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chvoswxtch · 6 days ago

Text

our boy is definitely in over his head

the deal

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: dimitri's revelation about the red right hand leaves matt and y/n unsettled for different reasons.

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood & violence, mentions of drugs, mentions of trafficking & prostitution

word count: 3.9k

a/n: get comfy, bc this is a jam packed chapter. lots of things going on in this one. but it is...dressing up the next chapter, if you will. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Matt stood with his back against the wall in one of the conference rooms at S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters. The privacy tint on the glass windows had been activated, preventing outsiders passing by from being able to see inside. He held the handle of his cane in both of his hands, alternating between a tight grip and a loose hold. With his heightened senses, he’d been tracking a familiar heartbeat, and the scent of spiced vanilla and jasmine grew stronger with each floor the elevator descended.

As soon as he heard the electronic bell of arrival, and the mechanical whirring of the doors opening, he stood up straighter. He had to time this perfectly. Dimitri was grumbling in Russian, his arm that wasn’t broken yanking futilely at the metal cuff that was locked around the arm of the wheelchair, the only restraint needed in his current physical state.

Matt waited until they were about a foot away before putting the plan into action. Opening the door of the conference room, he stepped out, turning to face the interior of the room like he was speaking to someone inside.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Tarasov. I’ll get this over to the D.A. right away.”

He made a show of holding up the file in his hand before flashing the empty room a charming smile, and then pulled the door shut right before she passed by with Dimitri, who reacted exactly as she’d anticipated.

At the mention of Tarasov’s name, Dimitri instantly stopped tugging at the handcuff and his head snapped up, a mixture of disorientation and confusion settling over his features.

“You, blind man!”

Matt paused, turning his head towards Dimitri’s voice, his dark brows raising above the browline of his sunglasses while he projected a carefully crafted look of perplexed innocence.

“Pardon?”

“Quit bothering the staff, Dimi.”

She continued to wheel him past Matt, making sure to sound bored and annoyed. Dimitri reached down with his uninjured hand to grab the wheel of the chair, effectively stopping them in the middle of the hallway.

“You, devil woman, go to hell. You, blind man, you say name Tarasov. Why?”

Matt flashed his best apologetic smile as he reached up to adjust his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose.

“I apologize, I’m afraid I can’t answer that. Client-attorney privilege prevents me from being able to disclose any details that would violate the confidentiality agreement.”

Dimitri went rigid at that, and Matt could hear the uptick in his heart’s rhythm, beginning to pound harder in his fractured ribcage. He could sense the way his body temperature began to rise as anger spread through his bloodstream like a toxic infection, resulting in the side effects they’d been hoping for. Dimitri’s top lip curled in a snarl, and he spoke through gritted teeth.

“You are lawyer?”

“Oh don’t sound so surprised, Dimi. Surely you weren’t naive enough to think you were anything other than expendable."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned against the wall casually, arching one of her brows in a silent sign of a challenge while she spoke to Dimitri in that taunting tone. He was taking the bait. If they stuck to the plan, he would crack.

Dimitri looked between her and Matt suspiciously, but she could see the doubt that splintered his facade, as well as the dark storm brewing in his eyes at the idea of being betrayed.

“This is trick.”

“No, this is your one way ticket back to Serbia.”

Matt caught the way his heart’s rhythm faintly faltered. It was working. They had managed to put a crack in Dimitri’s trust, and it was starting to branch like fractured glass the more pressure they applied.

“Tarasov would not rat-”

“Tarasov does what Constantin tells him to.”

Not wanting to lose momentum, she took a step forward, keeping her eyes locked on Dimitri while speaking calmly.

“You were a means to an end, a pawn to move around the board. And even if you hadn’t been careless and gotten yourself caught, you were always going to be a loose end, Dimi. Constantin and Tarasov, they’re the real players, but you, you were never anything more than an obedient little errand boy they kept sated with drugs and women and money.”

Matt tensed up as she leaned down to get in Dimitri’s face. He clenched his fist at his side, angling his body towards them, preparing to intervene if Dimitri snapped. Placing her hands on the arms of the wheelchair, she bent down until she was eye level with Dimitri, her voice eerily calm but with a sharp edge.

“Their loyalty was never to you.”

Without another word, she stood up straight and rounded the wheelchair, grabbing the handles to continue pushing him down the hall. Matt had insisted on not presenting the opportunity to Dimitri to flip. He knew it would sell the idea that Dimitri’s fate was set in stone, and that S.H.I.E.L.D. had no use for him. That anger would turn to desperation. The same kind of desperation that could drive a man to break his own foot just to use one of his own bones and kill a guard to escape a prison he’d rather die than return to.

Matt knew Dimitri was egotistical enough to believe that he’d be outsmarting everyone if they let him think flipping was his own idea, but not smart enough to figure out he was being played.

They didn’t get far before Dimitri reached down to grab the wheel again, and there was an undercurrent of panic in his voice.

“Wait.”

Matt listened to the way Dimitri ground his teeth, the joints of his mandible creaking as he clenched his jaw tightly. Turning his head to glare at Matt, his voice was dripping with disdain, but also firm resolve.

“I will make deal.”

Matt had to fight to hold back his smirk, feeling a rush of victorious adrenaline that made it difficult to stand still. Finally, after months and months of dead ends, a real lead was within his grasp. Clearing his throat, he shifted from one foot to the other, pretending to look confused and unsure, his head subtly tilting in the direction of the conference room.

“Uh…I’m…I’m not sure I can-”

“Whatever he gave you, I give you more.”

Since Matt wasn’t “allowed” to discuss the details of the deal, she stepped in to tag team the deception.

“He’s giving us one of the families.”

Dimitri let out a humorless laugh that rumbled deep in his bruised chest, turning his head to look up at her over his shoulder.

“One? I give you all five.”

A subtle smirk tugged at the edge of her lips when she looked down at Dimitri, cocking her head to the side and arching one of her brows.

“You know immunity is off the table.”

“I will not go back to that hell hole.”

Dimitri stubbornly argued, making that condition clear. With a faint shrug, he pursed his lips.

“Put me in rich people prison.”

After a beat of silence, he looked up at her again with a wicked grin.

“And keep pain killers coming.”

»»———　　———««

“Please state your name for the record.”

Matt had his hands folded in front of him as he sat across from Dimitri at the long conference table, an open folder with a stack of Braille documents in front of him. She sat to his right with her arms folded across her chest, leaning back casually.

“Dimitri Sokolov.”

“And what is your relation to Mr. Tarasov?”

“I work for Tarasov for years. I am driver and enforcer.”

Matt titled his head to the side slightly.

“Enforcer?”

“Tarasov has problem, I handle problem.”

Dimitri spoke casually with a faint shrug. Matt let out a quiet scoff and leaned forward slightly.

“I’m going to need you to be more specific, Mr. Sokolov.”

“You want five families, yes?”

Even though she appeared to be sitting calmly beside him, Matt noticed the way her index finger subtly tapped against her arm, a telltale sign of impatience, but also…anxiety? He wasn’t sure why any of this would make her anxious, but the scent of cortisol in her body while faint was undeniably present, and her heart rate was slightly quicker than what it should be at rest.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Dimitri glanced around the meeting room, letting out a dry scoff.

“So, this is where he was. He text me few days ago he have last minute business outside country. Fucking rat was here whole time.”

He angrily spit at the ground. Matt subtly tilted his head in her direction. When she’d told him about the lead with the address, she’d said it came from Tarasov’s burner phone. He wondered if she used it to lie to Dimitri to explain Tarasov’s absence since he’d been in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody since the night at the docks when she put a bullet in his knee.

Suddenly something clicked, and it made him want to scoff. He thought they had gone after Dimitri last night to get intel out of him since Tarasov wouldn’t talk. But once again, she’d left him in the dark. Tarasov was a decoy, Constantin was the real prize. That’s why she’d planted the seed that Constantin made Tarasov turn on Dimitri. She wanted Dimitri furious enough at Constantin that he'd give him up.

Whatever thin thread of trust he’d woven with her was snapped by his frustration. It had been a futile attempt. There was no trusting a goddamn spy. Matt wasn’t going to make that same mistake twice.

“Which one did Tarasov give up?”

Dimitri tilted his head to the side, the curiosity evident in his voice. Matt faltered for a moment, not expecting him to ask that, but he quickly recovered by clearing his throat and offering a smooth lie.

“I’m afraid I can’t discuss-”

“Does not matter. You can’t have one without other.”

A furrow of confusion nestled between Matt’s brows, and he leaned in a little closer.

“What do you mean by that?”

Dimitri made a show of bringing his hands together and interlocking his fingers, as much as he could with the cast on his arm.

“They are connected. All play a part. Krasnaya Pravaya Ruka supply product-”

“People. Not product. People.”

Matt was caught off guard by the barely restrained anger in her voice. He could practically feel it radiating from her. Dimitri just shrugged nonchalantly in response.

“In our business, people are product, among other things. As I was saying, we provide product. Gnuccis provide drugs. Shipments come and go at Red Hook Pier. The Triad own Red Hook Pier.”

“Let me guess, they pay off enough people in law enforcement that they look the other way.”

Matt clenched his jaw in aggravation. Leave it to the very people employed to protect this city to aid in its destruction for the right price.

“No deal needed. Red Hook Pier is free port, exempt from U.S. jurisdiction.”

Matt was visibly caught off guard by that revelation. A free port exempt from U.S. jurisdiction? Since when? How the hell did he not know that?

“Product is stored at different commercial properties owned by Yazkua.”

“Yakuza?”

“They have many shell companies all over world, in many markets. They move money around, launder through bank they own, use it to buy properties from Tarasov.”

Matt thought he’d forced all of the Yakuza out of the city after dealing with Fisk. He hadn’t had any suspicion they were still around. Had they just been hiding this whole time?

“Carbones own many nightclubs. They are front to deal drugs, this I assume you know. But exclusive area downstairs is where money is made. Politicians, CEOs, Wall Street types, lazy heirs to generational wealth, they come for the real product.”

Matt felt an icy sense of dread trickle down his spine, making him sit up straight, and a stone of nausea started to sink in his stomach. Before he could even ask, she spoke up beside him, her tone even but laced with rage.

“The women.”

“Pleasure is good business. Very profitable. And the girls get a cut, we aren’t total monsters. They can buy their freedom-”

“The freedom you stole from them. You kidnap them and sell them to the highest bidder, force them into prostitution, and you think giving them pennies on the dollar along with an illusion of a light at the end of the tunnel diminishes what you are?”

“Hey, I am just obedient errand boy, remember?”

Dimitri mocked her by throwing her previous insult back at her, raising his hands in a faux show of surrender, a taunting smirk on his mouth.

Under the table, Matt was clenching his fists so tightly he was starting to lose feeling in his fingers. It took everything in him not to reach across the table and grab Dimitri by the back of his neck, wanting nothing more than to smash his face into the table until the cartilage in his nose was reduced to nothing and his teeth and blood created a morbid mosaic on the polished wood.

“Anyway, Gnucci provide drugs, but also protection to Carbone nightclubs and Yakuza properties. We all share profit from business, and business does not work unless we all play nice.”

“And how exactly did Constantin get everyone to play nice? A few months ago, you all wanted each other’s heads. Now, you hang out every week playing poker like old friends. What changed?”

Matt had been trying to figure out that exact question for months. It didn’t make any sense. The five most powerful families left in New York in the wake of Fisk’s absence stopped fighting for the throne almost overnight and became a united front instead. That was not a simple feat. Not all egos could be satiated with a generous pay cut. Getting them all to share power either came from a lot of influence, or a big threat. Perhaps even both.

As her question hung between them in the air, Matt’s body was almost vibrating with anticipation to finally hear the answer to this mystery that had haunted him.

“Constantin is puppet.”

Dimitri spit out the man’s name with pure acidity, the bitter betrayal still burning in his veins. But his answer left Matt feeling more confused than satisfied. Creases of confusion settled in his forehead as his mind began to swirl with implications of what those words meant.

“Wait, are you saying someone else is pulling the strings?”

Dimitri let out a deep thunderous chuckle, shaking his head in amusement.

“Constantin is only leader on paper.”

Uncrossing her arms, she leaned forward as her brows furrowed in annoyed puzzlement.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Krasnaya Pravaya Ruka is just one piece. It is head of operation in New York, but there are others.”

“Others where.”

As much as she was trying to keep her composed facade, Matt didn’t miss how she grit those words out. The way she was perched in her chair made him think she was about to lunge across the table too. He almost wanted her to. Hell, he’d even stand by if she wanted to put a bullet in this asshole’s kneecap. Dimitri gave a careless wave of his hand and pursed his lips.

“Everywhere. All over country, all over world.”

“Wait, this is happening internationally?”

Matt was in complete disbelief. He never anticipated this being any bigger than New York.

“Not five families, but other pieces to Krasnaya Pravya Ruka, yes. New York is small part of bigger operation.”

Matt had a million questions, but his attention was captured by the words that came out of her mouth next.

“Who’s pulling the strings.”

There was an unmistakable undercurrent of apprehension in her voice, and her body language was full of unease.

“Ah, the puppet master. I do not know his name, just what they call him.”

Dimitri had a smug smile, clearly pleased that he knew far more than they did. Over the years of being a driver and enforcer, he’d gathered a lot of information he was now using to his advantage.

“отец.”

Beside him, he felt her instantly stiffen, heard the sharp breath she inhaled through her nose and the crescendo in her heart’s rhythm. Whatever that word meant, it made him witness her exhibit an emotion he didn’t think she was capable of.

Fear.

She was clenching her hands so tight in her lap, he could sense the way she dug her nails deeply into the skin of her palm, her nails nearly piercing the skin and drawing blood. She didn’t even flinch.

“The operation is his. He gives orders. As long as he gets his half of product, five families are protected.”

Matt instinctively reached out his hand under the table to subtly grasp her wrist to deter her from the self affliction. He felt her tense further at his unexpected touch, but then she slowly decreased the pressure of her grip, and her nails became less embedded in her flesh, leaving deep crescent shaped indents behind.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Matt cleared his throat as he let go of her wrist and pulled his hand away under the table. He needed to wrap this up so he could talk to her alone. He needed to know what had her so unsettled. She knew something, something she wasn’t telling him.

“We need evidence. Tarasov already made a deal. If the D.A. is going to grant yours over his, they need something solid.”

“The real estate company owned by Tarasov is front. In his office, he has file on each family. Photos, ledgers, paper trail-”

“Blackmail.”

“Insurance policy of sorts. If one family decides not to play nice, Constantin turns file over to отец, strings are pulled, family is eliminated down to last drop in bloodline.”

“He deals with him directly?”

Dimitri shrugged and leaned back in his chair as he looked over at her.

“Don’t know.”

“Where does Tarasov keep these files?”

“Above my paygrade.”

Matt clenched his jaw in annoyance, his nostrils subtly flaring as the urge to reach across the table arose even stronger.

“Now, about my deal…along with reduced sentence in fancy prison, I want room with view.”

»»———　　———««

Before she could even take a step down the hall, Matt reached out to grab her wrist in a firm but gentle way, keeping her in place.

“You know something.”

He could feel her hesitation like a physical thing, and he sensed her eyes darting around the hallway. She was always vigilant, but this was different, and her being unsettled made him feel uneasy in a way he couldn’t explain.

“I have a hunch.”

“That word that he said, what he called him, what does it mean?”

“Father.”

Matt’s perplexity was written all over his face as he tilted his head slightly to the side.

“Father?”

“It’s a moniker. A way to protect his identity. If no one working for him knows his real name-”

“He can’t be identified and incriminated.”

Matt let out a dry scoff, placing his right hand on his hip as he tapped the bottom of his cane on the floor twice with a sharp exhale through his nose.

“Yeah, Fisk did the same thing.”

“But Fisk eventually came out of the shadows. This guy isn’t going to.”

Something about the certainty in her tone made Matt’s ears perk up, and he focused his heightened senses on her, trying to decipher any clues she may be subconsciously giving away. But she’d already composed herself back to her usual calm and collected demeanor, like she’d flipped some internal switch. It was intriguing how seamlessly she could do that, but also maddening.

Taking a step closer, he dropped his voice to an accusatory whisper.

“How do you know all of this?”

He felt the moment her eyes locked on him, how they wandered down the length of his figure and then back up again, like she was studying him as much as he was studying her. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but instead of feeling discomposed he felt…warm. He tightened his grip on his cane as the edge of her lips curved into that signature smirk of hers.

“Women’s intuition.”

Matt rolled his eyes and let his head drop between his shoulders with a frustrated exhale leaving his nose.

“Great, we’re back to that huh?”

Feeling a sudden vibration in his pocket against his thigh, the automated voice on Matt’s phone alerted him of an incoming call and repeated the name on the caller ID.

Foggy. Foggy. Foggy.

Reaching into his pocket, Matt pressed the bottom volume button to silence the voice, and then he brushed his fingers over his watch to check what time it was.

“Shit. I forgot we had a deposition today. I can tell him to do it without me-”

“No, it’s okay. Go ahead. I need to go talk to Fury anyway.”

His expression must have given away his inner thoughts, because she let out a quiet sigh and glanced around the hallway.

“Look, I don’t know if I’m right, okay? And if I’m wrong, I really don’t want to get into it. Let me just…see how much of what Dimitri said is bullshit, and find an address for Tarasov’s office.”

“And if none of it is bullshit?”

The silence was louder than any answer she could’ve given. Taking a few steps backwards, she kept her eyes on him.

“I’ll let you know when I have something.”

Matt stayed rooted in place as she disappeared down the hall into the elevator. He was tempted to follow her up, to listen in on her conversation with Fury, try and get some answers to all the new questions he had, but his phone began to incessantly buzz again, making him sigh.

He’d made Foggy a promise, and Karen. He said he’d try. He said he’d be more present. He wouldn’t let Daredevil consume him. He would devote more time and effort to just being Matt Murdock. And he had been trying, God, he really had. But his balancing act had gotten more complicated ever since she showed up and tipped his scales, and subsequently flipped his life upside down.

This wasn’t just taking down petty thugs and criminals in alleys anymore. This was potentially an international empire that was cunning and careful enough to avoid S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar.

Matt couldn’t focus on balance when he felt so out of his depth, as though neither half of him could truly handle what they might be up against. These weren’t even super powered villains. They didn’t come out of the sky or from another realm or out of a test tube. They were flesh and blood, just like him.

He knew better than anyone that sometimes the Devil was no match for man. Sometimes even the Devil could lose.

