#world class sinner

[petertingle-yipyip]

WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE

four - aftermath

tags: n/a // three // five // masterlist

Pairing: Billy x Reader , Frank x Reader

Word Count: 8,477

Summary: A quick run nearly turns disastrous when a bold move goes wrong. An attempted reconciliation between friends turns nasty, all because the aftermath of Midland Circle still lingers in Y/N’s actions.

As you approached your usual entrance, you felt a familiar tingle through your muscles. It was one of intent, one specifically reserved for when there was a mission to be accomplished. A mission you’d work mindlessly, like a task you had practiced a thousand times over. Instructions that were carved into your bones and wired into the deepest part of your brain that you’d never be free of.

The Red Room had seeped into your DNA, altered your very being from the first mission you were given as a child. And for what seemed like the first moment since your freedom, you were thankful to have that darker, much bloodier, much angrier side.

“Just in time.” Frank nodded as you approached. “Let’s go.”

“You’ve been busy.” You gestured to the Mustang. “We get a location on the guns?”

“Yeah, there’s uh… a meet tonight.” Lieberman answered, but it was clear that he wasn’t really focused on the task at hand. “I can’t do this.” He confessed suddenly.

“It’s a two-man job so you don’t have a choice.” Frank answered flatly.

“Hello?” You waved a hand before you gestured to yourself.

“I’m not letting you get in the middle of this. You’re watching our backs tonight, alright? Eyes from a distance. That’s it.”

You glared at him and he met your expression with a challenge of his own.

“Where are your fancy goggles then, hmm?” He said simply, gesturing to your eyes. “Cause if you go out there and someone recognizes you down the line, you lose everything. You even think about that?”

“Yeah... I have it.” You patted the fabric that hid the mask at the base of your throat. “It’s a little beat up but it’ll work.”

“Then it’s a three-person job.” Frank rolled his eyes.

“I don’t do this!” Lieberman said pointedly. “I- I sit behind a screen. You shouldn’t trust me to help you with this.”

“Are you done?” You asked in annoyance. “Cause this whole woe is me act gets old real fast. Get your shit and let’s go. We’re wasting time with this conversation.”

When the man didn’t budge, Frank took a few steps closer to taunt him.

“So this is it, huh? This is what Sarah meant?” Frank said with a matter-of-fact tone and Lieberman visibly tensed. “She said you never got your hands dirty, right? If there was a tough job, you’d call a guy.”

“We may be a lot of shitty things, but at least no one can say that about us.” You added on with a mocking laugh. “If Red ever said something like that about me back when we started…” You sucked a sharp breath between your teeth. “Talk about embarrassing.”

You could almost hear a switch flip in Lieberman as he grabbed his gun from the table and got up. He was angry, at you two for being assholes and at the situation. He didn’t want to do it and you didn’t blame him. He had absolutely no experience in the middle of a fight, but it had to be done. And had you not shown up, he would’ve ended up having to do more.

“Finally.” You groaned as the man passed you. “Aw, are you mad?” You taunted.

“You’re both pricks.” He commented and you chuckled.

“Atta boy.” Frank egged him on and you smiled slightly. “Pissed off beats scared every time.”

Frank gave you a quick rundown on the way to the meet. You only half listened, distracted by the almost burning sensation of the mask sitting against the skin at the base of your throat. That mask may have been broken and bloody, but it held memories of its own.

Granted, those memories were angry and disagreeing, times when you and Daredevil stood in opposition. But they were still memories of a man you loved, even if you didn’t realize it at the time. You pulled the mask out and set it to sit at the top of your head instead, hoping your hair would serve as a buffer. And it worked, but only for a few minutes.

With a quiet sigh, you fit the mask into place as you got out of the car and there was almost a jolt along the old scars around your eye. You tapped the scar tucked under your hair and pressed gently, shifting your finger to work through the static until you picked up on the channels the communications were going through. On the other end, you heard a familiar voice that you knew you should be able to put a face to, or at least a name, but all you could tell was that you had heard it before.

“...Hold tight. Calm and careful.” She said, embodying her own words within her voice.

You waited in silence as you heard the song begin to play over the channel. You groaned in embarrassment at Lieberman’s song choice but willed it to the back of your focus. You could make out the different voices barely cutting through the song, panicked uncertainty in their tones as they repeated their messages with hopes of an answer.

Frank tapped your arm as the truck approached and you scooted closer to the ledge. With a nod to each other, you two dropped down and landed on the roof, you on the cab and Frank on the trailer. Frank offered you his hand and you took it before you leaned over and opened the passenger door. You heard the exclamation from inside the truck and leaned away from the swinging arm. Instead, you caught the wrist and yanked the man out, throwing his body across the pavement.

You let go of Frank at that point and maneuvered yourself into the seat, careful to shut the door behind you so you wouldn’t go flying as well. You offered a nod to the driver before turning and slamming both feet against him. His head slammed into the side panel and he fell unconscious almost instantly. In a quick movement, you grabbed the wheel with one hand and reached for the door with the other. You managed to pop it open and Frank pulled the driver out, quickly taking his place.

Once the truck was far enough, he parked it and you both got out. You followed him into the trailer, where he dawned a flamethrower. You almost laughed as he pulled the door down. It didn’t take long for the car that was following you to catch up and for the agents to come very close to becoming barbecue.

The spewing flames took you back to the first fight with Nobu when you thought you had burned him alive. Fisk was there, and so was Matt. You thought he had died that night and you forced yourself to choose between yourself or your unofficial partner at the time. You were only drawn back to the present when you heard the splashes. Frank offered you a hand down from the truck and you accepted it without a word.

You kept your eyes away from Frank, knowing you would catch a worried expression for doing exactly what he had said would be a problem. But you also knew he couldn’t afford to be too focused on you. Not when you were operating in a timed window. You were glad you chose your cracked mask because at least you could partially hide behind the blood.

“Take the van.” Frank told Lieberman as they swapped places. “Go with him.” Frank gestured to you.

“Why?” You asked plainly.

“Keep him alive if this goes bad.”

“And keeps me out of the way?”

“Keeps you alive, too.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“I do.” Frank offered over his shoulder before climbing into the Mustang.

You blew out a quick sigh and faced Lieberman, who was staring at you like a lost puppy. You gestured for him to get in while you hauled yourself into the passenger seat. The uncomfortable tension in the cab made your skin tingle so you rubbed your hands over your arms in an attempt to break it up.

“So.. How’d you meet Frank?” Lieberman asked after a few minutes of driving in silence.

“He shot my boyfriend in the head.” You said flatly, and when you heard it out loud, it was a terrible way to meet someone. “He lived, though. He, uh, he had a helmet. Died of something else.”

“Oh..”

You glanced in the side view to see another car joining your convoy. You shifted in your seat and tapped your mask, hoping for a better view of the driver through the backend. A woman, vaguely familiar.

Why could you not figure this out?

“We’ve got company.” You warned after adjusting your implant.

“Head for the highway. I’ll cut them off.” Frank answered and you groaned slightly at the lack of involvement.

“If we don’t get these guns, he’s gonna be pissed.” Lieberman explained when you dropped the right way in your seat with a huff.

“Not all of us are happy to be sidelined.” You muttered. “Who was this deal with anyway?”

“Homeland. It was a sting on the Greeks.”

“Homeland…” You repeated as the gears turned in your head.

Suddenly, the voice made sense. Did he get dirty?

The woman you saw was the same woman Billy had at the bar. Special Agent Dinah Madani.

“Holy shit.” You realized.

“What?”

“I know someone who was there. I know who’s driving that car.”

“Should I- Should I turn around?”

“I don’t..” Your brows furrowed as you thought. “I don’t know…”

“Dammit, Exodus. Does he need our help?” He asked not urgently, banging a palm against the steering wheel to punctuate each word.

“That’s the problem. The whole point was the guns. We can’t blow that. It’s a major risk for you to get involved like that.”

“But if you know there’s a chance…”

“I don’t.”

He looked between you and the road a few times before he looked over his shoulder. He offered you another quizzical look, one that almost pleaded for you to tell him what to do, but all you could do was shrug. You wanted to go back and help, even if it was just firing shots to throw the driver off, but your gut was telling you that getting Lieberman that close might ruin everything.

“Screw it.” He said to himself and yanked the steering wheel to turn the truck around.

You slammed your hand against the roof to keep yourself stable as he turned. You rolled down your window and you could hear the engines of the cars in a chase.

“If you can get close enough, I can shoot out her tires.” You explained as you pulled your gun. “Make a getaway before anything’s at risk.”

He nodded quickly and muttered some hype words to himself. You gave a small eye roll before you climbed halfway through the window to sit in the opening. You wedged a foot between the seat and the door and braced the other against the center console. Out of habit, you reached for the wire but came up empty. You sighed to yourself and refocused on the task at hand, gripping your gun tightly in one hand and holding the handle near the windshield with the other as you drew closer to the bright headlights.

“Slow down.” You said, though you were ignored.

“Hey!” You banged your gun against the roof of the truck.”Lieberman! You gotta stop!”

No response.

“You’re gonna hit them, stop!”

You realized that was exactly what he planned to do and you reacted as quickly as you could. You pulled back the leg that was against the console and pressed it against the edge of the seat to free your other foot. You had shoved your gun away but held on to the handle to ensure you didn’t fall backward. That was all the prep you could do before the collision hit.

Your back and neck slammed into the mirror and it snapped from the impact while your arm nearly spun around in its socket before you let go. You were sent flying across the asphalt, the entire side of your body colliding with the unforgiving ground before you went rolling. Your head hit the discarded mirror hard with a sick smack that seemed to echo throughout the empty alleys along with the crack of the glass that flattened the broken lens against your tightly shut eyes as you rolled over it. Your wrists stung violently from the hyperextension of your trying to catch yourself on the initial landing. Bits of rock shredded pieces of your shirt away and your chin, palms, and cheek burned with the sensation of a fresh cut crammed with gravel.

When you finally stilled, face down against the asphalt, you coughed hard as air tried to refill your lungs. You managed to get yourself to your elbows and you gasped for breath, spitting out blood in the process, as you felt two hands under your arms. You cried out when you were hauled to your feet, feeling a sharp stabbing in your side.

That rib was definitely cracked.

Get up..

Pain only makes you stronger.

Get. Up.

You rubbed your hands together to clear them of some of the loose gravel before gently dusting your face, wincing when the small rocks moved across the tenderly exposed meat of your cheek and chin. You could vaguely hear Frank’s voice, a muffled and distant sound that was hardly English. Your eyes were wide as you stared ahead, feeling that familiar uneasiness that came before you would pass out. You willed the lightheadedness away and took a staggered step forward, only to collapse immediately against Frank. You shook your head and blinked hard to clear your focus, to regain some sense of self but that only seemed to make it worse.

“Di..” You said to yourself, your voice hardly a whisper as you doubled over and supported yourself on your bent knees. “Dinah..”

You heard a rough slam against metal and the hushed anger of an argument behind you. No doubt Frank was tearing into Lieberman about the collision but you had to keep moving forward. You tapped your mask and heard a small crackle as the shattered lens tried to whir back to life.

You saw the outline of her figure along with a status on the car. It was ticking down to an explosion and if you didn’t do something, Dinah was going to die.

What the hell did you do?

What did I do? What did I do? I got- I got my hands dirty!

Are you stupid? Are you fucking stupid? Look what you did! - Another rough slam. - I swear- I swear to everything you care about, Lieberman. I swear to you, if you ever pull a goddamn stunt like that again, I will kill you. 

You tried to hurry but once you straightened, the stab of your rib folded you in half and the blossoming bruise at your hip made you buckle. Instead, you hobbled and basically collapsed when you got to her side. You couldn’t carry her out. You could barely support your own weight at the moment, so you had to drag her. You worked to get her torso in your lap and your arms under hers and propped the foot of your okay leg against the side of the car. You kicked off and heard the scrape as the car shifted and she moved a few inches.

You groaned loudly and cursed to yourself.

It would take too long to do it that way. You’d both be caught in the explosion. You quickly recognized you needed help so you took a deep breath and whistled as loud as you could. It caught both of their attentions and Frank practically ran over to help you, but not before shoving Lieberman back into the truck and slamming the door on him.

