to run to the bathroom and call me, don’ think I didn’t notice darlin’.” Oh fuck, he checked his phone and saw the missed call. Your face flushes red at the realisation. 

“What’s that? Ya gone shy, huh? Runnin’ ya mouth at me like that now you’re fuckin’ silent, my bratty girl, always had a mouth on her..” he runs his hand down your face and wraps his had tentatively round your neck, the sensation of his calloused fingers on your soft skin sending arousal straight to your already soaked panties. 

“Tell me to stop ‘n I’ll stop,” he mumbles, tilting your face upwards, feathering kisses along your jawline,“but I don’ think ya want me to, do ya?”

Your body defies you once again as you grab the collar of his leather jacket and pull him into a bruising kiss. The familiarity of the way he tastes and smells, like liquor and gunpowder, causes tears to well in your eyes. You moan into the kiss at the sensation, finally returning to the man who was your home. His hands reach down to your hips, pulling your core into him, trying to get you as close as physically possible. His lips leave yours as they travel down your neck, sucking and nibbling on the exposed skin. You rut your hips into him, your desperation comical as you chase any sense of friction you could. 

“Needy fuckin’ girl ain’t ya?” his hands raise, grazing your curves as they land on your breasts. “Goin’ out to meet another man lookin’ like this.. Shit baby he’s got nothin’ on me. Don’t know how to love ya like I do, fuck ya like I do,” he grips harshly on your breast, toying with the pebbled nipple, squeezing it hard between his fingers eliciting a whimper from you. “Say it. Say y’mine. All fuckin’ mine.”

“I-I’m all yours Frankie. Always have been.” you moan out as he smirks at your words, you sound like heaven to him.

“Attagirl doll, my good fuckin’ girl.” he slams his lips into yours once more, placing his hands on your ass,. You instinctively let him lift you, wrapping your legs around him as he pushes you further up the wall. The grit of the brick scratches on your back but you couldn’t care less right now. All that matters is him, and his touch.

“I fuckin’ need ya doll, it’s been far too long.” he pushes his hard bulge into your clothed centre, the friction so delicious as it makes you gasp. “Need to be inside ya now ok? I’ll make it up to her later, feast on her till she’s cryin.” he states, alluding to your throbbing clit.

He places his arm around your waist, holding your weight up as he unbuttons his jeans and pushes your soaked panties to the side, giving him access to where you need him most.

“Shit baby, you’re fuckin’ drenched. Dirty fuckin’ girl, all f’me?” he asks, smirking as he rubs the tip of his leaking cock through your folds. 

“Fuck Frank, all for you. You’ve been drivin’ me fucking crazy.” you whine as he teases you with his member. “Please fuck me, I need you so bad.”

“You ‘n me both sweet girl. I got ya, lemme take care of ya.” kissing your cheek as he pushes his length inside of you. The sweet recognisable stretch of his thick cock in your walls makes you sigh in relief, you’ve missed this feeling more than words can say. He growls in your ear as he pushes inside of you to the hilt, your pussy already leaking around him, staining his jeans with your essence. 

He begins a rough, primal pace, his desire for you consuming him whole now that he finally has you like putty in his hands again. 

“Never again my girl. Not gonna leave ya again. Never. Fucking. Again.” accentuating his words with deep thrusts, you’re a moaning mess around him. Your walls clamp around him and you can’t help the noises pouring out of you as he takes you in the alleyway. You couldn’t give less of a shit that the rough wall behind you was definitely ripping up your clothes, tearing your skin open. Frank will tend to it later.

“Takin’ me so good doll, after all this time. Been fuckin’ my fist damn near every night imagining being so deep inside ya again.” The lewd sound of skin slapping against each other, the squelch of your weeping core against his balls, both of your desperate moans fill the space, drowning out the bustling city. Neither of you are concerned anyone could see you right now. “This body is all mine, this pussy. No one else's, ya got it?” you nod, biting your lip. “Need ya to use your big girl words, ya can do that for me right? Tell me again, who do ya belong to?”

“You Frank, shit I belong to you. No one makes me.. Fuck.. feel as good as you do. Fuck Frankie, I-I’m so fucking close. Please don’t stop.. Feels s’ good..” 

“Damn fuckin’ right. I know baby, shh I got ya, that’s it doll take what ya need. Cum for me darlin’, make a mess around my cock. It’s all yours.” he captures your lips in another kiss as your orgasm crashes through you, the vibrations of your pleasured moans fill his mouth and it’s not long until he joins you in ecstasy, his pace faltering but the intensity never ends.