And that’s what he was afraid of.

tags: @the-swift-escape @lambmurdock @lunakkey @Lfdybadgirlsdiw @devilmurdock64 @moonyinthestars @suits-and-smirks @day-dreaming-goddess @natashasotherhalf @rebel13lion39 @pixelfaery @ebsmind @mattmurdocksscars @ahhhhhhhydbhdg @ayupcap @thepassionatereader @awenthealchemist @zomtart @superrbffun @buckypops @snicksbabe @redroomproperty @angel113431 @18raven @a-sunflower-in-bloom @shadypaperwitch @lizziela @givemylovetoall @dreadfulxives18 @jjprxntiss @bigratbitchsworld @s1xthirty @daisy-the-quake @raven18 @hipwell @scorpiovelaryon @yiiiikesmish @mel-thefrog @ponyosmom35 @daisydark @xoxabs88xox @punkshyteee @abbyhaslongshorts @wolvierinee @snowflames-world @yomnajir @fries11 @groovycass

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chvoswxtch · 8 days ago

Note

we used to be a proper country

Court, my queen, congrats on 4k!!! 🫶🫶🫶 May I order a macchiato where Billy introduces the reader to the Castles for the first time?

thank you so much nonnie!

okay i'm setting this in an alternate universe where billy isn't a backstabbing little bitch for my own sanity

headcannon below the cut

billy russo introduces you to the castles

as we all know, billy is a whore. when frank teases him about quality over quantity, billy literally says "god made me this way for a reason, it would be wrong not to share the wealth"

but despite playing up his playboy persona, billy is secretly envious of what frank has

every time he comes over for sunday dinner & sees frank & maria standing side by side in the kitchen, sharing kisses & sweet nothings while doing the dishes together, he feels a deep longing for that same kind of connection

he doesn't want to always be fun uncle billy, he wants more

billy has never brought a girl around the castles bc well...he doesn't keep one around long enough, but that all changes when he meets you

from the moment he meets you, billy can feel a special spark between you. he can't explain it, he's never felt it before, but he knows he doesn't want to lose it

he's not used to someone wanting to be with him just for him. in all his "relationships", he's lured women in with his good looks & charm, & given them a taste of his luxurious lifestyle to have them eating out of the palm of his hand. however, that doesn't work with you, & him showing off actually makes you pull back from him

billy realizes quickly he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing when it comes to having a real, honest relationship, so he turns to the one person he knows can help him: frank

oh and you know frank is absolutely giving him shit & having a fucking field day with it

"billy the beaut comin' to me for advice on women? hell must have frozen over, huh, bill?"

but despite getting a kick out of busting his balls, frank is genuinely happy that billy has found someone, & even maria chimes in with advice & pointers

billy talks about you all the time to them, & he talks about them all the time to you too since they're the only family he has. they've been bugging him for weeks to bring you along for sunday dinner, especially maria. they all wanna meet the girl that's managed to reform billy russo

when he finally agrees to bring you over with him, billy is ecstatic. he can't wait to show you off & watch them fall in love with you too. he can tell that you're nervous considering this is the equivalent of meeting his family, but he reassures you several times on the way over that you've got nothing to worry about

"sweetheart, I don't think you realize they already love you. they just wanna put a pretty face to a name they hear all the time."

sitting there at the dinner table with frank, maria, & the kids & you by his side, it's like something finally hits him. this is it. that thing he's been searching for since he was a kid, that void he's been trying to fill with money & women, the one thing he's truly always wanted; he finally has it

watching you help maria with the dishes, play with the kids in the backyard, trade banter with frank, it all just reinforces that newfound warmth & feeling of fulfillment. this was it, you were it

the raw happiness he feels nearly brings him to his knees, & he has to excuse himself to the bathroom for a moment to collect himself. you fit so perfectly into his life, like you were meant to be there all along. seeing the way you interacted with his chosen family just confirmed it

but what really warmed his heart was the look of joy & excitement on frank & maria's faces. he could see just how happy they were for him. they interacted with you like you had been coming over ever week for dinner for years despite it being their first time meeting you

when billy goes to the kitchen to grab another beer, frank follows him. he just gives him a knowing look & a grin before patting him on the shoulder

"gotta tell ya bill, never thought i'd see the day you actually picked a winner and settled down, but i'm happy for ya. you got a great girl out there. bein' all lovesick looks good on ya."

all throughout dinner, billy holds your hand under the table. there's a moment when frank & maria are talking, & billy's just looking at you like he's in awe. he gives your hand a light squeeze to capture your attention, & when you look at him, he just grins and flashes you a wink

for the first time in his life, billy feels a weight lift off his chest that had always been there, & he feels nothing but pure content, bc he finally has the sense of belonging he's always wanted. he suddenly realizes that he's not alone in this world anymore. he has a family, & he has you

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chvoswxtch · 8 days ago

Note

frank being from new york but southern at heart is so funny to me

Been seeing a lot cowboy frank castle x reader but just listen, listen - turn it around Frank Castle with a fierce southern women..

nonnie, it's like you know me. I myself am a southern gal (sorta, i'm an alternative emo queen before anything else) but I was born & raised in the south and therefore can't deny the fiestiness in my blood. thank you so much for the request! I had so much fun with this. I hope this is what you were looking for! ❤️

warning: some swearing, mentions of alcohol, & frankie finally getting to have a good time. word count: 1.6k

don't want no trouble.

The small dive bar was packed with regulars and drifters alike. The local band had started playing their set about half an hour ago, and the worn floor seemed to buzz from the music flowing freely through the packed crowd. Frank could faintly feel the vibrations through the soles of his boots. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been to a concert, or heard any kind of live music. He couldn’t remember the last time he had even listened to music in general.

Frank felt a rare kind of peace he hadn’t felt in weeks, or longer if he was being honest with himself. He wasn’t scanning the crowd or the doors for any kind of threats. He wasn’t currently working any kind of job. No one was really paying him any attention, too focused on their own lively Saturday night. For the first time in awhile Frank could just be…Frank. Just another guy at this small town dive bar, enjoying a nice cold beer, and the surprisingly good local band.

Until he couldn’t take anymore of the obviously overserved asshole two stools down that couldn’t take a hint.

For the past fifteen minutes, the guy had been making obnoxious comments in your direction that had gone ignored. He eyed you continuously, trying to gauge if he should step in or not. He was trying real hard to stay out of trouble unless absolutely necessary. Your hand was clutched around a glass containing a clear liquid that had some kind of red coating on the rim and a complimentary lime on the side. Your face had been neutral at first, bored even, but the bolder the man beside you got, the more your full lips morphed into an irritated scowl.

“Hey so I was wondering-“

“No.”

“But you don’t even-“

“No.”

The man scoffed, clearly irritated by your dismissal of him. He stumbled closer in your direction, annoyance plastered clearly on his face.

“You don’t have to be such a fucking-”

You turned quickly on your stool to face the belligerent man with a defiant look solidified on your features and a reckless rage burning in your eyes.

“Let me ask you something. That tiny, pathetic excuse for a dick you have between your legs, you attached to it?”

The man’s eyes widened significantly, blinking a few times in dumbfoundment as you stared him down. He obviously hadn’t expected you to fire back at him.

“I…uh…yeah, particularly.”

You leaned in languidly, a dangerous smirk spreading slowly across your mouth as you kept your gaze locked on him and narrowed your eyes slightly, nodding your chin in his direction.

“You wanna keep it that way?”

Although your tone sounded playful, Frank could tell by the look in your eyes you weren’t fucking around. Clearly, the man did too. He swallowed thickly before giving a slight nod of his head.

“Then fuck off.”

The man stumbled backwards to avoid your venom, scurrying off towards the other end of the bar. You followed him with your unrelenting gaze until he was out of your sight, rolling your eyes and huffing as you muttered under your breath and lifted the glass to your lips.

“Asshole.”

Frank couldn’t help but snicker at the whole altercation, earning him a questioning glance from you. Your brow was arched in challenge, as if daring him to step out of place. He held his free hand up in surrender, a playful grin appearing on his lips.

“Hey, I don’t want no trouble.”

The side of your mouth curled up into a mischievous smirk as you shamelessly let your eyes wander over his large figure, giving a slight shake of your head.

“No, you don’t.”

Frank tried to keep his gaze ahead on the band, but his eyes seemed to drift every now and then to the side to watch you of their own volition. You had ditched the stool, leaning against the bar like he was, and he found himself mesmerized by the subtle movements of your hips in perfect rhythm with the music. The bootcut jeans you wore looked like they had been painted on the way they fit your figure perfectly, and he caught little glimpses of your skin beneath the cut off band tee you wore that stopped just before your belt buckle. The boots you wore made your legs look a little longer, and you a little taller, which made the whole situation from earlier that much more hilarious considering the guy had about a foot of height on you.

Dynamite does come in small packages.

“You gonna watch me all night, or you gonna ask me to dance, cowboy?”

Frank cocked his head to the side when he realized you were talking to him. You turned your head to face him and looked up at him through your lashes.

“You gonna threaten me if I do?”

A devilish grin split across your full lips, taking a slow sip of your drink as you turned your attention back to the band with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

“Depends.”

Frank turned his body to face you, leaning against his elbow on the bar as he finally let his eyes wander over you properly.

“On?”

“You gonna ask nicely?”

“I like my equipment where it’s at, so yeah.”

That made you laugh, and Frank’s mouth split into a proud grin.

“You waitin’ for an invitation?”

“Didn’t you already give me one?”

Frank tilted his head to the side as he studied you, catching the way you peered at him out of the corner of your eyes as your brows raised quizzically.

“I did, and if there’s anything I hate more than repeatin’ myself, it’s not gettin’ my way.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Frank dipped his head back as he finished off his beer, setting the empty bottle on the bar as he extended his hand out to you.

“I told ya, I don’t want no trouble. But I should warn you, I ain’t the best dancer.”

A proud smirk settled on your lips as you finished off your own drink, setting the empty glass by Frank’s and grabbing his wrist to lead him to the middle of the dance floor.

“You know how to Texas two-step?”

“No, but I reckon you could teach me.”

“You’d have to let me lead. Think you can handle that?”

“Sweetheart, you can lead me wherever the hell you want.”

Frank caught the way your cheeks deepened in color at his words, even though you tried to play it off with a playful grin and shake of your head. You guided one of his hands to your waist, settling it just above your hip, and squeezed it a little as you stared up at him.

“You keep your hands where I tell you, your equipment stays where it’s at. Got that?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Frank’s cheeks nearly hurt from how much he was grinning. He held onto your other hand as you taught him the steps, catching on rather quickly once he found his rhythm. He should’ve been watching his feet, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Once he built up enough confidence in his movements, he took a step back and gave you a twirl. His chest swelled with pride at the surprised look in your eyes and the first vulnerable smile from you he had seen all night.

“You’re a quick learner.”

“I got a good teacher.”

Frank pulled you in by your waist, making sure to keep his hand in the exact same spot as you had placed it. All around you, people were dancing and laughing, singing along obnoxiously off key with the wrong words, but you and Frank couldn’t keep your eyes off each other. Frank liked how feisty you were, and a big part of him desperately wanted to know how far that went. You didn’t seem like the kind of woman to relinquish control to anyone, but he wondered if you’d let him. Although if you wanted to call the shots, then hell he was more than happy with that too.

“You got a name, cowboy?”

“Frank. I get to know yours?”

He should’ve lied. He should’ve told you his alias. He couldn’t figure out why he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t wanna hear any name but his own coming from your lips.

“Hi Frank. I’m Y/N.”

“Well Y/N, I pass the audition?”

“Maybe.”

“Can I get you a drink then?”

“You tryin’ to win me over?”

“Absolutely.”

Something about the way you stared into his eyes made him nervous and excited. He wanted to know what you saw as much as he didn’t wanna know. You took a step backwards, placing one hand on his broad chest as you stared up at him inquisitively.

“You an asshole, Frank?”

“Sometimes. I’m workin’ on it.”

“I appreciate the honesty.”

“Somethin’ tells me you can smell blood and bullshit from a mile away. Ain’t no use lyin’.”

Another big grin stretched across your lips, and for the second time that night, Frank felt like he got a peak behind the curtain. He could see something warm beneath your tough exterior, something maybe even soft. He already missed the brief touch of skin he felt of your waist when you danced with him. He could still smell the zesty citrus of your shampoo lingering beneath his nose. He wanted more.

“You like tequila, Frank?”

Think I’d like the taste of it on your lips.

“If that’s what you like.”

“Good answer.”

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chvoswxtch · 8 days ago

Note

IT WASNT MY FAULT

Hi Court!! I saw your requests were open and I SPRINTED here :) I love your Frank fics and I wanted to switch to angst, because I’m a mean woman sometimes. I watched that movie called southpaw with the death scene and I thought that it’d be amazing with frank. Like he is in love with a very cute woman but in secret, she’s a friend and doesn’t know that frank is pining for her, but one of his enemies find him while they’re hanging out together and they start a fight and a stray bullet hits her. This is the scene (maybe it inspires you and also the acting is brilliant): https://youtu.be/bPL13UXFGr8 (minute 3:30)

nonnie...

nonnie nonnie nonnie nonnie. I am also a mean woman sometimes (so thank you for making me feel seen) and when I tell you this movie was an emotional trainwreck for me...like there wasn't a single second of it that didn't hurt. I switched it up just a little in a way that made more sense for me (I hope that's okay) and absolutely wrecked myself in the process. 🙃 I don't even know if I should tell you to enjoy or not...but...happy crying??

psa: this one is rough. if y'all thought violets was bad...this one might not be for you. this is all angst. all pain. no comfort whatsoever. if you are on the more sensitive side & need to skip this one, you will not hurt my feelings! my inbox is open if you wanna yell at me, or if you need tissues or hugs. I am profusely apologizing in advance (pls don't hate me for this one).

warning: swearing, mentions of blood & violence, death, mentions of gun violence word count: 1.7k

let that go.

He should’ve walked away. He should’ve just fucking walked away. You’d asked him to, begged him to, but he hadn’t listened. Instead he was reckless, and let that violent storm of chaos that always lingered in his bones take over, clouding his vision and dulling his vigilance with blinding shades of rage. They were just words, they didn’t mean anything. They certainly weren’t worth losing you over. But how could he just stand by while that asshole talked about you like that?

C’mon, baby. You ain’t been with a real man before. He can’t take care of you like I can.

You can’t handle a woman like that, bro. She’s way too damn fine for you. How about we play for her?

He was just another drunk shithead talking out of his ass, looking for a fight. You had grabbed onto Frank’s arm the second he had started mouthing off, giving him a soft smile as you shook your head slowly and squeezed his wrist.

He’s just trying to get a rise out of you, Frankie. Don’t listen to him.

C’mon, Castle. You promised me a night with no fighting.

You had told him to leave it alone. To focus on you, and continue telling the story about how he and Curtis had snuck into Billy’s bunk one night and shaved off his eyebrows. Why didn’t he finish the fucking story? Why didn’t he leave when you asked him to?

You know what, let’s just go. I’ve got drinks at my place, we can order a pizza or something. Come on, let’s just go.

Let’s just go.

He was so close. Your hand was so soft as you held his, guiding him towards the exit of the dive bar you two hung out in all the time. The door was right there. Less than ten feet away, just a few more steps, and you two would’ve been out of there. Frank would be on your couch, right now, cold beer in hand, admiring you as you spoke like he always did. Laughing along with whatever joke you were telling. Smiling as he enjoyed how animated your hands were as you painted him a picture of whatever story you were telling. Maybe tonight would’ve been the night he finally worked up the courage to tell you he loved you. Maybe he would’ve kissed you. Maybe you would’ve kissed him.

What’s up man, I gotta fuck your bitch to get your attention?

The butterflies that had filled his stomach from the way your hand fit perfectly in his were immediately incinerated with rage as those words hit his ears. He abruptly stopped, dropping his hand from yours as he turned around swiftly to face the man, jaw setting in a hard line at the way he and his buddies were laughing.

Oh shit, there he is. That got his attention. What’s up, man?

Frank barely registered the feeling of your palms futilely pushing at his chest, trying to force him closer to the door as you pleaded with him. He only tore his eyes down to yours when you grabbed onto the back of his neck, cradling his face in your other palm as you stared up at him with an expression of pure concern.

Frankie, please. Let that go. Please, keep walking. Come on, come home with me. Don’t listen to him. Just let that go.

Let that go.

He should’ve listened to you. He should’ve just done what you asked. He should’ve fucking listened.

Don’t worry, bro. I’ll film it for you. That way you have a little tutorial on how to treat a piece of pussy like th-

Your voice sounded miles away in the back of Frank’s head as he charged forward like a vengeful bull, seeing nothing but red as his fist cracked across the man’s jaw, sending a rain cloud of blood from his mouth onto the floor. It all happened so fast. Frank’s fury completely took over, and anyone that dared to deter his merciless path of revenge was treated with the same unrelenting violence that surged through his fists. He could barely hear you screaming in the background, begging him to stop, pleading cries of his name leaving your lips.

But he couldn’t stop.

That bloodthirsty thing inside of him he thought was gone had only been lying dormant all this time, waiting for that first taste of crimson to reignite its craving, and now it wanted its pound of flesh. Everything passed by in a blur, and Frank had lost track of who exactly he was fighting at this point, but it didn’t even matter. His inner demons weren’t prejudiced about where their offerings came from.

Bang.

The entire bar went silent the second a gunshot rang through the small space, and everyone immediately dropped to the floor. An ear splitting scream cut through the eerie stillness, and the sound seemed to snap Frank out of the haze of wrath he had been stuck in.

Frank?

Frank had never heard your voice sound so small. He instantly whipped his head in your direction, seeming to sober up as he took in the twisted up look of pain and confusion on your face.

Hey. Hey, sweetheart? What is it? What’s wrong?

I…I don’t…I don’t know…

Frank was over to you in two short strides, cradling your face in his large bloodied hands as he searched your face with furrowed brows.

What happened?

Something…something happened…

As he glanced down to scan your body, he noticed the way your hand clutched at your side. Fear suddenly sent an icy chill down his spine seeing the hints of deep red that started to seep through your fingers. Tugging your wrist away gently, Frank’s entire body went rigid seeing the maroon stain on your shirt that was beginning to spread like a wine stain on white carpet.

Am I…am I okay? Am I okay?

Fuck…fuck you’re alright, sweetheart. You’re alright. I got you, yeah? I got you, just hang on.

A loud cry of pain pierced through your chest when Frank pressed his palm firmly against your side to apply pressure, wrapping you up in his arms as he glanced around frantically for help.

I know…I know, baby, I’m sorry. I gotta stop the bleedin’, okay? I know it hurts, just stay with me, alright? Fuck…someone call a fuckin’ ambulance now!

You gripped onto the collar of Frank’s shirt like a lifeline, staring up at him with wide panicked eyes as you started to hyperventilate.

Here, let me lay you back-

No…no no no no, I don’t wanna lay down. I don’t wanna lay down!

Okay…okay, you don’t have to. You don’t have to, baby. I got you…I got you sweetheart, it’s alright. It’s gonna be alright.

Tears formed in the corners of Frank’s eyes hearing the fear in your voice. He held you as tightly to his chest as he could, keeping pressure on the wound. The bartender knelt beside him and handed him a rag for the blood, informing him an ambulance was on the way.

Frank…Frank…

Yeah? Yeah, what is it baby?

I wanna go home, Frank. I wanna go home-

Okay, okay baby. We’ll go home. We’ll go home, I promise. Yeah?

I wanna go home. I wanna go home, Frank. Please…I wanna go home. I wanna-

Frank hugged you tightly to his chest when you started to cry, nodding quickly as his frantic eyes quickly scanned over your body. His bottom lip trembled as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, reaching a shaky hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Just stay with me, sweetheart. It’s not that bad, yeah?

Lot…lot of blood…it’s a lot of blood-

It’s not that bad, sweetheart. Just stay with me. Hey…hey c’mon, look at me. Look at me in my eyes, baby. C’mon, look at me honey.

Frank felt panic start to rise even higher in his chest as you coughed, blood spluttering out of your mouth and staining your lips and teeth a bright cherry red. Shaking his head quickly, Frank cradled your face and distraughtly tried to wipe it off of your lips.

Oh baby…fuck, baby baby baby-no, no no no, c’mon. Here-

It’s okay…it’s okay, Frankie…it’s…it’s okay-

It’s just a little blood, sweetheart. S’alright, it’s not that bad.

Frank leaned into your touch as your shaky hand cradled his face, staring down at you with glassy eyes as his lips trembled with regret. He shook his head slowly, mumbling endless apologies as your mouth pulled into the faintest of smiles, tears turning the lingering traces of blood on your face into transparent shades of pink.

I love you, Frank.

Pressing his forehead against yours, Frank let out a choked sob as he cradled the back of your head, tasting the familiar metallic tang of blood as he gently captured your lips in a soft kiss.

I love you, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, baby. I love you. I love you. I love you.

I can…I can go home…we can go home…

We’re gonna go home, I promise. We’re gonna go home real soon. It’s just a little blood, that’s all. Just a little, yeah?

Full blown panic set in when your hand slowly dropped from Frank’s face, and your grip on his collar loosened into nothing. There wasn’t anymore fear in your eyes as your lids became heavy, and your chest didn’t shake as it struggled to take in oxygen. Frank pulled you fully into his lap, holding your head against his chest as he kept a light grip on your face, searching your face fervently with denial.

No no no…no no no wait wait wait wait. Baby…c’mon, look at me. Look at me in my eyes. C’mon sweetheart, let me see those pretty eyes. No no no no, please…please baby…stay…stay stay stay…c’mon baby stay…baby wait please…no no no…

Frank squeezed his eyes shut as he buried his face into your neck, hugging onto your lifeless body as tightly as he could. A howl of pain ripped through his chest as he sobbed, rocking you back and forth in his arms, repeatedly pouring apologies into your ear.

