#you can be mad about things and disagree with things and not be an asshole about it it's really very simple

[piratefalls]

y'all, if you don't even like the premise of a fic, never mind its content, and you possess the ability to scroll past it, you should probably just...do that. instead of putting authors on blast for writing a thing you don't agree with.

[fireinmoonshot]

the hard way | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: You and Tyler Owens have a bad habit of butting heads, but all it takes is one hint of jealousy and things change in the blink of an eye. Warnings: Tyler is lowkey an asshole, but reader can be too, there is a creepy guy that tries to come onto reader and puts his hands on her. Word Count: 4.2k A/N: I rewatched the original Twister movie today and got this idea while watching it and then it all just came out of my head onto the page and here we have it! I had so much fun writing this, it's honestly one of my favourite Tyler fics I've done so far. I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for all the love on my Twisters fics so far!

“Oh, here we go again,” Boone says, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you walking towards Tyler, your laptop in your hands. Judging by the look on your face, you have something fairly important to show Tyler – and Boone knows Tyler won’t be happy about it.

Dani sighs beside him, her legs kicked up on their cooler from their spot at the motel. It’s late at night and none of the storms had turned into anything today, leading to a very long day for all of you. You’d driven hundreds of miles only to end up with no new footage.

“How long do you think it’ll take him to get mad?” Dani asks.

“He’s just spotted her and he already looks annoyed, so I’d guess straight away.”

They watch on from a distance as you finally reach Tyler. You move to stand beside him so he can see the screen of your laptop. “I was right after all,” you glance up at him. “See this? That storm was never going to amount to anything and even the radar showed it dying out. We could have saved ourselves half a tank of gas and a few hours if you’d listened to me.”

Tyler rolls his eyes and looks away from your laptop, trying to focus on not burning the dinner he’s been cooking the team on the barbecue that the motel has. “Okay, I get it. But I can’t go back in time and listen to you, so will you just drop it? I’ve had to listen to this all day. You’re drivin’ me insane, sunshine’.”

“Well, if you had listened to me, I wouldn’t have kept bugging you about it, T.”

It’s never been smooth sailing between you and Tyler. You get along most of the time, sure – you have to when you’re working together. But you also tend to butt heads more often than not. With both of you having studied meteorology, you’re the only two members of the team with formal training, which means you often have differing opinions on your interpretations of the weather and the forecasts. 

You disagree with Tyler, he disagrees with you and the rest of the Wranglers watch on, both amused and irritated at the fact that the two of you just can’t seem to work together sometimes. There are, of course, times when you can deal with it. But today… well, Boone had been glad to get out of the car at the end of the day and distance himself from the two of you.

He swears he’s not riding with you both tomorrow.

“If I listen to you now, will you stop bugging me still?” Tyler looks at you.

With a scowl, you slam your laptop shut and hold it under your arm. “If you listen to me tomorrow, then I might stop bugging you. I am not having another failed day chasing because of your inability to choose which storms to follow.”

Tyler sighs. “Why do you always have to do things the hard way?”

You huff and walk away, heading back over to the rest of the team. You grab a drink out of the cooler and sit down on the tailgate of Tyler’s truck, sitting your laptop beside you. The other members of the team watch you cautiously, like you’re a brewing storm that could become a tornado at any moment.

“Anyone wanna take my spot in the truck tomorrow? I’ll ride elsewhere,” you offer.

Boone stares at you for a moment. “You promise?”

You make a face at Boone and take a sip of your drink. “Yes, I promise,” you say. “I’m sorry you had to listen to all that today. God, he just drives me up the wall sometimes. I don’t know how he expects us to continue running this damn Youtube channel or get the research we need if we don’t get the right storms to chase.”

“Hey, no Tyler talk while you’re over here,” Dani pipes up. “This is a safe zone.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter, lapsing into silence just as Dexter, Lily and Kate re-join the group, having headed upstairs to their rooms to refresh themselves before coming back down for dinner. You watch as Kate heads over to help Tyler out.

By the time the two of them bring dinner over to you, you’ve managed to cool off a fair amount and are now discussing the forecast for tomorrow with Dexter, who is leant up against the truck, looking at your laptop over your shoulder. 

“Burgers are ready,” Kate announces as they place the tray of them on the small camp table that someone had set up earlier in the evening. “We worked real hard on them.”

You’re surprised when Tyler picks up two paper plates, puts a burger on each of them and then walks over to you, handing one of them to you before taking the seat beside you on the tailgate. 

“Truce?” He says, looking across at you. “I’m sorry ‘bout today, I mean it.”

Your lips quirk up into a smile. “You promise you didn’t poison my burger?”

Tyler chuckles. “No, not unless Kate put something in there that I didn’t see.”

“Okay, then. Truce,” you nod. “But I’m not riding with you tomorrow.”

He raises his eyebrows just as he takes a bite of his burger. It takes him a few moments to reply, refusing to speak with a mouth full of food – something his mother had instilled in him from a very young age. “What? Why? You’re not still that mad at me, are you?”

“No, I just need a change of scenery or I’m worried I’ll run you off the road. I saw the way you got today when you got distracted cause I was arguing with you. It’ll be good for us to cool off and get a break from each other.”

From across the group, Boone adds “I think you just want to argue over the radio, actually. That’s what you mean by a change of scenery, isn’t it?” His voice is teasing.

“Funny,” you narrow your eyes at him.

“You can ride with me and Lily tomorrow,” Kate changes the subject ever so slightly. “Boone can ride with Tyler. Just like old times, right?”

You look at Tyler, expecting him to be happy with the idea of you riding with the others tomorrow so you don’t bother him all day, but instead he looks concerned. His eyebrows are knotted together and the look on his face shows he’s displeased. 

“Ty?”

He blinks and the look disappears off of his face. “Yeah, go for it. Boone and I’ll be right, hey buddy?” He raises his beer in a cheers to Boone, who does the same thing. “Don’t miss me too much from the other car though.”

“Me, missing you? I think you should try not to miss me, T.”

Tyler grins. “Easier said than done, sunshine.”

The following morning it feels strange to be getting into a car that’s not Tyler’s red truck. It’s your usual mode of transport. Your seat is the passenger seat and it has been for most of the chases in the past, except for ones where footage was the primary purpose of the chase and not research. 

You’re just lifting your bag up into the trunk of Lily’s car when Tyler swoops in behind you and helps you lift it – as if it weighed more than it actually did, as if you were actually having trouble with it. You turn around, eyebrows raised. 

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Tyler grins. “Haven’t had a sudden change of heart, I see?”

“Not happening,” you smile in return. “You’ll be fine without me. You and Boone will be able to catch up like old times. And don’t worry, if we disagree on something, I’ll be sure to let you know about it over the radio anyway. I have Kate on my side today.”

Tyler laughs. “Oh, double whammy. I’m in danger today, aren’t I?”

Kate appears from the other side of the car, putting her own bag in beside yours. She wraps an arm around your shoulders and shoots a smile at Tyler. “You’re gonna regret letting her ride in a car other than yours today, Tyler. A day driving with Lily and I… she’s gonna be a changed woman by the time she gets back in your truck tomorrow.”

“That’s if I even want to get back in his truck, Kate.”

He stares at the two of you and then shakes his head and laughs to himself. “Okay, I’m getting Boone and getting out of here before Lily shows up and you guys gang up on me even more,” he turns and heads for his truck. “Drive safe, all right?”

You and Kate both laugh, watching him as he walks towards his truck, Boone joining him on the way there. Dani and Dexter aren’t far behind him, hopping into the van, and Lily comes bounding down the steps after them, her bag over her own shoulder. 

“We ready for today, ladies!?” She calls loudly from across the lot. 

“Let’s do this!” Kate matches her energy.

You take the back seat, feeling incredibly out of place in the car as Lily starts the engine and follows the other two cars out of the parking lot, leaving the motel behind. It’s smaller in this car compared to Tyler’s, and as you pull your laptop out of your bag and get the radar up on it to get another look at the storm you’d all chosen earlier in the morning, you wonder if you made the right choice.

You’ve been on the road for two hours, heading for a storm north of you when you look down at the radar again and see that it’s gotten smaller – not becoming the larger storm you were all hoping for and certainly not likely to produce a tornado. It’s your job to reach up and grab the radio from between Lily and Kate in the front seats to inform the others. 

“The storm’s shrinking, I think we should pull into a gas station and regroup,” you tell the others through the radio, already preparing yourself for the response.

It comes through almost instantly. Tyler, laughing, then his voice: “What was that you were saying to me last night about listening to you? Guess you’re off your game, darlin’.”

Kate grabs the radio off of you before you can say anything else. “Okay, we all chose this storm together, Tyler. Let’s not throw accusations around and not over the radio.” 

You’re unaware that in the truck, Boone is telling Tyler off for the exact same thing. 