“ ‘M gonna fill you up baby, ya gonna feel me for days” your sex clenches his cock, milking him dry as he finishes inside you. Whimpering with you, matching your noises. “My good girl, so fuckin’ good for me. Shit I’ve missed ya too much.”

You stay like this for a few moments, catching your breath in between shared kisses. After a few minutes, he lowers you from the wall as you step onto your wobbly legs. He catches you before you tumble, your knees buckling as you straighten yourself out. He tucks himself back into his denims, before pulling you into a firm, warm embrace.

“I’m so sorry baby. I mean it y’know? I’m not leavin’ ya like that ever again, ok?” he speaks into your hair, peppering kisses along the top of your head, feeling you grin against his chest.

“You better fucking not Frank Castle. Not gonna let you.” you sigh contently, placing your chin on his chest as you angle your head to meet his loving gaze.

He chuckles, placing his lips to your forehead.

“Yes ma’am.”

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a/n: i hope you enjoy!! i need him so fucking bad it's insane

my inbox is open!

[sleepymccoy]

I think it's a shame that Cecil dies at the end of the ep. Are we sure he doesn't want to move to Melbourne, Australian in 2024 and be like maybe 32 years old? I think that would round his character arc out very well

I'm part way through season one of x files (I have seen some eps, but never watched it all) and this ep starts and I'm just like... that looks so much like Mark Sheppard with bad facial hair.

Then I'm thinking, as someone gets set on fire, I vaguely remember a spontaneous combustion episode from my childhood Mark Sheppard obsession. Can't remember what show it was, but I remember fire. I watched all his stuff at some point my life

Then, of course, the credits say Mark Sheppard and I'm gonna enjoy the next 45 episodes of my afternoon!

[josephquinnswhore]

Hiiii bub thank you soooo much for the request here’s another one I have (based on me)

TW: blood & commit and anxiety attack

May you please do a Pedro pascal x plus size reader where readers worst fear is blood and any time they see it the feel nauseous and go in to an anxiety attack. Basically I was sick last week and had the absolute worst tummy bug (I’m all better) and threw up so hard my nose bled that I almost passed out and had an anxiety attack. Basically do it based off what happen to me and if u can add Bella and Nico and Gabriela calling Pedro bc he is the only one to calm reader down from these panic attacks.

Thank you in advance

My Comfort

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem/Plus Size Reader!

Summary: you’re sick and Pedro’s called back from his luck to see you in a bad way.

Word Count: 2k

Content Warning: reader is sick, mentions of blood, panic attack, vomit.

Note: hi sun bun 🐰, I love you. We must be the same person fr cause I’ve been sick for over a month LMAO and I get so queasy when I see blood. UGH, hopefully this gives you what you need. I also throw up to the point where my throat bleeds lol it’s so fucked. 🫶🏼🥰 I made it pretty dramatic LOL. M sorry it’s short.

You told yourself you were fine, you could do the filming through the sickness. You were sipping on your water and drinking your raspberry flavoured hydralyte, even though it tasted like shit. Just to try and get yourself through the day, unable to tell yourself you’re not sick enough to show up for work. It was too important, it came before everything else in your life, well, almost everything. It was second in line to your boyfriend and co-worker, Pedro.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. Just one more scene to shoot, then you can go home.” You chanted to yourself as you look in the mirror trying to convince yourself it to be true, thinking maybe if you said it aloud it would enforce some truth. Your face was losing colour with every passing minute, and the darkness around your eyes was a clear indication that everything was far from okay, that you were not okay.

But you felt guilty, you didn’t want to let the team down by going home and delaying the episode when you had one measly scene left to shoot, you may as well just tough it out and get through it as best you could. It would maybe take a couple hours at most, you could do that! Right? You started to doubt yourself at the way your limbs started to ache and feel heavy. It hurt to hold your head upright.

You turn on the tap to the cold water, letting the water gather into your cupped hands before you bring it to your face, the coolness is refreshing, you exhale a deep breath to try and relax, patting your face dry with some paper towel and throw it into the trash bin. You could do this. You couldn’t give up.

“Hey, are you feeling okay? You don’t look so hot.” Gabriel sets a hand on your shoulder, his thick black eyebrows were nearly touching as he frowned, his dark brown eyes squinted with concern at one look of you, his hand feels like it weighs a tonne on your aching shoulder. “I-I mean you are, but, you know.” He gestures to you and you raise an eyebrow at him, you didn’t wanna have to deal with this right now-as much as you liked him.

