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Jon Bernthal as Frank Castle THE PUNISHER (2017-2019)

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2.01 || 5.19

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Coy: Dean Archer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @helsinkibaby @hufflepuffgirl @mimi-8793

Releasing early as a birthday gift to my babe @mandy426

Dean found out his wife was cheating on him when he discovered he had syphilis during a routine medical check. He tells you that after you've been trapped in an elevator together for over three hours. He’d exhausted all of the small talk options after the first two so now the you’re digging into the real stuff, the stuff you don’t even tell your best friend because you’re terrified they’ll murder someone on your behalf.

You’d already disclosed how you found your husband fucking another woman on a sheepskin rug in the cabin you owned together. So it was his turn and well that’s apparently that’s the secret he chose to disclose.

“It’s gone now though right?” You say gesturing towards the lower half of his scrubs and he gives you an offended look. “You’re not just walking around sowing your wild oats…”

“One, that would be horribly irresponsible if I didn’t get treated and secondly I do not ‘sow my wild oats’.” He says making bunny ears with his fingers.

“I just assumed, an intelligent, attractive man like yourself would have a busy social calendar.” You say, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“Yea, Netflix and medical journals.” He responds before backtracking. “Wait you think I’m attractive?”

“Dean, don’t be coy.” You say, kicking him lightly in the knee with your shoe.

“I’m not.” He tells you, his cheeks colouring as he tilts his head back towards the ceiling and closes his eyes. “I can’t remember the last time someone told me they found me attractive. It’s usually grumpy, egotistical…”

He laughs before he tips his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours.

“I’m not selling myself am I?”

“Do you feel like you need to?” You ask him and he frowns before he shakes his head.

“No I…” He trails off before he looks at you a little differently. “I’ve never felt like that with you, it doesn’t feel like trying. Hell I’ve just told you I’ve had syphilis so I think we can discern I feel pretty damn comfortable around you.”

“Yea.” You say with a sigh, tucking your hands into your pockets. “Comfortable.”

“I’ve said something wrong.” He says quietly. “I didn’t mean…”

“No.” You say softly, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s just, I’m not the girl that gets the guy. I’m the weird one that cuts up bodies in the morgue.”

“You do a valuable job, we learn things from that, people get closure.” You give him a look and he realises he’s doing it again, saying the wrong thing. “I’m not explaining myself well.”

“No you are.” You say with a smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. “I understand perfectly.”

Silence falls between the two of you and now it’s his turn to sigh because he’s never been good at communicating, not when it comes to the important stuff. Up until three hours ago you were just a colleague, the woman he had a thing for. And now…

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful.” He tells you because you took a risk and now it’s his turn. “And it has been intimidating actually, because you’re also smart and funny. The perfect package.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

He can tell you don’t believe him, why would you? You’re ex-husband spent years lying to about his affairs. He knows how that feels, how it erodes at your self-worth. He also knows that sometimes actions speak louder than words.  

“I mean it.” He tells you, his fingertips tilting up your chin so that he can look into your eyes. “I never thought I had a shot with you.”

“We’re idiots aren’t we?” You say softly as his thumb traces over the apple of your cheek.

“We are trapped in an elevator.” He agrees, his nose trailing along the length of yours. “And I’m terrified what other secrets I may end up spilling if we stay in here any longer.”

“You wanna do something other than talk?” You ask him and he smiles against the corner of your mouth.

“Yea.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours. “I think I would.”

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Letting Go: Will Trent x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @yezzyyae @words-and-seeds @trublu2u @@cassiopeiablog

References to Trying Series

Will visits Angie once a year, always on her birthday.

You know when it’s around that time because there’s always a subtle shift in his behaviour. He becomes more subdued, his temperament sharper. He spends his nights in the office instead of coming home, immersing himself in whatever case he can get on his hands on. His preoccupation is a coping mechanism, a way of outrunning the memories. You know this time of year takes him back to a dark place, one he’s spent years trying to claw his way out of.  He doesn’t tell you about the war it wages inside him, that he despises the fact he still feels an obligation to Angie, that even from beyond the grave she still has that power over him.