Frank helped you to your feet and asked you to head back to the Mustang. You looked between him and Dinah, new guilt eating at your heart. How that feeling got out of the hole, you didn’t know, but it was something. Something that meant you were still human, that Y/N wasn’t dead. And that was allegedly a good thing so you didn’t fight it off. Not that you had the strength to do so anyway.

He gave a small groan and gently pushed you away before he moved towards Dinah. You let out a breath of relief and managed to get yourself to the Mustang. You dropped into the front seat, and while the weight was taken off your hip, you winced immediately at the hit to your ribcage. Your hand went to the tender area and pressed softly, which was immediately followed by regret when the pain began to make you nauseous. Your other hand balled into a tight fist and hit the door beside you.

Using your shoulder, you dragged your mask down and clenched your jaw as the edges scraped along the newest cuts to your face. You blinked slightly as you looked over and saw Frank having a hushed interaction with Dinah. You wondered what they were talking about, but the bobbing of your head and flutter of your eyes made it hard to focus for too long. You had zoned out of the present moment and felt yourself slipping out of consciousness when the slam of the driver's door snapped you back.

“You alright over there?” Frank asked as he drove off carefully, not to jostle you around too much.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m…” You answered quietly. “My head..”

“Goddamn idiot.” He muttered to himself and you dropped your head against the seat as you turned to face him. “I told him… I told him to get out of there. Now look what he did.”

“My fault…” You tried to defend him. “Was my idea…”

“Nah, don’t give me that shit. He should’ve- Hey.” He reached over and tapped under your chin and you jumped. “C’mon, you gotta stay focused.”

“It hurts...”

“I know, Princess.” When he got to a stop light, he reached over and gently removed your mask from around your neck and you noticed his fingertips came back stained red. Was that your blood?

“You need to call someone to stay with you tonight, okay? Karen, Nelson, one of your new boyfriends. Doesn’t matter. Call someone.”

“No… They can’t see me like this.” You argued and shifted, whining at the sharp pain running down the side of your body. “It’s pathetic.”

“If you don’t call someone, Imma take your phone and call all of ‘em.” He threatened.

“Frank..”

He only offered a stern look.

You reached for your phone and tried to focus past the new cracks in the screen protector. Your eyes widened for a moment before you found the contact. Your thumb hovered over the green icon to dial and you thought of what he would say when he saw you. He’d want to know what happened and who was involved. He’d want to go and hurt them back, to cause them twice the pain you were in. And in any other circumstance, you would’ve encouraged the revenge.

You had to mediate some of the damage so you took a deep, painful breath and let yourself give in to the pain in your head. It throbbed through your skull and you almost swore you could feel the swelling in your brain by the way sounds muffled to near quiet. If your eyes hadn’t been closed, you would’ve been convinced they were going to pop out of your skull. It continued to grow until the tears burned in your eyes, then it was suddenly gone. So you pressed the button and waited for Billy to answer.

“Hey, pretty lady.” He answered quickly, no doubt with a smile on his face. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Can you come over?” You asked simply, finally hearing the scratchiness of your voice.

“Yeah… Everything okay?”

“No.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

You dropped your phone into your lap and gingerly prodded the side that hit the ground, counting the tender spots that would likely meld into one massive bruise by the morning. There was the idea of trying to heal it but with the strength it took just to rid yourself of the lurking concussion, you wouldn’t have been able to do it. 

“Happy now?” You glared over as he parked in front of your building.

“The actually sounded lucid. What’d you do?”

“Just got rid of the head trauma.” You gestured to your head. “Everything else still hurts.”

“Thought you would’ve fixed your eye first then.” He snorted slightly.

“My eye?” Your brows furrowed and your fingers gingerly touched your lower lid. “What’s wrong with my eye?”

He flipped down the passenger sunshade and the small mirror was pointed at your chin. You saw all the little scrapes and dried blood as you adjusted the mirror to see your eyes. A stream of blood was crusted under your nose and had made its way into your mouth, staining your front teeth. You had bit the inside of your cheek at some point, which explained some of the blood you spat earlier that night. But your eye, the one that had been hidden behind the cracked lens, now mirrored that red stain as well. The white of that eye was a fair shade of red and the veins within it were even darker. As your focus darted back and forth, you noticed the movement didn’t hurt but the lids were shifting to a deep purple. You waved a hand to block and allow the light to hit your pupil, the small black circle adjusted and responded to the light.

“Fucking Lieberman.” You said to yourself and slammed the mirror back up. “I told him to stop.”

“Yeah, he’s a moron. Shouldn’t have brought him.” Frank answered.

“We got the job done.” You tried to shrug. “That’s what matters.”

“What if you had died, Y/N? What? You expect me to be good with that?”

“No, but it’s not up to you.”

“So what? You lose Murdock and life ain’t worth livin’ anymore?”

“It worth it without Maria?” You challenged and almost instantly regretted it.

“Not at first.” He confessed. “But you and your band of�� dumbasses pushed me to keep going… Find a reason to keep going.”

“I'm not sure I want to.”

You got out after that and slammed the door, admittedly harder than necessary. You didn’t hear the engine taking off until you were entering your building. Once the door shut behind you, you practically collapsed against the wall and had to use the railing to haul yourself up to your apartment. On your way, you muttered small complaints and blamed Matt for choosing the top floor.

You practically fell inside and had to kick the door shut. You used the bench near the coat rack to get back to your feet and wobbled over to your couch, where you collapsed again. You fought out of your shoes and closed your eyes as the exhaustion began to creep into your muscles.

Damn, you were weak.

You were tempted to stay there, to sleep on your couch with hopes that rest would clear some of the bruises and the redness in your eye. But as your eyes were closing, you were practically slammed by the concern bursting into your building.

You had forgotten you invited Billy over.

With a loud groan, you pushed yourself to sit up. Every movement of your torso hurt so you had to move in short bursts. You reached across and lifted the opposite arm enough to reach and yank on the straps that kept the vest in place. The movement jostled your upper body and you had to contain the noise you wanted to make. You wiggled out of it finally and forced yourself to quickly get across the room to the closet. You threw it without a care and were just able to fix the lock back into place before the knocks sounded at your door.

You knew better than to yell anything so you hoped your silence would be enough. After a second, he came in. He didn’t bother to shut the door behind him because the sight of you was enough to draw all of his focus.

“Jesus, Y/N.” He said quietly as he got closer, the concern practically latching onto you.

It made you feel warm inside but in a good way. Only it didn’t last long. Once you realized, you shoved it away.

One of his hands went to your slightly outstretched arm and the other moved gently to your cheek. You watched as his eyes scanned your face, brows furrowed with concern as his attention caught on your eye. You offered an apologetic smile and a small shrug, to which he sighed softly to himself. He took half a step back and looked down at your body, staring for a moment as if he were counting the tears in your clothes. You wondered if it was obvious that there was some protection since your chest and stomach were visibly unharmed, not considering the bruises you felt spreading across.

“Thanks for coming.” You said after a while of silence.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He answered and gently led you to your bathroom.

There he helped you out of your shirt, taking extra caution as he began to see the dark purple patches blossoming across your side and littering your back and you felt his concern growing beside you the same way. You sat on the floor of your tub and you were taunted with the memory of the last time, when you wanted to allow the water to take over and put you out of your misery.

You made sure to stay upright, leaning forward a bit so the water hit the back of your head and neck. Some streams fell down your face and it was stained red, mimicking the blood you saw in your nightmare. At that point, you closed your eyes.

“What happened?” He asked softly and you felt him tap your arm to hand you a washcloth.

“I…” You began and gently rubbed the wet fabric along your arm, knowing it came off stained with the blood and grime covering your body. “It all happened so fast.” You confessed slowly.

He gently took the cloth from you and gestured for you to lift your arm, which you could only get level with your shoulder before your aching muscles threatened to pull it back down. You appreciated the care he took, despite it playing on some deeply buried sense of vulnerability.

“It was a car crash.” You continued, pushing your wet hair out of your face. “I told the driver to stop but he just sped up.”

“Pretty bad for a crash.” He muttered.

“I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.”

“Was it a cab company? I’m sure you could sue.”

“Maybe, I don’t remember. I hit my head pretty hard.”

“I should take you to a hospital, Y/N/N.” He said pointedly.

You took a chance and looked over, seeing him on the floor beside your tub with arms hanging on the ledge. He fiddled with the washcloth until he noticed you were looking at him. You also noticed small droplets of water bouncing off you and the tub floor, landing in various spots on his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad once I wash off the blood and dirt.” You tried with a small shrug. “For the most part, at least. I’ll be good as new in a few days.”

“It looks like half of your body is bruised, Beautiful.” He shook his head slightly. “It’s gotta be from more than a crash.”

“I couldn’t tell you anything… All I remember is the impact.”

“Have you eaten anything?” He changed the subject.

“No, actually. Can you order something? There’s some cash on my counter, I think.”

“I got it.” He smiled slightly. He handed you back the cloth and gently kissed your forehead before standing up. “Mexican?”

“What about pasta?” You suggested instead.

“Alright.” He chuckled.

“Thanks again.”

“You know I look after you.”

He left the bathroom after that, closing the door most of the way. You managed to get your feet and rid yourself of your now soaked and bloody clothes. You left them in a pile at the corner of your tub while you gingerly washed the rest of the residue from the night’s mission off your skin and out of your hair. When you got out, you were able to fully examine the extent of the damage and it was about what you expected.

The splotchy purple spread out across your side and stopped a little below your hip bone. It crept across the back of your shoulder and there was redness around the base of your skull. You had felt a few splits on the back of your head while you were washing your hair but you could fix those in the morning if they didn’t fix themselves overnight. The swelling in your cheek had gone down, as did some of the redness in your eye. Your muscles felt a bit less tense after sitting in the warm water but most movements still ached. Your biggest concern was your rib, which now that you could see, was a darker shade than the rest of the bruises. You gave it a gentle push and heard a small scraping sound which made you frown.

You headed into your bedroom, wrapped in your towel, and saw Billy unbagging the food. You didn’t even hear the knock from the delivery guy. You dug through your drawer for something to sleep in and settled on a zip-up - that wasn’t yours - and some shorts before you dropped onto the bed. You rummaged around the bedside table for the painkillers as Billy came in with a bowl and a bottle of water.

“You don’t wanna sleep on the other side?” He offered and your brows furrowed.

“I always sleep on this side.” You reasoned, which was technically a lie.

For as long as you had Billy over you slept on that side, but when you first moved in, that was Matt’s side. You switched once he died because you couldn’t stomach the thought of someone who wasn’t him being there. You didn’t want any other man’s cologne or bathroom products changing the smell of the sheets on that side, nor did you want some other man’s body reshaping the bed to fit him. Because that wasn’t their bed and it never would be.

That bed was Matt’s and it was yours. Without him, it only left you. And despite the war within yourself, despite the burning and the gap and the echoing rumbles and nightmares, you would stand firm on that boundary. No man would sleep on Matt Murdock’s side of the bed.

“Yeah, but that would have you laying on all the bruises. It’d be more comfortable.” He offered and while the gesture was genuine, you didn’t want it.

“I don’t like sleeping on my left side.” You countered easily as you stirred your pasta. “It’s harder for me to fall asleep so no, thank you.”

“But your right side-”

“Is banged up, I know.” You cut in. “But I can sleep on my back… I’m not switching.”

“Okay.” He nodded in concession. “Want me to stay?”

“Yeah, can you?”

“Of course.”

Back at the little hideout, Frank had been fuming since the minute he saw Y/N hit the ground. He had got into with Lieberman at the time but now that they were back and not worried about getting caught, he had some choice words for him.

“She told you to stop!” Frank said loudly. “And you didn’t! Everything that happened to her is your fault!”

“She told me to go back in the first place!” Lieberman defended.

“She didn’t tell you to ram the goddamn car!”

“I’m sorry, okay?! What do you want me to do?”

“I could do the same thing to you. How does that sound, huh?” Frank threatened. “Break your rib, crack your skull, bruises and cuts. Make it even.”

“Well what about you? And what you did.” Lieberman desperately tried to change the subject. “A trained agent should be able to extract themselves from a vehicle unassisted.”