“Dude shut it, are you okay?” Bella asks, her face strewn with concern for your well-being. You swallow your spit loudly, gulping down the clump that sits in your throat, feeling more ill with every passing second. “Um…I’m ok, I think.” you can’t decide what to say, unsure of whether you even believe your obvious and blatant lies. Bella looks to Nico and they know you’re lying, sharing a look of sympathy toward you, watching as you slightly sway as you stand still.

“Why don’t you just sit down for a second, have some water.” You nod to Nico, “thanks,” you mumble in agreement as she sets a gentle hand on your back, helping you sit, agreeing it’s a good idea. The bright lights of the set don’t help the ache in your head that’s contributing to your illness. Your eyes squint as your brain throbs at how bright it is, you blink harshly, trying to rid the ache that’s set in motion, the shadow of a headache you knew would grow into a migraine.

“Wouldn’t hurt to sit for five minutes.” You mumble in an unintelligible slur, as you feel a wave of nausea coming over you, it shakes your whole body to the core, the feeling settles uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. Your fingers grasp your bottle shakily with the hydralyte, desperate to rid your body of the nausea setting, but it wasn’t your bottle, and it wasn’t hydralyte. It was a bottle of soft drink, the fizz of the soda causes a rift in your stomach that feels like it’s about to explode. The feeling builds and builds until it feels like it’s going to erupt, from your mouth.

“Oh my god, someone get me a bucket.” You hunch over in your seat with one arm wrapped around your stomach, the other holding your hand over your mouth, the nausea rising up your throat that you have to swallow down the first time it attempts its exit because you would’ve just spewed all over the floor on set. You heave again, this time Gabriel is holding a bucket underneath your mouth, the taste of the liquid makes your stomach ache even though it barely has time to digest.

The same coloured liquid comes out as clear, mostly bile the first few times, until the stench of the contents in the bucket circulates through your nostrils and churns your stomach again, twisting until it shoots up your throat, this one hurt your throat badly, the sting it made coming out has you unable to breathe for a few seconds, your lash line full to the brim with unshed tears, coughing violently as someone rubs a hand along your back, trying to soothe you.

You feel something dribbling from your nose and you wipe it with the back of your hand, not caring how disgusting it would seem to anyone else. You expect to see snot or mucus on your hand associated with the tears brought to your eyes from the vomiting. To your surprise you see a bright red liquid, your blood was coating your hand in a rugged line on your hand, your nose was bleeding.

“Oh shit you’re bleeding.” Nico exclaims, panic evident in her voice, inspecting your nose and handing you a tissue, the blood filled the tissue within a few seconds, the flow from your nostril not giving up. You must’ve burst a blood vessel in your nostril with how it’s pouring out of you, you start to feel dizzy at the sight of how much blood you’re losing. You pull back the tissue and feel it leaking through the tissue, your fingertips were now stained red from how profusely it was bleeding.

It starts with your hands trembling, your body becomes stiff and you can hardly hear anyone around you. Your fingers are shaking that badly you drop the bloody tissue, your nose is now free bleeding all over you and your clothes. Your breaths are rugged and panicked. The ache in your neck causes it to fall, your whole body falling forward destined to hit the ground until Gabriel catches you, sitting you on the floor, lying you on your side.

“Call Pedro back from lunch, now. And get the damn medic.” Bella demands Gabriel who stands in a panic not knowing what to do, he rushes to get his phone and makes the call to Pedro, Nico rushes away to find the medic on set while Bella stays with you. She’s knelt down beside you, trying to pry you upright but your body is stiff and unmoving other than the small underlying tremble of your body.

The medic arrives first, she’s kneeling down beside Bella to look at you, eyeing the teenager in shock at the state of you. “Hey hun can you hear me? It’s Cas I’m here to help.” You feel a warm hand on your body as she rolls you onto your back, the ache from the touch alone causes you to whimper, your eyes are strewn shut at the brightness of the room, it was all too much, you just wanted Pedro.

She pulls out of her bag a cuff, to check your blood pressure, the tightening of the cuff on your arm was pleasantly satisfying, slightly grounding you with each notch of pressure that was released. “Okay, blood pressures a little low but nothing to be worried about. Just going to check your temperature sweetie.” She moves your arm, shoving a thermometer under your armpit and waits for it to beep. She checks it and purses her lips together on a thin line.