During the first year of your relationship, he tries to hide it.  This thing between the two of you is new and he doesn’t want you to think he’s still caught up on his dead ex, that he’s cheating on you with a dead woman. He becomes distant, cancels plans. He actively avoids you because you’re intuitive when it comes to him, he knows you’ll see right through him.

It’s the day after he visits Angie’s grave that you show up at this house with two cups of takeout coffee and breakfast pastries.

“It’s an olive branch,” you tell him. “I’m sorry for whatever I did…”

It’s that that changes everything. The fact you think that you’re the problem, that you’ve come here to try to rectify it. It’s in that instant he realises just how insidious his connection to Angie is, how it has the potential to derail the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Over breakfast he tells you everything. It comes out in stops and starts because he isn’t sure how to describe his relationship with Angie, how to tell it in a way that doesn’t fill him with shame. He’s worked so hard to move on, to get past her but once a year he finds himself drawn back in and he hates himself for it. You hold him in the aftermath, his face buried in the curve of your neck as your hand smooths over his hair.

It's another reminder of just how different you are from Angie, she would never shown him this warmth, never given him her affection. She would have hated you, how good you are, how kind you are, all the things she couldn’t be.

It’s been a couple of years since then, his life has changed. He has a wife now, a baby on the way. He almost forgets about Angie. He’s too busy decorating the nursery and overhauling the garden so his child has a place to play. It’s only in the morning when you place a bouquet of yellow roses on the kitchen table that he remembers it’s even her birthday.

As usual the gravesite is overgrown. It’s a nice plot under an oak tree, one that Will picked out himself. He was the only attendee at her funeral, the only person to put a handful of dirt on her coffin. He’s the only person in the world who ever cared about Angie, who loved her flaws and all, and it shows. He takes his time tidying it up, pulling up the weeds from around the headstone before he arranges the roses carefully within the metal vase.

“It's over Angie.” He says softly, placing his hand on the earth, his fingertips curling in the dirt. “It’s time for me to let you go.”

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SELA WARD as S.A.C. DANA MOSIER FBI | 1.3 “Prey”

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The Winter Series: Part I

Title: The Winter Series: Part I

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're the wife of the Captain of the Red Guard and own an apothecary shop in Paris. A chance meeting with a dashing Musketeer changes the entire course of your life, if you're brave enough. (Trigger warning for domestic abuse, infidelity)

Tag list: @bullet-prooflove

You’re used to being on your back. Pinned down, eyes closed, waiting for George to finish so you can wash up and write the latest pieces of knowledge that you’ve acquired concerning compounds, herbs, and alchemy. You try to think about words you’re going to string together, how the slant of your writing will fill the page. Then the illustrations that you’re going to draw, the scrape of the quill against the parchment as you draw the blossoms of the lavender spikes in your small garden. Anything, you think of anything to distract you from what George is doing to you. 

It’s not like that with Aramis. 

He allows you to take control. You keep your eyes open and focus on as many details as possible during these intimate afternoon rendezvous. The words that fill your mind are the descriptions of how his hands feel against the skin of your ribcage as he steadies you, how it feels to lower yourself onto him, to be filled by him. How it feels to have a choice as to when a man enters you. The pictures you would draw of him beneath you, color rising to his cheeks, dark eyes growing darker with each roll of your hips. 

The ecstasy that hits you both is indescribable. That’s when you lose your words and pictures, the world shatters around you. It’s like dying and being reborn in the same moment. 