“Thanks, Kate,” you reach forward and squeeze her shoulder as she hands the radio back to you. “Next gas station, let’s pull in and we can all look at the radar together. I don’t think we’re gonna get anything massive in the time it takes us to regroup.” 

“You sure about that, sunshine?” Tyler’s voice comes through the radio again. “I don’t know if we can trust your ability to forecast the weather anym–” His voice cuts off abruptly.

“Sorry ‘bout him,” You hear Boone say shortly after. “We’ll see you at the gas station.”

You give the radio back to Kate and lean back in your seat, sighing as you look out the window at the blue sky and the clouds scattered around it. How could he have been perfectly tolerable last night during dinner, help you with your bag this morning and yet be so irritating? You hadn’t even said anything to spur him on. 

It’s about an hour later by the time you reach the next gas station and you’re grateful when you can get out and stretch your legs. Lily and Kate both head for the bathroom while you head inside to order some drinks and food for the three of you. You don’t bother to wait for Tyler when you see him hop out of his truck. 

He makes his way up to you once you’re inside, waiting for your drinks to be made.

“How’s the other car goin’?” Tyler asks, nudging your shoulder gently.

You look at him, arms crossed over your chest, and look away, choosing to say nothing.

“Come on, sunshine. You’re seriously ignoring me? Where’s that fiery attitude of yours? Just cause you’re in another car doesn’t mean you can’t give me shit right back when I give it to you,” he tries. 

But you’re not interested in the slightest. His words had been uncalled for – especially when you’d moved to another car in an attempt to diffuse the tension between the two of you, and he’d just brought it right back up.

The waitress slides the drinks over the counter and calls your name just as Lily and Kate exit the bathroom, heading straight for you. 

“Can you guys watch my drink? I need to go grab my phone from the car,” you tell them.

Lily and Kate happily take your drink, moving to stand beside Tyler and make conversation with him as you head back outside to grab your phone. You don’t really need it that badly, it’d be perfectly fine to leave in the car till you headed back outside anyway, but it was your way of getting out of a conversation with Tyler. Not that it really was much of a conversation anyway.

When your phone is in hand, you make no hurry to walk back inside the gas station. You make note of several other storm chasers in the parking lot and filling up their cars with gas. It’s a popular stretch of road for chasers and you assume several of them had been chasing the same storm as you and had realised it was going to be a bust.

You almost bump into one of them as you’re heading back inside. You recognise him instantly. He’s in one of the more well known teams, one of the Wranglers rivals and one of the many other groups of chasers that think you guys are just in it for the money you get from the Youtube videos rather than a genuine love of weather and chasing.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite Tornado Wrangler,” Xavier flashes a smile at you and holds the door open for you to enter, following in after you. “Bit of tension in the group, I hear.”

You frown, unsure about his words meaning, when he continues.

“One of my guys was switching frequencies in the van and got yours on accident. We, uh, we heard your little… disagreement with Owens,” he admits. “I promise we weren’t listening in on purpose. That’s the last thing I’d wanna do. But y’know… open channels and all.”

You can’t help but cringe at his words and let out an awkward laugh. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Xavier. It’s nothing a little time and a successful storm won’t fix, anyway. I think everyone in the chasing community knows Tyler and I butt heads nearly every day.” 

“Butt heads? Honey, that sounded a lot more like an intentional insult to me.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No, Tyler wouldn’t do that.”

Hearing that Xavier thought Tyler’s words were an insult is the kick you need to make you realise that they weren’t. Tyler was the type to get on your nerves, that was true. But the type to intentionally insult you in an attempt to hurt your feelings? He would never do that.

Xavier gives you an unimpressed look. “Listen, honey – we have a spot available in our team and it’s yours if you want it,” He reaches out and places a hand on your waist, almost making you flinch at the action. You resist the urge to hit his hand off. “You have the degree to prove you know what you’re doing and I think we both know you’re wasting your time with the Wranglers. Especially proven that their leader seems to treat you like something on the bottom of his shoe… me, on the other hand, well… I’d treat you better.”

You try your hardest to control your expression, not wanting to come across the wrong way or to make a scene in front of everyone in the gas station – your team, his team and the several other teams and general patrons all milling about and eating their mid-day feed. Even though you feel uncomfortable as all hell and would love nothing more than to deliver a swift punch to his nose and book it straight back out the door. 

“Listen, Xavier,” you take a step closer to him and almost cringe at the way his lips move up into a smile at your closer proximity. “I wouldn’t join your team if it was the last storm chasing team on earth. If you think I’m wasting my time with my team, I hate to think how much time I’d waste on yours. I’ve seen how much time you spend looking in your car mirrors. If you didn’t know, the tornadoes don’t actually care how your hair looks.” You reach up and pat his chest condescendingly. “And if I hear you say one more bad word about Tyler Owens, I’ll make sure the whole chasing community knows about what happened here today, how you tried to come onto me just to get me to join your team. Trust me, it won’t end well for you.”

You don’t waste anymore time in removing his hand from your waist and leaving him standing alone as you head back over to your group. Kate and Lily are watching you from right where you left them, though Tyler isn’t with them anymore. 

Kate hands you your drink. “You all right? What the hell was that?”

“Just Xavier being an asshole,” you mutter, risking a look over your shoulder to see that he’s gone to join the rest of his group. You hope he’s seething and embarrassed by your words. “I dealt with him though.” 

You can’t shake the uncomfortable feeling still running through your body, though. You try and take a sip of your coffee to calm yourself down. It doesn’t work, really only making you feel more jittery and strange. 

“I’m gonna go wait out at the car, when you guys are all done we can check the radar together and decide where to go from here, all right? You guys can tell the others?” You ask.

Kate nods. “Yeah, course. You sure you’re okay, though?”

You look between her and Lily, noticing the worried looks on their faces, and try and put a smile on your own face to stop them from worrying so much. “Yeah, I promise. It’s just packed to the brim in here and I wanna get some fresh air after all the driving.”

You can feel Kate and Lily’s eyes on you as you leave, coming out the door you’d only just come inside through. You make a beeline straight to the car, taking a deep breath, grateful for the cool breeze on your skin and the warmth of the sun above you. The uncomfortable feeling starts to fade as you open the door to the car and climb up, putting your coffee in the cup holder and leaving your feet hanging out the door as you start to scroll on your phone to distract yourself. 

It’s only a few minutes later when someone stands in the way of the sun and casts a shadow over you. You blink up to meet Tyler’s eyes. He stands in the doorway of the truck, a hand on his hip.

“Already scouting a new group to join cause of me, are you?” He starts, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. “I go to the bathroom for two minutes and come out to see you and freakin’ Xavier all close? When the hell did that happen?”

You let out a huff and squeeze your eyes shut. “Seriously, T, can you not do this right now?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I wasn’t trying to insult you over the radio, sunshine. Usually, you give it right back to me, so that’s what I was expecting, and I know I took it too far – Boone said as much after we put the radio down. I really am sorry about it.”

You open your mouth to tell him it’s all right, that you accept his apology, but he continues speaking, cutting you off and making you glad you never got a chance to actually speak.

“But out of everyone, I see you flirting with Xavier? I mean, come on.”

“I wasn’t flirting–”

“Sure as hell looked that way to me,” he huffs. “You two were all touchy. I saw it.”

You take a deep breath and move to stand up, forcing him to move out of your way. You close the car door behind you and turn to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. You are not going to have this argument like this. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous, Tyler.”

Tyler doesn’t hesitate before he replies. “Well, that’s cause I am.”

For the first time since you’ve known Tyler Owens, you’re lost for words. You open your mouth once, twice, unable to come up with anything to say to him. It seems Tyler is the same, just staring at you, his eyes ever so slightly wide. 

“Then… then you’re jealous for all the wrong reasons,” you manage.

You should be saying something else – teasing him, getting on his nerves, but your short response is all you can get out and it’s nothing like your usual tone when you talk to Tyler.

He frowns. “Why is that?”

You clear your throat. “Cause he was the one coming onto me, telling me to join his team and talking shit about you, and I was the one telling him not to talk shit about you and not to put his hands on me, like he thought he could clearly do without consent.”

As soon as you finish speaking, you regret your words only because of the look that crosses over Tyler’s face. He glances over your shoulder towards the gas station where you assume Xavier and his team still are. 

“That piece of shit,” Tyler mutters, and then he’s moving.

You’re quick to react, hurrying after him and reaching out to grab his arm and attempt to tug him to a stop. It doesn’t work the first time, but the second time it does. “Tyler, stop. You going in there is not going to help anything, it’s just going to make things worse.”

Tyler turns to look at you and you’ve never seen him look so mad before. 

“You’re telling me that guy put his hands on you and tried to come onto you and you don’t want me to go and give him a piece of my mind? Sunshine, he deserves worse than what I can do to him, but I’ll do my best,” he says.