“Baby, oh my god is she okay?” Pedro kneels down next to you, his hands are holding your cheeks, cupped in his own large hands the warmth from them makes you sweat, a result of your ever rising temperature. “Is she okay?” Pedro asks Cas, she puts the thermometer away. “She had a reading of 39.2 degrees, she’s got a fever, not sure what’s causing it though.”

“Hey baby, hey can you hear me? It’s me baby I’m here.” You could barely find the strength in you to open your eyes, eyelids squinting to protect your eyes from the brightness of the room. “Hey.” You mutter, with the last of your strength you could muster before you fall unconscious.

-

Pedro’s leg is bouncing the whole time he’s sat in the chair beside your bed in the hospital. The beeping of the monitor keeping your reading would sometimes make a commotion in the event of a momentary spike in blood pressure, “it’s just trying to regulate itself.” The nurse offered, which didn’t make him feel any better.

“Mr Pascal, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Dr Wrent, we’ve been doing some tests on your girlfriend here today. We’ve come to find that she’s somehow contracted a deadly stomach bug, it’s rare but not unknown, we can give some anti biotics to take home and she should be fine within the week.” The doctor put your folder and hung it on the end of the bed, “by the way, make sure you enforce that she takes a break, tell her to stop working so hard.”

“Right, I’ll do that. Thanks for everything.” Pedro sunk back into his chair and waited for you to wake up, the small sandwich and juice from the cafeteria sitting unopened as you lie peacefully.

You start to stir right when Pedro feels his eyelids drooping, begging him to close so he can have a moments rest. He hears the shuffling before his brain has the chance to fully lull him into sleep, rustling around in the front of his mind to wake up, sending an alarm throughout his body that you were finally awake.

“God baby you’re awake. You scared the shit out of everyone you know that?” As if you hadn’t felt guilty enough, the worry on His face made it worse. You couldn’t look at him, avoidant in your stare towards him, looking quite literally elsewhere until he leaned over the bed and grabbed your face in his hands, forcing you to look up at him.

“I’m sorry baby- I didn’t mean,” he takes a deep breath before continuing. “We were worried about you, why didn’t you tell someone you weren’t feeling well?” You should’ve just done that to begin with you knew, but you were too stubborn.

“I just convinced myself I should do it, I didn’t want to disappoint anyone by delaying the season for one last scene.” Pedro’s hand caresses your hair, fingers gliding through your hair as he calms you. “From now on you put yourself forward okay? Promise me.”

You pull your bottom like between your teeth, enjoying the sting it brings when you bite down too hard, “okay, I promise.”

“I’m proud of you though, you saw that blood and didn’t die, soooo.” Pedro trails off with a small laugh and you groan and roll your eyes, shoving his arm. “Don’t remind me, that’s so embarrassing.”

Pedro stands from the bed, handing you a sandwich wrapped in a paper bag, “you know I think they’re gonna put a scene of you passing out in the show.” You stop feeling back the paper bag and look at him suspiciously, “they wouldn’t want to!”

He simply shrugs, “you didn’t hear that from me, now eat. Need my baby strong.” You unwrap and bite into the sandwich, it contained all your favourite fillings and you smile, stomach feeling settled and the ache of the emptiness was now gone as you’d managed to swallow some food. You’d sure learnt a valuable lesson; Gabriel is useless when it comes to emergency situations.

[xtinyslip]

“You feel that chill, right? It’s not just me? Something’s off about this place.”

"did you say chill? chill? uh, no? but if you do then that's… a little weird but cool. totally cool." it wouldn't have been that much of a surprise if he wasn't paying full attention to everything that was going on. after all, there was a tonne of cool shit to see and look at. "i'm actually sweating like hell under this outfit so a chill would be nice about now." flashing a friendly smile from under his mask. hey, he was here because he kind of had to be but why not try to make it a good time? "you wanna' drink? why don't we go do that?" @fcrafcrtnight

[okamirayne]

Hello Hello!

Just a random ask.. do you have any inconsequential or random hc’s for characters that have almost no relevance in their overall lives? I’ll go first — I’ve always imagined that Neji developed a mild disgust/phobia of spiders ever since his fight with Kidomaru

Heya Anon! 💜

Just a random ask.. do you have any inconsequential or random hc’s for characters that have almost no relevance in their overall lives? I’ll go first — I’ve always imagined that Neji developed a mild disgust/phobia of spiders ever since his fight with Kidomaru

Oooh, that's a great question! And your example is solid. Wouldn't blame Neji thumbing his nose at the Eight Legged Freaks after his ordeal.