“And I wouldn’t have had to do it if you hadn’t hit her in the first place.” Frank continued. “The Princess was gonna sit there and try to haul her out on her own anyways. You might be fine risking her life but I’m not.”

“So you think the fact that Agent Madani knows you’re alive isn’t an issue?”

“She was unconscious. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Our lives just got way more complicated!” Lieberman argued. “If Homeland Security enters your name into the system, how long until Agent Orange knows that?”

“Maybe you should’ve stuck to the plan.” Frank pressed, stepping closer. “Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to get tough.”

“You were driving right at her. Was this stupid, bullshit, macho game of chicken part of the plan? If they catch you, I don’t see my family.”

“They catch me, she’ll handle it.” Frank said easily. He may not have faith in most things, but he knew he could trust Y/N. “Unless you get her killed first.”

“You know what-“

“No, you know what.” Frank said loudly. “See, you want me and her to get your shit done but then you bust my balls about it. You are relentless.. You nagged your wife like that? I mean, you sure that she wants you back?”

“Oh come on.” Lieberman rolled his eyes and chuckled, as if they were old friends that were joking. “C’mon.”

“I’m outta here.” Frank scoffed. “Maybe while I’m gone you can come up with new ways to antagonize me with your bullshit.”

“Where are you going?”

“Imma go make sure you didn’t kill the family I got left… And then I think I’ll go see your wife.”

The next morning, you bolted upright in the bed. A hand slammed against your sternum and the other supported your weight against the mattress. Your heavy breathing stung your side and the layer of sweat across your body had your clothes sticking to you. When you glanced down at your chest, all you could see was a slight indent from laying on the zipper throughout the night. You went to rub the sleep from your eyes and one of your hands came back wet.

Were you crying?

Nothing hurt any worse than yesterday. In fact, you felt more mobile. There was a faint throb throughout the various bruises but nothing was enough to make you cry.

Must’ve been the nightmare..

“You alright?” He said from beside you, placing a gentle hand on your leg.

“Yeah, I’m..” You answered, your voice scratchier than you expected so you cleared your throat. “Just a bad dream, Ma… Billy.”

He gave you a small smile before he came around to your side of the bed. He took your hands gently and pulled you to your feet before carefully unzipping the jacket. He stepped behind you and gently slid the jacket off your arms, gingerly pressing his thumb against the bruises.

“Smart to wear the zip up.” He commented.

“You just like that I’m not wearing a bra.” You joked.

“Just a bonus.” He chuckled. “Swelling’s gone down a lot.” He explained from behind you. “Bruises don’t look half as bad as yesterday but still bad.”

“Told you.” You shrugged the material up your shoulders and turned to face him while you fixed the zipper. “It’s the cuts that my body doesn’t heal quick enough.”

“Like these?” His finger traced where the scars on your shoulder would’ve been. He looked at you with a question in his eyes and for some reason, you decided to answer it 

“Russians, the Ranskahov brothers.” You explained. “Looking for information on The Devil.”

“Did you have it?”

“Even if I did, I wasn’t gonna give it.”

“Sounds right.” He gave a small smile. “And here?”

A scar on your cheek that brought you back to that trainyard. You heard Elektra’s voice in your head, I knew you’d have fun.

“Yakuza. Wrong place at the wrong time.”

“This one?”

The scar leading into your hairline that represented the fight you thought killed the Man in the Mask, the night you temporarily aligned with Fisk.

“Corner of a wooden post.”

“Here?”

Your hip, the night you spent on the rooftop with Matt and Frank that ended with Grotto dead.

“Gunshot.”

“And here?”

He sat on the bed and ran his hand over the slice across your thigh. The night Frank Castle allegedly died.

“Some guy at a diner.”

There were plenty of other scars he could’ve asked about, though most weren’t as prominent as the ones he already acknowledged. You realized he didn’t ask about the ones that followed the shape of your mask. Either he didn’t notice those ones or he had his own idea for them.

“I think that’s the most you've ever said about your past.” He looked up at you with a small, almost proud smile as his hand found the back of your thighs and pulled you closer. “I think you’re starting to like me.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” You answered with a smile of your own. “You’ve got your own stories, hmm?” Your fingers traced the scar on his shoulder.

Before Billy could answer you, a quick knock came at your door.

“You should put your pants on.” You patted Billy’s cheek before shuffling across your living room to open it.

But when you saw your friends on the other side, you wished you hadn’t.

“Woah.” Foggy said to himself. “Deja vu.”

Your brows furrowed but then you realized he must’ve showed up and had the door open to Matt in familiar shape. You moved back into your apartment and gestured for them to follow you in.

“What is it?” You asked simply, resting against the back of the couch.

“Well, Karen told me you were back and I wanted to see for myself.” Foggy said honesty. “What happened?”

“Car accident.”

Foggy scoffed slightly. “I used that line for M-“

“Don’t.” You cut in quickly. “Don’t say it.”

His brows furrowed in confusion but you saw the realization cross his face as you heard Billy coming out of your room. You sighed to yourself as the awkward tension began to fill the room.

“I gotta get to the office.” Billy began and you glanced over your shoulder at him. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime.” He smiled. “Nice to see you guys.” He nodded to your friends before he took off.

“That really why you hadn’t called?” Foggy asked a minute after the door shut.

“Yeah, clearly.” You rolled your eyes.

“I guess I didn’t realize you had replaced me, your friend since college, with some guy.”

“Has nothing to do with Billy.” You shook your head. “I just didn’t wanna deal with all of this.” You gestured vaguely to the two standing in front of you.

“All of this?” Foggy repeated loudly.  “All of this is because we care about you! But you keep choosing to jump into bed with some guy you barely know? You almost look worse than I ever saw Matt and that guy is the one you call?”

“Yeah, everyone says I’m supposed to stay connected to my friends. That’s what Curtis tells us, that we can have a fight and it doesn’t have to be the end.”

“It doesn’t.” Foggy agreed. “I’m always here for you, Y/N, but I can’t help if you don’t tell me anything.”

“It’s ironic that I’m the one who needs help, huh?” You gave a dry chuckle while the words started to formulate on your tongue before you could try to stop them. “Even when I say I’m fine, I can’t tell if I’m happy or I’m sad… But no one ever talks about the aftermath. No one ever talks about being the problem and trying to change everything that other people hate about yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You can’t just run around killing people and call yourself a human being.” You threw his old words at him. “You and Matt and Karen, you all hated that I’m a killer.”

His heavy sigh almost made you laugh.

“That’s what I am, Foggy. I’m a murderer. And I knew all three of you would look at me and wonder if I would ever hurt you, so I tried to change it. Just sit back and be the good little lawyer, right? But it’s still not enough, is it?”

“So what?” He shrugged slightly. You could tell from his tone and body language that he was trying to not start a fight, but your constant pressure and challenges were making it hard for him to keep his cool. “You keep Billy Russo around because he doesn’t care to see that you’re more than that? Does he even know about everything?”

“No, but at least he doesn’t flinch away from me!” You shouted as the burn under your skin grew and pulsed in your various bruises. A strange expression crossed Foggy’s feature, a mix between annoyance, regret, and apologetic, yet you couldn’t recall hearing an apology for the reaction. “He doesn’t tiptoe around me or treat me like I’m an explosive just ticking down.. He cares about me, too. I think.”

“For argument’s sake, let’s say he does, okay? It wouldn’t be the way I do. You are the closest friend I have left and I’m not gonna let you push away the person who knows you better than anyone else.”

“You don-”

“I do.” He cut in. “And you’re not gonna convince me otherwise.”

“You know part of me. You don’t know anything about the Widow.”

“What really happened last night, Y/N/N?” Foggy asked. His tone was gentle but there was a slight urgency.

“Like I said, car crash.” You shrugged. “We intercepted a Homeland sting and the driver slammed the Homeland agent’s car. I told him not to but he was a goddamn idiot and did it anyway. I went out the window, rolled maybe a hundred feet.”

“I’m sorry.” Karen finally spoke and you nearly forgotten she was there. “Homeland? As in Homeland Security? Y/N, when I asked you to-“

“You asked her?” Foggy cut in quickly. “Karen!”

“I didn’t think it would get to this!” She argued before turning to you. “What about..”

“Wasn’t the driver.” You shook your head. “Was the one to get me home, actually. He’s fine.”

She let out a breath of relief before Foggy spoke again.

“So we’re all just okay with the fact that she’s being Exodus again?” He asked in shock.

“I’m not… Not fully at least. I don’t know who I am right now so you should go before this gets any worse.”

“I’m not leaving.” Foggy said firmly, dropping his briefcase on your table. “Not until we settle this.”

“Fine.” You said with the same tone as Karen ducked around the corner to answer a phone call. “Say what you wanna say but as far as I care, it’s settled.”

“I don’t want to fight with you about this. Come on, you saw the toll it took on me and Matt.”

“Matt this, Matt that. Matt’s dead.” You spat and the words even wounded you. Before the ache could settle, that deep hole in your heart swallowed the incoming despair. “And part of me died with him. You want your friend from college back or even her-“ You threw a hand towards the closet. “-but neither of them is what’s left.”

“So what? You don’t want us around anymore?”

“I just want to-“ You began before Karen came back and she was practically shaking with uncertainty. “Karen?”

“That um..” She began, fiddling with her phone. “That was Homeland Security. She wants me to come in tomorrow.”

“Was this she Agent Madani?” You asked tightly.

“Mhmm..”

“Shit.” You sighed and moved as quickly as you could to get back to your room so you could change. At least put on a real shirt. “I’ve gotta go. Lock up when you leave.”

You grabbed your keys and purse before shoving your feet into the first pair of tennis shoes you saw. Your friends were talking over each other, asking questions that you didn’t care to answer as you hurried out and down the stairs. Your leg buckled a few times but you pushed through it to get to your car. As you were driving, you got the same call asking you to come in tomorrow.

“Guys!” You called as you hurried into the room. “I’ve got news, that could be good or bad.”

“Jesus Christ.” Frank grumbled before he rushed to your side, reaching for your arm and you leaned into him. “The hell are you doing here?”

“I just-“ You took a deep breath and the sharp pain in your side ignited. “I got a call from Agent Madani. She wants me to come in and talk to her tomorrow.”

“What about?” Lieberman spun quickly in his chair, so fast he almost fell out of it. “Shit.. Uh, Exodus I am-“

“Shut your mouth before I kick your teeth in.” You threatened. “This is because you didn’t fucking listen to me. If you ever pull something like that, I’m collecting the pound of flesh I’m owed. Literally. Ты меня понимаешь?” (Do you understand me?)

Frank chuckled beside you and gave your arm a small squeeze in approval. Lieberman looked at you with a wide-eyed, fearful expression and nodded quickly, undoubtedly not knowing what you said to begin with.

“Anyways.” You said pointedly. “About Madani. I can only guess it’s about you.”

“Yeah, well, she was unconscious in an upside-down car. I kinda had to.” Frank shrugged slightly.

“I know… And I know you did it because I couldn’t so thanks.”

“Besides, you’re good at coming up with shit on the fly. Use that fancy law degree.”

“I’m still irritated that you blew it, yknow.”

“Yeah yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “And we got dinner plans for Sunday. Sarah Lieberman invited me and my cousin who went by looking for me the other day.”

At that, you grinned and Frank smiled back.

“I needed a way in that didn’t look insane… What’s the next move for us on this end?”

“Gunner Henderson.” Lieberman answered. “So far I’ve got that he lives completely off the grid. No phone, no internet, no running water.”

“Where?”

“Kentucky.”

“Road trip.” You nodded before turning to Frank. “Could be fun.”

“We’ll leave when you get back from Homeland.” Frank said with a small nod. “Give you a little more time to get yourself right.”

“It’s just bruises.” You rolled your eyes. “And this eye thing.”

“Oh yeah?” His brows raised and you felt his free hand feeling around your side. You opened your mouth and reached for his wrist but he had already found the break and pressed on it with a mild pressure. You cried out and fell against him, digging your nails into his skin. “Thought it was just bruises.” He mocked.

“I’m fine.” You said through gritted teeth. “I’ll figure it out.”

“This guy isn’t a joke, Princess.” Frank continued. “If he doesn’t want us there, I don’t have time to look after you.”