You don’t miss the fact that Tyler manoeuvres your grip on his arm to take your hand in his instead, weaving his fingers in-between yours and giving your hand a squeeze.   

“I’m saying that I already gave him a piece of my mind, T, and I threatened that I’d tell everyone about what he did if he said anything bad about you again,” you explain. 

“I don’t care if he says anything about me, but the fact that he did that to you… everyone already deserves to know what a piece of shit he is,” Tyler seethes. 

You squeeze his hand, then. “I’m sure they’ll find out one of these days, but not today, T, please. I just wanted to come out here and get some fresh air and try and forget what happened.”

Tyler takes a breath and then takes a step towards you, away from the gas station. “Do you want company or do you want me to go back inside and tell the others to hang back inside a while?”

“You’d do that?”

He laughs softly. “Have the last few minutes not shown you that I’d do pretty much anything for you, sunshine? And last night? The last thing I wanted was for you to ride with someone else other than me, but I could tell it’s what you wanted, so I didn’t fight you on it.”

“And what you said over the radio this morning?”

“I missed you and the way you always disagree with me. I just acted on it the wrong way.”

“Yeah,” you nod your head. “You were a real asshole.”

Tyler’s face breaks out into a grin. “Not gonna disagree with you on that one.”

You stare up at him for a moment, honestly surprised at how quickly things had changed between you. Only minutes ago, Tyler was mad at you, then he was mad at Xavier and now he was standing here, smiling at you like you were as bright as the sun. His nickname was fitting for you, you suppose.

“Will you just come and stay with me for a bit? Till whenever the others come out?” You ask, nodding your head back towards the car where you’d been sitting before.

Tyler nods. “I have one condition, though.”

“Name it.”

“You sit in my truck instead, and you come back and ride with me in it again.”

You can’t keep the smile off your face. “That’s two conditions, actually, T.”

“And you didn’t say no to either of them,” Tyler smiles. “Come on, sunshine.”

[robo-writing]

NSFW Alphabet - Bi-Han Edition

Pairing: Bi-Han/Reader Authors Note: I look at this man and I can’t decide if I want him to choke me with his biceps or put him on his knees and make him call me mommy 🫠

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Bi-Han becomes extremely tender after sex, almost as if he’s a different person. When it’s just you two, bodies intertwined beneath the sheets, your head resting on his chest as you both slowly catch your breath, he can’t find it in himself to deny your beauty.

Your favorite moments are these, when the room is quiet save for the sound of the night and the rumble in his chest, when nothing matters except for you and Bi-Han. You live for these moments, revel in the way he softly strokes your hair and leaves kisses at your temple, the faintest smile gracing his normally stoic features.

The responsibility of Grandmaster is a tiring one, what you would give to be spoiled like this every day, to wake up and know that your boyfriend is waiting for you each morning, but perhaps that’s selfish to think about. For now, you can rest easy knowing that if nothing else, you can indulge in Bi-Han’s embrace now.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Bi-Han would be a liar if he said the sight of your ass in a nice pair of pants didn’t draw his attention. He sometimes thinks you do it on purpose, the way your hips sway when you walk past, enticing not only him but any man who becomes witness to your antics. It’s a point of pride to know that all they can do is watch and imagine while he is the only one in the world allowed to touch you, but it doesn’t still the jealousy within him when he knows the sight of you is enough to bring the attention of others. Perhaps he’ll teach you a lesson once he’s finished with his duties.

As for himself, it’s his hands. Hands that were trained for battle, hands that were trained to kill, he is very proud of his abilities. Recently his pride has been inflated when you mentioned you like his hands, not for their skill but for their size. Large enough to hold your close, or to press you further into the mattress.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Possibly his most favorite feeling in the world is being able to cum inside you, watch the mess that slides from between your folds and onto the bed in a messy puddle. The sight of you fucked out and delirious, his own seed staining the sheets is enough to drive him mad. More often than not it inspires him to fuck you harder.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He secretly loves that you’re feisty, that you give him a hard time and you’re quick to disagree with him. He grew up as the first born son and because of that he’s been surrounded by those who simply take his words at face value. It’s led to a very boring life, but then you steamrolled through it, stubborn thing that you are; You don’t hesitate to talk back, make it a point of interest to call him out when he’s being an asshole, and in his eyes it only makes him love you even more. He hates the idea of a partner who just listens to him like the other Lin Kuei do, so your attitude is very refreshing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Bi-Han’s had sex before, but solely for the pleasure of it, not because of any romantic inclination. In his mind he needed to fulfill an urge, and once he had his fill the lady of his choice would leave; a purely transactional exchange. 

That being said, he is at the very least grateful for his previous encounters as they allow him to use what he’s learned on you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) 

It depends on his mood that night. If he’s feeling more romantic he’ll take his time with some missionary, letting every last inch of him sink into your needy cunt, his deep groans loud in your ears. Bi-Han has never been one for mindless praise, so when the only thing that leaves his mouth is pure adoration you know in your heart he means every word.

However, if you’ve been acting like a brat? He’s teaching you a lesson, a master of discipline as the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster. Face down, ass up, back arched, and it’s going to stay that way until he’s certain you’ve learned your lesson or until your legs give out, to which he’ll drape himself over you and fuck you until it hurts to breathe.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

While he might be more relaxed when it’s just the two of you, he is definitely not making jokes during sex, it’s almost scary how serious he is about your pleasure. He doesn’t understand the need for comedy with such an intimate affair and he might even take offense.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) 

He is extremely groomed, from his face to his pubes. He has a regular grooming schedule and it’s a common sight to see him in the bathroom with a razor in hand. 

“Bi-Han?” You call out sleepily, unaware of your husband’s whereabouts.

A hum, and a quiet “In here.” Is enough to give you an idea. Your feet slowly paddled across the floor, and in the bathroom you see him slowly going over his face with a razor.

You enjoy the moment for what it is before speaking. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with facial hair.”

“It is easier to wear a mask without hair in the way,” he says bluntly. You agree with him, but can’t help but tease him a bit more.

“If it matters, I think you’d look good with a beard.”

His hands stop just for a second before moving again, the faintest smile on his lips. “I will keep that in mind.”

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You wouldn’t expect it, but he is surprisingly romantic during the deed. Sex is a private occasion, unlike what happens outside your bedroom Bi-Han allows himself to be vulnerable, to let his emotions run rampant. It often results in a very intimate affair where he can finally express himself to you without any fear of judgement, where he can kiss you to his hearts content and admire your beauty up close without the weight of Grandmaster on his shoulders.

If you told anyone they’d have a hard time believing it, but Grandmaster Bi-Han is secretly a softy, at least where you’re concerned. Even if he seems standoffish in public, you know better.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you two were dating he would find himself dreaming of you in various compromising positions to the point that he felt angry at both himself for indulging in those thoughts, and you for occupying them.

There would always be a pang of guilt that ran through him knowing that he just touched himself to the thought of you, but he truly couldn’t help himself—you were just too much of a distraction.

After you two become a couple he’s become far more accepting of his needs, but even so he’d prefer you were there to assist him, so he can wait for a while.

The entire day has been trying, from morning to night Bi-Han hasn’t had a moments peace, not as long as you were around.

He thinks maybe you are a witch, that you’ve casted some kind of spell on him, a vile magic that makes his heart beat faster and his tongue turn to lead. Racing thoughts of you and only you.

Your words, your touch, your body—it’s enough to distract him, and nothing distracts him.

The entire day is trying, so when he falls to the bed and thinks of you again, his hands immediately falls towards his cock to rectify the issue.

He curses his weakness, his shirt sandwiched between his teeth, a feeble attempt to stifle his moans. He curses you in the same breath, you and your haunting figure. Faster and faster does his hand move against his hard cock, until his racing mind is filled with thoughts of you milking him for all he’s worth.

Before he’s awash with pleasure, trembling with satisfaction, the last thing he curses is himself for being too cowardly to admit his desire for you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding: He wants kids, he wants you to know he wants kids, and he wants you to know how good you would look with a belly full of them. Even if you’re not ready for kids or you’re taking birth control it’s not going to stop him from coming inside you, his idea of aftercare is running two fingers between your dripping cunt, stuffing you full of them and kissing your tears away.

“I know you’re sensitive dear, but it’s necessary, we need to make sure not to waste a single drop.”

Brat taming: If you’re a brat, enjoy yourself. He loves your attitude but when you push him too far he won’t hesitate to force you on your knees and remind you exactly who’s in charge in this relationship.

“It would have been easier for you to admit your need,” he groans, his heavy cock slapping against your open mouth, the taste of salt on your tongue. “But you had to make this difficult. Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you.”

Marking: he’s more conservative about marks on himself but on you it’s free real estate. His favorite ones are the scratches you leave on his back.

