#or 'well OP didn't close/lock the door so it's their fault'

[authoratmidnight]

Ok so, I've seen this scenario come up multiple times and idk if this is some weird cultural thing or just plain old entitlement but, like, a thing I've seen play out in, far to many stories in places like AITA and /relationships, where OP will have guests over to their house (usually family but not always), and then one/some of the guests go into a room that's off limits (like someone's bedroom, or a crafting/work room) and messes with stuff in there, and the OP justifiably flips out on them cause wtf dude?

Except people act like OP is in the wrong b/c, well OP didn't specifically say that they couldn't go into that room and/or OP didn't close the door to that specific room.

And I'm just, confused and baffled b/c, since when does an invitation to a house give you blanket permission to go into any room in that house??? And since when do you HAVE to close a door to indicate that no one can go in? (also ppl act like every door in existence has a lock so doors should be locked and I can assure you that is not the case)

Like, if I'm visiting family I wouldn't dream of going into people's bedrooms or the like unless I was told I could. Like, the bathroom? Sure, cause ppl gotta use it. The living room/kitchen/dining room? Depends on the set up (some houses have two or more of these joined) but generally fine. But a BEDROOM? Someone's computer room/craft room/work room? Not unless I was invited there. Doesn't matter if the door is open or not.

It's just common courtesy to not invade other people's privacy like that, is it not???

Is this some weird, American cultural thing where you just, expect to be allowed to go anywhere and need to be told, like little children, that no, you cannot go in these rooms? Or that if a door is open it's free game and only closed doors mean off limits? Is my Canadian ass missing something?

also if im closing a door it's prolly b/c the room is a mess and i don't want anyone to see it lmao

[ruzek-halstead]

I see we're doing the trope mashup again 👀 hmm, let's see: 69 flirting under fire + 47 not a date + juke? 🧡

flirting under fire + not a date (+ detective au)

i read this and enemies to lovers immediately came to mind so thank u for this, u are my favourite. i feel like this started pretty good but just went down hill. was still hella fun to write. this gave me major jake + amy vibes from b99 while writing so that's who i was channeling.

"so, is this like the worst date you've ever been on?"

julie grunts, hoisting herself over the wall for some decent cover. it only angers her further when luke swings over the ledge with grace and ease.

"this is not a date."

luke places a hand on julie's elbow as they rush around the corner. she shoots him daggers and he holds his hands up in defence, smirking. "that's not entirely true," he counters. "we went out to dinner, i paid, you laughed at all my jokes. sounds pretty date-like to me."

julie's hand skims her thigh where her knife is holstered under the skirt of her dress (she couldn't bring her gun undercover, but she didn't want to go in bare). she has half a mind to use the knife on luke's tongue so he stops speaking, but she chooses her wit instead. "i didn't laugh at anything you said because you aren't funny." he sucks in a breath, pretending to be wounded. "and it was a fake-date, just a cover! plus, does throwing a five dollar bill on the table before taking off really count as paying?"

luke rolls his eyes, begrudgingly holding the door open so they can sneak through it. "well excuse me for trying not to get shot."

"if your flirting game wasn't so shit, maybe our cover wouldn't have been blown."

"my flirting - how dare you?" he shoots back offendedly. before julie has a chance to answer, luke wraps a hand around her bicep and pulls her around the corner.

they're in an abandoned building now, huddled close to the wall. it's quiet, save for their hard breathing from running. they listen quietly to the sounds of doors and hushed speaking.

"they're still on us."

"which is not my fault, by the way," luke hisses back, pulling her along as they search for an exit. "it was your fault and your incessant giggling like a school girl!"

julie pushes at his back, scowling. "that's what girls do on dates! would you rather have me looking like i'm being held your prisoner? which it basically was anyway!"

they finally find an exit to their abandoned building and head straight for the street, where they've parked their undercover car.

"it was not that bad."

julie unlocks the car before tossing him the keys. she lets a sigh of relief once they're sat securely in the locked vehicle. "it was pretty bad."

luke rolls his eyes once again, bringing the engine to life. "give it to me on a scale."

"can your ego even handle my answer?"