With that, you felt something ignite under your skin. You forced yourself to stand straight and balled your hands into tight fists, feeling your nails digging into your palms. The sensation shifted from an underlying burn to a thick feeling on top of your skin, as if someone had drawn out your hot blood and left it across your body. It coated every inch of skin that was bruised thrummed throughout neighboring nerves and you felt your breathing increasing as the heat rose.

It hurt. Every nerve in your body felt like you were holding a lighter to it, burning right through it. Every muscle in your body tightened and tried to force out the heat. You almost thought you could feel the shift in your rib cage as the bone reset but you convinced yourself you were overthinking.

You rolled your shoulders slightly and felt no pain in the movement. You shifted your weight between your feet and the new angle of your hips felt like nothing.

“Good as new.” You shrugged and lifted your shirt, turning to show your side was no longer a deep purple. Admittedly, there was a slight discoloration across the patches that had been covered in bruises just moments ago, but it was definitely better than when you had woken up.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” Frank muttered. “Still didn’t fix your eye.”

“Thanks.” You offered a sarcastic expression. “I don’t need you to look after me, Frank.”

“Yeah… You expect me to believe you’re gonna look after yourself?”

“I expect you to understand that I don’t need you breathing down my neck and micromanaging me. I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Bullshit.” He scoffed. “I left you alone for one goddamn minute last night and look what happened. You let this dumbass almost get you killed.”

“Are we still-“ Lieberman tried.

“Shut up!” You said firmly and pointed at him. He raised his hands in surrender before you turned back to Frank. “It was one goddamn mistake that wasn’t even mine! Can’t you let it go?���

“One mistake.. One mistake? A mistake is turning down the wrong street. A mistake is stepping on your own shoelaces. A mistake isn’t rolling across a hundred feet of pavement and breaking your rib!”

“I don’t need you to look after me!” You shouted.

“My family is gone, Y/N! They are gone because of what I know! Do you understand that?”

“I may not have had any blood family, but I’ve lost the people closest to me, too. Red is gone because he was worried about me! He was my family, Frank!” You spat back. “So yes, I understand that!”

“I can’t let that happen to you. Got it?” He said firmly, though it was more gentle than his previous tone. “I can’t.”

“Y’know what, maybe the mistake was coming here to help you in the first place.”

“Yeah maybe.”

“Understand that I am not your responsibility.” You said simply. “You keep acting like this and you’ll get yourself killed, just like he did. And I can’t let that happen to you. Got it?”

[kardazzlians]

The idol was absolute ASS. But JOCELYN? WORLD CLASS MF SINNER? she is that girl. She is the moment. I feel cunty every time I listen

[dadoux1]

Lily Rose Depp - World Class Sinner / I'm A Freak [Remix version]

[mxdwn]

The Weeknd Presents “The Lure” and “World Class Sinner” From Hbo Original Series The Idol

https://music.mxdwn.com/2023/06/10/news/the-weeknd-presents-the-lure-and-world-class-sinner-from-hbo-original-series-the-idol/

[scftlightz]

ੈ♡˳┊closed starter for @hclysins

" i guess i told you where i shop, too?" playful sarcasm dressed her words. mostly a dig at herself but seeing the familiar face in the sun instead of strobe lights too her off guard. looking down at the pavement then back up to the hazel pair in front of her before speaking again, " is there something you need? " monica perked a brow as she was already uninterested— but still gave him the time.

[de-constructmybones]

Did @transdunbar and I just become matchmakers? Absolutely. Am i proud of us? Very.

[petertingle-yipyip]

WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE

five - build god then we'll talk

tags: n/a // four // six // masterlist

Pairing: Billy x Livia ; Frank x Livia

Word Count: 7,008

Summary: Temporary alliances form on one side before fighting off an ambush from the other. All the while, dots are connecting for more than one player as the game grows more and more dangerous.

“Ms. Yersova.” She smiled as she came into the conference room. You stood from your chair and shook her hand, noticing a slight wince as she sat across from you. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I’m acting SAC Dinah Madani.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” You nodded. “I heard about the crash at the docks. I commend you for coming into the office so soon but I guess it’s no surprise as you’re the acting SAC.”

“You heard?” Her brows raised.

“Word travels fast between bureaus.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “Of course, you recently completed FBI training at Quantico. How was that?”

“It was good. I’m excited to start and get to work with my partner.”

“You have a partner already?”

“He recommended me. I wouldn’t have pursued the FBI if I hadn’t met him.”

“Sounds like a good foundation for a partnership.”

“I’m sure it will be, but I don’t think that’s what you called me in for, is it?”

“No.” She shook her head with a small smile as if she had been caught. “It’s about your previous employment.”

“Oh, Anvil!” You nodded, feigning understanding. “Of course. Billy told me about the Homeland group that came through a few days ago. He said you really stuck out.”

“Um-“

“If this is about Billy-“ You leaned your elbows on the table as if you two were high schoolers gossiping at the lunch tables. “-I say you should go for it.” You continued when you noticed she was taken by surprise. “I don’t blame you, he’s real good-looking and you’re beautiful. And, between us, the sex is good too if you’re interested in that.”

“Ms. Yersova.”

“You guys had good banter the other night so you should go out with him again, on a real date.”

“I’m sorry, the other night? He told you about that?”

“No, I saw you two.” Your brows furrowed as you played dumb and leaned back in your seat. “I walked right past you? …. This isn’t about Billy, is it?”

“Your employment at Nelson and Murdock, actually.”

“Oh… That feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Wasn’t too long ago.”

“A lot has changed since then.”

“Since college too, I assume.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, naturally, I looked into your academics, and may I say, you’re brilliant. Columbia Law, summa cum laude, alongside the two partners at the firm you’d later work at. Only you took some time between your senior semesters. Completed your degree online and you were able to skip internship. A near-perfect Bar score as well. Looking at it all together, it’s truly impressive.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “Although I’m not sure why the firm is relevant. It’s disbanded. Franklin Nelson is thriving at HC&B and Matthew Murdock is on a Catholic Retreat at the Vatican.”

“Are you religious?”

“You go ahead and build God yourself then we’ll talk religion.” You scoffed. “Any God isn’t relevant here anyway, right? Considering the whole Church and State separation.”

“Hmm.” She nodded before coming around to your side of the table. “Before Columbia, there’s practically nothing. Like you didn’t exist.”

“Yes, well, my father dumped me at an orphanage overseas.”

“Your mother didn’t protect you?”

“Died when I was an infant, may she rest in peace. Hence the whole orphan thing”

“You were a ghost before law school, Ms. Yersova. Forgive me, Agent Yersova. And yet you have made quite a life for yourself.”

“What are you implying?”

“Someone intentionally wanted to keep your existence a secret… Leaves room to speculate on what you were before, but no one ever seemed to.” You saw her focus stay on your eye for a moment and you mentally cursed yourself for not having dealt with it that morning. “Yet you’ve still gotten everything you wanted out of life, didn’t you?”

“You can ask Mr. Russo about that. He can give you the gist, off the record of course. Just as I assume this entire conversation is.”

“Anvil hires ex-military.” She challenged rather than acknowledging your last comment.

“Yes.”

“You were never a soldier.”

“Correct, I never served in the US Military or any nation’s traditional military.”

“But you have some training?”

“Enough to get in at Anvil and be one of his most trusted/most consistent and earn his respect from the first time I met him. But with all due respect, Agent Madani, what does this have to do with Nelson and Murdock?”

“You’re an interesting woman, Agent Yersova.”

“Yes, you’ve said that.” You said sharply. “Please make your point, Madani, or I’m leaving.”

“I just wonder why you’d throw away such a promising career on the Castle case.”

“And this conversation makes me wonder why you’d want to disturb a dead man.”

“I’ve read through the transcripts and you were a real powerhouse in that courtroom. You were a fierce advocate for the man. Your work ethic is rather admirable.”

“It was my idea to take the case in the first place. It was only right to give it my best.”

“Why take it at all? I’m sure the partners didn’t agree.”

“Not at first.” You agreed. “But it wasn’t supposed to go to trial. Our plan was to negotiate a better plea deal but Frank had other plans. Why is any of this relevant?”

“What interested me the most was the testimony of the medical examiner that got thrown out.” She flipped open her folder and trailed her finger down the page as if she was searching for something before tapping the page a few times.

“And how do you know about that?”

“Transcripts.”

“The testimony was stricken from official record.”

“Public record, maybe. A case that major would’ve had everything available to departments like mine or yours, if you talk to the right people.  What stood out to me was the woman he mentioned, wearing a mask with an accent. The woman Mr. Tepper said coerced him into his confession.”

Elektra. Even in death, she haunted you. Same way Matt did.

“Yes.” You nodded as the Midland explosion rumbled deep in your chest when she shut the folder. “But the defense had nothing to do with that. To this day we have no idea who that woman was nor do any of us care at this point. We’ve moved on.”

“Would it be fair to assume it was a local vigilante? I’ve heard there’s one who fits that description, worked alongside Daredevil - who you know well - and even did a short stint with the Punisher.”

“Excalibur. No wait, that’s the sword.. Was it Extremis?”

“Exodus.” She corrected.

“Right! I don’t know, I heard she died.”

“Did you know her?”

“Allegedly.” You shrugged.

“And how exactly does that work?”

“The last time I saw either of them alive, they came to me and said there was some organization targeting their loved ones. They made it seem like they knew me without their suits but never said their names. Then they fought their fight and everyone else that was hiding out with me had their friends come back but those two never did… Nothing was ever uncovered from the rubble either.”

“Rubble?” Her head tilted slightly.

“Some building went down a few months ago. I’m sorry, but I’m still lost. I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

“Why advocate for Frank Castle at all? And if Exodus was your friend, why throw her to the wolves in the trial?”

“Are we still off the record?”

“Of course.” She gestured to the lack of cameras in the room.

“Frank Castle was the victim of a sting operation gone back. When DA Reyes was in office, she planned to catch the Blacksmith, who turned out to be his old C.O., at Central Park. Only she neglected to - Actually, she opted to not clear civilians, which ended with Lisa, Maria, and Frankie Castle being shot dead on what was supposed to be a celebratory outing. Frank Castle endured a tragedy, Agent Madani. Now it’s not justification for a full-blown killing spree across my neighborhood but it’s some sort of explanation as to why he was so goddamned angry.”

“And are you angry, Agent Yersova?” She asked carefully.

“Yeah, I am.” You said after a minute of contemplation. “I’m angry that he’s gone. I’m angry that my firm fell apart. And I’m angry that I’m here, digging up stories on a dead man that I let down.”

The heat that lived in your veins rose and you felt it burning through your skin. You had to take a few steadying breaths to force it back where it belonged.

“I’m sorry to have upset you.” She offered, and there was an attempt at sincerity, but you could tell it was learned. Forced, even. “I didn’t know it was so important to you.”

“At Columbia and Quantico - They probably talk about it at the FLETC too, body language. Facial expressions. Inflections in people’s voices. Helps to figure out if someone’s lying and whether you can trust the words they’re saying. Almost everybody has a tell and I see one from you when you talk about Frank Castle. Like a kid in a candy store, just waiting to hear the right words from her parents…  What words are you hoping to hear, Agent Madani?”

“Did he ever tell you about his time in Afghanistan? Specifically Kandahar.” She asked finally and you had to keep your smirk to yourself. For an acting SAC, she was easy enough to work. “I was in Kandahar myself before this. Turns out Frank Castle might’ve been the man I needed to talk to.”

“What’s important about Kandahar?”

“Do you know anything?”

“Depends on what you’re looking for.”

“Ahmed Zubhair, a man I worked with. Tortured and executed by his unit. Tell me, what kind of man was Frank Castle?”

“Decent. Angry, but honest. I had nothing to fear from him. He treated me with respect and I did the same. And I regret how I let him down… If Kandahar is something that could’ve had something to do with what happened to Frank’s family, I’ll see what I can find.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” She shook her head slightly. “I doubt your SAC at the FBI will let you open a case based on intuition and a personal stake.”

“You’re not asking.” You said simply. “When you talk to Billy about me, which I know you will, I’m sure he can fill you in on some of my capabilities outside of my bureau… If his old C.O. was behind Central Park because of Kandahar, I owe it to him and his family to find out why and find out who pulled Schoonover’s strings.”