You’ve fallen asleep minutes ago, but Bi-Han is still awake, stretching his back and reveling in the familiar ache that stings his skin. Your nails are sure to leave a mark, a trophy he’ll admire in the mirror when he gets dressed tomorrow.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bedroom mainly. You’d have to really rile him up to convince him to fuck you in public, and even then it’s a risky affair. He enjoys when you moan for him, but times like this call for stealth, something you lack when you’re being fucked.

His solution for this is gagging you. His fingers get the job done, or he’ll muffle your lips with his own.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You pretending as if you don’t know the effect you have on him, when you brush against him in public, when you bend over just a bit too much to be innocent. The front is amusing, but what’s more amusing is how easily it crumbles apart when you’re put on your knees.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing you with anyone else, you’re his and his only. He also wouldn’t draw blood on you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Preference in receiving rather than giving, but when his thoughts get too loud and he needs a moment of peace and quiet the first place he’ll settle is between your legs.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough, possessive even—long, deep strokes that punch the air out of your lungs and make you see stars. He wants the world to know who you belong to, which is evident from the amount of hickeys and bruises left on your person after the fact. If you leave some on him he won’t mind, even if he is technically supposed to hide them it’s unsurprising to see the faintest little purple mark peeking out beneath his collar, a not-so-subtle reminder.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t like them, flat out. He knows a quickie is not enough to satisfy his appetite of you, he’d sooner wait until he’s certain neither of you have any prior obligations to devour you as he sees fit.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Surprisingly open to experimentation. It’s almost like training in his mind, a game of figuring out what makes you tick, what makes you see stars and cry out for him. Needless to say he’s very proficient at this game.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) 

God bless that Lin Kuei training; hours, although he is aware of your own limits and will gladly let you take a break should you need one. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I feel like you would have to own them yourself or you would have to introduce them to him. He might take offense to the idea of having anything that isn’t him bring you pleasure but you showed him the joys of using one and now he’s more open to the idea.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he’s fucking evil, for such a stoic man you would never expect it but he gets off to seeing you wanting him, needing him. There’s always a plan brewing in that head of his.

Remember when I said you introduced him to the idea of toys in the bedroom? He may or may not force you to sit on a vibrator when you’re being bratty as a form of punishment while he leaves you tied to the bed. Only when he’s certain you’ve learned your lesson will he turn it off, but by then you’re a shaky, sweaty pile of your former self. Be careful what you wish for.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Groaner, deep growls in an even deeper tone, you can feel the rumble of him in his chest like an engine. He gets so breathy when he’s close too, it’s a sight to behold.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Secretly wants to be dominated, but will never say it out loud, you’ve got to figure that out yourself. When you finally do don’t expect him to make it easy for you either, he’ll fight you on every command and order until you either tie him down or gag him (He actually enjoys the thrill of the fight, he’s kind of a brat in that way.)

“I never thought the Grandmaster would enjoy being so exposed,” you giggle, admiring how the crimson rope compliments his skin, nearly the same shade as the blush that runs from his face down to his neck.

He tugs at his restraints, once, twice, before groaning at the feeling of your hands around his cock. It’s far too slow for his taste, he needs more and you know it, his head falling back when you squeeze his shaft and watch enamored as pre-cum dribbles down your fingers.

“Damn you,” he says, groaning when you respond with another firm grip. He takes a shuddering breath, cursing your name, and then begging for more in the same breath. All bark and no bite.

“You sure look like you’re enjoying yourself,” you muse, swiping your thumb against his leaking slit. “Look at that, making a mess of yourself.”

There’s a feral edge to the smile on his face, enjoying this little game. “These bonds cannot hold me for long. You know that, don’t you?”

Your eyebrow raises at that. “Course I do. But you’re not going to leave, are you Bi-Han?”

The air is filled with tension, and with his silence you have your answer, your hand moving faster as his hips desperately try to meet your rhythm.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 

6.3 inches, circumsized, veiny at the base. My man is THICK, it’s heavy when you hold it in your hands and almost makes you wonder how he can walk straight, and his tip turns a pretty shade of rose when he’s aroused, reaching down to his shaft as if his cock is blushing. That thing should be registered as a weapon.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

If he could he’d have you pressed into the bed all day, but responsibilities come first. He can deceive you with how much self control he has but trust and believe he is almost always ready to go.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Not quick at all, he revels in taking his time with you and refuses to sleep until he knows you’re taken care of. It’s a rule of his to watch you and make sure you’re safe before he succumbs himself, he’ll say it’s because of his life as an assassin but in reality he just enjoys seeing your blissful state.

Graphics by @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

[chronicsyd]

Opinions I have that might upset Arcane fans (well, mainly Jinx fans but oh well 🤷‍♀️)

1) I’m not sexually/romantically attracted to Jinx (I’ve said before that I’m 23 years old and thinking about Jinx in that way is weird to me, mostly cuz her age is very ambiguous and even the oldest she Could be (maybe 19) is still too young to me) (harassing people that don’t think she’s attractive makes you an asshole)

2) Jinx is not an “uwu pooki innocent bean 🥺” she’s still responsible for the decisions that she makes

3) Jinx d riders are probably some of the most annoying people in the fandom (vilifying other characters because Jinx is your fav makes you an asshole)

4) If it weren’t for Caitlyn, Vi would have never gotten out of Stillwater and reunited with Jinx

5) People claiming Vi to be “bland” truly missed what her character represents (on that note, there’s more to her character than just being hot)

6) Caitlyn did not maliciously interrupt Vi and Jinx’s reunion in episode 6, she was merely following Vi (what she’s been doing the entire time) and Vi withheld the info that Jinx was her sister

7) Silco was not a good father figure or person

8) Vi was wrong for hitting Powder yes, but she was overwhelmed watching basically her entire family die right in front of her eyes and Powder practically told her she was responsible. Vi’s only like 15 in act 1, she’s still Very much a child so saying shit like “she should have acted more mature” is stupid

9) Vi, Silco and Piltover had their part to play in the creation of Jinx. Jinx couldn’t move on from Vi hitting her and “abandoning” her (it was out of Vi’s control but that’s how it was to Jinx), Silco manipulated Jinx into thinking Vi never cared for her, and Piltover running a corrupt government didn’t help

10) calling Vi “selfish” for not shooting Caitlyn is stupid and idiotic. No, she wasn’t going to “get Powder back” if she did so, if you paid attention the show makes that pretty clear. It wouldn’t accomplish anything other than hurting Vi further (because despite the terms the two left each other on Vi still Cares about Caitlyn)

11) I find Jayce to be a rather boring protagonist

12) Silco groomed Jinx. People think grooming is Only sexual when in fact it goes a hell of a lot deeper than that.

13) you need better media literacy if you don’t understand Vi’s trauma or why she and Caitlyn fit so well together

14) it’s dumb to be mad at Vi that she doesn’t want to call Powder Jinx (the last thing she called her, feeding into Powder’s insecurities) and not wanting to accept Jinx being a mass murderer who clearly enjoys doing it (watch Vi and Jinx vs the Firelights fight again if you must)

15) Vander isn’t a superstar of a father either. He put way too much responsibility in the hands of a 15 year old girl and makes her think that every bad outcome is her fault

16) Vi didn’t replace Jinx with Caitlyn. Hell, the first chance she gets she ditches her and tries to find Jinx solo, and still wants to go back to her in episode 7. Also acting like Vi isn’t allowed to have anyone Other than Powder is stupid and selfish.

17) Vi has a habit of making really poor impulse decisions and it’s going to get her into trouble if she doesn’t get a rain check on them

I might make some points later, and you can agree or disagree these are just my opinions after all… alright bu-bye!

[lovebugism]

Having a unserious argument with band AU!Eddie and there’s a moment where you both stare at each other and then his eyes flick down to ur lips. Which leads to you making out and forgetting about what the argument was about in the first place

bug's blurb sleepover (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)!

You knew the argument was stupid, but you also knew you were too mad to care. 

Like, otherworldly levels of mad. Levels that feel nearly unprecedented, even though you’re well aware it’s over something so damn mundane. 

Night of the Living Dead was playing at a drive-in in the same city the Corroded Coffin tour bus had parked in for the next few days. And Eddie wanted to take you. He said he’s wanted to take you out for weeks now, but your schedules just hadn’t allowed him the time to do so. 

His van hasn’t gotten much use in quite some time either. It’s just been dragging behind the tour bus and rusting more every time it rains. You, Gareth, and Jeff all told him that he wouldn’t have much time to drive it anywhere, but Eddie only said that “it broke his heart too bad to leave her behind.” 

Now, he’s glad that he didn’t. It’ll be good to take you for a drive in it, to roll the windows down and turn the radio all the way up, to watch you in between watching the road and pretend like you’re teenagers again.