Hmm...I might need some liquid inspiration to answer this...

...argh, what's so annoying is that I tend to discover my hc's as I write the characters - does that make sense? It's really bizarre. You'd think that I'd have a tonne of head cannons just filed away, but what tends to happen is they drop into my headspace as I'm writing, rather than me actively thinking about them...I think maybe because 98% of my brain is engaged in plot most of the time (given how long BtB is), the character aspect (my favourite part, oddly enough) churns out based purely on organic in-the-moment writing and inspiration/instinct...which is probably why I love it so much, it's more intuitive than intellectual and way more fun.

Sorry, that in no way answers your question...

I'm thinking but....

Seriously...zilch...on demand, nada...

And yet, undoubtedly, I'm going to discover those head canons as I write. Some random examples below (some which obviously have significance), most of which have been disclosed already and discovered whilst writing, but give some good cases of BtB-verse HCs...if some could be called that?

how gift giving is one of Ino's biggest love languages

how Hiashi prefers Go to Shogi

how Raidō is a stickler for rules and enjoys sudoku

how Shikaku got his scars (Shuken)

how Kiba is ridiculously loyal once romantically attached despite his flirtatious and rascal-like behaviour

how Kakashi treasures his Team 7 mug decorated by his students before Sasuke defected

how Kakashi suffered from migraines due to the Sharingan

how Ino's old eating disorder issues were related to a critical and image-obsessed mother, and to Sakura rejecting her friendship as a kid because of Sasuke (leading Ino to believe she was always going to be in competition with other women and that female friendships are fragile)

how Sakura hates how much she loves Sasuke

Chōji allowing Ino to decorate him like a Christmas tree whenever she drags him into shopping sprees (she feeds him for it, which is a win-win)

Shikamaru requiring Chōji to do the thinking and the legwork when it comes to purchasing gifts for Ino

Asuma's cigarette brand is hard to get hold of

Genma is a whole head canon in himself - Halloween is important to him and not just because of pumpkin soup

Genma's issues with care homes - hints of his past as a kid

The significance to Neji of the words "every time" when he speaks them to Shikamaru

The importance of the words "I hear you" between Shikamaru and Asuma, and generally when Shikamaru says this, regardless of who he's speaking to

Neji's blind spot being an erogenous zone

Shikamaru being an utter sucker for head massages

Shikamaru loving Niji's coffee (second to none)

Genma being attracted to Kurenai (much to his supreme annoyance)

Inoichi having a wicked sweet-tooth, leading to him sneaking off to indulge in various confectionary (usually at the Akimichi household) so his wife didn't lose her shit (which led to her believing he might be having affairs)

Yoshino being incredibly sensitive to Shikamaru's security whilst in the home - the only control she feels she has over his safety given his life as a shinobi

Orochimaru's severely messed up behaviour with Sasuke and the oddness of his rules surrounding it (not sure you'd call this a head canon, as it's not something I enjoy entertaining - not that all head canon's are fun)

Kakashi somatising his emotions and his body carrying most of his pain

Kakashi preferring to live in a complex with older veteran shinobi rather than his peers (quieter, less intrusive)

Shiba (Kakashi's ninken) suffering bouts of claustrophobia

Ino, Inoichi, and Naoki's habit of cracking their thumbs

Ibiki's arthritis in his hands (worse now due to chakra sickness)

Kiba's nostalgic love/hate for silky thread grass

Shikaku's involvement with the Hyūga during his youth

Inoichi being a pretty-boy when younger and having to infiltrate a geisha house (where he met Sayuri, his wife)

Shikamaru harbouring mild paranoia of losing anything Ino buys him (the risk of ballistic head injury is very real)

The playful battle of Ino keeping a mental score of "you owe me" vs Shikamaru keeping a mental score of "I'll remember this"

Tenten messing with Neji by adding spice to his food

Argh, there are loads more; but those are the ones that just randomly came to mind whilst trying to kick my marbles around. There will undoubtedly be more to come, especially with characters such as Naruto and Sasuke, but also Neji, Shikakmaru and the rest.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) I can't always predict what they'll be so I apologise for not being able to reciprocate properly, Anon! But thank you for this ASK, it was fun to recall these. 💜🫶🏼💜