“You think there was someone above him?” Her eyes lit up.

“Operation Cerberus wasn’t forgotten in the records.” You clarified. “It had to be on purpose. Someone kept it off. And that leaves room to speculate, remember?”

“Do you have any leads?”

“I will. I was a ghost before Columbia for good reason. Oh, and feel free to call if you need any sort of freelance in your investigation.”

“Off the record?”

“It’s how I do my best work. Enjoy your speculation in the meantime.” You shrugged with a small smile as you stood and she gave you a slight smirk and a nod.

You and Madani would likely not find yourselves being friends by the end of your endeavors. Her mission ran counter to your own, though slight parallels existed. By seemingly agreeing to get her information about Kandahar, it allowed you a certain leeway regarding your own business. She wouldn’t be keeping a watchful eye over you so long as she believed you were on her side. And by planting the ideas of Billy’s knowledge of your past, you knew that it would create a direct line as to what she was asking and what she was being told.

The only way you would’ve crafted the situation any better would be if she was running solely on speculation and didn’t know Frank was alive. But you saw it in her eyes, that spark of a reignited passion project. Just days before she, like the rest of the world, knew Frank Castle to be dead. But now having seen his face, heard his voice, she couldn’t believe that ruse any longer. And that knowledge just might be the bump in your otherwise unobstructed path.

Before heading back to Lieberman’s hideout, you stopped back at your apartment. You pulled your gym bag from your room and dumped the contents across your bed. You took it over to the locked closet and took a deep breath, noticing your hand was shaking as you reached for the lock. You forced the hesitation to that familiar gap in your chest and opened it to reveal your bloodied clump of material, your case, and Matt’s case - kicked into the back corner.

You went straight for yours and dug through until you found what you were looking for, one of your very first suits. One before the alterations and additional protections. One that had the bright red emblem of the Red Room still embedded at the neck. It was a suit designed from a time before you were a vigilante before Exodus was ever created. It was born before Y/N had her own identity, before she met Matt and Foggy. The suit was created for the nameless, faceless Widow. The spy, the child raised to be an assassin. One that was good at it and hated herself for it. The suit was what your father traded his daughter for. The suit killed the little girl your mother gave birth to, erased her name, just to put a knife in one hand and a gun in the other. The suit, what it truly stood for, might’ve been all that was left for you.

You shoved it into the bag with a set of Bites, your other mask last used at Midland, boots, belt packed with all your usual tricks, and two handguns with an additional clip for each. You paused at your two torso protections, the recent vest newly adorned with scratches or the original long-sleeve top that was a gift from Matt before your first fight with Fisk. Neither felt right so you threw them both to the side. You tossed it on the table before rummaging around the kitchen to put together a few sets of to-go meals. Whether or not Frank had pissed you off, it was going to be a long drive so you made quick burritos and wrapped them up before placing them in the bag, along with your car charger for your phone. You grabbed a couple of waters and sodas, even threw in a couple of energy drinks for good measure, before heading over.

“Oh.” Lieberman said as you approached the two stocking the van. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“I started something. I need to see it through.” You answered. “So are we doing this or what?”

Frank made a small noise in agreement and nodded for you to get in. He moved over to the driver's side and Lieberman offered you the passenger. You shook your head and dropped your bag into the back before you climbed up, yanking the doors shut behind you.

You were quiet for most of the drive, trying to drown out Lieberman’s blabbering about anything and everything. You laid out on your back and saw a message from Billy asking you to call him. You sat up quickly and turned to see the guys were now talking about the root of the word Cerberus. You scooted to the far corner and dialed the number, taking one more glance to ensure no one was paying attention to you.

“Hey, Pretty Lady. How you feeling today?” He asked when he answered and you noticed you almost smiled.

“Uh, yeah, I’m doing fine.” You answered quietly, though your voice earned a questioning look from Frank in the rearview. You just waved him off and he rolled his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I wanted to see how you were feeling cause I just had something come across my desk that I thought you might wanna head up.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Thing is, it’s an out-of-town job.”

“Since when do you take those on?”

“Since it’s an old friend.” You knew he would’ve shrugged with a little head tilt. “He’s got some property in Kentucky he needs to clear out.”

“Sounds like a job for the Sheriff’s department out there, not you.”

“Look, he came to me so I’m assuming he tried all that.”

“Assuming…” You nodded to yourself. “So you didn’t bother to ask?”

He sighed slightly and you pictured the face he was making. Things with Billy were getting too familiar, too predictable. That small patch of vulnerability on your heart liked it and wanted to keep it, but the hardened reality urged you to push away.

“I guess it doesn’t matter. If it was a little closer, I’d do it but I’m not trying to go that far right now.” You said simply, which was true. You didn’t want to go to Kentucky but that’s where the job took you.

“Hey, not a problem.” He answered, no doubt with a smile. “I just had to offer it to my best girl.”

“As if there was anyone else. You gonna take it instead?”

“No, I’ll just let the guys run it themselves. I can’t get away right now.”

You nodded to yourself in slight relief, knowing you wouldn’t have to worry about him showing up out of the blue and being a problem. It did interest you a bit more as to who would be able to pull Schoonover’s strings and get to Billy. You knew it had to be Agent Orange but it did nothing to answer who the hell that man was.

“You still there?” He asked and you realized you had been quiet for too long.

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.” You admitted. “I gotta go, alright? I got some work I gotta get started on.”

“No worries. Take care of yourself for me, yeah?”

“Mhmm.. Bye.”

“The hell was all that?” Frank asked as soon as you had set your phone in your lap. You pulled your knees up and blew out a sigh, pushing your hands through your hair. You glanced over and saw him looking between the road and you from the rearview. You simply shrugged and scooted to be closer to them.

You leaned between the seats and saw Lieberman pass Frank a packet of tuna, at which you made a face. You were wildly confused as to why he would bring something so cheap and seeing Lieberman pull out a full sub made it worse for you. The meal choice confused Frank as well, and you had to laugh at the response from them both.

“Where’d you get that?” Frank asked in bewilderment, almost jealous as well.

“I made it.” He answered honestly.

“What do you mean, you made it?”

“Yeah... This stuff was in the fridge.”

“You make me one?”

“No... No, I thought you liked that stuff.”

You reached between them and grabbed the tuna out of Frank’s hand. Before he could complain, you replaced it with one of the burritos from your bag. He looked between the new food and you before he nodded in thanks. You offered a small smile and then dropped a water bottle into the cup holder. Lieberman looked between you and Frank with a clear question in his eyes, though if you had to guess what he was wondering, you’d have a list a mile long.

You knew how odd your dynamic with Frank would seem from the outside, both within and outside the law. As vigilantes, you two were partners who held each other in a certain respect. It was similar to you and Daredevil but with more aligned viewpoints. As regular people, you two were allegedly just a lawyer and her client, hardly friends or even acquaintances. So when looking at the way you two would interact, ensuring the other was alive and taking care of each other, it was something to question. How did you two get so close? Why were you two the seemingly only exception for the other? And realistically, there was no real answer other than you were too stubborn to let Frank, or the Punisher for that matter, do something stupid in your neighborhood alone.

Maybe it started as damage control or a way to piss off Matt and Daredevil, but it grew into a real friendship. A real partnership. It grew to be equivalent to family.

Lieberman talked some more during the drive, most of which you tuned out. Instead, you ate your food and rubbed the temple of your red eye with the intent of clearing it away. You almost felt the repair and you pictured it like using a squeegee on a window or using a magnet to play with flecks of iron. As your fingers moved in small circles, the redness would follow like a little trail until it diluted away.

You took a short nap on the drive as well before you all arrived. You ensured to kick the guys out before you changed into your suit. As you unfolded the material, your retractable fell into your lap. You hadn’t even realized you had grabbed it but there it was, tangled in the fabric of your suit and still caked in the blood of the Hand. You thought for a moment if you had done it on purpose but at that point, you didn’t think it mattered so you slipped it onto your wrist. Fitting all of your equipment into place felt like you were fixing the puzzle pieces of your life, replacing what seemingly always should’ve been. As you were finishing, you wondered absently if your bones had reshaped to allow the perfect little niches for your Bites and mask.

“I don’t wanna hear from you unless you hear from me, got it?” Frank warned as he took the walkie from Lieberman and you came around the van.

“Turn it on.” You nodded as your finger slid to your scar. The device beeped in your ear and you kept a light pressure as you shifted along until the static died and you were in the loop. “Got it, thanks.”

“Stay in the van.” He pointed to Lieberman before he began climbing the fence. “No getting your hands dirty this time.”

“Or trying to get someone killed.” You muttered as you hauled yourself over. You tapped your mask upon landing and followed behind Frank.

You were thinking about telling him that you had a theory an Anvil team would be sent in, but there was no good way to explain it. Explaining how you knew meant you had to explain your relationship with Billy, which meant he would connect the dots that you were sleeping with one of his closest friends, and that may or may not go over well. So you kept your mouth shut about it but your head remained on a swivel. You listened for anything that would cut into your communications with Lieberman or anything unusual through your lenses.

Your walk to the cabin was mostly clear - and unsettlingly quiet - save for the lone trip wire. When you two got to the small cabin, Frank began to rid himself of his backpack and gun. He gestured for you to do the same but you hesitated. You didn’t like the idea of being defenseless against whatever team Billy was sending your way. You knew you would have to kill them first, and the team likely would’ve expected to die or at least fight, so you didn’t necessarily feel bad about what was going to happen. But you did feel a little guilty for keeping it to yourself, for no other reason than to keep Billy your little secret.

With a small sigh, you untucked your guns and set them with Frank’s. You took the blade out of your belt as well, but you slipped a finger around your wrist and found the retractable blade was in its position. With your Bites and that, you should be fine to get back to your gun. You turned to Frank and put your hands up in slight surrender, to which he gestured to your wrists. You simply shook your head and moved back to his side.

You were adjusting your lens to see further when it picked up the faint outline of a figure far off. You tried to make it clearer and you could see the shape of a weapon. Your brows furrowed as you stared when you realized it was a bow and arrow. You grabbed Frank’s sleeve to move him but the arrow pierced him before you could. A secondary arrow zipped by and dragged across your chest, slicing a shallow gash from one collarbone to the other, taking a chunk of your shoulder with it.

You shoved him behind one of the bigger trees before you gripped the arrow with one hand and braced his shoulder with the other. He groaned in pain but ultimately nodded for you to do it. You yanked hard and the arrow snapped. He yelled loudly and you looked over your shoulder to see the figure was aiming at you two again. You cursed to yourself, grabbed the front of Frank’s jacket, and yanked him to the side. As you two were moving, the arrow came whizzing past your shoulder and buried itself at what you assumed would’ve been the center of your back.

“Gunner, goddamit, it’s Frank Castle.” Frank tried again after ducking behind another tree. You peeked around and saw Gunner coming closer, setting sights on you two again. You looked at Frank for confirmation but he held steady. You would just have to trust him.

“Come on. I’m not a part of it, brother. I never have been.” He continued.

You watched carefully and felt his slight hesitation. Despite it all, he still trusted Frank. And you could use that. You pulled that to the forefront, allowing that trust to be his focus. You also projected Frank’s trust in you and the two began to meld easily enough. You couldn’t completely beat the suspicion so you didn’t try to. You just had to make sure he didn’t fire another arrow because you weren’t gonna be able to dodge it.

“Сукин сын.” You said to yourself before stepping around the tree with your hands up in surrender. (Son of a bitch.)

“I know you don’t know me and you have no reason to trust me.” You said simply as you dropped to your knees, hands still raised as his arrow set a course to the center of your chest. If you said one wrong thing, you’d be dead. “A woman in a black suit and a mask shows up out of the blue, I wouldn’t trust me either if I were you.”

“The hell are you doing?” Frank asked in a hushed tone as he got to your side, falling into the same position you were in.

“Trying something.” You answered before returning your focus to Gunner. “You don’t have to trust me, but I’m willing to bet you trust him… And he wouldn’t bring me if I wasn’t on his side. That’s gotta be worth something.”

Gunner looked between you and Frank, an uncertainty in his eyes but his hands never faltered as Frank gave a quick explanation of what brought you two there. The arrow was still on course for your chest and you could picture how quick it would come, if it would be the same as feeling Elektra’s weapon in your dream. But the piercing never came. Instead, you heard the sound of the arrow relaxing and footsteps coming closer.