"oh my god," luke groans, hitting his head against the steering wheel. "i want a refund on this date, you're insufferable."

a satisfied smile settles on julie's lips. "it's not a date and a refund should be the last of your worries. we're about to get our asses handed to us for blowing this op."

"correction: for you blowing this op."

julie smirks. "right, because that's so believable. the captain will just eat it right up."

luke frowns, placing the car in drive. it was time to get the hell out of there. "this is so disappointing. we didn't even have to do one of those fake kisses to keep our cover. that's in like literally every detective show."

julie can feel the blush crawl into her cheeks, but she turns her face so luke doesn't see it. "so disappointing," she replies, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

"maybe next time," luke shoots back with a devious grin.

julie rolls her eyes to keep the smile threatening to take over her lips at bay. she pushes at his shoulder, muttering, "just drive."

[solari-writes-things]

Confide

🛑 WARNINGS: Language, mentions of blood. 🛑

✨ Requested by: @jackjawcaptain

✨ Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

✨ Summary: Frank is having a bit of a hard time, and you're there to remind him that he can let go.

✨ Solari Says: This has been sitting in my inbox for some time friend, and it's about time that I put it out there. Enjoy! :>

Prompt -

Rose Quartz - Learning to trust again.

gif credit: to the OP.

MORE FRANK | MORE MARVEL | > MASTERLIST < |

He had pulled another disappearing act again.

Not that you could be any form of frustrated with him, Frank Castle always had something to do. Something in his head that he needed to work out--let it be with talking to Curtis or with the barrel of his pistol. You learned that rather quickly after coming into a comfortable relationship with him.

At least, you felt that it was comfortable. Frank had given signs that he was fighting with himself about it. Distant staring, averting eyes. You couldn't count his quiet nature, that's just how he had always been since you've met.

The only reason that you did not twist his arm about it was because Curtis had been the one to inform you that it was not your fault. That Frank had been through a lot of different things before finding you, stuff that made this sort of involvement a little more complicated. His deflection, his disappearances, were only reactionary to the constant battle that was happening in his mind.

So you were idly sitting on the sofa, twiddling your thumbs as you watched the different figures dancing across your screen. You couldn't remember what movie you put on, what exactly that you were doing in the living room rather than going to bed. You stretched out your hand, grasping your cell phone and pulling it up to take a look. You clicked the button on the side, waking up the screen to see what time it had been.

2:48am.

You sigh.

There were no missed calls. You knew that Frank occasionally had burners when he was on his trips, so something inside was hopeful that you would get a call from a mysterious New York area code. But when you saw nothing, your heart dropped a little bit.

You sigh again.

You decide to click off the screen of your phone and stand, coming to the conclusion that the background noise that the movie was creating wasn't helping your brain shut down. You always found it hard to, when Frank left without any warnings. You should've bothered Curtis before it got so late, maybe he'd seen Frank at some point.

You reach for the remote that had been next to your cell phone, pointing the black controller towards the screen and clicking the power button. It abruptly turns back, leaving your living space dark. You stand, but wait for just a moment so that your eyes could adjust to the darkness. Little by little, silhouettes of the surrounding furniture were tangible to you and you begin weaving around to approach the small hallway that led to your bathroom and bedroom.

You run a hand through your hair, and just before you turn the corner to your bedroom you hear a gentle knock on your front door.

You freeze, furrowing your brows and turning slowly towards it.

You approached quickly and quietly, and when you were against the door you peer through the hole to see who it had been.

On the other end, there was a figure in black clothes with his hands in his jacket pockets. They were quiet, shuffling their weight between their feet as they waited for some form of response from you.

When you didn't respond, however, they decided to speak.

"[Y/N]... It's me," they said simply, and the raspy nature of his tones filled you with some form of relief.

Frank.

You quickly unlock the door, pulling it open and meeting your eyes with his. "Frank. Where in the hell were you?"

"I-uh..." he averted his eyes downwards to the ground between his boots. Under the porch light, you could see a hint of discoloration on his black hoodie--something almost brassy.

He had gotten into an altercation.

"You...?" you try. crossing your arms.

"I had some business I had to finish," he answered simply. "I know you're... probably fuckin' pissed. I-I'm sorry for that."

Your expression softens, just a little, not really noticing that you had a tad bit of a frown in the first place. So you step back a couple feet, so that he had adequate room to file inside. "Come on. Let's get you out of that hoodie, I can see the blood when the light shines on it."