Peace comes afterwards. You enjoy the quiet that invades the storage space of the shop as well as your mind. Aramis contentedly traces random patterns against your back and side while you lay your palm against his heart, waiting for its pace to match your own. He pulls you closer to him in the pile of the blankets on the floor, presses lazy kisses against your neck, murmuring lines of poetry and adorations. For you, someone who has never run out of words, you find it difficult to tell him that this experience with him is unlike anything you have ever had before in your life. All you can do is try to memorize these moments as detailed as you can before having to return to your world where kindness is just a memory. 

***

“Who is it?” 

The jar of dried peppermint leaves almost slips from your hand at the sound of George’s voice behind you. Your thoughts had been on the previous afternoon’s occurrence, replaying the light touches and soft kisses shared with Aramis while listening to the rain fall on the roof. You slip your spectacles into the inside pocket of your bodice, an alteration that Constance had done for all your corsets to ensure the safety of your repaired glasses. 

“I didn’t hear you come into the shop, George.” You brush past him as you continue to measure out the order for the peppermint. “What do you mean who is it?” 

The strike is quick, fast enough that you never saw it coming and hard enough to knock the scent of mint out of your nose. “Don’t play your word games with me.” 

You can taste the tang of blood in your mouth and you swallow it down. “I don’t know what you’re asking.” 

“Who is the man you’ve taken to our bed?” 

You try to hide the slight tremor of your hands by busying them with wrapping up the satchel of herbs. “You share the same bed as me. If I brought someone else in, I would think you would take notice.”

He leans on the counter and waits for you to look at him. “I did notice..” 

You hold his eyes in a soft defiance. There’s no possible way for him to know. All your encounters have been at the shop, not at your home. George hates the shop, only crosses the threshold to take things that he wants: you or the money that you’ve made that day. You don’t even know if he’s aware of the second floor storage room. “What makes you think-” 

Another strike, against the other cheek this time. 

“What makes you think you can embarrass me in this way?” 

“George-” 

“It is my good graces that allow you to keep this shop open, to allow you your…indulgence of independence. If you want to keep the shop in your ownership, I suggest you remember your place and end this affair before you bring any more shame to my name. If not, it’s being sold to the highest bidder.” A cruel smile curls his lips. “Perhaps that would be in your best interest anyway. I dare say two years is enough time to adjust to married life. Caring for children and managing the shop will be too great of a time constraint for you.” 

You feel the icy grip of terror go through you at the thought of having children with this man. It makes you more fearful than that of having your affair come to light. If this is how he treats you, how in the world will he treat your children? You couldn’t bring a child into a home where they would know the same violence and fear that you do. You swallow down your pride and nod with downcast eyes. “Thank you for your generosity, George.” 

“That’s better.” He moves towards the front door and picks up a small jar of dried nettles. “What is this used for?” 

“Teas. It helps with swelling and gout.” 

He’s looking right at you when he drops the jar, glass and nettles spilling over the floor. You may be able to save some of the herb but the danger of having shattered glass mixed in there is too great. Thankfully, it wasn’t too expensive but you didn’t want him to know that. With a sigh, you pick up the broom and bend down to start cleaning up the mess. You’re reaching for a piece of glass when his boot rests on the back of your hand. You hold your breath, praying he doesn’t put any more pressure on your hand. 

“What is his name?” 

You set your jaw, locking it tight. He’s taken so much from you, he’s not taking this. You’ve found a glimmer of happiness, joy even, and you’ll go to the grave before condemning Aramis to George’s obsession. Your resolve damns you though and your prayers are unanswered as he slowly applies his weight and the shard of glass cuts deep into your palm. 

“A reminder then, of your place and who you belong to.” 