He should’ve listened.

He could’ve been holding you in his arms, saying hello to a new life with you.

But instead he was holding you in his arms, saying goodbye as you took your last breath.

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

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chvoswxtch · 8 days ago

Note

he was such a good dad 😭

Hey Court! How you doing today? Here is my request. Frank and reader are dating for a time now and reader decides it's time for Frank finally meets her kid/kids. A lot of fluffly moments btween them and maybe reader or Frank a little insecure about the meeting. I think is a bit confusing, sorry about that. I love your writing, you are amazing!

hi my darling

i know this is coming super late but i got carried away with it akskfjksf but i hope you love it and it makes you smile and giggle 🖤

warning: light swearing, angst if you squint, frank getting put in his place by a five year old, cavity inducing fluff word count: 3.2k

pancakes.

Trying to date in this day and age was a nightmare enough on its own, but trying to date when you have a five year old? Well…that was even more challenging. Not everyone is open to dating someone that has kids, and you were weary of having a revolving door of men around your daughter. You didn’t want to bring anyone around her unless you were absolutely certain that they were going to stick around.

It wasn’t that you needed to be in a relationship. You and your daughter were perfectly fine on your own, and some days you were glad it was just the two of you. But there were evenings when the chill of loneliness would prick at your skin, and you had nothing to grasp onto in the middle of the night but the negative space on the other side of your bed. Sometimes you would get distracted by your own sense of longing seeing a couple walking happily hand in hand, and even the most gentle displays of affection would send a sharp pang through your hollow chest. But what bothered you the most was knowing that your daughter was beginning to notice that there was a piece missing from your lives.

Maybe you could fool her for a few more years with a puppy.

Meeting Frank had happened by a total accident. You had gone out for drinks with your friend Sarah from work after finally landing a babysitter, and after three martinis, you were pouring your heart out to her about all of your woes of being a single mom.

“I can send David to stay with you guys. I promise after four hours you’ll send him back and wanna stay single forever.”

Sarah tossed you a wink as she brought her strawberry daiquiri up to her lips, to which you groaned and ran your hands through your hair.

“Oh whatever. You two are so in love it’s disgusting. I’m never gonna have that.”

Sarah plucked the olive laced toothpick from your martini glass and peeled them off with her teeth, shaking her head as she pointed in your direction.

“Not with that attitude.”

All of a sudden Sarah froze, and she turned to you with wide, mischievous eyes as a huge grin split across her lips.

“Oh God, what?”

“You should come over for dinner, Sunday night.”

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion as you stared at her, arching one of your brows inquisitively.

“And…why is that?”

“Because we’re having a barbeque.”

Sarah tossed the bare toothpick into your empty martini glass with a light shrug of her shoulders, a nonchalant smile on her lips. You knew Sarah. You knew it was not in fact just a barbeque. But she refused to say anything more.

Somehow you were able to luck out twice in one week with a babysitter, which admittedly made you feel a bit guilty, but your mother had insisted on letting her babysit more, and you were curious as to what Sarah was hiding. Although that curiosity died quickly when you stepped into the vacant Lieberman household, only to be met with the sight of an extremely tall, absolute Adonis of a man that had the most beautiful brown eyes you had ever seen. He paused on his route towards the backyard when you shut the front door behind yourself, eyeing you curiously as you stared at him like a deer in the headlights. A slow grin crept onto his lips as his warm eyes wandered over you, and the deep base of his rough voice sent a tingle down your spine.

“You must be Y/N, yeah?”

Blinking in dumbfoundment a few times, your brows slightly furrowed as you cleared your throat and tried to remember what words were.

“Uh…yeah. I…how did you-”

“Sarah said you’d be here any minute. You mind gettin’ the door for me, darlin’?”

His words took a few minutes to register, honestly you were still trying to process the way he said darling, and when you finally let your eyes travel over his broad form in its entirety, you noticed he was holding a large pan of meat in his extremely big hands. Suddenly it clicked that he was asking you to open the door to the backyard for him, and your cheeks blazed with embarrassment as you dropped your purse onto the side table and quickly walked towards the back door.

“Shit-yeah, sorry.”

A small chuckle left his lips when you sped past him, opening the backdoor wide enough for him to fit through as you scanned the backyard for the culprit of your humiliation. All of a sudden you were met with a twinkling pair of blue eyes that were accompanied by a knowing smirk, and steam practically hissed out of your ears as you marched over towards her.

“Sarah whatever the hell your middle name is Lieberman, I swear to God-”

“Isn’t he dreamy?”

“I’m gonna kill you. I knew this was a set up. I knew-”

“And yet you came anyway.”

Sarah handed you a glass of wine that had been filled to the brim, flashing you another wink and tossing a grin over your shoulder before leaving you alone to go supervise the kids. Or at least you thought she left you alone.

When you spun around, you nearly walked face first into a grey wall you didn’t remember being in their backyard, until you dipped your head back to gawk up at the head that was attached to the wall and realized it wasn’t a wall at all but a very broad chest.

Fuck he was tall.

Frank had a gentle smile on his lips as he held out one of his huge hands for you to shake, nodding his head in your direction.

“Sorry I didn’t get to properly introduce myself back there. My hands were a bit full and dirty. I’m Frank.”

It was comical how small your hand was in his, and you weren’t sure if your head was spinning from the size difference, or from how warm his touch was. Somehow your brain functioned enough to communicate to your face to smile as you gently shook his hand.

“Don’t worry about it. Food comes first. It’s nice to meet you, Frank.”

Not only was Frank incredibly handsome, polite and well mannered, a hell of a cook, extremely attractive, funny and charismatic, and one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen, but he was also incredibly great with kids. You weren’t even mad that Zach and Leo had paid you virtually no attention all evening, although now you knew who their true favorite was. But you couldn’t blame them. You would’ve chosen Frank too.

“Okay what’s wrong with him?”

David nearly spit out his drink as he laughed, watching Frank play with his kids by your side through the window in the kitchen.

“What are you talking about?”

Turning your head to give him a deadpan look, he just snickered as he filled up your third glass of wine.

“He’s just on his best behavior right now. Don’t worry. He’s a real asshole once you get to know him. I can vouch for that.”

“Are you sure that’s not your fault? You do have a way of bringing that out in people.”

David feigned mock offense as he suddenly stopped pouring, pulling the nearly empty wine bottle into the security of his chest.

“Alright, you’re cut off.”

Letting out a dry laugh, you rolled your eyes as you sipped at your glass, feeling heat bloom in your stomach as you watched Frank show Leo how to throw a perfect pitch to her brother. That familiar sense of longing you had been feeling lately returned, but this time with an even higher intensity. Something about Frank had turned that quiet yearning into a blazing insatiable desire. David lightly nudged your shoulder as he caught your attention, a gentle half smile on his lips as he nodded his head towards the window.

“He’s a good guy. Just…been through a lot.”

While David and Sarah were upstairs getting the kids ready for bed, you and Frank cleaned up the kitchen together. The two of you fell into a silent, seamless symphony. After the dishes were rinsed and cleaned, you handed them to Frank to dry and place on the rack. The whole thing was so…domestic, and it felt like the two of you had been doing it for years instead of ten minutes. Frank draped the drying towel over his shoulder after the last dish was placed in the rack, turning towards you slightly with a bashful smile on his lips.

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

His deep voice cutting through the quiet caught you off guard, and you turned to him with a shy smile of your own as you wiped your hands off on your jeans and nodded.

“Sure.”

“Leo said you had a little girl. You ain’t bring her?”

A fleeting sense of dread washed over you, and you felt your shoulders deflating a little at his question. There was no hiding it now. All the subtle flirting the two of you had been doing all evening suddenly came to a screeching halt, and you gave yourself a quick moment to mourn what could’ve been at least one decent date with Frank.

“My mom really wanted to watch her. She just moved closer so that she could see us more…well, I’m pretty sure she mainly moved here to see her more. Not that I’m complaining. I could use all the help I can get.”

A humorless laugh slipped past your lips as you glanced around the kitchen, skin heating up feeling the unwavering stare of Frank’s rich mahogany eyes. He cocked his head slightly to the side as his features morphed into an expression of curiosity.

“Her dad not uh…in the picture, or?”

Sensing the shift in your mood, Frank quickly backtracked and pulled the drying towel off his shoulder to toss onto the counter, letting out a soft chuckle as he shook his head.

“Sorry, that ain’t my business. Didn’t mean to-”

“No, no it’s okay.”

Flashing Frank a timid smile, you let out a heavy exhale as you shook your head slowly and captured your bottom lip between your teeth.

“No he um…he isn’t. He never has been. It’s just been me and her, pretty much since I got pregnant. But it’s okay, I mean…we’re okay. And besides I’d rather him not be in her life at all than her have to deal with the constant back and forth while he tries to figure his own shit out. I…I feel guilty sometimes, because she’s starting to catch on to certain things, and she’s far too smart for her own good, but I keep trying to remind myself that at least she’ll never have to deal with that disappointment. He can’t break her heart if he’s not around.”

You hadn’t spoken about your daughter’s father in years, and you weren’t sure why you were suddenly unloading all your feelings about him right now in front of a stranger. Maybe it’s because Frank didn’t feel like a stranger. But you were abruptly pulled out of your trance when you realized how much you had just overshared, and your cheeks burned again with self-consciousness as you shook your head and laughed softly, completely avoiding his gaze.

“I…sorry. I didn’t mean to just…unload all that on you.”

“S’alright. I don’t mind.”

The sincerity in Frank’s voice caught your attention, and when you looked up, your breath hitched in your throat seeing the empathy shining in his eyes and the gentle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was leaned comfortably against the counter, and you knew he had listened intently to every word you had said by the way he looked at you.

“You uh…you shouldn’t feel guilty for someone else's mistakes. Sounds like you’re doin’ a hell of a job, alone at that, which is pretty goddamn impressive. That ain’t easy. But your daughter…you’re gonna have to tell her the truth one day, ya’know? And it’s gonna hurt her…but I think it’ll also make her feel pretty lucky, ya’know? Cause she got you. Ain’t nobody gonna love her more.”

The pure honesty behind Frank’s words nearly moved you to tears, and you had to look away so that he couldn’t see the ones pooling in the corner of your eyes. It wasn’t like you didn’t have a decent support system. You had your mom, the Liebermans, and others that encouraged you and reminded you that you were a good mom and that you weren’t alone. But something about Frank…something about the gentleness in his tone and the candor of his words spread a warmth throughout you that chased away the frigid feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty.

“I…thank you, Frank.”

You didn’t know what else to say, but that seemed to be enough for him.

“‘Course. Hold old is she, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

“Oh God, um…five going on seventeen.”

Frank threw his head back and let out a deep laugh, causing his eyes to crinkle delightfully at the corners, and you couldn’t help but mirror his grin, falling into the contagion of his laughter.

“Five goin’ on seventeen, damn. What are you gonna do when she’s actually seventeen?”

Letting out a groan, you covered your face with your hands as you dragged your palms slowly down your face.

“I…can’t even think about that right now.”

Frank chuckled as he leaned back against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. The fabric of his shirt hugged his biceps snugly, and the sight definitely did not go unnoticed by you. You were pretty sure his arms were the size of your head. Tearing your eyes away from his arms, you glanced up to find him already looking at you, and your breath hitched in your throat again realizing you had been caught. His lips pulled into an easy smile as he looked over at you.

“You like coffee?”

“I can’t function without it.”

“Would you wanna get some with me sometime?”

Coffee turned into lunch. Lunch turned into dinner. Dinner turned into several more dinners, and breakfast after that unforgettable fifth date, and before you knew it, two months had gone by. You had set a firm boundary with Frank in the beginning that you didn’t want to bring your daughter around him until you knew where your relationship was going, and he was completely respectful of your wishes. He understood your apprehension about letting your daughter get attached to someone that might not be permanent. But that didn’t stop him from asking about her.

Frank asked about her constantly. He wanted to know about her interests and funny things she had said or done lately. He lit up every time you showed him a cute picture or video of her. He made sure she was included in every conversation the two of you had, and listened with a smile when you went off on tangents about her. It warmed your heart how invested he was, and after sitting down with your daughter to have her share her feelings about meeting the man you had been seeing for three months, she eagerly insisted on inviting him over for dinner. Frank was over the moon when you told him. You, on the other hand, were a nervous wreck.

By the time Frank showed up to your door, you had cleaned the entire place top to bottom twice, changed outfits four times, warned your daughter not to say anything completely humiliating seven times, and nearly had a meltdown nine times. So…you were still under double digits.

Frank had the biggest smile you had ever seen on his lips as he stepped in and kissed your cheek, handing you a bouquet of orange marigolds. Your favorite.

“Hey gorgeous. These are for you.”

His presence always seemed to have a calming effect on your nerves, and you instantly melted into his gentle touch and smooth voice.

“Hi Frankie. Thank you, these are beautiful.”

Frank’s line of sight quickly shifted downwards, and his smile grew even bigger as he delicately waved one of his large hands.

“Hey there, sweetheart. You must be Luna. I’m Frank.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you watched as your daughter crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at Frank curiously.

“You’re big, Frank.”

You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh as Frank chuckled, taking a careful step forward as he knelt down to be closer to her level.

“There, how’s that?”

Luna’s attention was on the violet peony bouquet in Frank’s hand, and as he caught her gaze, he smiled softly at her and held them out for her to take.

“I hear your favorite color’s purple. Thought you might like these.”

She took a few steps forward slowly, her tiny hand reaching out to touch the petals, tilting her head to the side as she looked at Frank curiously.

“Do you like pancakes, Frank?”

“Like ‘em? I love pancakes.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at their interaction. Luna’s interrogation had officially begun, and you weren’t sure if Frank was prepared for it, but he shot you a grin over his shoulder.

“I do, I love pancakes.”

“Do you know how to make a happy face on them?”

Luna brushed her fingers along the petals still as she looked at Frank inquisitively.

“I know how I like my happy faces on ‘em. How you like yours?”

“Whip cream and chocolate chips.”

“How ‘bout strawberries and bananas?”

Luna made a face as she shook her head quickly.

“I don’t like bananas. I gotta be in the mood for strawberries.”

Frank turned his head to look up at you with his brows raised halfway up his forehead, and you laughed softly as you shrugged and gestured to your daughter.

“Told you. Five going on seventeen.”

He glanced back at your daughter with a look of incredulity followed by a soft chuckle and a nod of his head.

“Alright. No bananas. Strawberries only when you’re in a strawberry mood. Got it.”

Luna finally accepted Frank’s offering into her tiny hand.

“What do you say, Lu?”

“You can stay Frank.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter as she turned around to walk off towards the kitchen, yelling to Frank over her shoulder.

“I have chocolate milk!”

Frank slowly stood up, turning to face you with confusion clearly furrowed between his brows. His puzzlement only made you laugh harder, and you gave his arm a gentle squeeze with a grin.

“That’s an invitation, and not one to take lightly. She doesn’t even like to share her chocolate milk with me.”

Frank’s confusion quickly melted away into relief, and a proud grin pulled across his lips as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in for a soft kiss.

“That right? Guess that means I’m doin’ well then, yeah?”

“Oh, don’t get ahead of yourself. She’s going to interrogate the hell out of you and put you through several tests. She might even make you cry.”

Frank just grinned as he looked down at you, leaning in to brush his large nose against yours lovingly.

“Think I can take the heat.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

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chvoswxtch · 8 days ago

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exactly

Girl I have been silently reading and praising your stuff from my sisters account. Like liking all you stuff for safekeeping. The whole thing crashed and now I am trying to do the whole interacting thing. I am so embarrassed and scared that my idea is shit so this I am anonymous. But listen - I check your blog every day for updates. I luv u.

Okay my request is a bit messy. But like an angsty/fluf fic with Frank and a woman who is like small but indestructible - you know like a super power or x-gene thing. You cant see any wounds on her body they´ll just heal or something. And all she wants to do is protect Frank and he is just not having it.

If this is shit and not duable I get it! And if I missed somebody writing something simular please share the link - I would love it! Rant over...sorry...and thank you <34567

hi nonnie!

firstly, welcome. there's no need to hide in the shadows, or to apologize or feel embarrassed or any of that. i'm happy you're here and felt comfortable sharing your idea with me! I actually got a somewhat similar request, so I ended up combining the two to get the best of both worlds :)

also if you're into frank x powered reader, I highly recommend @grippingbeskar! she has an entire completed series called salt, ice, and fire that is phenomenal that I can't gush about enough

I hope you enjoy!

warning: swearing, mentions of guns & blood word count: 1.4k

bulletproof.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the fuck are you doin’?”

Frank’s thick brows were angrily bunched up in the middle of his forehead, a trail of crimson slowly leaking from the cut that covered the bridge of his freshly broken nose. His jaw was harshly set and he scowled deeply at you while switching out the cartridge on his rifle by muscle memory, not even having to look down.

“I told you-“

“No, I told you to take the goddamn stairs to the roof while I took out-

“I had it under control, Frank!”

Frank scoffed and let out an exasperated puff of air through his lips while shaking his head and gesturing towards you loosely with his free hand.

“Under control my ass, look at you. If you had fuckin’ listened to me, you wouldn’t be bleedin’ right now.”

Frank’s voice had risen in volume, and the timbre of it carried through the empty space between the two of you with a subtle growl. He might have been pissed at you, but you were fucking furious with him. You’d lost count of how many times the two of you fought about the exact same fucking thing over and over, and you weren’t arguing about it with him anymore.

The heavy sound of approaching footsteps and yells caught Frank’s attention, but as he began to march towards the open loading dock of the abandoned warehouse with purpose and a raging vendetta burning in his eyes, the metal shutter door suddenly came barreling down with a wave of your hand. It collided with the concrete floor, a loud thud echoing around the space, not only preventing Frank from getting out, but anyone else from getting in.

Frank instantly paused, snapping his head to look over his shoulder at you with an expression of pure annoyance covering his sharp features. Your eye color had shifted to an incandescent shade, glimmering like two deep red rubies caught in the sunlight. There was still a flickering scarlet glow around your right hand as you kept the door shut, and Frank could tell by the look on your face that you were incensed by his behavior, but he refused to back down anymore than you did.

Grabbing the hem of your top with your left hand, you hastily lifted it upwards just as one of the bullet holes above your right hip began to close up and heal. Frank’s narrowed gaze dropped downwards to watch, and his features softened just a sliver, only to harden once again when he looked back into your illuminated eyes.

“I can heal, Frank. You can’t. So when I tell you I have something under control, that doesn’t mean you fucking jump in front of me guns blazing. That bulletproof vest can’t protect you from everything, and I swear to whatever God you believe in, if you pull that shit again and get yourself killed, I will find a way to raise you from the dead just to kill you myself.”

Frank didn’t visibly react to your words, even as your voice rose in a hysterical volume and filled the empty space surrounding you both. Any other person might have been fucking terrified to be alone with a woman that had glowing red eyes and could trap them somewhere with her mind. Then again, anyone else probably also would’ve been scared shitless to be alone in a room with the Punisher himself.

But Frank wasn’t afraid of you, just like you weren’t afraid of him. You both knew what the other was, and you loved each other anyway.

That was the root cause of your recurring argument. Frank wanted to protect you, and you wanted to protect him. Despite him knowing about your abilities, he still felt responsible for you. He didn’t like seeing you get hurt, even if it did heal. He didn’t want anything to happen to you if he could prevent it.

Letting his rifle drop by his side, Frank let out a deep exhale through his broken nose, his eyes wandering over your figure slowly before meeting your gaze.

“You know how much I hate seein’ you get hurt, baby. You know what it does to me.”

The sudden change in his voice to a softer and more sincere tone had your eyes shifting back to their natural color, and your previous anger began to instantly cool. You did know. If someone so much as bumped into you on accident, Frank was ready to tear them to shreds. He had always been extremely overprotective of you, and knowing his traumatic past, you couldn’t blame him, or stay upset with him for very long.