Frank nods his head slightly, shuffling his feet so that he could come in. Once he closes the door behind himself and locks it, he begins to pull his arms inside of his jacket to pull it over his head.

You watch him closely, as he drapes the fabric over his forearm gently and turns to you.

"Where did you want this..?" he asked quietly, his eyes flitting around the room as if something was going to jump out and bite him.

"Just go toss it in the hamper with the rest of my clothes," you say to him, moving to the side so that he could move past you to go to your bedroom.

Once you let him pass, you turn on your own heels and follow him. He pushes past the doorframe that led to your room, having no trouble navigating in the dark. You reach over once you get to your doorframe, flicking the light switch up so that your room bathed in light.

You could finally look at his face. There was a couple spots of dried blood on his knuckles, and on his jeans that he donned for the night. Ultimately, he had no scratch on him--which was a miracle considering how accident prone he usually was.

If you could even call it that.

"Where did you end up going, Frank?" you ask him, your voice soft so that he knew you weren't there to lecture him.

"I went to talk to Curt," he answered honestly, as he tossed his hoodie in the white basket hiding in the closet of your room. "Afterwards, we went to have a drink."

"And where does the blood come into play?"

"Someone decided they didn't want to shut their mouth," he sighed, turning around so that he could go sit on the edge of your bed.

"Frank, you don't do this without a reason... What did they say that had you so miffed, huh?"

"Bah, it's nothin', alright? Handled and done," he tried to avoid, waving it off.

As much as you believed the "handled" part of that sentence, something underneath the browns of his eyes led you to think that it was still sitting in his head. Writhing and endlessly taunting.

"Don't give me that shit, Frank," you tell him, moving so that you could sit next to him on the space that was left at the end of your bed. "You have to remember you're in a fuckin' relationship with me, man. I understand it hasn't been a thing for very long but... you also need to understand that I'm here for you. That I'll listen to anything that you feel that you need to talk about.

Whatever happened at that bar, it's eating at you. I know you well enough to tell the signs," you place a gentle arm around his waist, bringing him in a little closer.

He's silent for a moment, putting an arm around your shoulder and closing the gap of space that you both had between your bodies. You say nothing, feeling that he was sorting through his thoughts before he decided to speak once more.

"Did I ever tell you about Maria? My kids?" he asked quietly, staring at the floor of your bedroom.

"No," you answer.

"They were killed. All of them," he said quietly, causing a hole in your gut to begin to manifest. No wonder Curtis told you what he had. Why Frank was as reclusive as he was.

He lost his family. Nothing could ever heal you completely from that.

"Shit, Frank... I'm sorry," you say to him quietly, joining his gaze to the floor.

"Yeah... The douchebag at the bar overheard a something I said to Curtis and decided to open his fuckin' mouth," he informed. "When I told him to keep his mouth shut, he didn't. You can put together what happened."

"I'd kick his shit in too if I was you," you answered. "Although... that makes me wonder."

"Hm?"

"Why aren't you in the slammer?" you ask, as a way to take the topic off of his grief--even if it was just for a moment.

"I beat his ass away from prying eyes," he answered simply with a small shrug, earning a chuckle from you.

You push yourself up just a bit so that you could plant a kiss on his cheek, resting your face in the crook of his neck. "You know, Frank... telling me that shit... I know it must've been a lot for you to muster. Thank you..."

Frank hums a bit, rubbing your bicep with his hand gently. "It's something I have to learn how to do... If there's one thing I remember about being married to Maria, it's that playing cards close to my chest can be hurtful..."

"And you're completely right about that..." you agree, your finger dragging against his waist.

You notice in your peripheral that he was observing you. Focused, with a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. Before you could speak up about it, he drops his arm from around your shoulders.

"I'm tired," he says simply. "I'm gonna settle here tonight... if that's okay with you."

"Of course it is, Frank... I'm just glad to see that you're okay," you respond simply, smiling at him before standing.

You move yourself so that you could flick the light switch once more. You look over your shoulder at Frank, watching as the tension in his body slowly began to dissipate. A smile slowly stretches across your face.

And then you turn the lights out.

__

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