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Zibell hugs 💛

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i see you tommy kinard fans who are endeared to donovan rocker's odd little existence (but do not want to watch swat to see it which i respect), and i raise you my bare-bones rundown that he is

a) now the lead sergeant of a team that he inherited from his boss (who he has a sweet, mentor-ish relationship with that largely comprised of them terrorising the main characters for 2 seasons)

b) a painter in his spare time, and gifted the aforementioned boss a painting at his retirement party (which lou himself did actually create for the show!)

c) reported to sing very badly and very loudly in the work showers

d) seemingly, completely okay with being called princess by a coworker (the same coworker he keeps trying to lure back onto his team, but that's another thing)

e) an all-round menace to society in the little time that he is actually on screen, and we love him for it <3

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Taylor Sheridan (Photographed by Fabrizio Maltese)

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ANDRE BRAUGHER has passed away: a moodboard 💔

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A quick round up of updates on the blog including new characters added to the ASK LIST and a list of fics that went out last week:

New characters were added to the ask list this week:

Rip Wheeler (Yellowstone)

Travis Wheatley (Yellowstone)

Ryan (Yellowstone)

Walker (Yellowstone)

New Fics:

Chicago Med:

Olive Branch - Dean tries to reach out after a disagreement.

Chicago PD:

You Were Beautiful  (Antonio Dawsno x Reader)

Haven:

"Don't hide the broken parts that I need to see" (Dwight Hendrickson x Reader)

Marvel:

Rough (NSFW) - Sometimes you need it a little rough from Frank.

The Musketeers:

Best Kept Secret - Aramis's best kept secret.

Your Love Is All I Know - Porthos has never known a love like yours.

I Couldn't Hate Her if I Tried - Aramis can't bring himself to hate you.

NCIS:

Red Rag - Sawyer finds away to piss off Nick.

SEAL Team:

Jujube - Sonny thinks of you when he's trapped in the torpedo tube.

Hammer: You realise you can't give Brock what he wants.

SOA:

Crime Wave - David informs you that you've accidently started a crime wave with your graffiti.

Distraction (NSFW) - David distracts you from your routine.

Art School - David brings flowers to your art show.

Feminism (feat: Jax Teller) - Jax reflects on the reason he cut you loose and your new relationship with Hale.

Girl With The Crooked Smile - You have reservations when you and David step into the light for the first time.

Show Me - Things get a little heated when David picks you up.

Orbit - David will do anything to keep you out of Jax Teller's orbit.

Top Gun Maverick:

TheGeneral!Series Part Three: Choices - Beau and you discuss your choices moving forward.

Will Trent:

Trying!Series Part Four: Two Months - Will comes home to a surprise after two months undercover.

Yellowstone:

Summer (NSFW) - Ryan enjoys a moment with you in the summer sun.

Thrill of the Chase (NSFW) - Rip has always loved the thrill of the chase.

Clover - Rip comforts you.

Bronco - Travis falls in love when he sees you riding Bronco.

The Closest Thing To I Love You (NSFW) - Travis and you send the night together.

I'm Not Jealous, I Just Want Him Dead - (Travis Wheatley x Reader)

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Thursday ‘Western Style' Radio Prompt List

Please check the updated character list on my pinned post to see who I am writing for before submitting a prompt!

Also read the rules and do not forget to put the entire prompt into your ask!

I've been carrying my trouble In this pack strapped to shoulder

But then he turned and put a gun to my head

Stealing kisses at the break of dawn

And all the clouds are black as nightfall But all I see is you

I got a diamond in my pocket And my baby's got a heart of gold

So girl, leave your boots by the bed, we ain't leavin' this room

Time's were tough, we had to let it go

Something must've changed your mind But I don't want to know about it

I've been running from everything I know

I'm out of money and I'm all out of time

I sobered up, I swore off that stuff forever this time

And we've been dancing all around it

And rain's pourin' through the windowpanes

Nobody knows about my trouble Except for my baby and me

It used to be our favorite song Now it's just a broken record

He pulled the trigger and I fell to my knees

Well, it didn't take too long For the pills and the bottom of a bottle To dig a deep grave with a shovel And bury everything that a young boy needs

A heart on the run keeps a hand on the gun, it can't trust anyone

For all the reasons that I never understood why I feel alone, baby

I can wait all night But that won't bring you home

Gonna take her on a midnight ride

Familiar face, a stranger's touch

But I found me a guitar One lonely night in a border town My pain, I started to right it down But it wouldn't stay away from me