And it was really cute, how excited he’d been to take you to see a film you’d both seen a thousand times over. “Taking you to a drive-in actually sounds super fun, babe, and I don’t even mean that in a pervy way. I just wanna spend time alone with you,” he’d told you before smirking. “Even though I won’t be opposed to a little heavy petting.”

It was real adorable. Until you started to get all philosophical about zombies, that is.

Eddie tried to tell you that zombies were still human after they turned. You scoffed when you disagreed, telling him that if that were the case, you wouldn’t have to use the word turned to describe them — that you wouldn’t even need the word zombies at all. 

He refused to listen to you, though, and kept on saying that they were “basically still humans but insane.”

And if you’d told yourself an hour or more ago that the two of you would be in a screaming match over this exact thing, you would’ve laughed. But now that it’s your reality, you’re absolutely fuming about it.

“They aren’t human anymore, Eds!” you argue in the confines of the bunk room, shielded only by the sliding door that does little to stifle your argument. You flail your hands around like crazy, eyes wide and glinting with annoyance. “It’s like a parasitic relationship! The zombie is just inhabiting the body of the dead human. Like a— I don’t know— like a fucking hermit crab or something.”

“They turn to zombies because they’re infected, right? Do you stop being a human because you get a little virus?” he retorts with a teasing lilt that only angers you more. “No! You don’t! It’s the same thing!”

“It’s not the same thing!” 

“Well, you obviously don’t know what you’re talking about it!”

“I know what I’m talking about, asshole! I’m just not gonna listen to a guy who failed senior year three times!” you shout back, obviously angry and irrational with it. 

You would’ve apologized for trying to hit him where it hurts if you saw that it had upset him in some way. But it doesn’t. Instead, he just keeps on teasing you.

“Ooh, you wanna kiss me so fucking bad,” he sing-songs to you, at you, with furrowed brows and lips set in a slight pout like a child.

That does little to quell your rage. Quite the opposite, really. He keeps dousing the fire in your chest with gasoline. You can feel the flames starting to prickle at your burning skin. But you make the mistake of flitting your gaze down to his mouth, only for half of a moment, but long enough for him to catch it. He grins, feeling like he’s won in some way.

“That’s okay, baby. You didn’t have to get all angry about it. If you wanted to kiss me, you coulda just said—”

“I hate you so fucking much,” you grumble to yourself, crossing your arms as you start to storm out of the room.

Eddie doesn’t let you get very far, though. His long legs rush the short distance over to you. He wraps two lanky arms around your frame and cages your own within his too tight embrace. You feel his chest rumble with the loud laugh that spills from his mouth, the breath of it on your skin when he noses at the junction between neck and shoulder.

“This is really fucking dumb,” he says with a hearty chuckle.

“Yeah, you are dumb, you’re right,” you monotone in return, not conceding to this imagined argument but not trying to squirm in his hold either.

“Hey! I’m trying to extend the olive branch here, alright?” 

“Whatever…”

He smacks a loud kiss on your shoulder and loosens his grip on you when he’s sure you’re not still angry enough to storm out. You are, though — still angry — but rather than leave, you turn around to face him. Your scowl is met with a beam from the boy ahead of you.

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree, alright, doll?” Eddie tells you with a shrug, trying his best to stop the argument without either of you having to admit you were wrong.

“I don’t know,” you lilt. “I think this might be a deal breaker for me, Eds.”

“Well, we certainly can’t have that…. What’ll happen to the band?” he teases.

You feign a sad sigh. “Guess you’ll have to find another bassist, Eds.”

“What can I do to make it up to you, doll? The fans’ll be real upset if the world’s best bassist is suddenly MIA.”

You purse your lips to the side and flit your eyes to the ceiling, pretending to think about his offer. Your attempt to ignore all the butterflies fluttering in your stomach is futile when he starts to rub his palms up and down your arm, in a soft and soothing rhythm. His touch quells your anger, puts out your fire without really even trying. No one can strike a flame within you, make it burn all big and bright, then douse it with cool, sparkling water quite like Eddie can.

It feels good not to be angry anymore. You’ll be able to laugh about it soon. 

Not now, though.

“Well, you’re going to take me to the drive-in tomorrow night and you’re gonna buy me all the snacks that I want—”

“I can do that,” he nods firmly.

“And halfway through the movie, I want to stop watching it and watch you while you eat me out in the back of your van—”

He sputters out a laugh. “I can definitely do that.”

“And until then, you’re gonna kiss me silly, Eddie Munson.”

The grin he flashes you then is no less teasing than it had been before, but it doesn’t make you nearly as angry. Instead, it makes you smile, too.

“I knew this was just a ploy to get me to makeout with you,” he lilts and presses the first of many kisses to the tip of your nose. “You don’t have to get all angry next time, alright? I’ll kiss you anytime you want.”

“Promise?” you wonder playfully, already knowing the answer. You just want to hear him say it.

“I can show you better than I can tell you,” he quips.

It takes no more than twenty seconds for him to get you into your bunk and squeeze in over top of you. In record time, he’s kissing you absolutely breathless — like he won’t be satisfied until he’s swallowed you whole. You want so desperately for him to. 

And if your mouth wasn’t kiss-bitten and half-numb, if your lungs weren’t screaming for air every time he kissed you, and your brain wasn’t aching for him to keep kissing you every time he stopped — you might’ve made some stupid joke. You would’ve teased him, told him how obedient he was to listen to you without question, just to drive him crazy.

But you can’t. Because he’s kissed you so insanely stupid, he’s the only thought in your head.

And if Eddie’s this perfect now — just moments after a stupid argument that had you both seeing red — you can’t imagine what he’ll be like tomorrow. As the rough pad of his tongue ruts against your own, you imagine how he’ll feel in between your legs when he’s got them bent over his shoulders in the back of his van.

[nerdy-frog98]

I have been deeply entrenched in shipping culture since I was 11 and rooting for Aang and Katara (I wanted Zuko for myself so I’d get mad at everyone suggesting Zuko and Katara. I have since seen the light. #zukka4ever), but I don’t remember ever being as invested in characters love lives (or, rather, sexualities) more so than Michael Wheeler and Edmundo Diaz.

Mike (Stranger Things) and Eddie (9-1-1) are very similar. A few examples:

- they both are incredibly complex characters that make poor decisions when it comes to their female love interests.

- they both have a canonically queer best friend! And both of their best friends (Will and Buck) are often infantilized by their respective fandoms when, in fact, both are incredibly capable and smart.

- they both seem to have this intense need to conform to societal standards (though they come from different places because of how different their circumstances are).

- both are extremely queer coded.

Stranger Things is a brilliant show. The fantasy horror is the first of its kind and something that has paved the way for many others. 9-1-1 is one of the most watched network television shows currently streaming, and though it’s not the first of its kind, it is certainly unique. Both are great shows, and both have EXTREME potential to make queer media history. Byler and Buddie.

I’ve been thinking about this a little bit, but in a way, Stranger Things AND 9-1-1 have written themselves into a corner with Mike and Eddie. See, a lot of what they do doesn’t make sense unless you view their motivations with a queer lens. Mike treating his breakup with El as a joke, but his fight with Will as something dire. Eddie saying dating feels like a performance (and breaking up with Ana, hottest woman ever, because he had panic attacks imagining their future? So unserious). There’s so much more evidence, but my point is that if Stranger Things makes Mike straight, it will automatically make Mike the ultimate asshole of the show. If 9-1-1 makes Eddie straight, well…most of his actions with Shannon, Ana, and Marisol will not have made sense (or at least not to me). Genuinely, the only way these characters can make it out is if they are gay. Not just gay, but also deeply in love with their best friends.

I’ve never felt this with any other show, but Eddie and Mike have this one major similarity, and it’s that they are either the most well written, beautifully complex characters ever to exist, or they are the biggest disappointments any show will ever have. And it’s weird, but that difference hinges on whether or not they have feelings for their best friends.

[also, yall are welcome to disagree with me, but pls be respectful. I don’t mind disagreements, but i would prefer name calling not be part of it. This is MY opinion, I don’t expect everyone to think the same as me]

[dj-of-the-coven]

Something that strikes me a bit funny about the TWEWY fandom is how many posts I've seen praising the game for being "like if an emo game... wasn't emo". And as somebody who was emo in my younger years, and is still heavily involved in the alt scene (by way of graduating to punk), I think this take is a bit of a misunderstanding of what alt cultures are, and what they do. The World Ends With You is an emo game. I'm just gonna lay this one on the table. If you disagree, that's fine, but I'm going to explain my reasoning from the viewpoint of someone on the inside.