Letting out a soft sigh of your own, you ran one of your hands through your hair before taking a few steps towards him, your heeled boots echoing along the cement floors. Despite the three inches of height they gave you, Frank still towered over you completely. The size difference between the two of you was nearly comical, especially considering he was the “big and scary” one.

But you were the little witch that had a nasty temper.

“You think I enjoy seeing you get hurt? I’m the one who has to fix you up, remember?”

Neither one of you paid any mind to the incessant banging on the shutter door, or the sound of ricocheting bullets and yelling coming from the other side. When you brought your hands up to gently grab Frank’s face, he leaned down to nuzzle into your palms and instantly melted into your touch, his attention solely focused on you.

“I know.”

Brushing your thumb lightly along the violet bruise that began to bloom on his right cheekbone, you took in the cut along the bridge of his nose and frowned softly with a sigh.

“Your nose is broken again.”

“Ain’t the first, won’t be the last.”

“Can I try something?”

Frank arched one of his thick brows in question, glancing over his shoulder momentarily at the shutter door before looking at you again.

“Right now?”

“You have somewhere to be?”

Rolling his eyes, Frank let out a soft chuckle and gave a slight nod of his head.

“Alright. S’pose they ain’t gettin’ in no time soon.”

A proud smirk was all you offered in return to his comment. Taking a deep breath, you removed your right hand from his face and let your index finger hover over his wounded nose. Focusing intently, your hand was once again glowing, and you traced a crimson line in the air from the top to the bottom of his nose. All of a sudden, the cut on the bridge of his nose sealed up, and the indigo patches that had blossomed around it vanished.

Frank blinked a few times in dumbfoundment, wiggling his large nose and glancing down at it in a mixture of confusion and awe. Your own eyes widened in surprise, and your mouth hung open in shock before your lips parted into a wide grin. Frank looked at you, his features twisted up in wonder and puzzlement.

“Holy shit. How the hell did you do that?”

“I…I don’t know. I just…wanted to see if I could, and…focused really hard. I can’t believe it actually worked!”

Frank stared down at you incredulously when you said that.

“The hell you mean you can’t believe it actually worked? You didn’t know it would? What if you had given me a tail or somethin’? Or put my ass where my nose was?”

“Oh, well then I could never kiss you again.”

Frank actually looked offended by that, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his expression while you gently patted his shoulder and stepped around him to face the shutter door, brushing your hair off your shoulders.

“Alright big guy, let’s wrap this up. I’m starving, and there’s a Gilmore Girls marathon waiting with our name on it.”

Frank’s plush lips pursed in an adorable pout as he cocked his rifle and aimed towards the shutter door, keeping his narrowed gaze locked on you.

“You and I are gonna have a serious talk ‘bout this magic shit when we get home.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

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chvoswxtch · 8 days ago

Note

I invite people to my inbox and they traumatize me, the nerve

but it’s okay I traumatize them back 🤷🏻‍♀️

Court baby i've waiting for this moment! I have this idea for a fic living rent free in my head. Its Frank x fem!reader. They were in a very cozy and confy moment when the snap happened and reader was blipped! You could write how Frank deald with those five years and with reader coming back. With a lot of angst moments and flufly and maybe spicy after she comes back. I would love if you accept this request! Thank you, I love you ❤️

i'm not gonna lie to you, the blip is my least favorite marvel storyline, but I love you so I put myself and frank through it just for you 🖤

I would say sorry that i'm about to emotionally wreck you but in my defense, you did ask for this so...enjoy or don't

warning: swearing, mentions of blood, violence, guns, & alcohol, heavy angst, very brief allusion to suicide (blink and you miss it) word count: 4.1k

the blip.

A split second. That’s how quickly Frank lost you. He turned his back for a second to refill his mug of coffee, and when he turned back around, you had vanished seemingly into thin air. At first he thought maybe you had gone back into the bedroom to grab a sweater or something. It had been a bit chilly in the kitchen, and you were always cold. But then a few seconds turned into a few minutes, and Frank didn’t hear any shuffling or soft footsteps. He didn’t hear anything at all. The crisp silence had an icy sense of dread trickling down his spine, and when he didn’t hear your sweet voice responding to his cautious calls of your name, he went into a full blown panic.

You were gone.

Year One.

This wasn’t happening again. It couldn’t be. There was no way he had survived losing Maria and the kids just to find you, to let your endless patience and irrevocable empathy fill the gaping void in his chest, only to lose you too. It had to be some kind of cruel joke. Frank didn’t consider himself a good man; he was well aware of and acquainted with his demons. But he didn’t deserve this.

Did he?

It was forty-eight hours before anyone even knew what happened. One giant asshole snapped his fingers, and half the universe’s population ceased to exist. Frank had stopped believing in God a lifetime ago, and he certainly didn’t believe in aliens or otherworldly creatures. He had seen first hand during his time in the Marines that mankind was the real monster. But it didn’t matter that he didn’t believe in it, because it happened, and not even the fucking Avengers could stop it. Hell, half of them were gone too.

Two weeks after the snap, news broke that Thanos had been killed, and that the Infinity Stones were destroyed, but the remaining members of the Avengers were trying to come up with a way to bring everyone back. For months Frank was glued to every news outlet, frantically waiting for even the smallest of updates. Anything was something. He refused to believe that the snap was permanent. The Avengers were going to find a way to bring everyone back. They had to.

Your pillowcase had stopped smelling like your shampoo, and Frank found himself using it and your body wash just to keep your scent on the sheets. He burned your favorite candles and read your favorite books. He wouldn’t stay gone longer than fifteen minutes in case you finally came home. He wanted to be there when you did. Frank kept himself busy with little projects around the house, things that you had mentioned changing or updating that he had promised he would get around to and never did. Frank swore to himself when you came home, things would be different.

He would take that trip you wanted to go on. He’d take you to the shelter to pick out a dog like you had been talking about. Maybe you two would finally start a family. Whatever you wanted, he’d give you. He’d find a way to give you the goddamn moon and every single star in the sky if you wanted them.

As soon as you came home.

But then a year went by, and nothing had changed. The anniversary of the snap came and went, and everyone seemed to give up hope on bringing everyone back, or they just decided to move on and accept that no one was coming back.

But Frank couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He refused to believe you were really gone.

Year Two.

The worst part about the snap was that Frank couldn’t collect his vengeance in blood like he had with his family. The one who took you from him was already dead, and even if he hadn’t been, Frank had no way of reaching him. Thanos was a Titan, someone who was revered as a God to those that followed him, and Frank was just a man. A man poisoned with rage and an insatiable thirst for revenge. So, he did what he was good at. He punished. Even though half the universe’s population was gone, that didn’t mean there weren’t still monsters left on Earth.

Frank killed without mercy or prejudice. There was no sin too harmless for his wrath. His fists collided with skin and bone until there was nothing left but ivory fragments tainted crimson and torn flesh. He didn’t stop, not even when his destructive blows caused his own knuckles to crack. It had gotten to the point where he hardly reached for a gun anymore unless he absolutely had to. He preferred to use his hands or serrated steel. He wanted to inflict every ounce of pain that he felt inside on whoever was stupid enough to get in his way.

It was like he wasn’t even mentally present anymore. His conscience had been shut off somehow, and all that was left was a relentless killing machine. Whenever he ran out of targets in the city, he moved on to hunt in the next one, and the next one, and the next one. He lived primarily out of his van, or whatever dingy motel he came across on the road. He hadn’t stepped foot in your home in almost a year. He couldn’t. It was haunted by your memory, and he couldn’t desecrate the home you two had made together with what he had become.

You would be ashamed of him. You would be disgusted and horrified by the things he had done. That thought echoed in his head as he watched the water continue to run red while he stood under the weak spray of the shower head. He didn’t know what town or even what state he was in. He didn’t know what day of the week it was, or what month it was. He didn’t care. All he knew was that you were gone, and he had nothing left.

Nothing left but the white hot fury that infected his veins and had him seeking out blood like water in the desert.

Year Three.

Frank couldn’t visit you, not like he could Maria and the kids. He couldn’t even have the closure of burying you, because there wasn’t a body. There was no final resting place for you, and he didn’t think that was fucking fair. Today was your birthday, and Frank had been drowning himself in whiskey trying to dilute the painful memories that played in his head like a haunting home movie.

The angelic sound of your voice as you read him whatever book your nose was buried in that week, your fingers slipping through his dark tresses while he laid his head on your chest and listened in pure content. The feeling of your soft lips on his heated skin and delicate noises of pleasure as your bodies connected like they were made for each other. Your melodic laughter, the silkiness of your skin, slow dancing in the living room with the moon acting as a spotlight.

All the words he never said. All the promises he didn’t get to keep. All the dreams that wouldn’t come true.

Somehow Frank found himself in a church. He couldn’t remember the last time he stepped foot in one. Maybe it was Sunday school back when his parents still forced him to go. He had stumbled in, his heavy boots thudding along the aisle, the only other sound coming from the amber liquid sloshing around in the half empty bottle in his hand. He stopped when he got to the front, looking up at the stained glass depictions of angels, until his weary eyes landed on the savior that was nailed to the giant cross.

Frank glared at him for several minutes before hurling the half empty bottle right at the head of the statue, causing a firework explosion of shimmering shards of glass to rain over the altar and various candles that had been lit for loved ones that had passed on. His rough voice boomed throughout the empty space.

“You son of a bitch! Why didn’t you take me, huh? Why not me? She ain’t never done a goddamn thing wrong. I’m the one you want. I’m the one that deserves it. I’m the goddamn killer here, huh? I’m the fuckin’ Punisher. So you bring her back, and you take me!”

Frank started grabbing bibles from the pews and hurling them at the statue with all his strength. In his inebriated state, some of them flew right past the statue and knocked over other small figurines and candlesticks. He let out a guttural war cry every time he threw a new one, and by the time he ran out of steam, he was panting heavily, and tears had formed in his eyes.

Dropping to his knees, he looked up at the melancholic face of the statue that matched his own, and he did something he hadn’t done in years.

He prayed.

“Please. Please, just bring her back. I’ll take her place…I won’t fight…just…just bring her back. I’m beggin’ you…I’ll do whatever it takes, alright? Just…you can’t…you can’t do this to me again. You can’t. I may deserve it, but she don’t…okay so just…just…”

Frank was tired. Three years without you was too long. He hadn’t been able to find the peace that he had found after Maria and the kids. He spent a year waging war on everyone, and it did nothing. He spent the last few months drowning himself in booze, and it didn’t help. Nothing helped, and there was nothing to keep him going. You were gone, and you weren’t coming back, so what the hell was he still getting out of bed every morning for?

Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Frank pulled out a revolver and stared down at it. There was only one bullet in the chamber, and it wasn’t meant for anyone but him. If God wouldn’t bring you back, then he would go to you.

As soon as he cocked the hammer, a familiar voice sounded behind him.

“You don’t wanna do that, Frank.”

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, Frank squinted his blurry eyes before turning back around, shaking his head with a dry laugh.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. Half the goddamn universe gets wiped out, and I get stuck with the fuckin’ altar boy.”

“Frank-”

“Mind your fuckin’ business, Red. Just cause there’s only one bullet in this chamber don’t mean I won’t handle your ass.”

Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few cautious steps towards where Frank was on his knees in front of the altar.

“You’re drunk-”

“And you’re fuckin’ relentless. Go home.”

“Look, whoever you lost-”

“Whoever I lost? I lost everyone, Red!”

Matt didn’t flinch when Frank suddenly rose from his knees and stormed over towards him, his loud voice booming in the silence as they stood barely an inch apart. Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, his lips pursed as he grit his teeth.

“You think you’re the only one that’s lost everyone you’ve ever cared about, Frank?”

“Then what the hell are you waitin’ on, huh? You too much of a fuckin’ pussy to do it yourself, huh? That it? You need me to do it for you?”

Matt carefully reached out to place his hand on Frank’s arm, lowering the gun that was in his hand while he spoke in a calm voice.

“I don’t want to die, Frank. And I don’t think you want to either. You just want the pain to stop. But if you do this, it’s permanent, and you’ll never know if she came back.”

Frank shook his head and blew a puff of hot air out of his lips, his dark brows scrunching up in pure annoyance and frustration.

“She ain’t comin’ back-”

“You don’t know that. She’s not dead, Frank. She’s lost. Maybe she’s with Karen and Foggy. Frank, someone came down from another planet and wiped out half the universe. Is it so crazy to think that could be undone?”

The anger that was simmering inside Frank from Matt’s intrusion seemed to be burning through the alcohol in his system, and Matt’s question was igniting a tiny ember of hope that Frank wasn’t prepared to tend to. His body physically deflated as he dropped his head between his broad shoulders. There was a heavy tide of tears on his bottom lash line threatening to flood at any moment.

“Don’t do that.”

“You have to have faith, Frank-“

“I don’t, Red.”

“I do.”

Frank didn’t know when Matt managed to slip the revolver from his grasp, but he didn’t feel the weight of a permanent decision in his palm anymore. Matt had planted a tiny seed of hope, and what if’s were taking over Frank’s brain like wild ivy.

What if there was a chance you could come back? Matt had a point, you weren’t dead. Not really. Even if the probability of it happening was one in a million, didn’t Frank owe you the same unwavering patience you had always shown him?

“Look Frank, just…give me a year. One year to show you things can be different. If you still want to make that call in a year, I won’t stop you. I’ll leave you alone. But Frank…you’ve gotten through this once before. You can do this again. If not for yourself, just try for her.”

A year. A year was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Frank had already been without you for three years now.

What was one more?

Year Four.

Matt’s apartment was fucking obnoxious due to that goddamn billboard across the street, but it was better than the shitty motels Frank had been staying in. He still couldn’t step foot in the home he had shared with you. It had been three years now, and even though he wasn’t fully convinced you could come back, he couldn’t let it go. Everything that was you was there, and if he sold the house, that meant every trace of you and your existence was gone.

Matt had one rule for Frank staying with him; no killing. For a week, Frank lounged on the couch trying to figure out what to do with himself. He would start to read a book, but could never get more than a few pages because he remembered how much you loved to read, and then he would get stuck staring at the pages while memories of you played on loop in his head. There wasn’t a TV because Matt didn’t have use for one, and Frank didn’t care to watch anything anyway. It didn’t take long for Frank to go stir crazy. He had never been good at staying idle.

While Matt was out making the world a better place, Frank had managed to find a construction job. Busting down walls all day long allowed him to get his pent up anger out while not breaking Matt’s golden rule. Most days it felt like Frank was on autopilot. He woke up, went to the job site, smashed a sledgehammer through a wall until his hands bled, came home, tried to sleep, inevitably had a nightmare about losing you, and laid on the couch staring blankly up at the ceiling until the sun rose.

Every single day was a repeat of the last until they started to blur together. Frank didn’t speak to anyone at the job sites. He didn’t speak to anyone at all. Between Matt’s busy court schedule and his nightly patrols, they didn’t see each other often, and even when they were home at the same time, Frank still hardly spoke to him. He wasn’t sleeping, he barely ate, and on the days he had off, he didn’t leave the couch. He felt like a hollow shell of the man he used to be.

Matt knew what he was going through. Hell, he had been there himself after the second time he lost Elektra. He knew what it felt like to lose the person you loved most in this world, and that had happened to Frank twice now. He did his best to be patient, but after four months, he couldn’t take it anymore. Matt was fortunate that he’d had people that helped him combat his depression to find his way back to himself, but Frank didn’t have a soul in his corner.

Except for Matt.

And even though Frank wasn’t shy about not wanting Matt’s help, Matt didn’t care. Frank could be stubborn, but he didn’t have the energy or the drive to match Matt’s stubbornness, and Matt used that to his advantage. He was relentless in pushing Frank to participate in life again. He purposely antagonized Frank, even if it meant being reduced to a human punching bag, because that meant Frank was still in there somewhere.

Matt started small in getting him out of the apartment, like guilt tripping Frank into joining him on trips to the grocery store.

“You’re not gonna help your blind roommate get groceries? You know, a lot of items don’t come with braille labels. So when I die because I accidentally put bleach in my coffee instead of creamer, you have to say nice things about me at my funeral.”

“You don’t need labels, Red. You got that goddamn bloodhound nose. Would you stop lookin’ at me like that? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, fine. Get your fuckin’ jacket and let’s go.”

After a while, he even managed to get Frank to join him at Fogwell’s from time to time.

“No wonder you became a goddamn lawyer. All you know how to do is fuckin’ argue, makes sense you made a livin’ outta it.”

“I’m not arguing, Frank. If we got in the ring, you would lose. That’s a fact. You don’t know how to box, you just know how to run at people and slam them into things. And you’re too bulky to move as fast as me. None of that is an argument, it’s a simple observation.”

“Why don’t you observe your ass in that ring so I can shut you the fuck up, Red.”

The more time they spent together, and the more Frank put in an effort to move forward one step at a time, the less empty he felt. The nightmares still came every so often, and there were days where the weight of your absence was too much for him to bear, but for the first time in four years, he didn’t feel so hopeless.

He could think about you without breaking down. He could see something that reminded him of you, and it warmed his heart instead of ripping it out. He had finally reached a point where he had slowly crawled out of the deep pit of grief that he had been digging for the past four years.

As much as he hated to admit it, Matt had helped him find a semblance of peace.

Year Five.

The sound of a dog barking caught Frank’s attention. He pulled his head out from under the hood of his truck, looking over at the grey and white pitbull that was standing a few feet away from the front door of the house you and Frank had lived in together that he’d finally moved back into six months ago. He glanced between the front door and the dog with his thick brows furrowed.

“What is it, Daisy?”

The dog turned her head when she heard Frank’s voice, the movement so fast it made her long velvet ears flop. She turned her attention back to the door and continued to bark. Something inside had caught her attention. Eyeing the front door warily, Frank rubbed his grease stained hands off on a small rag and walked over towards where Daisy was, kneeling down beside her to gently scratch that spot between her ears that she loved.

“Hey, shh shh shh. C’mon now, what’s got you so worked up, huh? What do you think is inside, huh? You smellin’ that-”

The sound of the front door opening caught Frank’s attention, and he instantly snapped his head in the direction of it. All of a sudden, his warm brown eyes went wide, and time seemed to freeze in that very moment.

“Sweetheart?”

His quiet whisper was dripped in disbelief. There you were, looking exactly the same as the day you had vanished, looking between Frank and Daisy with an expression of surprise and perplexment.

“Frank?”

God, your voice. It had been five years since he had last heard it. That was all the confirmation he needed that this was real. You were real. You were really home.

Without wasting a second, Frank stood and ran over towards you, tears filling up his eyes as he wrapped his arms around your frame and hugged you as tightly as physically possible. His heart was thrashing against his ribcage, and he was terrified this was just a vivid dream, but then he inhaled the scent of your shampoo intermingled with your perfume, felt your hands gently pressing against his back, and heard your soft angelic laughter.

“Frankie…baby…you’re crushing me.”

Frank pulled back only slightly, bringing his large hands up to cup your face to study your features, taking in every single inch of you. He caught the way you frowned softly, looking up at him in pure concern when thick tears streamed down his cheeks. You lifted your hand to delicately brush them away with the featherlight touch of your fingers.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“You’re really here.”

“Of course I’m here. Where else would I be? Baby, why are you so upset?”

As you ran your hands through his long grown out curls, a crease of bewilderment nestled in between your brows when you took in his appearance.

“Wait…what happened to your hair? It was just short five seconds ago…and you didn’t have a beard. How…how did you do that? And when did we get a dog? Frank, what-”

Five seconds ago.

Is that all it was for you? Frank could see the visible disorientation on your delicate features, and he had a lot of questions of his own, but right now nothing mattered but you. He leaned in and captured your lips in a deep kiss, pouring every emotion he had felt in the past five years into it. He kissed you like the world could end at any moment, because for him it did the day you vanished.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and let out a deep exhale of relief.

“You…you were gone, sweetheart. You were gone a long time…a long goddamn time.”

“Gone? What-”

“I’ll explain everythin’, I promise. Just…just give me a minute, please. Just let me hold you for a minute, can you do that for me, baby? Please?”