You helped Gunner get Frank to lean against one of the trees.

“I’m sorry about your family.” Gunner said honestly and you kept glancing around, anxiously awaiting for the figures to reveal themselves in your lenses.

“Agent Orange.” You said simply. “You know anything about who he is? Maybe a name.”

“No.” Gunner answered.

“So why’d you do it, man? Why’d you… Why’d you make the tape?” Frank asked and while Gunner explained it, you focused on your belt. You found the gauze you kept and unrolled some to pack his wound. You gently reached under his jacket and carefully stuffed the hole with the tissue when Gunner’s words stole your attention and your hands froze.

“They were putting bags of drugs in his body.” He explained.

“That’s why he was never caught.” You realized. “When she was first trying to catch him, the DA at the time didn’t know how he was getting that much product into the country… I never would’ve guessed.”

“Treated him like an empty carcass.” Gunner continued and he was both disgusted and heartbroken over it. “Jim and all the rest of them in there.”

“Who was it?” You continued when you noticed Frank was growing tense. “Who was in the room, Gunner?”

“The colonel, Bennett - the guy who ran the mortuary - and Orange… I didn’t know who was in on it. I didn’t know who I could trust.”

You heard the feedback before you saw them. When the high-pitched sound rang in your ears, you spun behind you to see the incoming helicopter.

“We gotta go.” You said quickly, adjusting your lens to try and see further. “Now.”

“They with you?” Gunner asked as he hauled Frank to his feet.

“Shit, no.” He answered. “Livia, who are they?”

“A problem.” You muttered and saw the row of soldiers coming your way. “They’ve got body cams, live feedback but I can’t figure out where it’s going.”

“Time to go to work.” Frank told you, offering a small nod to you. You returned the gesture and peeled away from the group, habitually reaching for a gun, only to come up empty.

You cursed quietly when you remembered that you had ditched them back near the cabin as a show of allegiance. You sighed quietly and armed your Bites while you ducked behind a fallen tree trunk. While remaining hidden, you scanned the area to see a trio coming your way. You noted the rifles in each of their hands as they stayed on alert as they crept forward. You had to acknowledge that they had the weaponry advantage but you had the element of surprise. And you were rather resourceful.

When the first one landed in front of you, you hooked one foot around his ankle and slammed the other into the side of his knee. There was a sick ripping sound as he collapsed with a loud scream. You moved quickly to cover his mouth with your knee and the more weight you leaned onto him, you began to hear a crunch and you weren’t sure if it was the branches beneath you or his jaw.

You saw the knife handle at the soldier’s belt so you snatched it quickly. First, you slammed the butt end against the body cam and the lens shattered, but your mask told you it was still functioning. You shrugged it off and raised your arm in anticipation of the next soldier. When he finally showed, you flicked the blade quickly and it buried itself at the base of his throat and a deep red stream of blood shot out. Instincively you closed your eyes and the warm liquid splattered across your cheek and mask. You wiped it away quickly and noticed the soldier beneath you had stopped squirming.

You climbed off and removed his rifle, slinging the weapon over your own shoulder before leaning closer to the body cam.

“Наслаждаетесь шоу?” You said lowly, seeing the red light blink to show that it was currently being watched from the other end. “Не волнуйся.” You smiled slightly as that thick stream of blood trailed down. “Мы тоже придем за тобой.” (Enjoying the show? Don’t worry. We’ll come for you, too.)

You heard the crunch of footsteps against the leaves and lifted the gun quickly. You lined your shot and as soon as the third soldier faced you, you fired straight through his eyeball and he fell limp immediately. You pushed yourself up, nudging the first soldier with your foot and getting no response. You gave a small, indifferent shrug before you began searching for Frank and Gunner. There was a sharp whistle and you saw the man waving you over.

You took your position next to Frank, Gunner stationed on the opposite side, and you three began firing against the next wave from the team. You and Frank alternated shots, popping out from your covers for seconds at a time to take someone down. Gunner leaned over to fire an arrow and you heard the shout. You glanced over and saw a second shot pierce his chest.

“I got it.” You said quickly, drawing Frank’s attention. You nodded towards Gunner before you two switched positions, allowing Frank to go to his friend. Though Frank was stubborn and refused to stay down, which got him shot in the side. “Get some cover. I’ll find you.”

You nudged him aside with your shoulder and jumped over the fallen tree, landing in a low crouch as the shots hit the tree. You kept your head down until the bullets paused and you fired back, hearing two different voices shouting. You surveyed the area quickly and saw two more coming at you, hopping over a log not too far away from you.

You hurried to your feet and got behind a tree, lining the weapon with your body to keep it hidden. You flicked out the blade at your wrist and looked over to see neither soldier had noted your position. Either that or they didn’t care. Regardless, it worked in your favor. You crept behind the one closest to you and jammed the knife through the side of his neck, the other hand covering his mouth to hide his gurgled shout. 

You lowered him carefully to the ground and yanked your blade out, freeing your bloodied hand. Looking down at it, you saw the stream of blood coming from your own shoulder. You glanced at your chest and saw the long line across it. The sight made you groan slightly but you made a mental note to deal with it later.

You moved after the other from the pair, careful to match your steps to his. When you were close enough, you jammed the short blade through his back and heard the squelching sound of his now severed spine. You twisted and pulled out, letting his body fall unceremoniously to the ground. You knelt to take the knife from his belt and heard Lieberman giving Frank directions.

You heard small shouts as Frank and Gunner dealt with the pair that was closest, and you used your lens to see the secondary pair that Lieberman was referring to. You made your way to your friend quickly and Frank’s hand closed around your arm to bring you with him. Despite your mild pulling away, Frank dragged you along.

Once there was enough space, Frank gestured for you to try and help Gunner. Gunner leaned against a fallen tree and Frank took position with the rifle. You knelt beside his friend and inspected the wound, though you weren’t sure if you would’ve rather found an exit wound or not. Two quick shots sounded, followed by the thud of limp bodies. Given what you had already taken out, there should be only one pair left.

Frank helped you get Gunner to his feet and you moved ahead of them. Gunner muttered something about you and where Frank found you but you kept your focus forward. Your mask picked up the drone above, which showed the same origination as the comms channel, so you trusted it. You led your trio around the last pair until you were able to watch them pass you. Once they did, you felt their anxiety.

They must’ve known their team was being picked off, one by one. They had walked into a slaughter, though they expected to be the ones ambushing. Their small team, likely even friends, were being left in pools of their own blood, by three figures in the shadows. They didn’t know who they were facing, but they knew their opposition was better. You, Frank, and Gunner were better than them, despite their likely elite or at least high-ranking status. But something about them, their vibrating hesitation and drumline for heartbeats, led you to wonder if it was actually an Anvil team.

But if it wasn’t, why would Billy bring it up to you?

You realized quickly that something wasn’t adding up the way it should and it led you to some tricky speculations that Billy was still in contact with Agent Orange. While it would be an overall useful connection, it did seem to disappoint you a bit. You made a small noise of disgust to yourself before raising your Bite, the bright red glow momentarily illuminating your vision.

You fired on one of the last pair before disappearing out of sight, just before the bullets came in. The man fired aimlessly, shouting his plan to kill you. You scoffed quietly and threw the borrowed knife, watching it bury itself into the man’s leg. He cried out before Frank grabbed him and slammed his own blade into the man’s throat.

Once he fell limp, you two retrieved Gunner and attempted to get him back to his cabin.

The walk felt like an eternity and you knew - Gunner knew it too - that Frank’s friend wouldn’t make it. The two collapsed against one of the trunks and you knelt on Gunner’s other side. You felt awkward, out of place beside a dying man you didn’t know. While they exchanged last words, Gunner reached out and took one of your hands. Your brows furrowed and your first thought was to pull away, but you decided quickly that you could offer comfort to a man who was now dying after fighting beside you.

Maybe you really were a curse.

“Promise me you’ll bury me, okay?” Gunner managed and the words were as desperate as they could be.

“Okay.” Frank answered, looking over at you for the same commitment.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Just stay here, okay? We’ll be back.”

“We’ll be back.” Frank repeated.

You two stood and you were quick to recognize that Frank wouldn’t make it very far. You cursed quietly as you caught him just before he fell over. 

“Goddammit, Frank.” You complained as he leaned more of his weight on you. “You don’t get to die on me in the middle of fucking Kentucky.”

You reached up and pressed on your scar.

“I can’t get him back on my own.” You said quickly, carefully lowering him to the ground. “Get your ass over here, now.”

You yanked your mask down to hang around your neck and reached under Frank’s jacket. The gentle pressure you applied caused fresh blood to bubble out and coat your hand. Your other hand patted your belt and the gauze you kept wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be able to pack the wound enough to be of real help. It was too dark to fully see the extent of the damage and the leaves and branches around were going to do you no favors.

You had two choices. Wait for Lieberman to show up - assuming he would be able to find you two - or leave Frank to find Lieberman and bring him back. The second option was contingent on you being able to find your own way back in the dark so you decided you wouldn’t move. You wouldn’t abandon the one friend you hadn’t been able to push away.

Using your teeth, you pulled off a glove and allowed your exposed hand to cover the wound instead. You shoved your glove into your belt and leaned more weight into Frank, feeling the thump steady against your hand. You weren’t entirely convinced it was a good thing, to feel less of his pulse, but you had to keep faith in the resiliency of Frank Castle.

If a bullet to the head wasn’t going to kill him, neither would a bullet to his side.

After you didn’t know how long, you saw Lieberman’s flashlight. He helped you load Frank into the van and offered you a small collection of items to help. He drove quickly as you worked in the back, though you had to straddle Frank in an effort to allow some stability during the trip. You carefully dressed the wound on his side and managed to insert the IV for fluids and antibiotics without problems.

“You’ll need to get Curtis Hoyle.” You explained as LIeberman drove frantically and you climbed off, reaching for your sweater from your bag.

“What? Wha- Why? What’s wrong with him?” He answered quickly, the anxiety in his words bouncing off the empty walls of the van which made you shiver as you undid the zipper down the front of your suit. You peeled the bloody material down your arms and rubbed some of the excess off with a cleaner area before pulling your sweater over your head, letting out a sharp hiss as you stretched the cut across your chest.

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly before yanking your boots off. “I’m not a doctor but could be from blood loss. Could be the beginning of an infection. Could be something bloodborne that got passed during the fight. That’s why you need to get Curtis when we get back.”

“You can’t help him?”

“I’ve done all I can, Spook.” You groaned and shimmied out of the rest of the suit to change for your regular pants.

“Is he gonna die?”

“No… He’s too stubborn.”

[fearfortear]

the idol was hot ass but i will say that the soundtrack is so ... dare i say .. a bop

[leeloooonfire]

based on this post about Steve's internalized bi-phobia:

Steve has known for years.

And how could he not when Tommy's freckles come back tenfold each spring like a flower peaking it's head through the last layer of snow? Or when Matthew Carver's hair have a reddish brown tone that turns blond after they spent the last days before summer break practising outside and remind Steve of liquid gold? Or when he watches Star Wars and Harrison Ford, rugged and witty, comes into view and twists his stomach in knots? How could he not know?!

Steve knows he finds guys as attractive as girls, known for many, many years. But.

But he can't. Not when Tommy sneers at that boy in their literature class who likes flamboyant clothes and wants to be an actor on Broadway. Not when the people they meet in Indi who are like Robin and Eddie 'fully queer' and talk about people like Steve as if they're traitors and scams. Not when he reads the newspaper and is assaulted by Reagan and his folk preaching about the 'fag pandemic' or how his father nods in approval and mutters 'another sinner gone for good' when the news play on TV and they occasionally mention the crisis that kills people like Robin and Eddie and him.

Like him....

It doesn't matter how much he loves sleeping with his nose pressed against Eddie's collarbone or that he thinks he'd like to kiss Eddie and hold his hands and wake up beside him until they're old and wrinkly and complain about bad knees.

He is, but he cannot be a queer, half a fairy '50% like me, 50% like Eddie' as Robin jokes.