Being emo is not synonymous with being "edgy", despite what its reputation would have you think. Emo is a music subculture that was born of punk in the late 90s--though some sources claim that the term was used as early as 1982--and is highly contextual in the same way that goth is, meaning that the exact same object or article of clothing can be many things at once: goth, emo, or what-have-you. What differentiates one from another is mostly music, but can be more specifically tied to one's societal views; the way that you go about the world and what you care about expressing to others. Emo in particular is differentiated by its relationship to pain. It's simultaneously fascinated by the macabre and terrified of it, reveling in the agony of loneliness, abuse, and depression while maintaining a space for the victims of broken systems to find solace in each other. Being "edgy" is not the point, just like being mad at your father isn't the point of punk.

The World Ends With You is about a boy suffering from the ills of society. Neku Sakuraba is isolated from his community, having no apparent friends or family at the start of the game, and he's isolated from his pain, refusing to acknowledge how his persistent solitude and the death of his best friend negatively affected his life. Instead of dealing with his pain, he loses himself in the comfort of his music--something that many emo teenagers do at some point. But this, I think, is where the misunderstanding comes from. Being emo wasn't what was wrong with Neku, and it wasn't what was fixed by the end. Neku was initially refusing the part of himself that makes emo such an alluring concept to the people involved in the real-life subculture. He wasn't even dealing with his own shit yet. Neku's journey is what led him to embracing the way he felt, and even though his problems weren't immediately fixed, being honest about his feelings and sharing them with others was what helped him overcome his shitty attitude. Neku's problem wasn't being emo, you guys. It was being fifteen.

What emo is really about isn't being an asshole; it's about grappling with the ugly parts of yourself and the world around you, but not in the effort to convince yourself that these things make the world evil, because much like goth, emo finds beauty in the darkest parts of life. Emo romanticizes the struggle of mortal life as a way to keep its members alive. It says "I see you, I feel you, and it gets better some day". The message of TWEWY is much the same--that the world may be confusing, but opening yourself to others is how you find the beauty in its chaos.

TWEWY is an emo game. Aesthetics and music aside, it falls perfectly in line with what the members of the subculture believe, so stop claiming it isn't emo just because its message is uplifting.

[pawberri]

ok, so i just saw an anti-dni post talking about how having a dni list in bio is purposeless and annoying since it is like a 'holding a sign saying "do not kick me." ' now, i find that perspective objectionable (since obtaining a block list might be what is desired anyways and not all dni reasons have to be extremely polarizing, e.g., i dont think a minors dni will suddenly make a billion minors annoyed, making them interact w/ you immediatly) and i have a slight feeling that you disagree with that point of view too because uhhhhh.

so what i wanted to know was whether you share the same reasons to oppose that perspective, and, if not, then, what are they?

I have been getting really annoyed with the backlash to dnis... I think it's goofy when some person has a dni with a million things, but it feels reactionary to me to say "it makes no sense for you to put your boundaries and expect people to follow them." There's especially this vibe with people who post more extreme content getting mad at dnis. I think that's weird. Partially, people seem to take them as like... a sign of moral superiority or hatred... rather than just a little bit of clarity on boundaries. These people talk about "curating your online space" but have to make these posts ranting about people who do it in a way they dislike. I especially think it's dumb to say, "Just block me, why do I have to not interact with you?" because... I mean, you can't block someone you don't know exists. It's meant to be a preemptive expression of boundaries, so the other party has the chance to block you and / or just not interact.

I know that, in practice, some people have really silly, long dnis that are linked on some weird carrd that takes forever to read. I don't think it's fair to strawman the concept of expressing some of your boundaries online in a digestible format as being stupid because of that, though. Especially when a lot of the people with silly dnis are teenagers just trying to figure their life out. They'll grow out of it. It's fine.

I also think it's weird and victim blame-y to say people will naturally be harassed if they give any kind of indication of their boundaries. I sometimes get mean anons, but for the most part, my experience online is way better because I am upfront about things. I don't get too personal or say things I'm uncomfortable sharing, but I make my boundaries clear. Even when I was a teenager and getting harassed by redditors, I never had stuff I asked to be trigger tagged used against me like people fearmonger about. (I'm sure it can happen, but I think that for most people, it just results in their social circle tagging stuff for them.) Even if that did happen, I think it would cruel to say that it was my fault for daring to express a boundary. If you kick the guy who says "do not kick me", you're still being bully and a contrarian asshole. Even if I didn't express a boundary, people like that would likely harass me. If I don't express a boundary for the sake of avoiding harassment, I get in exchange an audience that will constantly be shocked and fight with me about my beliefs when they show. Then, that creates either an unpredictable level of harassment or the feeling of being harassed because I'm constantly in discourse with my followers. At best I feel miserable and hate interacting with my followers.

I think this partially comes from people who are afraid to express their boundaries for fear of backlash (ie they want to make extreme content but fear saying so will make their followers mad), but honestly I think being straight forward makes your audience more curated. The people I see who post extreme content and are clear about it seem to have an easier time than people who build an audience of a bunch of unsuspecting people and then slowly introduce untagged incest kink or something. Not saying it's a guaranteed anti-harassment tool, but I don't understand the impulse to warn for nothing and have no clear boundaries with your audience, then get mad you curated the audience you curated. I hope it doesn't come across as me victim-blaming in the opposite direction, I don't think anyone deserves harassment regardless of if I disagree with what they post online. I kind of just mean to illustrate a counter example to the idea of the dni-haver making themself a target or inherently Being A Harasser.

[kineticpenguin]

You know, one thing really bugs me about the experts who know better regarding the submarine thing.

They're all like "we all disagreed with him on every level about his stupid fuckshit idiot sub and told him not to, but he was a good friend"

What is wrong with you? Why aren't you mad?

Deep dive submersibles had a zero fatality safety record from the beginning, for SIXTY YEARS, all the way back to Trieste! This fucking asshole shat all over every hard-won standard so many of you have spent decades establishing, making the game as stupid as possible so he could win the most stupid prize! All of this is at your expense!

You should be dragging his ass! He shat all over everything you've accomplished! Your whole careers are tarnished because he was a fucking shitfuck idiot! He wanted to be "innovative" and "experimental!" The motherfucker was asking for it! Where's that 1950s test pilot spirit, then? He bought it, what an asshole! Put his dumb ass mug up over the bar so we can fucking remember what a dead stupid submersible guy looks like!

[beetleviolet]

Let's talk about Bishop from TOTTMNT

(Tw sibling death)

@hahachiknfunny

Ok. I'm going to just get this out of the way at the beginning.

I HATE THIS CHARACTER

And not in a "aaa this villain makes me so mad bc they're evil" no I mean I hate the way her character is developed and justified.

IF YOU DISAGREE PLEASE DO EXPLAIN I WOULD QUITE GENUINLY LOVE TO HEAR ABOUT IT!!!

So I am still working my way through a lot of different tmnt series (currently alternating between 2012 and 2003), so I don't have a lot of experience with the usual Bishop character. Based on the little I know about him (mostly from fanfiction), my general impression was that he was this bigoted white guy who was like. A mutant nazi or something. He hates mutants because they are different, they are "flawed", and therefore they are a threat. I figured he was just a hateful asshole, and hadn't thought about it more then that.

But for this, they decided to go in a different direction. The ✨tragic backstory✨ direction. Which is a pretty good direction! IF you do it right. Which, in my humble opinion, THEY ABSOLUTELY DID NOT!!!!

Ok let's get some actual points here!

When we get Josefina Bishop's backstory, she starts as this passionate, nice character who is eager to achieve her robot building dreams. Nothing about her is mean or hating or anything of the sort. She is exasperated by Rod, but doesn't say anything incredibly bitter to him, she's just frustrated being forced to work with this rich guys man child. Which yeah! Thats fair! She has a sister who died and who is the inspiration of her work. Awesome!

And then her workshop is destroyed.

Let me just add. She is being funded by a millionaire. She probably has insurance! Her sister is in no way harmed by these events. And yet her response to property damage is DOMESTIC FUCKING TERRORISM.

She immediately gets bitter and revenge-filled, deciding that she should exterminate ALL THE MUTANTS!!!

You know, the mutants that were helping fight Superfly? The enemies of the one who destroyed her work? THEYRE LITERALLY ON HER SIDE???

And not only does this hatred of Superfly extend to the turtles.

SHE ALMOST KILLS A SUBWAY TRAIN FULL OF PEOPLE!!!

Because, of course "iTs A sMaLL pRicE tO PaYyYyyy"

Bestie. Honey. Girlfriend.

Its just. Weird to me? It doesn't seem very thought out. I would have loved a kind of change up from the usual Bishop themes, but just because its different and new isn't an excuse for it to suck!

IT TOTALLY COULD HAVE WORKED AND HERE IS HOW.

Nickelodeon needs to stop being a bitch and kill off her sister during the Superfly conflict.

Its very clearly what they WANTED to do. Its like the original concept was that her sister died, but that was considered too violent, so they took that out, but then didn't replace it with something else. And they tried so hard to be like "ohhh its about my sisterrrr" GIRL WHAT THIS IS ABOUT SUPERFLY DESTROYING YOUR SHIT AND YOU BEING BUTT HURT ABOUT IT.