Frank had always been able to read you like a book, and he could tell by the look in your eyes that you weren’t just confused. Hearing you had been gone for a long time infused you with a sense of panic and uncertainty. But you trusted Frank, and you knew whatever hard truth he was going to tell you, he wouldn’t let you go through it alone.

“Okay.”

As Frank embraced you again, you suddenly felt a pair of paws on your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the happy dog wagging its tail while looking between you and Frank. Reaching down, you gently pet the side of her face with a soft smile.

“Hi there, precious.”

“Daisy.”

Glancing up at Frank, your lips parted slightly when Frank told you her name. A soft smile covered his lips, the first smile to do so in five years. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear slowly.

“You always said if we got a dog and it was a girl, you wanted to name her Daisy.”

Tears welled up along your bottom lash line as you looked up at Frank, a gentle smile covering your lips. After a moment, you glanced away from Frank to look at Daisy again, letting out a soft laugh.

“I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Daisy.”

Frank gave your waist a light squeeze, leaning in to press a soft lingering kiss to your cheek.

“And we’ve been waitin’ a long time for you. Welcome home, sweetheart.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

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chvoswxtch · 8 days ago

Note

dating app men and dating app women looking for a third, ‘twas not a good time, but experiencing men in general is a travesty

unless they’re fictional

Hello my love! I love the way you write Frank (AND Matt, but im in a Frank mood tonight). I’m not sure if you’re taking requests rn, but if you are, I love to submit one!! Tbh I’m so sick of how douchey guys are these days on apps, and the “oh you just wanted a free meal” behavior and dating rn is the fucking worst. What’s your take on a situation where you’re friends with Frank and you complain about how badly men behave these days, and he offers to take you on a real date and treat you right? Bc I could use a Frank to rescue me and treat me right rn 😫

hello my darling! thank you so much, omg. you're too kind🥺

ok first of all when I say you are PREACHING to the damn CHOIR !!! I tried a few dating apps and I loathed every single one of them. straight up was not having a good time. it was an absolute travesty, so I feel for you so hard right now angel.

this is my first time doing a headcannon so this is super exciting and i'm happy we get to do this together!! because you absolutely DESERVE a frankie to rescue you and treat you right because you are a goddamn CATCH you are a GLOWING GODDESS and anyone should be so heckin LUCKY as to go on a date with you ❤️

headcannon is going to be below the cut bc y'all know I get carried away, especially with my baby frankie

frank castle & dating apps

first things first: frank castle is very old fashioned, so the idea of a dating app probably not only confuses the fuck out of him but also makes him grimace. like the man without a doubt hates texting, preferring an actual phone call instead, and most likely comes up with a million different threats to your security and worst case scenarios when you teach him about online dating

"don't you wanna meet someone the old fashioned way? how can you tell they're not a complete asshole just by a picture and a few words? what if they ain't who they say they are? you still got that knife I gave ya?"

frank already made you share your location with him a long time ago for safety reasons but now makes you text him the address of wherever it is you're going on these "dates" as well as check in with him every hour

he would probably be adamant about coming with you and sitting in a corner somewhere so he could keep an eye on you but you quickly shot that down bc it's frank and he's very hard to miss and you would have a hard time explaining to your date why that big guy across the room looks like he's seconds away from committing murder (you know exactly which look i'm talking about)

frank requests you send him a picture of whatever guy you're meeting just in case he needs to hunt him down find him if you don't check in or something happens, and never hesitates to offer a look of utter disdain and merciless judgment when you finally send it

"really? you're goin' on a date with this? the options on them apps that goddamn bad, sweetheart?"

frank is extremely shameless in verbally eviscerating every single guy you show him or tell him about and never misses an opportunity to make his opinions known

one night you storm into his apartment without knocking (a common occurrence he's finally gotten used to) and plop down next to him on the couch with a glass a wine (he made a mental note to keep the kind you like on hand at all times) and start to vent about your latest disaster date

the guy made you drive nearly an hour out of your way to meet him at a sketchy dive bar, spent the whole night talking about himself and cutting you off every time you spoke, and then had the AUDACITY to ask you to cover the tab because he "forgot" his wallet at home (this actually happened to me once)

frank can't take it anymore. this online dating thing has been going on for months and every time you vent to him about these assholes, it gets harder and harder for him to control his feelings for you because he's supposed to be your friend and the guys you've been going out with look nothing like him and as much as he wants to be with you, he's scared to ruin the one good thing he has. so, frank hatches a plan

"alright, I can't take this shit anymore. don't make plans friday night. we're goin' out."

he says it so nonchalantly, you almost don't catch what he means. you splutter out your wine, staring over at frank because there's no way he just asked you out on a date??? frank catches your look and offers a timid smile, reaching over to squeeze your knee gently

"relax. i'm just gonna show you what a real date should be like. you've been on so many shitty ones, I don't even know if you know what a good one is. let me help you raise your standards a bit."

let me tell you something, frank castle knows a thing or two about romance. this man goes ALL OUT. picking you up at your door (on time, early even), flowers in hand (your favorites bc he actually listens when you talk), is the most dressed up you've ever seen him (it's a dress shirt and jeans but he's usually covered in blood so), opens all the doors for you and pulls out your chair, takes you to a restaurant he knew you would love bc he knows your favorite dish & dessert, spends the whole night asking you questions about things he's always wanted to know about you, makes you laugh with silly jokes and stories, and tells you several times throughout the night how beautiful he thinks you look

you've always had a crush on frank (how could you not honestly) so you were a nervous wreck about the whole thing and what it meant for your friendship and if he was just doing this to be nice because he felt sorry for you or if he actually liked you back

but the date is not only the best one you've ever been on but also the easiest because it's frank and he's your best friend and you've never felt more comfortable or at ease with someone and when the check comes it makes your heart sink because you never want this date to end, even if it isn't real

the entire walk back to your apartment there's a palpable nervous energy between the two of you and his hands are in his pockets but you desperately wish they were holding yours and when you stop at your door there's a million thoughts racing through your head that you wanna say but the look in frank's eyes steals the oxygen straight out of your lungs

"listen I uh...know I said this was just to show you how a real date should be and what not, and I did mean that but...I really just wanted to show you how you should be treated ya'know. how...how I would treat you, if you'd let me. i'd give you the goddamn world if you asked, sweetheart. I don't know if I read tonight wrong, but I know I could be the right man for you, and I think you know that too. at least, I hope you do. there's nothin' I wouldn't do for you, honey. I understand if you don't feel the same way-"

you don't even let frank finish that sentence before you're dragging him down by his collar and crashing your lips together because holy shit frank, your frank, wants you just as much as you want him

needless to say you invite him up and show him just how much you want him despite his weak attempt at trying to continue to be a gentleman

"sweetheart, we can take it slow. I don't mind-" "frank I swear to god if you don't take your pants off right now, i'm never kissing you again." "yes ma'am."

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chvoswxtch · 11 days ago

Note

Fire Jane pfp btw

Do you think you d ever write for Jesse maybe?

hi there!

i’m assuming you mean jesse from breaking bad but unfortunately that is not a fandom I write for. thank you for asking though!

#court answers #court rambles

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chvoswxtch · 11 days ago

Text

the hate on this man is so forced

2025 vs 2016

#anthony mackie is a national fucking treasure

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chvoswxtch · 11 days ago

Text

okay so we have brett and curtis back but WHERE THE FUCK IS MADANI

#a win is a win I know #but where is she #there is no such thing as too much eye candy on screen #give me my feral brunette goddess back #dinah come home the kids miss you #dinah madani #curtis hoyle #brett mahoney #daredevil #daredevil born again #ddba #the punisher #court rambles

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chvoswxtch · 11 days ago

Text

i’m excited you’re excited

part one: the call

[series masterlist] | [part two]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: a ghost from the past has returned.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of murder, creepy sleazy boss & brief mentions of sexual harassment, billy being the cocky lil shit he is

word count: 3.8k

a/n: ahhhhhhh! i've been working on this for the past few months & i'm so excited to finally put it out. I really really really hope y'all enjoy it. this is only 6 parts, so it will not be a slow burn. it's gonna get intense fast. also, there is an oc name mentioned, but it's just for the backstory of the plot. this is still a self insert, & y/n will be used for the rest of the story! without further ado, let's get this spooky slutty season started. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

This was a bad dream. It had to be. There was no other logical way to explain why you were currently sitting in an interrogation room at a precinct, being questioned by police about a man that you had gone on a blind date with not even twelve hours ago, who had been found stabbed to death in an alley two blocks away from your apartment building.

It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. All you had to do was open your eyes, and this would all go away. You knew how to deal with nightmares. You knew how to escape them. You’d been running and hiding from them your whole life. All you had to do was open your eyes, and the sinister shadows wouldn't be able to sink their claws into your subconscious to trap you in the dark. Just open them, and this will all disappear.

Just open your eyes.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

The detective’s voice swiftly brought you out of the trance of denial your mind had wandered into, and your eyes snapped open. To your dismay, nothing changed. The two detectives were still sitting across the table from you, the metal cold against your sweaty palms, one eying you warily while the other regarded you with a more sympathetic stare. The chair beneath you was still stiff and uncomfortable, the light above was still a harsh shade of artificial brightness, and the large piece of glass to your right that reflected your terrified expression still made you feel unsettled knowing there was someone watching you just on the other side of that two-way pane.

“I…I’m sorry. What was the question?”

The waver in your voice gave away how shaken you were by the whole ordeal. When the police had shown up at your office an hour ago stating they needed to bring you in for questioning regarding the murder of Adam Mercer, shock had instantly shot through your entire nervous system, chilling the very blood in your veins with an icy sense of dread.

This was the kind of thing you heard about happening in the news. A tragedy that struck someone else’s life. A nameless, faceless person whose existence you were unaware of. It was the kind of thing nobody ever thought could happen to them, until it did.

The older detective, the more commiserating one, had said they thought it was some kind of mugging gone wrong. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in New York City, unfortunately. The dazzling city was also dangerous. But since you were the last person to see Adam alive, they needed as much information as you could give them about the last few hours of his life. For some odd reason, it filled you with a sense of guilt that his final moments had been spent with you, a complete stranger, instead of someone else.

Adam had been a really nice guy. He’d seemed to enjoy the date. He’d thrown his head back and laughed like a little kid at a stupid joke you’d told. He’d flashed you a charming smile when you’d nearly knocked your glass of wine over into your pasta. He’d animatedly told you about his family’s tradition of selecting a perfect tree together at a local Christmas farm back in his home state of Jersey every holiday season. He’d been sweet and gentle and respectful. But had he been happy?

Had he succumbed to the inevitable fate of death at his attacker’s hands without a fight? Did he even see it coming? Had he had that moment, where everything flashed before his eyes, all his mistakes, all his regrets, all the would’ve, could’ve, should'ves?

You knew what that feeling was like. You’d been there, once before. Nothing makes you want to live more than Death deciding to show up at your door and pick the lock with its cold, bony fingers to collect a bounty early.

Thirteen times. Adam had been brutally stabbed thirteen times. It was excessive for a mugging. It felt more personal, that kind of anger and passion. As morbid as the thought was, you hoped the first one had killed him. You hoped he that went into shock swiftly and bled out just as fast so he hadn’t suffered through the next twelve.

Holding his pen in his right hand, the tip hovering over his worn yellow pocket sized notepad, Detective Craven repeated his question.

“How well did you know Adam?”

“I…I didn’t. I’d never met him until last night. My roommate um…she knew him. She’s the one who set us up.”

“Your roommate being Miss Riley?”

Detective Williamson had his hands clasped together in front of him on the table. He lifted one of his brows while waiting for you to answer his question. Swallowing thickly, you gave a faint nod of your head and dropped your hands to your lap, fidgeting with them under the table anxiously.

“Yeah, Annie.”

Detective Craven cleared his throat, reading over his notes with his honey brown eyes as he continued his questioning.

“Now, you said he picked you up at your apartment around eight-thirty, the two of you had dinner at Maureen’s, and then he dropped you back off at your place around eleven. He left right after that?”

“Yeah, he…um…we said goodnight, he said he’d like to see me again, and then he told me he’d call me tomorrow.”

“He didn’t come up to your apartment at all?”

Detective Williamson didn’t bother hiding the skepticism in his voice, or the implication behind his words, his icy blue eyes locked on you in an almost unsettling way.

“No, he dropped me off at the front steps of the building.”

“And you didn’t see where he went when he left? Didn’t give him one last look after a goodnight kiss?”

A flash of annoyance broke through your stunned disbelief at the invasive second question. You hadn’t said anything about a kiss. The younger detective seemed to be fishing for a crack in your alibi for some reason, trying to catch you in a lie that didn’t exist. A flicker of defensiveness crept into your voice when you spoke.

“No, after we said goodnight, I went inside.”

Before Detective Williamson could ask another thinly veiled judgmental question, Detective Craven stood up, shooting his partner a silencing look. Glancing down at you with a warmer expression, the older man gestured towards the door with his hand.

“That’s all the questions we have for now. We appreciate you speaking with us. I’ll walk you out.”

The precinct was bustling. Various murmurs of conversation buzzed in your ears. People were breezing past in every direction, but amidst the sea of chaos, you spotted a familiar head of blonde hair. Annie jumped up from the chair she’d been sitting in and forced her way through the waves of people, not once muttering an “excuse me” or waiting for someone to move out of her way. A true New Yorker.

Detective Craven placed his hand on your shoulder to get your attention and held out a white business card that had all of his information on it in embossed black text.

“If you can think of anything else that might be helpful, don’t hesitate to call.”

Taking the card into your hand, you looked up at him and forced a tight smile onto your lips, giving him a faint nod of your head.

“Of course.”

After giving your shoulder a light squeeze, Detective Craven gave Annie a nod of acknowledgement before turning and disappearing back inside the interrogation room. As soon as you turned to face her, Annie’s face contorted into an expression of pity and concern. She immediately pulled you into a hug, and it took everything in you not to crumble under the weight of your own overwhelming emotions.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

»»———　　———««

Annie had swiftly shot down your plan to go back to work before the words could even fully leave your lips. All you wanted to do was dive head first into a distraction, to immerse yourself fully in the piles of paper and black ink sitting on your desk that were waiting to transport you to another universe and into the body of someone else whose world hadn’t just been flipped upside down. Again.

Instead, she brought you back to your shared apartment, uncorked a bottle of wine for each of you, and did her best to help you sort through the shock and the ripples it caused within you. She didn’t understand that your instinct was to run and hide, and that was because she didn’t understand you, not really. But that wasn’t her fault. She could only understand what you allowed her to, and there were huge pieces of yourself you kept hidden from her and everyone else beneath carefully crafted layers.

Pieces you were not ready to uncover and face yet.

The following morning when you showed up to work at the publishing house, it felt like everyone was looking through you instead of at you. Everyone had heard what happened, had seen the two detectives escorting you out of your office, but none of your coworkers said a word. Not to your face, anyway. You could feel the weight of their lingering stares, their hushed whispers floating past your ear like a cold autumn breeze. It was a familiar territory you’d already escaped once.

To your relief, you hadn’t been harassed by reporters wanting an exclusive on the story. Unfortunately, crimes like what had happened to Adam were a dime a dozen in this city. You felt guilty for feeling grateful for that, but not having cameras shoved in your face to be broadcast on news outlets that circulated on social media worked in your favor. You had come to the city that millions of people called home for a reason. You came here to disappear, to be invisible. The last thing you needed was to be thrust into a spotlight that would attract attention you’d gone to great lengths to avoid.

In the midst of trying to drown out the white noise of suspicious gossip and ignoring the way the stares penetrating the glass windows of your office made your insides twist in dreaded knots, you almost missed the sound of a knock at your door. Lifting your head, you were met with the sight of the last person you ever expected to see standing in the doorway.

Billy Russo.

He was significantly more dressed up than the last time you’d seen him, looking every bit the illustrious CEO, although that signature arrogant smirk of his seemed to be missing for once. His tall frame was covered in a deep navy blue three piece suit with a crisp white dress shirt beneath the matching tie, a dark charcoal gray thick coat layering over top. His raven hair was gelled back perfectly, just like it was that night at the bar, but the gleam of mischief in his dark brown eyes was absent. As he stood in the doorway of your office, nearly taking up the entire frame, he seemed to be looking at you in an expression of something that resembled concern.

“Billy.”

The surprise in your hushed tone rang clear in the quiet of your office. Billy removed the black leather gloves from his hands, slipping them into the pocket of his overcoat.

“This a bad time?”

Your lips parted slightly as your eyes flickered down to the open manuscript on your desk before looking up at him again.

“Um…no. No…I…what are you doing here?”

Billy took a step forward into your office and quietly closed the door behind himself.

“Just came by to check on ya.”

“Check on me?”

“Derek told me what happened.”

Billy kept his eyes locked on you as he explained the reasoning behind his unexpected visit, watching you closely.

Derek Becker was a friend of Billy’s. They had served in the military together, and he now worked for Billy’s private security company, Anvil. Derek also happened to be Annie’s boyfriend. A few months back, the two of them had tried to set you and Billy up. The four of you had gone out to a bar for drinks, but instead of hitting it off with Billy, you’d found him narcissistic, and you’d had no interest in pursuing anything romantic with him. Although, based on how he had interacted with you that night, it had seemed like he hadn’t been looking for anything romantic either, just a night of physical release.

Because Annie was your best friend and roommate, and Derek was often around, you’d seen Billy a few times since then, but it wasn’t like the two of you were friends. Needless to say, the fact that he’d made the trip to your office to check on your mental wellbeing was a bit of a shock.

“I’m fine.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, and the ghost of a smile graced the edge of his lips.

“You almost sounded like you meant that.”

You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, to protest the underlying accusation in his words, but your defense got stuck in your throat. Seeing the look on your face, Billy’s faint amusement quickly disappeared, and he let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few steps closer towards your desk.

“I’m sorry, I’m not here to be a dick. But it’s alright if you’re not fine. Normal people wouldn’t be fine in this situation.”

“Normal people?”

Billy stared down at you for a moment silently before turning his head to look out the glass window of your office, rubbing his large palm over his mouth and perfectly trimmed beard. Looking down at you again, a flicker of amusement was back in his gaze, and there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I got a real good habit of sayin’ the wrong thing with you, huh?”

The self deprecation you detected in his smooth voice surprised you. You’d never heard him say anything that didn’t have an undertone of superiority or didn’t sound prideful. The guy standing in front of you wasn’t acting like the cocky rich playboy you were used to, and it made you wonder for a second if that’s what it really was; an act. A flicker of newfound curiosity had you wondering if Billy’s persona was as carefully crafted as your own.

“I don’t know if I’d call that a good habit.”

Billy let out a puff of air past his lips, giving a faint shake of his head in faux disapproval.

“Kickin’ a man while he’s down? That’s ruthless, sweetheart.”

“I think your ego can survive being knocked down a few pegs.”

Billy let out a deep chuckle at that, and his lips spread into a wolfish grin.

“Between you and me, it’s a bit more fragile than you think.”

You looked at him in faux shock, an overly dramatic gasp leaving your lips.

“What? You mean the ego you overcompensate for with designer clothes and fancy cars is delicate?”

Billy rolled his eyes and held his hand up in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright. I get it. You’ve kept me humble enough for one day.”

To your surprise, and to Billy’s, you smiled. It was small, but it was real and genuine. Billy’s impromptu visit was the last thing you expected to provide a lighthearted distraction to the whirlwind of chaos that had been plaguing you since yesterday.

As much as you hadn’t been able to stand him the night you met him, you couldn’t deny that the banter between you came effortlessly. Within the first five minutes of meeting him, you’d called him a ‘self obsessed dumbass’, and instead of getting offended, he’d smiled. It had quickly launched into a battle of wits, who could come up with the more clever retort faster, and it only took half an hour for Derek and Annie to become exhausted, realizing they’d made a huge mistake and miscalculated their match making skills. Billy seemed to enjoy antagonizing you, and you couldn’t resist putting a man like him in his place.

Everytime the two of you were around each other, it was exactly the same. Just an endless cycle of unrequited flirting and unrestrained snark.