He will not be a bisexual, he can keep it inside, keep it hidden, buried deep inside him no matter how much it pains him. He can be the straight friend who goes to pride and bakes rainbow cakes and marries a woman even though his heart screams in an ear ringing cacophony, 'Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie!'

This is how his 20s go: loud and hurting and yearning and hiding and more noticeably being disgusted and ashamed of himself for simply being able to love men the way he can love women.

He's 29 when his wife, Becky, leaves him. It's not just Eddie and this shameful secret that weights heavy on their relationship, but the scars and all the other secrets he is unable to explain to her that drive Becky finally away - back to Boston. She leaves him alone in that tiny house they bought three years ago with their Saint Bernard puppy they lovingly named Bernadette.

He's 30 when he goes to a coffee meeting of the bisexual group meeting in Chicago, nearly turning the car multiple times, hands and knees sweaty with fear that they won't want him there. They do want him there, welcome him with open arms, and talk about things Steve knows all too well: 'When I fell in love with the first girl, I ran. I like men just fine, so I hid my crush. It's just easier, when your parents hate gays, when the world is shaming our community, when we're dying.' He finds a second home there, and learns - learns about queerness and bisexuality, about trans and gender non conforming people and physical attraction versus emotional attraction. He learns about his past and present and about his future, about their history and where they want to go, how they want to mold their world to fit people like them into it without the pain and the hiding.

Steve is 33 when he finally comes out to everyone dear to him. To the kids who aren't kids anymore and to Joyce and Hopper, and then his parents. this does not go well, but Steve doesn't want, doesn't need their validation anymore. He has his family, his friends, his support system who love him not regardless of his sexuality but because of it, love him because it's part of him. He comes out to Becky, too and that goes much better. they want to be friends, in the future. She's also met Gary who works the the NY Times and wants her to follow him into the big city. So Steve is looking forward how that goes, their tentative friendship.

He is 34 when Eddie comes back from his latest world tour and wants to take a break to rekindle with his uncle, to write new songs, to take a breather. It's only natural that Eddie moves into Steve's guest room and takes over his space on the couch where he cuddles Bernadette while Steve is in the kitchen and makes them grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner.

Its even more natural when their feet meet while watching a movie and they lean into each other in the kitchen, dawn barely there, while they wait for the coffee maker to finish.

Steve's 35 when Eddie finally kisses him and he kisses back. No hurt, no shame, no guilt gnawing on him, Steve finally allows himself to be with the person he truly wants - regardless of their gender.

[scftlightz]

🫧@youngcvlture┊monica&emery

[scftlightz]

tap. ( em and monica )

answered here!

[anundyingfidelity]

PRIVATE LESSONS – Sanji x female reader

Summary: on what is supposed to be another of your private cooking lessons, you and Sanji get closer... in a very intimate way.

Pairing: Sanji x female reader.

Word count: 2k.

Warnings: pure fucking, dirty, obscene fingerfucking smut, some plot, heavy hand kink, eye contact, language (also reader thinks herself as a slut at some point), fingering, cum play(?), semi-public, praising, pet names (darling, sweetheart, good girl...).

Notes: this is just full of smut so yeah. Idk, this is my realization that I am a Sanji whore. Enjoy you sinners. And I'm sorry for any errors as English is not my main language. (I'll keep apologizing for this lol).

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

Probably will make a part 2 to consumate this shit, but I can't promise I will...

GEN MASTERLIST!

Months ago, you started at the Baratie as a waitress but your biggest wish was cooking. And Sanji was there to help you with that. You had absolutely no idea how to start, lucky for you, the blonde chef of the restaurant was aware of your dreams. So you started lessons after your shift.

"Can't deny the wishes of a pretty thing like you," you remembered Sanji saying when you finally asked him to teach you. He winked and put a playful smirk on his lips.

Yes, Sanji was a flirt - but he was a flirt with everyone. So you never took personally his random comments and hits, until you started your cooking classes.

The Baratie was always closed and there was no one but Sanji and you in the kitchen. He had started with the basic stuff, like chopping vegetables and soft meat, and making easy entries and sidedishes.

There was a problem though. This was almost the fourth week you were receiving his lessons and you found out there was something distracting you a lot recently: his hands.

His beautiful, strong hands, that, in a delicate manner, would slice a fish and would convert it in the most delicious dish you ever tasted ever. You became so immersed in his hands doing little to nothing. Even if Sanji wasn't cooking, just fixing his hair or having a cigarrette, everything you could keep your focus on was his beautiful fingers, sometimes wearing pretty rings and jewels around them. And the way the veins on his big hands would appear... Gods, your mind started to wonder a lot of things and it was becoming difficult keeping your focus on the special salad you were preparing that night.

"You're doing great, love," Sanji whispered, staying right behind you and monitoring carefully your chopping like an inspector.

His sweet words were no help for you at all. With a deep breath, you finished with the last eggplant. Sanji immediately came closer and leaned behind your back, and you controled the loud gasp that was about to burst. You felt his strong body pressed against your own, and he suddenly grabbed your hand still holding the knife to start chopping a small piece of the eggplant you just finished. His arms were now sorrounding your figure as he guided softly on how you were supposed to cut it.

"Just make sure to cut them like this, see?"

All you could give was a nod. Fuck, you felt so embarrassed, hypnotized by his hands working on the must mundane activities in the whole world, grabbing firmly the knife between his fingers.

Those thick fingers you fantasized about late at night; not letting you pay attention to the important things Sanji would say to you about cooking. Those fingers you wished to have inside you right now, to lick them, to suck on them until they were completely dry... You rub your thighs together and try to keep your thoughts locked to continue with the lesson.

"Yeah, I see now. Thanks, Sanji," you were surprised you were actually able to talk.

You heard his chuckle behind you before shifting and come by your side, leaving you free of his grip and the warmth of his hands that you were already missing.

"Lets plate then."

Sanji guided you on how to place each ingredient on the bowl, making it harder for you to follow his pace. It took longer than you expected, but you were trying to keep your shit together; your skirt and shirt suddenly felt too tight on your figure and you tried to not rub your thighs, even if you wished for some friction right now.

Once the bowl was done, Sanji took the small plate with the sauce you prepared earlier and gave it a delicate taste, licking the spoon with his tongue.

Why did he look so hot just by doing anything? Was he aware of the effect he had in you lately? Was he teasing you? Or where you just hot and bothered already? No answer you had for any of those questions.

Sanji wrinkled his brows, savoring the sauce with such delicacy, and after a moment or so of thinking he looked at you.

"I think something is missing," he said.

"What? I put everything that was on the recipe for the sauce." In a swift move, you took the spoon from his hand and had a taste yourself. "Seems okay for me."

The chef tsked. "Darling, you need to taste it differently. Deeper, go further than usual."

Sanji dipped his forefinger on the sauce and brought it to your lips. With hesitation, you opened your mouth and licked the sauce from his finger, not only tasting the sauce but savouring the moment. Was he aware of how you looked at his hands? You were not going to question it. Not when you carefully wrapped your soft lips around him, closing your eyes slowly, arousal building up between your legs. His words were no help either, it was like if he was testing the waters and so were you.

You felt Sanji pulling out his finger from your mouth and you let out a soft moan. You wanted to snap yourself. He smirked, he obviously heard your pretty noise.

"Sorry..." you were ashamed but the burning desire was growing and winning over you. What a fucking slut, you thought to yourself. It didn't matter right now. You just had a taste of his fingers.

"So what'd you say?" Sanji interrupted the voice inside your head.

Your dark eyes looked intensely his charming blue ones. "I still think the taste is good."

Sanji leaned down, almost brushing your lips and looking like if he was forcing himself to not press his lips to yours right there and then. Until he did. He captured your lips in a heated and rough kiss, his tongue finding its way into your mouth and tasting the sauce and the sweetness of your plump lips. One of his hands cupped your cheek and the other pulled you closer, forcing your back to press against the counter. Now, you were trapped between his body and the surface.

A moan escaped your throat and Sanji happily swallowed it on the heated make out session you shared. He lifted you up so you were sitting on the empty side of the counter, taking shallow breaths, as he stood between your parted legs, stroking the skin of your thighs without any rush.

"I've noticed you look at my hands so attentively," he mumbled, biting your lower lip softly. You gasped, but he continued. "Why's that?"

His question left you speechless for a moment. Did he really need to ask?

"Sanji, I already licked your finger..."

His palms traced their way under your skirt, and his fingers teased your inner thighs, finding the fabric covering your wet core.

"Well, darling, doesn't that mean we can go further? Deeper?"

"Go ahead then," you mumbled, full of lust. Your skin was aching already for him and this was all you needed to feel complete. Him.

With that, his fingers rubbed you softly over your panties, pressing on the wet patch you were already making. Sanji smirked and he leaned to pay attention to the delicate skin on your neck. His lips pressed soft kisses, leaving a trail of them, until he found the sweet spot that made you melt into his touch, nibbling and sliding his tongue against your neck until he met your collarbone.

"Sanji..." the soft whimper past your lips and you held your breath, eyes closed as he hiked up your uniform skirt and puts aside the panties covering your core from him.

His name falling off your lips made his cock inside his trousers twitch, restraining himself to not fuck you right there in the counter until the only thing that was on your mind was his name and only him. Right now, he decided he would take care of you first. As you deserved it.

"So fucking wet for me, sweetheart," he groaned, forehead pressing against yours.

His fingers found your pussy, spreading your folds softly, coating them with your already dripping juices. Sanji rubbed your clit and he teased your entrance, going at an agonizing rhythm. All you wanted was for him to fuck you with his fingers. Now. You started to grind your hips, needing some more friction, knowing he would get the hint of your despair.

"Please, Sanji," you whined.

Sanji chuckled, and you felt pathetic for begging. You could tell he was enjoying your squirm. His free hand cupped the nape of your neck forcing your dark eyes to look at his own directly.

"Look at me," Sanji ordered. "Do not dare to close your eyes, darling."

You bit your lip and nodded, gripping tightly the edge of the counter.

"Good girl," he whispered with a raspy voice, and with a lustful smile on his lips. "I want to see you come undone."

And with his statement, he eased one digit inside your velvety walls. You moaned louder this time.

"Fuck, you're so ready for me," Sanji growled, noticing how obvious the ache between your thighs was. "You're perfect, darling," he cooed against your lips. His praising caused your walls to clench around him, gaining another dark smile from the blonde man.

The thrusts of his finger started in a delicate pace. Instantly, your eyes clenched, breath hitching, as he filled you up. Sanji gradually increased his pace, curling his finger to reach your deepest spot, and you felt your juices coating your thighs with his moves.

"You look at me, don't forget," Sanji whispered, his other hand now cupping your cheek. You obeyed, opening your eyes for him.

A second finger made its way inside your cunt and he pumped them harder this time. Your legs were spreading wider, moaning against his lips, dying to kiss him one more time. But you tried your hardest to mantain the deep eye contact, realizing where you were right now. In the empty kitchen of the Baratie, with the blonde chef between your legs, fucking you with his pretty fingers. Those he protected and took care of so attentively.

And now, the only place Sanji wanted to have his fingers on was inside of you. You looked flushed, sweaty and simply gorgeous, cyring and whimpering. All for him. Your pussy was throbbing and you let a rather loud and erotic moan.

"Shit, I'm so close," you cried.

"Just come for me, beautiful..."

His lips catching your swollen ones in a heated kiss. He curled up his fingers, thumb rubbing your clit softly. Your hips trying to meet the thrusts of his hand desperately, your smooth walls clenching around his digits. Sanji realized he enjoyed the control and power he had over you as you reached your heavenly climax. He loved it more than he could ever think of.

Your body trembled, and finally, you felt sweet release hitting you, walls spasming in ecstasy around his fingers. Foreheads still touching, eyes locked as he watched you come undone. Exactly like he wanted it to be.

You moaned his name under your breath over and over, filled with pleassure. Sanji felt your thighs closing and your pussy contracting around his digits. He let you catch your breath for a moment, enjoying the heat of your body. For the first time, Sanji then pulled away his forehead, remaining still between your legs, and slowly removing his fingers from your throbbing cunt, eyes looking directly to your wetness.

Still covered with your juices, Sanji used both his hands to spread your folds obscenely to get a better look at your pussyhole. Fuck, you felt so exposed to him, but you couldn't care less. You had a mindblowing orgasm just moments ago.