I guess that's what you do when you love someone

And a smile across your face And tell me that you love me

We can live a lie and still get by But that don't make it true

Oh feel my love, honey

Put your faith to the test when I tore off your dress

Checked myself into the lost and found What do you know, my baby come for me

Oh don't give up on me cause im coming down

You can't love someone into loving you

But darlin' I could love you well

Now I'm living the good life Away from all of the bad advice

But home was a dream, one I'd never seen 'til you came along

So cover me up and know you're enough to use me for good

I take every day like it's a paradise

We'll go swim our cares away

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Choices - Cyrus Lupo x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @@gia999 @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @infinity-mars @malindacath @tkappi @greenies-green @trublu2u @thatcrimeshowchick

It’s late when Cyrus turns up at your door. He knows you’re up because he can hear the sounds of the TV. He raps his knuckles on the wood, a brief two knock before the locks slide across and sees your face peering at him through gap.

“Can I come in?” He asks and you sigh before opening the door and granting him entry.

“Sorry, it’s a mess.” You tell him, your hand rubbing over the back of your neck subconsciously.

You’re dressed in a pair of NYPD sweatpants and a jumper he recognises as one of his, from the time the two of you were together. Your hair is pulled back into a messy bun, stray tendrils escaping from the hair tie.

You aren’t doing well; he can see that. There’s half a bottle of red wine on the table alongside an empty glass. You drop back down on the couch, drawing your legs up underneath you, your eyes fixing on the TV. There’s a re-run of Frasier playing. He can tell you’re not really watching.

He knows what’s triggered you. It’s the polygamy case.

Michelle Landon’s decision to return to her sect with her unborn baby to trade her freedom for the sake of her children. You knew what Wyatt Landon was going to do to her and that you can’t do a damn thing to stop it.

You’d gotten close to Michelle, worked with her, soothed over her fears. It had been you that realised she was pregnant, who’d gone to Connie with the information, who had put her back in the hands of the man who had been raping her since she was sixteen.

It’s enough to fuck up anyone.

“Have you eaten?” He asks you as he strips off his suit jacket and hangs it on the back of one of your kitchen chairs.

“I’m not hungry.” You tell him.

“Ok then, I’ll just make something for you later and you can heat it up when you’re ready.” He says reaching inside the fridge and pulling out several items.

“You don’t need to do that.” You tell him quietly.

Cyrus sighs before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

“I want to.” He says as he sets a yellow pepper down on the chopping board. “This is what we do, we look after one another.”

“You’re not my boyfriend.” You remind him as you push yourself up from the couch. “Not anymore.”

“It doesn’t mean that I don’t care.” He tells you as you lean against the work surface alongside of him. He tilts his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours before he asks. “You wanna talk about what’s really bothering you?”

For a second you don’t say anything, you simply tip your head back and raise your eyes to the ceiling.

“I know what men like that do, the revenge he’ll take. He’ll punish her for running away and I just…”

You purse your lips together grimly as you shake your head.

“I understand why she did it, I just can’t make peace with my part in it.”

“You did everything right.” Cyrus says quietly. “You did everything you could to help Michelle, but she made her choice, probably the last one she’s ever going to be able to make.”

“That’s what I can’t reconcile with.” You tell him, your eyes stinging. “The last choice she made was to go with him and I…”

You press your fingertips to your forehead, rubbing at the crease between your eyebrows. He can see the tears glistening on your lashes before you wipe them away with the back of your hand.

“C’mere,” He murmurs, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and drawing you into the comforting shelter of his body. You bury your face into his chest stifling the sound of the first sob that tears from your throat. He feels it vibrate through your entire body as he clasps you close.

“I got you.” He whispers into your hair. “It’s ok, I’ve got you.”

Love Lupo? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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