“Humble is not exactly a word I’d use to describe you, Russo.”

Before Billy could respond, your office door suddenly opened and your boss walked in, glancing between you and Billy in a mixture of curiosity and barely concealed displeasure. He seemed to size him up before turning his attention towards you, not so subtly letting his eyes roam over your figure sitting behind your desk in a way that made your skin crawl, which wasn’t missed by Billy. John gestured his head in Billy’s direction.

“Another detective?”

There was clear annoyance in John’s voice that didn’t go unnoticed by you. It wasn’t lost on Billy either, and his posture seemed to go rigid.

“No. No, um…friend.”

Friend. Using that word to describe Billy tasted foreign on your tongue, but Billy didn’t appear to react to it. His dark brown eyes sized John up in a similar fashion as your boss had done to him, only Billy didn’t even attempt to hide his judgment and lack of impression.

“You know, most people knock before just walkin’ in.”

Both yours and John’s heads turned towards Billy. You were momentarily stunned by the way Billy had so casually called out John’s abrupt intrusion, and John looked visibly irritated, but he turned to face Billy with a forced smile on his mouth.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m John Altieri. I own this publishing house.”

Unlike John, Billy didn’t plaster a fake smile on his face for politeness, or speak in a faux friendly tone. Maintaining eye contact, he reached out to grasp John’s outstretched hand with more firmness than necessary as he shook it.

“Billy Russo. I own the building.”

That bombshell had you sitting up straighter in your chair and blinking a few times in surprise. Billy owned the building? Since when? That was definitely news to you.

The smile on John’s face faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered and nodded, trying to appear unphased by that revelation.

“Pleasure. If you don’t mind, I have some important things to discuss with Y/N/N. In private.”

Billy outwardly looked calm and collected, but you swore you saw a flicker of anger in his dark brown eyes. He didn’t seem to like hearing your boss refer to you with a nickname that was spoken with too saccharine of a tone for a superior to speak about their employee. Not that you liked it either. John seemed to always maintain a balance on that tightrope of not being inappropriate enough to report him to HR, but being too friendly for you to not feel uncomfortable.

The bastard was clever, you’d give him that. He knew what he was doing. He was careful and cautious enough that it couldn’t be classified as textbook harassment, and could be argued as a simple misunderstanding. It made you want to stab him with your pen every time you caught him staring at your chest or your legs.

After letting a purposeful uncomfortable moment of silence pass, Billy looked down at John, that signature smirk you were used to seeing on his lips spreading slowly like a sun rising over the skyline.

“Of course.”

Turning his head to look at you again, Billy gave you a faint nod of his head and a wink.

“See ya later, sweetheart.”

Giving John one last final unimpressed and cold side eye, Billy pulled his leather gloves out of his overcoat pocket and turned to leave your office with a confident stride, leaving you and John alone in your office, and your mind swirling with a flurry of questions about Billy Russo.

»»———　　———««

By the time you walked through the front door of yours and Annie’s shared apartment, all you wanted was a hot shower and a few hours of sleep. You’d spent last night tossing and turning, haunted by the nightmare your life had once again turned into, and you felt the exhaustion in every cell of your body. Tossing your keys into the little green bowl on the side table by the front door, your footsteps were slow and sluggish as you headed down the hall on the left towards your bedroom.

Dropping your purse onto your bed, you sat down on the edge of it and slipped off your shoes, letting them drop on the hardwood floor with a soft thud. Letting out a deep exhale, you closed your eyes and hunched over, covering your face with both of your hands. The muffled noise of your ringtone began to sound from your purse. Dragging your palms down your face, you slipped one of your hands into your purse to dig for your phone blindly, absentmindedly hitting the answer button and bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello Y/N.”

The voice that sounded on the other end of the line wasn’t one you recognized. Pulling your phone away from your ear, you looked down at the lit screen and read “unknown caller”. A furrow creased between your brows as you brought your phone back up to your ear, running one of your hands through the roots of your hair to push it back.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“I guess your new boyfriend didn’t make the cut.”

Immediately your hand froze, and your eyes widened. A mix of confusion, disbelief, and anger coursed through you, but the latter won out.

“Excuse me?”

Your tone quickly shifted from one of puzzlement to pure fury as you sat up straighter. A sinister chuckle from the deep mysterious voice on the other end of the line further incensed you.

“Did you really think I’d let anyone else have you, Cassia?”

The phone slipped out of your hand, dropping to the floor below with a harsh sound that didn’t even register in your ears. A pit of dread opened up in your stomach, and fear trickled down your spine as if someone had started to trace the frozen sharp tip of an icicle along the back of your neck. Panic spread through your nervous system like a lit match to a dehydrated forest, and the four walls of your bedroom began to close in around you, squeezing the last breath of oxygen from your lungs.

No one in New York knew that name.

You’d left it back in California, along with your past. The past that had forced you to run to the other side of the country and bury every trace of who you were before. The past that you tried so hard to forget and cover up with a new identity and a new life. The past that was taunting you from the other end of the line.

The past that had come back, and murdered Adam.

He’d found you.

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»— if you wanna get in the spooky slutty mood, listen here! -> the manhattan murders soundtrack

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chvoswxtch · 11 days ago

Text

part two: the secret

[series masterlist] | [part one] | [part three]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: if the police can't help, who can you turn to?

warnings: swearing, heavy angst, mentions of murder, conversation about past domestic abuse, mentions of alcohol, billy once again being a cocky lil shit

word count: 3.8k

a/n: y'all never fail to blow me away with how lovely & kind y'all are. i'm so happy you're all enjoying spooky slutty season so far. it's getting heavier in this chapter, but we're one step closer to the goods. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Annie was looking at you in a mixture of concern and apprehension. When she heard your scream piercing through the silence of the apartment, she’d immediately rushed into your bedroom, where she’d found you on your knees on the floor, hyperventilating as panicked tears rushed down your cheeks. She had desperately begged you to tell her what happened, but you couldn’t speak through your choked sobs. You just kept pointing to your phone that was face down on the hardwood, but when she picked it up, she didn’t see anything except your lock screen.

For the past twenty minutes, you’d been sitting on the edge of your bed, almost completely catatonic. It felt as though your body had gone into shock and just completely shut down. Your brain seemed to slip into a mental panic room, locking itself away behind steel soundproof walls those traumatic memories couldn’t break through. But you knew you couldn’t stay there, as badly as you wanted to. You had to come out, and you had to come clean.

Annie slowly reached out and placed her hand on top of one of yours that was in your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Honey, I need you to tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me.”

A fresh wave of helplessness built up along your bottom lash line, and your voice was weakened with defeat when you finally spoke.

“He found me.”

Annie tilted her head to the side slightly as she looked at you, a crease of confusion forming between her dark brows.

“Who found you Y/N?”

Closing your eyes, stray tears slipped down your damp cheeks. You had hoped this day would never come. The fear of your past catching up to you had been in the back of your mind for the last three years, but you never thought it would rear its ugly head in such a horrific way. Letting out a shaky breath, you opened your glossy eyes and turned to look at Annie in despondency.

“I need to tell you something.”

You hadn’t told a soul the truth about who you were since you moved to New York. No one here knew that you’d come here to completely start over with a brand new identity. No one knew what you had run from. You thought it was safer that way.

Annie looked at you warily, her dark brown eyes searching your own as she waited for you to speak.

“My real name is Cassia. I’m not from New York, I was born in California. I grew up there. I…I do have a family. I lied about that. But I haven’t seen or spoken to them in three years.”

“I don’t understand-”

“I had a boyfriend. He-”

Closing your eyes, you felt your anxiety start to crest again. For the past three years, you tried so hard to push it out of your head. You told yourself that was someone else, that those memories belonged to someone else. You weren’t her anymore. That girl…she was gone. You’d burned every trace of her and rose from the ashes someone new. Those painful memories, those emotional scars, you’d buried them in the deepest, darkest part of your mind, but they wouldn’t stay dead.

Annie’s puzzlement broke apart into sympathy as she heard the grief in your voice. She could see it in your eyes, the reason behind your painful secret. She gave your hand a light and reassuring squeeze, speaking in a gentle voice.

“Was he…?”

Swallowing the lump that had lodged in your throat, you nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

Letting out a shuddering breath, a few more tears slipped down your face as you ripped open your own wounds that had never seemed to heal, letting all the lingering shame and sorrow bleed out.

“I should’ve left the first time it happened. I knew it then. I just…I didn’t want to believe it had happened. I didn’t want to believe that I was like those other women…that I was like my mother. I knew what an angry man looked like. I knew how he spoke, and how he acted, and what his footsteps sounded like. I told myself that was never going to be me, you know? It wasn’t supposed to happen to me. I…I knew better. I watched my mom go through so many of them, I knew what the signs looked like, and I just…I missed them somehow…and then I ignored it. I made excuses, I tried so hard to convince myself…that it was different…that I was different.”

You never wanted to be a victim, and you never thought you would be. For the first nine months, Roman had been an almost perfect boyfriend. He was sweet, and funny, and he always looked at you like you were the only person in the room, even from the beginning. He always knew exactly what to say, and what to do, and you had thought you’d found someone that just…understood you, in a way no one else ever had. He was just so incredibly goddamn charming.

But most psychopaths are.

He’d lured you into a false sense of security, manipulated you into letting your guard down, and you’d foolishly gifted him your trust. He didn’t just break that, he broke you.

Roman’s apologies were always so sincere, and you got trapped in the cycle. He would confess to his problems, promise to get help and stop drinking, and swore things would change. And it would, for a while. The calm before the storm was so peaceful, you couldn’t see the ominous clouds darkening over your head. He swore that he loved you, but his version of love was controlling and manipulative, and it was intense. It became obsessive and violent, and his volatile temper left your heart and spirit maimed and your body bruised. He said that he loved hard, but he hit harder.

The night you finally decided to leave him was the night that permanently altered everything. It didn’t just change your life, it changed you.

“The last time I saw him, he almost killed me. Our neighbors had heard me screaming. They were the ones that called the police. I had already blacked out when they arrived. I woke up in the hospital with a concussion and a crushed windpipe. And you know what’s fucking crazy? He only did two months in jail, because it was his ‘first offense’.”

A bitter and dry laugh left your lips that sounded more like a scoff. You’d been too terrified to feel anger back then. At that time, all you could feel was immense relief that he was locked away somewhere that he couldn’t get to you. But now, anger was all that you felt. The more you thought about the situation, the more white hot searing rage had the blood in your veins sizzling.

“I got a restraining order, but it didn’t stop him. The only reason I was even able to get it was because the cops walked in on him choking me to death. As soon as he got out of jail, he was back. And he didn’t just threaten me, he threatened everyone around me. I was scared. I didn’t know what else to do, so I ran. I ran as far away as I could get. I changed my name, I changed everything about myself, and I started over. I had to cut everyone out from my old life in Woodsboro, to keep them safe.”

Three years ago, you’d just vanished. The terror he instilled in your bones had run deep into the marrow. You couldn’t even say goodbye to anyone. All you’d been able to part with was a hastily written note containing a heartfelt apology to your mother, and you’d fled to sanctuary across the country. New York was home to millions of people, and you thought you’d be safe as a ghost in the bustling streets. You thought you could be invisible.

“I just…I don’t even know how he found me. I’ve been careful, I haven’t told anyone about this. I just…I don’t understand. And now Adam’s dead-”

“Wait, you think he killed Adam?”

“He told me he did. He was the one who called me on the phone. I know it was him. His voice was different…but he said my name, Annie. My real name.”

Annie was staring at you in a mixture of shock, fear, and a hint of pity. You hated that look. You hated being on the receiving end of it. And you hated that you were now a dangerous burden, a liability to her otherwise peaceful life. If you weren’t safe, that meant she wasn’t safe, and you could see in her eyes that she knew that. As she glanced down at your phone, you could see her swallow thickly.

“We need to go to the police.”

»»———　　———««

“What do you mean you can’t do anything? Did you hear any of what I just said?”

“Miss Y/L/N, the restraining order is in California, and it’s not under your current name.”

Detective Craven met your incredulous gaze with an expression of pity. His partner, however, did not share his condolences.

“Why didn’t you mention this two days ago?”

Turning your attention to Detective Williamson, the outrage you felt at his underlying accusation was clear on your face and in your sharp tone.

“Because it’s not your fucking business. You told me Adam got mugged-”

“We theorized it was a robbery gone wrong-”

“Theorized, confirmed, what fucking difference does it make? Those were your words. You said that’s what happened, so I had no reason to think it was connected to my psychotic ex boyfriend, who now not only knows where I am, but fucking called me to confess to murdering Adam. And now, you’re telling me you can’t do a goddamn thing about it because of, what? Red fucking tape?”

Detective Craven raised both of his worn hands in a placating gesture as he looked between you and his partner.

“Okay, okay. Let’s just take it down a notch.”

He shot his partner a warning glare, and Detective Williamson held his hands up in a show of surrender as he let out an irritated exhale through his nose. Turning his attention back to you, Detective Craven placed his hands on his hips.

“Miss Y/L/N, listen to me. I don’t want you to think we’re not taking this seriously, alright? Unfortunately, our hands are tied though. We don’t have any evidence from the crime scene, and the call on your phone came from an unknown number. We don’t have anything concrete to link this to Roman Walker.”

Just hearing his name out loud for the first time in three years was enough to make you feel like someone had just pressed the steel tip of a cold blade to the back of your neck. Detective Craven could see the raw paranoia in your eyes and the way you physically reacted to Roman’s name. Letting out a deep sigh, he reached out and placed both of his hands on your shoulders and spoke in a calming voice.

“Y/N, you did the right thing coming to us. You gave us a suspect with a motive, that gives us a lot to work with now, alright? Just because we don’t have any evidence right now doesn’t mean we won’t find any. Now we know who we’re potentially looking for, and that’s a step in the right direction. So please, trust me when I say that I will do everything I can to keep you safe. Until then, please just be careful.”

You rubbed both of your palms down your face in a stressful manner, a deep exhale of frustration blowing through your flared nostrils. Throwing your hands up in exasperation, they both dropped to your sides with a light smack against your jeans as your body physically deflated.

“So what am I supposed to do? Wait for another threatening phone call? Another person near me to get killed?”

“Just take some precautions. Be vigilant, don’t go anywhere alone, maybe look into a security system in the meantime.”

A light scoff left your lips at his suggestions and you shook your head in complete disbelief. As you stormed out of Detective Craven’s office, you slammed the door shut behind you with a little more force than necessary at your exit. Annie quickly jumped up from where she’d been sitting outside, looking at you warily.

“What did they say?”

“To go fuck myself, essentially.”

Meeting Annie’s disapproving look, you sighed and placed one of your hands on your hip while your other ran through your hair stressfully.

“There’s no evidence, they can’t trace an unknown call, and the restraining order isn’t in my name or in this state.”

“You’re fucking kidding me. So that’s it?”

“Yeah, their advice was pretty much to do everything I already do as a woman just existing.”

Annie let out a frustrated exhale of her own, glaring at the door of the detective’s office before brushing her golden blonde hair away from her shoulder and crossing her arms over her chest.

“No, fuck that. We’re gonna figure something out.”

In the midst of your outrage at the situation, one of Detective Craven’s suggestions suddenly stood out in your head.

“Maybe look into a security system in the meantime.”

You didn’t know anything about security or even where to start, but you knew someone who did.

“Actually, I think I know who can help.”

»»———　　———««

“You know, four months is a hell of a long time to make a guy wait for a second date.”

Glancing up from your drink, you watched as Billy took a seat at the bar next to you, flashing you his signature charming smirk. Rolling your eyes, you fought to contain your amusement as you lifted the beer bottle to your lips.

“That was not a date, and this isn’t one either.”

Billy let out a deep chuckle, signaling the bartender over with a wave of his hand.

“Hey, you called me. And, you brought me back to the place we first met. That’s pretty romantic, even if this is a shitty dive bar. ”

Billy turned on the bar stool to face you, a glint of mischief in his dark brown eyes as the edge of his lips curled into a smirk. Giving him a quick once over, you noticed he was dressed a lot more casually. You almost swore it was the exact same outfit he’d worn the night you met him.

“I thought someone as high maintenance as you would be a lot harder to please.”

Shaking his head at your quip, Billy grinned as he brought his own beer to his lips.

“Careful, you keep sweet talkin’ me like that, I might think you actually like me.”

“Oh well we can’t have that.”

Your lips were spread in a faint teasing smirk as you took another sip of your beer. Billy set the bottle down on the bar, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He eyed you curiously as he gave you his full attention.

“Alright, so if this isn’t a date, what is it then?”

Your eyes flickered towards Billy’s before glancing down at the green glass bottle in your hand. The edge of the gold label was peeling on the top right corner, and you gently smoothed it down with your thumb, spreading a drop of condensation over the cold glass.

“What kind of security does Anvil do? I mean, I know it’s mostly military stuff, but…what about private protection for civilians?”

Billy’s amusement quickly faded into a more serious expression at your question. He didn’t miss the way your voice had become quieter, no trace of your usual dry sarcasm or sharp wit. He cocked his head to the side slightly, noticing that you wouldn’t look at him.

“What’s going on, Y/N?”

“I was just curious-”

“C’mon, sweetheart. You’ve never spared my feelin’s before, don’t start now. Talk to me.”

Turning your head to look at Billy reluctantly, you got a glimpse of the Marine that lingered dormant within him, hidden beneath the designer clothes and CEO title. Serious Billy was a completely different Billy. The intensity of his stare was almost unsettling. You weren’t sure what to do with this version of him. A part of you secretly longed for the cocky smartass side in this moment, wishing he’d slip another flirty quip into the conversation to bring levity to the heaviness settling in your chest.

He had a point though, you’d always been blunt with him, and if he was going to help you, you were going to have to tell him everything.

Glancing down at the bottle in your hands again, you let out a deep sigh of resignation. At least with Billy, you didn’t have to pull your punches. You didn’t have to dance around your words and take caution with how you laid this all out, not like you had to with Annie. Lifting your head, you turned to look at him again.

“No bullshit?”

Billy gave you a faint nod of his head, confirming that he wanted nothing but the raw, honest truth.

“No bullshit.”

Waving over the bartender, you ordered two double shots of tequila. You needed a little liquid courage to ease your nerves, and to ease the shake of anxiety in your voice. Billy watched you in curiosity tinged with concern as you downed the first with unnerving ease and set the empty shot glass down on the bar before turning to look at him again. The burn flowing down your throat and into the pit of your stomach like molten lava was a welcome distraction from the chilled fear that made your hands tremble.

“Alright. Adam was murdered by my ex boyfriend, who’s the sole reason I moved across the country three years ago and changed my whole identity. He called me last night and confessed, but the police can’t do anything, because apparently they can’t trace an unknown call. Oh, and they can’t do anything about my obsessive stalker turned murderer ex boyfriend, because New York’s finest doesn’t have any fucking evidence, and my restraining order, which only ever seemed to be a really goddamn expensive piece of paper that meant nothing, can’t be enforced because we’re not in California, and it’s filed under my real name. So basically, I’m fucked.”

Downing the second shot, your face scrunched slightly as the clear alcohol started to burn in your lower stomach, the heat rising to flush in your cheeks. It made you feel a little lighter, melting that solid block of terror that had been weighing you down. Setting the glass down harshly on the bar, you licked the remaining tequila off your lips and turned to look at Billy, arching one of your brows.

“Questions? Comments? Concerns? More tequila?”

Billy’s dark brows rose slightly up his forehead as he stared at you silently for a moment. Whatever he was thinking or feeling, you couldn’t tell.

“So, just to…make sure we’re on the same page here…you have a psychotic ex that forced you to move across the country, change your name, and he’s the reason the guy you went out with is dead. And you think you’re next.”

Blinking a few times, you opened your mouth to correct him, but there was nothing to correct.

“That’s…a gross oversimplification, but yes.”

Taking a swig of your beer, your dark brows furrowed slightly as you set it back down and glanced at him with a faint scowl.

“I didn’t say I thought I was next though, asshole.”