And another thing! For a character to turn evil, they have to SNAP! And a character can't snap unless they are already under enough pressure to make that a threat.

Make her be cruel to Rod. Have her be control freak who has to have all the variables perfectly in place. Bitter about the sponsors that doubted and rejected her. Make her already angry at the world, have the only thing that matters to her be her robots and her sister, the two things that were always at her side. And then one day Superfly kills her sister and destroys her lifes work. Yes, she can rebuild the robots. Not the sister though, and making them without her is such an empty and performative motion.

Mutants have gotten people killed. They're too dangerous, its too much of a risk.

This mindset would make so much more sense if they just HAD SUPERFLY KILL HER SISTER LIKE OMG.

Also she had several direct conversations with the turtles, so she was well aware they were intelligent beings.

ALSO! She didn't target the mutants who used to work with Superfly. That would TOTALLY make sense even without the sister thing!

But no. She had to kill the TURTLES. The ones who are widely acknowledged and widely known to be the ones to stop Superfly and save NYC and the world.

But you know what? Maybe i could let that go. Its a kids show, right? And I did like her recovery arc at the end.

Until they. You know. COMPLETELY UN DID ALL OF THAT!!!!

I thought that maybe Bishop will be like. Idk a spy for the mutants or something, like a double agent, but tbh based on the previous writing of her character, I wouldn't put it past the writers to just. Have her do a complete 180. I'm just mad she's going to be a reoccurring character.

Anyway. I kinda hate to dump on this show so much bc I love (most) everything else about it. Bishop was the lowest point to me by far.

[qiu-yan]

16, 17, 22, 23 for the ask game?

choose violence ask game

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

answered here!

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

there's a decent amount of this sort of content already, but i'm always happy to see more content revolving around jiang cheng, jin guangyao, and qin su's coparenting adventures.

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

honestly, i feel like all the parts of canon i enjoy have no shortage of other fans, due simply to how big and diverse this fandom is. that said...

canonically, the yiling patriarch was op as fuck. wei wuxian was not some uwu unfairly maligned defenseless innocent, he was one of the most powerful, genius, and dangerous people of his generation. wei wuxian is not weak! wei wuxian is a once-in-a-lifetime genius who invented entirely new modes of violence and cruelty, and being afraid of him is in fact an entirely understandable response!

one of the things i really appreciate about MDZS is that, from their own flawed and half-informed point of view, the public turning against wei wuxian was not entirely unreasonable. it's very easy to write a story in which The Evil Society turns against the Poor Maligned Protagonist for no good reason, thereby making it look like your fictional universe is inhabited purely by morons, but MXTX did not write that story. MXTX actually put thought into her story, so the internal logic guiding the public's actions, while flawed and morally corrupt, is still something the reader can logically follow. even if we disagree with their conclusions, we can still logically understand how the mob got from point A to point B.

23. ship you've unwillingly come around to

xicheng. for precisely one reason: it would make lan wangji really mad.

i already really enjoy the massive haters-forced-to-become-BILs relationship between lan wangji and jiang cheng. and now you're telling me there's a way we can add even more BIL drama to the mix? we can give lan wangji a reason to beef with jiang cheng that's entirely unrelated to wei wuxian? we can have someone provide snarky asshole commentary on how lan wangji ding dong ditched lan xichen at the end of canon? sign me up. i am already on board.

there are a lot of reasons to ship xicheng, and there are a lot of reasons not to ship xicheng. the xicheng that exists in my mind is just as much of a problem-causing ship as it is a problem-solving ship (a post for another day). but listen. i don't care about any of that. none of that matters to me. the one and only thing that does matter to me is making lan wangji seethe.

i've also come around to lan qiren x jiang cheng for similar (identical) reasons.

[five0twooleanders]

I think that the whole “Anti Lando”, “Anti Oscar” situation is getting really out of hand.

Some “fans” (Can they really be called fans of Formula 1 when they are ready to jump at another driver’s throat as soon as he crosses their favourite?) are getting way too comfortable with blowing things out of proportion and spreading hate online to drivers who are quite literally just doing their job, and this can go from calling Lando an arrogant crybaby and Oscar an asshole to the shitload of hate that the McLaren strategists and Zak Brown are receiving for the way they are handling their drivers; let me be clear, I am all for critiquing a driver’s character or a team’s strategy while maintaining civil tones, for example I am the first who disagrees with Max’s tendency to blow his top off like he did in Hungary, and I also somewhat agree with what Nico Rosberg said about the McLaren drivers situation, but the key here is in the ‘maintaining civil tones’ part.

Is Lando just now fighting for wins after many years spent in the midfield? Yes. Is it thanks to the rocket ship of a car that McLaren built this year? Also yes, there is no denying it. Does this mean that he is less deserving of a championship than drivers like Charles, who have instead been consistently at the front of the grid for the past years? Maybe, (that could be my inner Tifoso talking) but what is he supposed to do? Just throw away wins and podiums because he supposedly doesn’t deserve them?

This is all part of the sport. Formula 1 is born from the simbiosis of the driver and the car, it has always been like this, that is what makes it different from mono-brand series and it’s the fine engineering that is needed to build those cars that adds yet another layer of beauty to F1.

And people are really getting mad at Oscar for overtaking someone and scoring more points, the thing that they are literally paying him for? He said explicitly that if the team had told him not to fight with Lando and instead defend him from Charles he would’ve done so, but they were free to race, so he raced.

Friendly reminder that those are my opinions, but I tried to be as neutral as possible. Also, please don’t come at me with the “You’re a Ferrari fan, you benefited from the fight in Monza, that’s why you say this” because before being a Tifoso I am a fan of whoever makes the Grand Prix interesting.

[di-writes-stuff]

The Story Of Us

Alex Keller x Reader

One Shot

TW: Mentions of d€ath, alcohol consumption, arguing. Light stuff compared to most of my shit.

“Now I’m standing alone, in a crowded room, and we’re not speaking.”

You and Alex were…well, you and Alex. Close, too close by military standards, but neither of you ever cared too much about that. Just enough not to cross that line. Not to start something that could never continue.

Then again, it’s not like you hadn’t ever thought about it.

Either way, you two didn’t really fight, ever. You didn’t have a reason to until he took whatever you are a step too far. Abused his ranking as your Lieutenant.

The mission was important, dangerous too, and you were on it. At least, you were supposed to be. That is until he pulled you out, replaced you with some rookie who did a worse job then you ever would.

His excuse still burns in the back of your head, the few words he was able to get out before you slammed your door in his face with a stern “Go to hell.”

“I just wanted to keep you safe.”

You sigh, liquor stinging your throat as you remember that one sentence. It was easier to be mad at him before he said that. It’s not like you’re not still upset, but you can’t help the way his softly whispered apologies through the door loop in your mind like a scratched vinyl.

He just…he knew. He knew how important it was. And he knows how good you are, everybody knows how good you are. That’s why you got assigned to that job in the first place. And it’s not as if Alex disagreed. In fact, he knows better than anybody how much you could’ve handled it.

It wasn’t that he doubted you. It was fear. Pure, burning hot fear that you wouldn’t come back from this one. That you wouldn’t come back to him. In his mind, he couldn’t not do something. He couldn’t see your name on that list, the list that might as well have been a death sentence, and just leave it there.

He might as well have just killed you himself. And, in a way, he was right. Somebody died on that job. And not some rookie, this guy knew what he was doing. And still, a folded up flag was sent to a widows home in exchange for her husband, for her daughters father.

There was never a chance in hell Alex would let that flag replace you.

He wouldn’t.

No.

He couldn’t.

Although, it didn’t seem to matter much to you, seeing as you hadn’t spoken to him since the incident. It wasn’t his place to make that choice for you. You agreed to that mission knowing exactly what it entailed. Death is a part of the job, always has been, always will be. He can’t change that, so all that’ll happen is he’ll limit you, and you’ll resent the hell out of him for it.

To make matters worse, Alex decided to pull this shit right before the big, miserable, military ball. The night you planned on spending with him, judging all the rookie douchebags before sneaking out as soon as you can, hopefully with a snagged bottle of tequila in tow.

Instead your standing alone, leaned against the cold marble of the bar top, forcing the grimace off your face as the vodka burns all the way down your throat. Your dress is a little too tight, along with the heels on your feet that have grown far too used to nothing but combat boots.

In short, you feel like shit.

Even more so when the person you’ve been avoiding (and missing) for the past few weeks sidles up to you at the bar, sliding over a ten as you order yet another overpriced drink.

You were hoping to forget about the whole thing, but the blonde next to you clearly has other plans. “On me.” He says simply, flashing a grin at the bartender that has her blushing and turning away sheepishly in about a second.