"Fuck-" you cried.

"So beautiful," he praised. Again, you whimpered and your hips bucked a little.

Sanji pushed a finger slowly inside you, just to gather more of your sweetness, so he could finally have a taste. He licked both fingers he used on you before, humming like he had found the best meal in days.

"So how is it?" you finally asked, teasing him.

"Sweetheart, you're delicious."

You laughed softly, realising you totally forgot about the dish you were preparing that night. "Is this included on your private lessons, Sanji?"

"Only if you want," he leaned down to share a last kiss, this time more gentle than the others.

He already knew your answer.

[isalisewrites]

A Deep Dive into JKR's Terrible, Amateur Writing - Part One

Welcome to my new series, where I will prove to you, dear reader, that J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series and resident Twitter TERF, is actually a very, very poor writer.

And when I say 'poor writer,' I'm talking about her prose, her sentence structure, and her scenes. I am not going to discuss anything about the HP world nor the plots of the books.

This is all about the nitty gritty in the craft of writing itself.

Disclaimer for all readers: I'm going to sound very confident in my posts. I'm going to be working under the assumption that I'm a better writer than JKR. Because I am. My apologies if this rubs you the wrong way. You're just witnessing two and half decades of experience with the intensity from a neurodivergent who is hyperfocused on her special interest. I didn't just learn how to create stories; I learned the craft of writing to a minutia of details.

After years of being beaten down by others, I will no longer tolerate that.

I will be using my writing to compare with hers to make some of my points. Some of what I say in these posts could be considered stylistic choices. However, in my humble opinion, most of this is a difference of skill, which can be learned. Yes, everything I'm going to teach and cover in this series can be learned. There's no 'talent' here. You can learn how to become a better writer right here and now. You only have to understand the craft of writing and sentence structure to better improve your prose and scenes.

I don't have fame and money.

I don't need them to teach you how to write better than JKR.

You're free to disagree with my stances about this and about everything I cover, of course. But if you're a writer, you might gain some insight from this post and I sincerely hope you are enriched by my efforts in this. I spent quite a few hours on this post. Helping others become a better writer than JKR is one of the greatest contributions I can give to society.

Thus, take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

I have stated before: JKR's writing is bloated in the wrong places, underwritten in others, and the prose is poor. These problems show up in all of her HP books.

Buckle up, my writing friends. Grab a snack. Hydrate. Let's begin.

Class is in session.

In this post, we're going to dissect a page from HP4.

There's so much wrong with this page and the three pages of this scene overall. So much to go over. Bullet points I'll cover from this page:

Disconnected Dialogue Lines

The Great Sin of Adverbs

Too much fucking dialogue!

Wrong focus altogether in this scene

Out of POV writing

First point. This is a huge ongoing issue I see in all of the HP books. There are a lot of disconnected dialogue lines, which become confusing over time. This could be an issue of the publisher, but it's still a problem. In the middle of this page, we have:

Sirius hesitated. "I've been hearing some very strange things," he said slowly.

Wait, wait, wait. Who said this? Listen, I know. I know it's Sirius. However, this is an improper placement on the page and can become confusing because Harry also goes by he/him pronouns and he's also in this scene. While the dialogue here suggests Sirius is talking, it could easily be misinterpreted if there were other characters or if he said something that Harry could've just as easily said.

To make this dialogue more clear for the reader, it should go as follows:

Sirius hesitated. "I've been hearing some very strange things," he said slowly.

Second point. JKR is an adverb sinner, a criminal. Jail. "Do not pass go; do not collect $200." Arrest her for these blatant crimes, please, for the love of god.

Look, I love adverbs. They're great. Don't fucking listen to anyone who outright demonizes them (including your huffy, uppity literature professors). Adverbs are the seasonings of writing. You season your food; you also need to season your writing when the case asks for it.

However...

Adverbs should always be used sparingly when connected to dialogue tags. The setting in this scene is: Harry is in the Gryffindor Common Room at night crouched in front of the fireplace where Sirius is in the fire in a floo call. I read through the whole scene, though I've only shown one page here.

Harry says a line of dialogue 'slowly' three times and Sirius says a line of dialogue 'slowly' two times.

The same adverb 'slowly' is used FIVE FUCKING TIMES IN THREE PAGES.

I want to scream, not gonna lie here. Set this adverb on fire!

What does this adverb do for us in this conversation? What is so important that we have to be told that five lines of dialogue were said slowly? What do they contribute? Spoiler alert: nothing. What are their facial expressions? Harry is 14. He's exhausted since it's well after 1am or so and he's burdened with the new knowledge of dragons for the first task. He's kneeling in front of a very hot fireplace. There's fire fumes and smoke, potentially. Is he fidgeting? Is he yawning? Rubbing his eyes? Bouncing a leg? Is he picking at the carpet or rug?

Harry is a tired, burdened child.

Show me this!

Now I'm not saying that you can't use adverbs in your dialogue tags. There's a huge difference between "he said softly" and "he whispered." It's about balancing the moment when an adverb says just enough versus an adverb replacing well needed scene enrichment. Let's compare this with a section from my HP time travel fanfiction, Terrible, But Great, Chapter Thirty.

Dumbledore nodded at Monty, pocketing his wand. “Mr. Potter.” “Lo, Professor,” said Monty, pout gone, but still a watchful light in his gaze. “Is there a problem?” asked Dumbledore in a mild tone. Ice slipped in between Tom’s ribs, piercing his flesh. Monty tilted his head. “No, sir.” Oh, but Tom knew better. He could see through that innocent facade. The man could’ve been a Slytherin for how much he was cataloguing every little detail, from Tom’s appearance, to the content of the selected books, and to the supplies of ink, quill, and parchment scattered on the surface of the table. Tom masked the raw, whirling feelings in his chest with a well practiced blank, emotionless expression. He willed himself to hide.  “Nothing at all, sir,” said Tom lightly. “Young Mr. Potter was regaling me about his friendship with Miss Malfoy.” Monty glanced at Tom, brows furrowing. Those blue eyes were piercing, filled with suspicion. “Was he now?” Dumbledore said; though his tone was still without direct accusation, Tom could hear the hint of it. “Then, may I ask, why a silencing charm was necessary for such a benign conversation?” Tom wet his lips. His throat was dry. “I thought it wise to avoid disturbing others in the library.” “I am awfully loud,” said Monty with a sage nod. “Ah. A noble intent. However, it is not an appropriate use of magic in the library,” said Dumbledore, his gaze firm as it bore down on Tom. “Ten points from Slytherin. I think it’d be wise to take your studies to your common room, Mr. Riddle.” “Yes, sir,” whispered Tom.

I only used "said Tom lightly" once in this section to show Tom attempting to be unaffected by Dumbledore's interference. I did not dialogue dump information in giant chunks. I did utilized actions tags versus adverbs, like Monty tilting his head or Tom licking his lips. I suspect that if JKR had written this scene, she'd have used lines like:

"No, sir," said Monty curiously.

or

"I thought it wise to avoid disturbing others in the library," said Tom nervously.

The adverbs that JKR's uses add nothing to her scenes. They're just thrown into them without a thought. Did she even reread this scene after she wrote it? I cringe in agony if I use an uncommon word more than three or four times in an entire 4,000 to 7,000 word chapter, let alone the same adverb five times in three pages. Good grief.

There are two other adverbs used in this page, hastily and bitterly. Hastily does nothing for the scene and is connected to another issue, but I'll go over that in the end. However, bitterly is one of the adverbs I'd keep. It gives us a glimpse into Harry's feelings here. We need more of this, but we got nothing.

Thus, the overuse of adverbs in JKR's dialogue detracts and steals so much from the scene.

Third point: there's too much dialogue and no description whatsoever. Again, the adverbs are a pathetic attempt to give us something, but they're thrown in there without a damn forethought. We're missing the crackle of the fire and the smell of it. We're missing Sirius' facial expressions. We're missing Harry moving around on the floor, fidgeting, yawning, rubbing his eyes, feeling the heat of the fire, bouncing his legs, picking at the rug, something, anything, etc.

The dialogue is bloated with a terribly boring conversation. It's just endless dialogue with nothing else. No, it's awful. Welcome to the fourth bullet point. This scene focuses on the entirely wrong point. This scene is 100% a plot device and it's terribly done as well. It's three pages about Karkaroff being a Death Eater--oh no he might be trying to kill you, Harry, aaaaaa--and something about Bertha Jorkins being near Voldemort's last location. Meh. Who cares. Somebody has been trying to kill Harry in every book thus far. This isn't a new development, sweetie.

We been done know this, okay? Come on.

This is a stilted, unnatural conversation between Harry and Sirius. It's not realistic. It's not normal. Telling Harry about the Karkaroff's past is boring and does nothing for him. One line, maybe two, for Sirius to say, "Hey, keep an eye out for Karkaroff. He's an old Death Eater." Done. End of Karkaroff information. And cut Bertha Jorkins out altogether. I'm sorry, but why the hell are we talking about a dead woman to a 14 year old kid whose biggest problem at the moment is dealing with a jealous friend, school ostracization, and a giant fire breathing lizard???

These points are important to the plot, but they're not important to Harry.

The plot isn't important. No, it's not.

Harry is the POV character.

Harry is the single most important aspect in every scene and should be treated as such.

The plot should weave around Harry, slowly revealing itself to both Harry and the reader. Harry should not be the weaver of the plot. He should not be used in plot devices.

Do you know what part of the conversation was summarized in the prose between Harry and Sirius in a single paragraph versus the three pages about Karkaroff?

Harry talking about how no one believes him about not putting his name in the Goblet of Fire. About the school hating him. About Ron, about his betrayal and his jealousy. About Rita Skeeter. About seeing the dragons as the first task. These are all important to Harry. These all are causing pain to Harry's heart right now. Somebody give this child a hug, please.

We missed out on exploring Harry's feelings here. The author skips the MOST important part of the conversation, what could've been a deeply emotional, either positive or negative, conversation between Harry and Sirius.

Oh, this scene could've been so good. It could've been amazing. There are so many paths that could've been explored here, too.

We could've had a callous Sirius, who doesn't notice Harry's state of being, and just goes on and on about nothing of importance where Harry clams up. Or we've could've had a comforting Sirius, who attempts to give Harry some actual advice about his friendship with Ron. We could've seen Harry opening up in his body language, connecting with this parental figure in his life. We could've heard a story of Sirius' time as a kid at school with Harry's father and the marauders.

We were robbed of an important moment between Harry and Sirius.

Instead, the author puts the focus on the red herring 'foreshadowing' of Karkaroff. What a waste. She's trying to put suspicion on him, rather than Moody/Barty Crouch Jr., the real Death Eater in disguise. Again, who cares. It's not about them. It's about Harry and how his experiences are affecting him. It's about how he reacts to them.

This scene is a waste of time and paper. It's empty of emotion and movement/flow. It's just there for a set up and it's glaringly obvious during a second read of the book.

When I say, "The writing is bloated and underwritten at the same time." this is what I mean. We're focusing on the wrong things here.

Fifth point. JKR breaks the POV character with the following line:

"--and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, "but...

Harry is the POV character. Sirius 'seeing Harry about to speak' should NOT be occurring in the prose whatsoever. To fix this with the bare minimum of effort for this poorly written dialogue line:

"--and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts--" Harry opened his mouth to interject, but Sirius said hastily, "Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm, but..."

I wouldn't write these lines like this, by the way. I just don't want to rewrite this. It's a poor paragraph overall, but this is an example of returning the POV back to Harry. Sirius isn't 'seeing' anything anymore. Harry is doing an action and Sirius reacts to his action.

Breaking POV is a rule that can be occasionally broken, but should be done so with intent and purpose. I'm pretty confident when I say that JKR probably had no idea that this was a mistake on her part in the prose.

All right then.

We have come to an end of Part One in this series. We have dissected a single page and a single scene in JKR's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. The page in question is 333 should you wish to look it up and study the scene yourself.

More to follow because I have lots of pages to go over. This will definitely be series, ah dear.

And so, please do the world the greatest of favors and write better than J.K. Rowling. I promise, it's not that hard once you see the differences.

Until next time.

Isa