“Oh, so the rant about NYPD being unhelpful and askin’ me about security for civilians is just small talk, then?”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, and the barely concealed sass in his voice made you want to slap him. As if sensing your thoughts, Billy let out a deep exhale through his nose as he regarded you with a more sympathetic expression.

“C’mon sweetheart. We agreed, no bullshit. You’re scared, and you got every reason to be. You need help, and you ain’t gettin’ it from the police.”

You had expected Billy to be far more smug about this. To bask in the fact that you needed his help, to hold it over your head, maybe even barter it for a date. It was almost a little unnerving that he was being so sincere and caring. You were just so used to him being an arrogant dick.

“I’m not gonna get on my knees and beg.”

Billy let out a light chuckle at that, giving a shake of his head before glancing at you with a familiar smirk.

“I’d never expect you to, sweetheart.”

Taking another swig of his beer, a look of contemplation crossed Billy’s sharp features.

“I guess it’s a good thing this isn’t a date then.”

Glancing at him in puzzlement, a crease formed between your brows as you set the green glass bottle down on the sticky wooden bar top.

“Why?”

Without missing a beat, Billy raised the bottle to his lips and shrugged casually.

“I’d hate to end up gutted in some alley.”

Billy had said those words so nonchalantly, with a deadpan expression on his face, that for a moment you were in shock. You should’ve been incredibly offended, or horrified by that crass comment, but instead, you were holding back a surprised laugh that threatened to escape. Your lips were puckered in an attempt to scowl as you slightly narrowed your eyes. Billy turned his head to look at you with faux innocence on his face and in his voice.

“Too soon?”

Seeing the way you were trying so hard to conceal your amusement, Billy’s lips slowly spread into a wolfish grin. Shaking your head, you brought your beer bottle to your lips to hide the way you were trying not to laugh or smile.

“You are such an asshole.”

Billy’s shoulders subtly shook as he snickered. His dark brown eyes flickered down to the green glass bottle in his left hand, and then he lifted his head to wave the bartender over again.

“Whiskey, neat.”

Turning his attention back to you, Billy could see the lingering look in your eyes that gave away how worried you truly were despite the front you were attempting to put up. He cleared his throat and leaned in a little closer, resting his arms on the bar as he gave a nod of his head in your direction and spoke calmly.

“Alright, alright. I’ll behave. Start from the beginning, tell me everything.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @ferns-fics @danzer8705 @to-thelakes @simonsgirl @sweetserendipity65 @zomtart @day-dreaming-goddess @caroblogsthings @thomasshelbyswife @snowkestrel @hallowedtangerine @ameliaswife @dreadfulxives18 @ebsmind @lllla717 @slumnit @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @nolita-fairytale @oliviaewl @r1kk @unlikelystarlightcowboy @imperihoe-writes

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»— if you wanna get in the spooky slutty mood, listen here! -> the manhattan murders soundtrack

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chvoswxtch · 11 days ago

Text

which could mean nothing

part four: the massacre

[series masterlist] | [previous part] | [part five]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: your security has been increased, but are you really safe?

warnings: swearing, mentions of past abuse, graphic violence & gore (this is a slasher people)

word count: 4.4k

a/n: I told y'all this was gonna get real insane real fast. the kill count is upped this chapter, as is the intensity. I want to reiterate that this is a slasher. if gore is not your thing, or even reading about it makes you squeamish, this is your final warning before you get into this part. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

A few days had gone by since Billy had installed the cameras. The detectives still had no updates about the case. You hadn’t received any more phone calls, but that didn’t ease your nerves. If anything, it made you more on edge. It felt like you were stuck in a purgatory of waiting, wondering what the next nightmare would be. Roman had never been the type to give up or let anything go. He enjoyed toying with you and fucking with your head. You didn’t know where he was, but you knew he was watching, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you turned off your computer and stood up from your desk. It was a little past five-thirty, and the sun would be going down soon. Grabbing your long black wool coat off the hook next to your office door, you slipped it on and tied the belt around your waist. The last few days you’d essentially been on autopilot, just going through the day to day motions, immersing yourself in any distraction you could find.

After slipping a thick manuscript into your bag, you slung it over your shoulder and flipped the switch to turn off the lights in your office, shutting the door quietly behind you. When you took a step forward, you abruptly paused, noticing that John’s door at the end of the hall was closed and the lights were off. He hadn’t been in the office in two days. It wasn’t like him to just disappear without saying anything, but his assistant had said something about a last minute business trip.

Pushing through the revolving glass door, the brisk chill of autumn air nipped at your face, and the sharp contrast in temperature compared to your warm office made you instantly more alert. The second you stepped out onto the sidewalk, an older man that you’d come to be familiar with got out of an all black SUV that was parked right in front of the publishing house. He came around to open the back passenger door for you, walking with a faint limp. He was dressed casually as usual, but you caught sight of the holster on his hip beneath the brown jacket.

Billy had insisted on making sure you had an escort to and from work, and even though you still felt guilty he was doing all of these things for you without letting you give him anything in return, you couldn’t refuse the peace of mind.

Walking towards the open car door, you looked up into his kind brown eyes with a soft grateful smile.

“Thanks, Dwight.”

He gave you a faint nod in return, a friendly smile stretching across his lips. Despite the streaks of gray in his dark brown hair, and the salt and pepper beard, he looked younger and less weary when he smiled. You could almost see a hint of the boyish charm he must have had in his youth.

“Of course, ma’am.”

»»———　　———««

After being dropped off in front of your apartment building, you quickly made your way inside. The golden hour had already dipped beneath the Manhattan skyline, and with the darkness of night came a crisp wind that prickled your exposed skin as the temperature dropped along with the sun.

The elevator ride up to your floor felt like it lasted an eternity. With each floor it ascended, more and more weariness settled in your bones. From the moment you left your apartment every morning, you felt stuck in a state of hypervigilance. Every sudden noise, every stranger that looked in your direction, every time your phone rang, your brain perceived it all as a new threat. There was so much cortisol pumping through your bloodstream throughout the day that by the time you returned to the sanctuary of your bedroom, you thought your heart might finally give out from the stress and the constant feeling of teetering on the edge of a panic attack.

This was almost worse than the abuse. At least then, you knew what to expect. You got to a point where you could tell when it was coming by the shift in Roman’s tone, the rhythm of his footsteps, even a slight change in his breathing pattern. Even when he caught you off guard with it, you knew the routine. As soon as it was over, he would leave you to pick up the shattered pieces of yourself, and then he’d come back demanding forgiveness with a false promise of change.

But this…this waiting and not knowing…the psychological torment was worse than the physical.

Typing in the code on the keypad of the door, a little succession of beeps sounded before the lock shifted. Stepping through the threshold, you closed the door and locked it behind yourself, setting your keys in the little green bowl on the side table. Untying the belt of your coat and slipping it off your shoulders, the muffled jingle of your phone ringing sounded from the bottom of your bag.

The sound caused an uptick in your heart rate, as it usually did lately, and your stomach dropped like you’d just swiftly plummeted from the highest point on a roller coaster. Slowly slipping your hand into your bag to pull it out, a breath of relief escaped you seeing the caller ID, but then a curious pinch formed between your brows.

John Altieri.

It wasn’t the first time he’d called you outside of work hours. You just hoped this time he hadn’t been drinking. Letting out a deep sigh, you pressed the green button with your thumb and brought the phone to your ear.

“Hey John, can I call you back in the morning? Now isn’t a really good-”

“Scary night, isn’t it? With a killer on the loose and all.”

Immediately you froze. That wasn’t John’s voice. It was the same one you’d heard on the other end of that call that had tipped your world upside down.

“How did you get his phone?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. John’s ties to your life have been severed.”

The color instantly drained from your face, and you reached out to grip onto the edge of the side table to steady yourself. Closing your eyes, your voice was shaky when you finally spoke.

“You’re lying.”

A dark and sinister chuckle sounded from the other end of the line.

“Now why would I lie about that? You saw how knife happy I got with Adam. You think I wouldn’t do the same with a man whose stare always lingered a little too long? Who was always a little too…friendly? C’mon, Cass-”

“That is not my name anymore.”

A rush of anger layered over your fear at the mention of the identity you’d worked so hard to bury. You weren’t that girl anymore. You hadn’t been her in a long time. The person you were now had been born out of necessity, carefully crafted to be everything the other version of you hadn’t been. The sinister voice just chuckled again.

“You can’t run from who you really are. Besides, I did you a favor, and you know it. And now there’s one less person standing in between you and me.”

“You sick, twisted son of-”

“As a matter of fact, there’s three less people standing in between us now. Four, if you count lover boy.”

The taunting tone of the deep voice made your blood run cold, and a furrow of confusion nestled between your brows. If he was insinuating John was dead, then that made two victims, not four.

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you alone in the apartment?

Your eyes darted back and forth as your brain tried to process the implication behind that question. When you glanced down at the side table you still had a tight grip on, you noticed that Annie’s keys were in the bowl beneath yours. Turning your head slightly, you saw that Derek’s boots were by the front door.

Slowly, you turned around towards the living room, seeing that it was empty. Annie’s purse was on the coffee table, but there was no sign of her, or Derek. Walking further into the living room quietly, you cautiously stepped around the corner to look into the kitchen, but it was empty too.

“Anyone home?”

Gripping tightly onto the phone in your hand, you grit your teeth as the voice taunted you once again with another dark chuckle. Fury suddenly blazed within you, causing you to snap and grit through your teeth.

“Fuck you.”

Abruptly hanging up on him, you swiftly pressed your thumb on your phone icon, and when the keypad appeared on your screen, you rapidly pressed the nine and the one twice. But before you could hit the green call button, the sound of a door shutting echoed from down the hall. Instantly, your head snapped up. A few seconds of silence went by before you timidly called out.

“Annie? Derek?”

The lack of response from either of them had a shiver of dread cascading down your spine, and it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The sinister silence caused anxiety to knot in your gut. Hesitantly taking a few steps towards the opening of the hallway, you glanced down towards the end of it, seeing that Annie’s bedroom door was cracked open and the light was on.

That little voice in the back of your head was screaming at you to run and call the police. It could be a trick. Roman could be waiting for you, ready to punish you for running from him, for hiding from him all these years. He’d brutally murdered Adam, and he hadn’t even known him. Whatever he had planned for you, it was going to be way worse.

But what if Annie and Derek were hurt? What if they needed help? What if they were-

Swallowing down your nerves, you let out a shaky breath and cautiously took slow steps down the hall, keeping your footsteps silent. Abruptly you paused, turning your head towards the kitchen. Stealing another glance at Annie’s bedroom door, you quietly took a few steps backwards and took a detour into the kitchen. You silently slipped the largest knife out from the wooden block on the counter and gripped it in your hand. If it was a trap, you weren’t walking into it defenseless.

You could hear your heartbeat starting to pound in your ears as you continued your soundless steps down the hallway. You kept your eyes locked on the cracked door, and your palms became clammy as your hands trembled with fear. Your nostrils flared from how heavy you were breathing, and when you reached the door, you paused for a moment, trying to will the courage to open it.

Reaching out with your shaky hand that still grasped your phone, you pressed your index and middle fingertips against the cold wood, and a slow creak from the worn hinges disrupted the ominous quiet. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was on the other side of the door.

A scream of sheer horror ripped through your lungs, burning through your vocal chords, and your eyes doubled in size in unfiltered shock.

The pale lavender bedspread was stained with dark splotches of deep maroon. The cream colored walls were streaked and splattered with blood like some kind of grisly abstract painting. Annie’s lifeless body was in the middle of the bed, contorted in the fetal position, and a swell of nausea rose in your throat seeing that her stomach had been carved open, leaving her intestines to spill out in a messy pile of pink and red ropes. Streaks of her golden blonde hair had turned bright red, and her clothes were torn and soaked in blood.

Derek’s body was face down on the floor, a dark puddle of crimson surrounding his head. There were several tears and holes in the back of his blood stained gray shirt where he’d been stabbed, patches of his denim jeans drenched into a dark shade of purple, and you could see the jagged flesh where something had pierced right through his left hand. The sheer carnage and brutality of the scene shocked you to your core, nearly knocking the breath out of your lungs.

A choked sob caught in your throat as your eyes welled up with thick tears that blurred your vision, and your hand flew up to cover your mouth in absolute repulsion. The depravity of the scene in front of you was so gruesome, it didn’t even look real. It looked more like the set of some gory slasher.

Abruptly the closet door slammed open, the sound of the knob hitting the wall as loud as a crack of thunder, and your eyes snapped up as a tall figure dressed in all black stepped out. A sharp gasp caught in your throat, and your mouth dropped open as terror blew your pupils wide open. The glint of a blade caught in the light as it appeared in the figure’s gloved hand, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the mask covering their face.

The one that had haunted Woodsboro for nearly thirty years.

As soon as they took a step forward, your fight or flight kicked in, and you swiftly spun around and took off running. Racing towards the door, you could hear their heavy boots rapidly thudding against the hardwood, chasing right after you. Running right into the front door, you dropped the knife you’d been holding, your trembling fingers trying desperately to turn the locks, but your hands were sweaty and your fingers kept slipping. Turning your head to look over your shoulder frantically, you screamed when the ghastly figure went to strike, ducking right as the knife embedded into the thick wood of the front door.

When their black gloved hand gripped at your arm, you quickly reached for the green bowl on the side table and smashed it over their head, causing the figure to grunt and let go, staggering backwards. He only faltered for a moment, and then he reached out to grab your arm again, his other hand grabbing your throat to slam you back against the front door, winding you momentarily with a wheeze. Reaching up with your right hand, you blindly grasped at nothing until your fingers slipped over the solid black handle of the hunting knife, tugging at it to try and pull it loose. Releasing one of his hands from around your throat, he reached up to grab the handle before you could pull it out, and you swiftly brought your knee upwards that was right between his legs as hard as you could.

A loud grunt left him as he stumbled back and doubled over slightly. Pulling the drawer completely out of the small table by the front door, you swung and smashed him over the head again, the wood splintering into pieces, causing him to drop to his knees with another noise of pain. Taking advantage of the moment, you ran as fast as you could towards your bedroom, dashing into your bathroom and locking the door. Your lungs were burning and the adrenaline was making your entire body buzz like you had been struck by lightning.

Panic skyrocketed in your bloodstream when a loud banging began to sound against the door, the person on the other side trying to break it down with deep grunts of effort. Frantically glancing around your bathroom, your shaky hands tugged open drawers, feeling a stone of helplessness sinking in your stomach. You had nothing in here to defend yourself with.

A shrill scream ripped through your throat when the knife suddenly pierced through the wood of the door before being ripped out, stabbing through it again and again five more times. Without thinking, you smashed your fist against your bathroom mirror, ignoring the pain of glass splitting through your knuckles. Grabbing the biggest jagged piece that fell into the sink, you gripped it in both hands and stumbled backwards until your back met the wall. Each wave of terror felt like it was pulling you further and further beneath the tide, and you could hardly breathe.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you screamed at the top of your lungs.

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

All at once, the banging stopped, and it went dead silent. Sliding down the wall, a sob bubbled up in your chest, and it burst through the fear and panic in overwhelming streams. This was it. He was going to find something to break the door down with, and you were gonna die. Once again, you were weak, and you were helpless. This time when he tried to kill you, he was going to be successful.

You barely even registered the sound of shouting voices a few minutes later. You’d started to hyperventilate, and you couldn’t hear anything over your own panicked breathing and blood rushing in your ears, not even the sound of a familiar voice calling out your name.

The door burst open all of a sudden, and you screamed as you held the jagged piece of glass so tightly it bit into your palms, holding it out in front of yourself as a weak defense. Billy’s hardened expression softened the second he looked at you, and he swiftly lowered the gun he had grasped in his hands that had been aimed at you.

“Shit.”

A fresh wave of thick tears soaked your cheeks, and your voice cracked in desolate sob.

“He was here. He was here. He-”

Billy abruptly set his gun down on the bathroom counter and crossed over to you in three short strides, kneeling down in front of you.

“Shh shh shh, he’s gone. He’s gone.”

Billy gently pried the glass away from you, and you didn’t even flinch as he pulled it from where it had been deeply embedded in the torn flesh of your palm, causing a stream of blood to flow freely from the wounds. Reaching out to rip the hand towels off the rack, he carefully wrapped each of your hands that were bleeding profusely.

“He killed them, Billy. He killed them-”

Billy pulled your shaking form into his chest, wrapping one of his arms around your back firmly and placing his other hand on the back of your head, tucking it under his chin. He rocked you back and forth gently, carding his fingers through your hair and speaking softly into your ear.

“Shh shh shh, I know. I know, sweetheart. Just take deep breaths for me.”

“He was here-”

“He’s gone, baby. He’s gone, I promise. Just breathe, sweetheart. It’s gonna be alright, just breathe.”

»»———　　———««

While the nurse finished up the final stitch on your right palm, four of Billy’s men were standing in front of him with apprehensive looks on their faces. He’d been primarily focused on getting you to the hospital, but now that you were safe and being treated, his concern for you had turned into pure wrath for his employees.

“What the fuck happened?”

None of his men wanted to meet his furious glare when his angry voice boomed in the hospital room. Even the two police officers standing off to the side flinched at the animosity in his tone. One of Billy’s men cleared his throat before speaking.

“We don’t know sir-”

“What the hell do you mean you don’t know? There’s six goddamn cameras in that apartment and not a single second of footage.”

The fourth man lifted his head to speak up.

“He cut the cameras, sir. They were offline.”

The edge of Billy’s lips was curled up into a faint snarl as he snapped his heated glare in the direction of the man who had just spoken.

“And how the fuck did that happen?”

“We’re looking into it sir-”

“Look faster. Go.”

Billy’s men all nodded and mumbled out a ‘yes sir’ when he barked out his orders, shuffling out of the room in a single file line. His hardened stare followed them until they were all out of sight. Once he turned his attention back to you, his sharp features visibly softened. He took a few steps closer towards where you were sitting on the edge of the patient table, placing his hand protectively against the small of your back as he glanced down at the gauze being wrapped around your hands.

“These dissolvable?”

The nurse lifted her head to look at Billy, nodding in confirmation.

“Yeah, they’ll last for a few weeks.”

Billy inhaled sharply with a curt nod, lifting his gaze to look at the older woman.

“And for the pain?”

“We’ll send her home with a prescription.”

When the nurse left you and Billy alone in the room, he stared at you silently for a moment. You hadn’t said a single word in the past hour. He slowly came around to stand in front of you, gently grabbing your chin between his index finger and thumb to lift your head. His dark brown eyes searched your face. There was a bleak look in your eyes, and your face was shrouded in despair.

“I’m gonna find him.”

Billy’s voice was firm and unwavering, and the look in his eyes told you he meant it. This was personal for him now. All you could manage was a weak nod. Billy let out a deep exhale through his nose, gently cupping the back of your head as he took a step forward to stand between your legs, hugging you to his chest.

“C’mere. It’s gonna be alright.”

Closing your eyes, you buried your face into Billy’s crisp white dress shirt that had been stained with the blood from your hands. He was the only person you had left in New York now.

A moment later, a knock sounded on the door, and you and Billy both turned your heads as Detectives Craven and Williamson walked in. Detective Craven had a manila folder in his worn hands, and his sympathetic brown eyes washed over you as he let out a weary sigh.

“You okay?”

“I’m not dead.”

The older man faintly winced at the edge to your voice. Rubbing his hand down his face, he let out another deep sigh as he opened the thick folder.

“Is this what you saw?”

When he held the photo up, you bristled and your blood ran cold. It was a crime scene photo from the original case that had shocked the once peaceful town of Woodsboro back in the late 90s. Two teenagers had terrorized the town, commiting a series of brutal murders, all while wearing a costume that had become infamous, and synonymous with the killings. In the crime scene photo was the original bloodied ghostface mask that had been worn by the two men.

The exact same mask you’d seen Roman wearing when he’d attacked you.

Swallowing thickly, you looked away quickly and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Have you contacted Woodsboro PD?”

Billy glanced between the two detectives, his sharp features morphing back into the more stern expression he’d given his men just moments ago.

“That’s privileged information.”