The worst part is, he doesn’t even mean to do it. It’s just…him. He’s charismatic, handsome, sweet, charming, everything that made you see him as more than just a comrade.

Right now, he’s also an asshole, but you’re having a hard time remembering that when he’s looking at you the way he is. The smile he usually has on his face is gone the second he sees the scowl on yours, blue eyes softening with guilt as his shoulders sag.

Fuck, he’s handsome. His suit jacket was abandoned a while ago, and the bow he always complains about at these events is untied to allow him to undo the top few buttons of his shirt. His sleeves are rolled up to his biceps, tattoos on display in a way that makes stuffy trophy wives passing by scoff.

Your momentary distraction gives Alex a second to look you up and down, and he’d happily spend the rest of his life soaking in the view in front of him if he could. You look beautiful, you always do in his eyes, but especially tonight. The makeup you’re wearing isn’t too overpowering, not hiding any of the face he’s grown to adore so much.

Despite the way your anger weakens at the sight of his face, you manage to think up a spiteful response. “First I can’t do my job, now I can’t buy my own drinks either.” You turn to look him in the eyes the glare that never seems to leave your face these days piercing into him.

The sigh that leaves his lips is prominent. It’s not like he thought you’d just get over it, but God, he hates being on your bad side. Not just because it takes so damn long to get off it, but cause it’s you. “Y/N…” He starts before getting cut off again.

“Oh don’t you worry Alex, I’m just glad I have a big, strong man around to take care of me. I mean, whatever would I do without you?” Your voice is flat, yet dripping with sarcasm as you down the shot he paid for. All the while he tries to ignore the way his breath hitches in his throat at hearing his name from your mouth for the first time since this all happened.

He reaches up, running an exasperated hand over his face. He knew you would be mad of course, but he didn’t exactly plan on how to deal with it. He just…acted. It was a panic response, the only thing he could think to do that would keep you safe. Keep you alive.

“It’s not about that and you know it. I don’t think you need protection, and I definitely don’t think you need me.” He answers, keeping his voice low to avoid causing a scene.

If it weren’t for the topic, the situation would feel awfully familiar. You and Alex at a bar, his voice quiet next to you, saying just the right things to get you to blush, his flirtation making your knees go weak as you try not to choke on your drink.

You hate how much you miss it, just after a few weeks.

You hate even more that this is happening instead.

You turn to face him, something a little more than anger in your eyes. The kind of hurt that only comes around when it’s dealt by someone you love. The kind that makes your body shake with the weight of it. “If I don’t need protection, why the hell did you do it?” You ask, cursing the way your voice wavers at the look in his eyes.

Love, or something close, anyway. It’s dappled with guilt, juxtaposed by the knowledge that he’d do it again if he had to.

Something in him snaps at your words as he whips around to face you with his whole body. “Because it wasn’t just about you, Y/N. I’m sorry for hurting you, I really am, okay? I know you’re capable, more than most the guys we’ve got out in the field. I know. But I couldn’t do nothing, I couldn’t let you go knowing at least one person probably wasn’t coming back.”

“Knowing that one person might be you. I lo…I care, about you, I won’t apologize for that. I won’t apologize for keeping you alive.” His voice shakes as he prays you didn’t hear it. That little slip. The beginnings of a phrase that’s all but banned between soldiers.

I love you.

You didn’t miss it. Of course you didn’t. How could you when you’ve been waiting years to hear it? Hear those three words slip from his mouth, the ones that you’ll never be brave enough to say first.

Now’s not the time to mention that, you both know it, but he started a fire inside you, one that’ll need more fuel sooner or later.

“You can’t always keep me safe, Alex.” Softness creeps into the edges of your voice as you answer, anger draining from your body like glass through a tire.

He doesn’t think anything’s ever hurt more than that one sentence. He was always going to have to face it, some day, at some point.

But now?

That, he wasn’t ready for. “I know.” His voice is barely a whisper when he responds. There’s a pregnant pause before he adds on:

“Doesn’t mean I won’t try.”

You quickly lose the fight to keep a small smile off your face at his words. You should’ve expected it from him. Stubborn, dedicated, loyal Alex. All the things that drive you crazy about him. They’re the same ones that make you love him, too.

Your fingers brush as you breathe out before responding.

“I’m serious, Alex. Never again. You don’t decide what I can and can’t handle.” Any attempt at sounding serious is quickly washed away as his hand slips around yours, grasping it softly.

Although, he’s still taking it to heart. He’s still listening, that much you can tell. Despite the way you, much like the bartender, blush as the beginnings of a smirk from on his face.

And despite the way he slowly inches closer to you.

Despite the way you lean into the circle of gravity that seemed to exist around him, you like the moon orbiting around the earth.

Despite the way his hands slowly sliding onto your hips send shivers running up your spine.

Despite the way your lips are mere inches apart, the liquor you’d both been consuming to forget now working to dampen your judgment.

Despite all that, he still makes sure to answer before his lips press against yours, a smile spreading across your lips to mirror the one on his own.

“Yes ma’am.”

A/N: okay this is a wee bit cheesy, cant lie, think i wrapped it up to fast at the end, but i still like it. figured it was only proper for me to write something for the love of my life before cod 3 drops. enjoy, girlypops.

(also i promise i’m working on part 2 of cowboy like me for any arthur enjoyers out there.)

- di <3

[sigmaleph]

i am once again mad about translation convention

actually i was mad about translation convention several weeks ago but i left a note to myself to post about it in my drafts later. and later is now

i have made my opinions on translation convention in secondary-world fiction clear already, i think it's very silly to model characters in a fantasy universe as actually talking in english rather than talking in whatever fantasy language and their words being translated for convenience, other people are wrong disagree with me about it, etc.

but there's an even worse variation of people failing to think about their translation conventions i've been reminded of, and it's 'everyone speaks english in france'.

by which i mean. you are writing a book (or making a movie, etc), set in france (or some other real-world country where most people speak some other language), but for an english-speaking audience. you write the dialogue in english, obviously, because that's what your readers understand. so you have a bunch of french people talking in english to each other, which is fine, because that's what translation convention is for. obviously we all know that in france, most people speak in french to one another, but we can all agree that the french is being rendered as english for the audience

and then. and then, like an asshole trying to show off, you drop a fucking bonjour or something in the middle of dialogue, throwing off the entire notion that there was a translation convention going on. because 'random french in the middle of an english sentence' does not correspond to anything under a translation convention that renders french as english, and so can only be parsed as the french word being the only thing that was said in french in this conversation between native french speakers

why does this keep happening!

(also, why is it always french. it's not always french of course but ime it is specifically french a disproportionate amount of time)

[spopsalt]

It's so fucking funny how you're whining about Catra being a bad person, when she's morally grey at worst, but then make it clear on a lot of your posts that you like Rick Sanchez like he isn't 10000x worse like 😭😭😭😭😭😭???

Well hello to you too. Look, I'm not saying Rick is a good person, in a lot of my posts where I say that I love Rick, I also acknowledge that he's not a good person, I know he's a horrible person, he's killed people, committed more crimes than I can think off, emotionally abuses his grandson, is just an asshole in generally, etc., etc. But let me tell you something absolutely insane....a fictional character's mortality...doesn't make a difference in whether I like them or not! *Gasps* I like Rick because he's complex and layered, he struggles deeply with trauma from his wife and child brutally dying in front of them, and while this explains a lot of his horrible actions, it doesn't use to excuse it, like a certain show *cough* spop *cough* And his redemption arc, although it's still going, is really good because he's actually changing and is actually becoming better, unlike a certain abusive kitty-cat *cough* Catra *cough* It's realistic as well, he has times where he regresses, but he is still genuinely trying to, and is changing.

Besides, the show doesn't act like Rick is a good person, he's called out multiple times for being an asshole, and the show doesn't frame it as a good thing. Literally, one of the people Rick loved most, Birdperson, started distancing himself from Rick due to his toxic behaviors, and y'know what? The show rightfully doesn't show Birdperson as in the wrong for this. Also, Rick's character development is actually good, while he's still not a great person, he certainly is a better person than he was in season 1 or season 4, he's learned to accept therapy and is going to it every week, stopped manhandling Morty, is a lot gentler to Morty in general.

I'm only pointing out Catra's abusive behavior because the show frames it as a good thing, reminder a KID'S SHOW frames abusive behaviors as something romantic and desirable, and Catra gets together with the person she was abusing at the end, she never faces any consequences for her actions, and everyone forgave all of her war crimes after she did one good thing. Nobody was even allowed to be mad at her, also Catra isn't morally grey at worst, at worst, she literally attempted to end the world just so she could spite her sister crush. I don't mind if you like Catra, but I mind that you're attacking me because I don't like her. You do realize that you can acknowledge that a character isn't a good person, but still like them anyway, right? If you disagree with me, cool, but just block me instead of spreading anon hate, please and thank you.

[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?”