Billy’s dark brown eyes flickered over towards Detective Williamson, and he arched one of his dark brows as he stood up straighter and turned to face him.

“Considerin’ my company is the one protectin’ her since neither of you could be bothered to lift a goddamn finger, I’d say I’m privileged to it.”

Detective Williamson prickled at Billy’s accusation of inaction, firmly crossing his arms over his chest as he narrowed his icy blue eyes.

“Well thank God for you. I mean, without Anvil, we wouldn’t have a single shred of evidence about what happened in that apartment. We look forward to you sharing that helpful footage with us.”

A muscle feathered beneath Billy’s bearded jaw from the younger detective’s jab about the cameras. Detective Craven shot his partner a warning glare.

“Kevin-”

“With all due respect, Mr. Russo, this is a police investigation. We can’t afford bias or coincidence-“

“Coincidence?”

Billy took a few steps closer, towering over Detective Williamson with a menacing look in his eyes. Detective Craven lept into action, slipping his arm between the two men.

“Guys-”

“You think it’s a fuckin’ coincidence that son of a bitch was wearing the goddamn mask associated with the most notorious murders in her hometown? In his own hometown?”

The older detective pushed at his partner’s chest, forcing him to take a step backwards. Detective Williamson looked at him with incredulity, gesturing towards Billy.

“C’mon Wes-”

“Shut up, Kevin.”

Detective Craven snapped, raising his voice for the first time since you’d met him. His younger partner immediately closed his mouth, clenching his jaw, clearly displeased with being chastised in front of you and Billy. Whether it was due to respect for the older man, or because he knew not to cross him, he stayed silent. Detective Craven turned to look up at Billy, holding his hands up in a placating gesture as he spoke more calmly.

“Mr. Russo, I assure you we are doing everything we can right now. We’ve got three dead bodies, and a missing person. That constitutes being able to skip over the, ‘red fucking tape’, as Miss Y/L/N so accurately described it.”

Detective Craven looked over in your direction, giving you a knowing look, and you could detect the faintest hint of a smile. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but give him a faint one of your own. You knew from that first meeting in the precinct, he’d been trying. It wasn’t his fault he’d been restricted on what he was able to do without any concrete evidence. He’d been on your side from the beginning, and you were grateful for him. His partner, however, could be Roman’s next victim for all you cared.

Detective Craven turned his attention back to Billy with a more serious expression.

“I put out an APB for Roman Walker. Every cop in New York has been sent a photo of that mask. I have several units out looking for him.”

Behind him, Detective Williamson rolled his eyes and let out dry scoff, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So we’re looking for a guy in a mask the day before Halloween, in New York City. Great.”

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chvoswxtch · 11 days ago

Text

sorry I was dark and twisty and slutty on the internet it will happen again

part five: the ghost from the past

[series masterlist] | [previous part] | [part six]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: it's time to confront the ghost from the past, and the truth.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, explicit sexual content (minors dni), domestic violence, graphic violence & gore (this is a slasher people)

word count: 6.4k

a/n: welcome to act three. I want to reiterate that this is a slasher. if gore is not your thing, or even reading about it makes you squeamish, this is your final warning before you get into this part. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Billy’s penthouse was spacious and luxurious, a far cry from the simple apartment you could never return to. It looked like it had been ripped right out of a page of some high end magazine, from the neutral color scheme to the expensive looking furniture, the minimalist decor and artwork, and the large floor to ceiling windows that had a dazzling view of the Manhattan skyline.

You couldn’t see the beauty in this city anymore.

Staring out the windows, all your brain could detect from the magnificent sight was the impending threat weaving through the villainous shadows, coming closer and closer. As you stood in front of the thick glass, you almost didn’t recognize your own faint reflection in it. You swore to yourself you would never feel helpless again, but that’s exactly what you felt tonight.

Footsteps sounded behind you, growing louder the closer they came, until they stopped and Billy cleared his throat. When you turned around to face him, he held his phone in his right hand and regarded you with a cautious look, holding it up slightly.

“They found John’s body.”

You should’ve felt sad. You should’ve felt something. But you didn’t. Billy was eyeing you warily, trying to decipher your reaction, or rather lack of one. He didn’t know if you were simply still in shock, and you didn’t know either. You didn’t know what to feel. You weren’t quite numb, but you weren’t raw.

“He’s not gonna stop.”

Billy didn’t break eye contact with you. His apprehension shifted into determination, and he took a step closer, his tone unwavering when he spoke.

“I’m not either.”

You wanted to ask why. Why Billy cared so much. Why he was risking his own life to protect yours. Why was he still here and not running for the hills. But before you could voice any of those questions, he placed his palm on the small of your back and gave you a gentle nudge in the direction of the expansive kitchen.

“C’mon, I’ll make you a drink.”

A few moments later, he held out a small glass towards you, with one clutched in his other hand, both generously filled with a dark amber liquid.

“I don’t have tequila, but I do make a decent Old Fashioned.”

The faintest of a smile graced your lips as you nodded, reaching out with your bandaged hand for it.

“Thanks.”

The strong scent hit your nose before your tongue, making the flavor that much more intense as it slid down your throat, turning into molten lava in your stomach. There was a faint citrusy aftertaste from the orange slice floating between two square ice cubes.

As he took a sip from his own glass, Billy watched you intently while you glanced around the kitchen, taking in the black granite countertops and dark marble flooring. After following your line of sight for a moment, he eventually looked at you again with a small amused smile and chuckled. Turning your attention towards him, a look of confusion settled over your features.

“What?”

“I can hear the judgment on your face.”

Granting him another tiny smile, you shook your head slowly, glancing around again.

“It’s…nice”

Billy lightly chuckled, rubbing his hand down his bearded face.

“You never fail to keep me humble, sweetheart.”

“Sorry. If I spent years in a tent in the desert, I’d probably want a fancy penthouse too.”

Billy tilted his head to the side slightly, tapping his finger against his glass. His dark brown eyes slowly moved around the space, like he was taking in his own home for the first time. He had a thoughtful expression on his sharp features, and you were about to say something to break the silence when he finally spoke.

“I grew up in a group home.”

Billy met your eyes again, and he could see the shock and surprise in them. That was the last thing you had been expecting him to say, and he could see it.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be. Made me who I am. Made me more tenacious in goin’ after I wanted, no matter what it took. And now, everything I want is right here.”

He gestured around loosely with his hand holding onto his glass, and you weren’t sure if it was a coincidence or not that he ended that statement while looking right at you.

“Everything?”

Your voice was quiet when you asked him that, but it sounded loud in your ears due to the silence in the grand space. Billy didn’t look away from you. He gave you a faint nod of his head, and there was a look in his dark eyes you couldn’t quite read, but it made you shiver.

“Almost.”

Maybe it was the grief. Maybe it was because you were scared. Maybe it was because Billy was the only person you had in this city right now, in the whole world it felt like. But you felt vulnerable, exposed to the chill of loss and bite of terror that nipped at your bones that had been stripped bare. You were exhausted, not just from the attack, but from running and looking over your shoulder for so long. The emotional burden of your past and present was growing so heavy it felt like you couldn’t breathe. There was this massive weight on your chest, and all you wanted to do was let go, just for a little while.

Feeling the familiar warm sting pricking at the corners of your eyes, you set your drink down on the counter and surged forward, and Billy didn’t hesitate to abandon his own drink to pull you in with both arms. For the first time in so long, you felt safe. You felt secure enough to let the facade drop, letting all those pent up emotions out, flowing freely to soak through his shirt. You didn’t have to pretend with Billy, and you hadn't realized just how exhausting it had been to keep holding up your own carefully crafted mask.

Billy didn’t owe you anything. He had every reason to stay out of this, and every reason to leave you to fend for yourself. But he didn’t. He chose to be here. He chose to do all of this. And despite everything, he was choosing you, and you couldn’t wrap your head around that.

“I’m sorry-’ “Don’t. It’s alright.”

Pulling back slightly, Billy gently cupped your face in his hands, brushing the tears away from your cheeks. There was no pity in his gaze, no flicker of regret or apprehension. The tone in his deep voice was firm, and the cadence was smooth as ever as he delivered reassurance you hadn’t even realized you were craving.

“You ain’t gotta hide. Not from me.”

All the conflicting emotions rushing through you currently were so overwhelming, and so many of them were negative.

You just wanted to feel something good.

Staring up into his dark brown eyes, searching them for answers to questions you didn’t even know how to ask, a wave of longing crashed over you, carrying you away from the logical side of your brain to float in the middle of just pure feeling. Grabbing onto the back of his neck, you swiftly pulled Billy down to kiss him. It wasn’t soft or tender; it was deep and needy, insatiable with a hunger only he could satisfy in that moment. It didn’t grow steadily like an ember being wafted beneath perfectly positioned kindling in a fireplace, controlled and contained. It blazed all at once like a lit match being tossed onto gasoline soaked wood, erupting in a hasty bonfire, burning hot and high enough to reach the heavens.

Billy allowed himself a moment to enjoy tasting your lips before abruptly breaking the kiss. He pulled back to catch your eyes, both of you already lightly panting.

“Sweetheart-”

Whatever in his voice was supposed to sound like a warning or concern just sounded like barely concealed desire, and it fueled your need further. You didn’t want rational thinking. You didn’t want figuring out the next step. You wanted out of your own head.

“Please.”

Billy couldn’t deny you a damn thing if he tried, certainly not when you begged in that breathless voice. Immediately his hands tightened their grip on your waist, and he pulled you flush against his body. With all the consent he needed to continue, he leaned in and kissed you like he was trying to steal the very elixir of life from your lungs. He backed you up until your back hit a wall, parting the seam of your lips with his tongue, demanding entry. His hands were everywhere, roaming over your lower back down to your ass to squeeze firmly, slipping under your shirt to brush against the soft skin of your waist, grabbing your hips once again to lift you without warning.

Instinctively your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, and one of your hands slipped through his gelled back raven strands that were surprisingly soft instead of stiff, while your other kept a tight grip on the back of his neck. Billy caressed your tongue sensually with his own, his teeth gnashed against yours in hunger, and he nipped at your bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He blindly carried you down the hall towards his bedroom, bumping into walls and doors along the way, kicking his bedroom door open with his foot.

He refused to let go of you or break the kiss, keeping one arm securely wrapped around your back while his other reached for the bed, laying you down beneath him as he instantly climbed on top of you. The two of you seemed to be lost in a dark red cloud of lust, driven purely by instinctual and primal desire, in a frenzy to satisfy your mutual craving.

Billy’s bedroom floor was quickly decorated in each of your articles of clothing, until there was nothing left separating his heated bare skin from yours. His firm chest brushed against your sensitive nipples when he covered your body with his own again, and it drew a soft noise from the back of your throat. He forced your thighs apart with his knee as his teeth grazed over your pulse point before sinking them into your neck, making you grip his biceps and let out a sharp gasp, arching your back slightly in the process.

His warm tongue snaked out to glide over your flesh, soothing the sting of his bite, causing you to shiver and goosebumps to prickle your skin. Billy reached down between the two of you, grasping his achingly hard cock, teasingly gliding his thick girth through your soaked folds to coat himself in your wetness. He pressed his forehead against yours, and his pupils were blown open so wide with lust that his eyes looked black as night.

“I’m not gonna be gentle.”

A shudder went through you at the husky warning in his deep voice, and a rush of excitement tingled in your nervous system at the potential of that promise. You didn’t need gentle. You didn’t need slow and sweet and romantic. You needed to be fucked, hard. So hard you wouldn’t be able to think about anything else other than him. So rough you wouldn’t be able to feel anything other than him. You needed this.

“I don’t want you to be.”

As soon as those words left your lips, something in Billy snapped, and he transformed right before your eyes. He wasted no time in forcefully pushing his hips forward, filling you in one swift thrust, nearly knocking the breath out of your lungs as he abruptly buried himself deeply within your snug warmth. He didn’t give either of you a moment to adjust or savor anything. Pulling your legs around his waist, allowing him to angle his hips and thrust even deeper, Billy quickly started to fuck you at a brutal pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Billy grit out through his teeth, his face contorted in absolute hedonism. He tore moan after moan from your parted lips with every powerful snap of his hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the spacious bedroom, almost rivaling your vocals. Billy grunted in your ear, gripping onto your hips and thighs, digging his blunt fingernails into your skin, grasping at whatever he could and embedding himself in every inch of you. His teeth left several more marks on your neck and shoulder, decorating your skin in bruises like he was draping you in precious jewels.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart? Huh? This what you needed?”

Billy brought his hand up to wrap tightly around your throat, applying just enough pressure to capture your full attention. It didn’t send you into a panic like Roman’s hand around your throat used to. Billy wasn’t squeezing hard enough to hurt you. He wasn’t trying to hurt you. He was giving you what you wanted, what you asked for. Billy was in control, but he was willingly submitting to your desire.

His forehead was pressed to yours, and he was staring down into your eyes that were wide with raw desperation, reveling in the way that your mouth was hanging open, nothing but echoes of the pleasure that he was bringing you leaving them. All you could do was nod, but that was enough for Billy. He wanted more. He needed more.

“Say it.”

His voice came out in a low growl, and your nails sank into his back in response, leaving your own crescent shaped marks behind in his skin that earned a soft hiss from Billy.

“Y-Yes…yes…”

He nuzzled his nose against yours, making a low sound in his throat, capturing your top lip in a messy kiss.

“Good girl.”

You didn’t know you could be affected by two little words so much, but the praise sent electric shocks right down to your core, and the only signal your brain could send to the rest of your body was more more more.

“Billy-”

His name left your lips in a strangled moan that seemed to get caught in your throat, and the sinful sweet sound made Billy’s cock twitch inside you as he continued to piston his hips.

“Say it again.”

“Billy-“

This time it didn’t get stuck. It erupted from the depth of your chest, carrying with it a note of exigency interwoven in a clear plea. Hearing it again made something dark sparkle in Billy’s eyes, his top teeth raking over his bottom lip before he leaned in to drag his tongue along the underside of your jaw.

“That’s my girl. You need to come, don’t you sweetheart? This pretty pussy needs to come all over my cock, doesn’t it?”

Managing to slip his hand between your bodies, Billy’s fingers found your sensitive clit and began rubbing furiously back and forth, making you jolt and cry out as your jaw went slack. He was relentless, fucking you hard and fast without mercy while rapidly strumming your clit at an inhuman speed, causing a tremor to spread in your thighs.

The relief you so desperately needed was right there, just within your reach. You clawed at Billy’s back, the only way you could communicate for him to not stop. Your moans were incoherent, rising in pitch and volume, becoming more and more breathless as that balloon of pleasure grew and expanded within you, taking up space in your ribcage and pressing against your lungs.

“Be a good girl and come for me. Don’t you dare hold back. Let it all go. Let the whole goddamn city hear you. C’mon, pretty girl. Let me have it.”

When that balloon finally burst, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head, and all at once, the tightly coiled tension in your body melted away into pure bliss, leaving you feeling completely boneless and relaxed. The waves of ecstasy that had been built up catapulted you into the stars when they finally crashed down, causing you to explode like a firework, raining down in tiny burning sparks of white hot gratification.

Billy let out a feral grunt in your ear as his hips stuttered, slamming into you hard one final time, tightening his grasp on your neck with a groan of relief when he reached his own climax hearing the way you called his name like a sacred prayer. It was the most intense orgasm you’d ever had, shattering you into a million pieces in his silk sheets.

The bedroom felt ten degrees hotter, and it smelled like sweat and sex and Billy’s expensive cologne. He nuzzled his nose against your neck as he slowly let go of it, the coarseness of his beard rubbing against your sensitive bitten skin making you shiver. His lips were considerably more gentle as they trailed along your jawline, his voice murmuring sweet nothings into your ear that your fuzzy brain couldn’t focus on at the moment.

All you could do was feel.

»»———　　———««

“Billy?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you say six cameras?”

Billy’s hand that was slowly carding through your hair paused, and you lifted your head from where it was laying on his chest to look up at him. His lips parted before a furrow nestled between his dark brows.

“What?”

“Earlier, at the hospital. You said there were six cameras in the apartment. I thought there were only five.”

Billy looked at you silently for a moment, that same indecipherable look in his eyes from the kitchen. Softening the creases along his forehead, he brought his other hand up to run through his raven strands, pushing them back into place with a faint shrug.

“I meant five. I don’t know why I said six. There was a lot goin’ on, guess I got confused.”

A faint buzzing noise abruptly sounded on the nightstand, and Billy glanced over at his phone, turning his body slightly to pick it up and read the notification before muttering under his breath.

“Shit.”

“What is it?”

When he sat up, you had to untangle yourself from him, and you looked at him curiously as you sat up too, holding the sheets over your naked chest. Billy typed something on his phone with a serious looking expression before locking it and turning to look at you.

“I gotta head to the office right quick.”

“What? Right now?”

Glancing at the digital clock on the nightstand, the red glowing letters showed that it was eleven thirty at night. Billy gave you an apologetic look before he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead, softly cupping your face in his hand.

“Downside of ownin’ your own company sweetheart, you gotta be available at all times to put out the fires. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Watching as his naked body slipped out of bed to start getting dressed, you glanced down at the silk sheets you were tangled in for a moment, feeling a pit of unease at the thought of being left alone. Your mind started to wander, and in a matter of seconds, you were spiraling with worst case scenarios. Lifting your head to look up at Billy, you hesitated to ask the question you didn’t know if you wanted the answer to or not.

“Does this…does it have anything to do with-”

Billy immediately paused in the middle of zipping up his pants, turning his head to look at you. He could see the worry written clear as day on your face. Pressing his knee onto the bed, he reached out and cupped your face in his hand once again, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone.

“Hey, everything is alright, yeah? Just relax, sweetheart. Don’t worry your pretty little head. I’ll be back in an hour, tops. I promise.”

»»———　　———««

In the midst of rummaging around in Billy’s fridge, you heard the front door to the penthouse open and close in the distance. Glancing at the clock on the microwave, you saw that it wasn’t even midnight yet. Billy hadn’t even been gone twenty minutes. Closing the doors of the stainless steel fridge, you started to walk out of the kitchen, your bare feet padding along the cold floor as you rounded the corner and headed towards the foyer.

“That was fast. I guess it wasn’t that-”

The second your eyes landed on him, you froze. Fear trickled through your nervous system, leaving your limbs numb, and your feet seemingly rooted to the floor.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Roman’s voice had a hint of humor in it, but his face showed no signs of amusement. His eyes roamed over your figure, slowly looking you up and down, taking in your bare feet and legs, and the wrinkled white dress shirt covering your body that clearly did not belong to you. When his intense stare landed on it, the edge of his top lip curled faintly in a snarl, and then he quickly met your shocked and terrified expression again.

When you had first met him, you’d thought Roman had the most beautiful ocean blue eyes. But then you’d seen them cold and full of rage so many times that they lost their beauty. They no longer looked like two sparkling sapphires; they made you feel like you were staring into the eye of a perilous storm.

He’d grown out his light brown hair, and it was messily slicked back, a few curls sticking out around his neck. Instead of the usual clean shaven face you were used to seeing that made him look deceptively harmless, he’d grown out a mustache and the facial hair on his chin. Somehow it made him look older, and more menacing. He didn’t look like the unassuming nice guy you’d once believed him to be anymore. He looked more like the volatile angry man you knew he was.

“Roman-”

“So this is what you wanted, huh? This is what you left me for?”

He completely disregarded the fear trembling in your voice, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you in disdain, gesturing around to the luxurious penthouse with his hand.

“You were never such a shallow bitch before, Cassia.”

“That’s not my name anymore.”

A flicker of surprise registered in Roman’s eyes when you snapped back at him like that. You had never done that before. It was just a split second of surprise, but it quickly became clear that it only incensed him further, and he clenched his jaw as he took a step forward.

“I don’t give a shit what your name is now. You can change your name a thousand times baby, but you’ll never be able to change the fact that you’re mine.”

Swallowing thickly, you clenched your hands into tight fists, ignoring the sting of the pressure it inflicted on the stitches in your palms.

“How did you find me?”

“Oh I’ve been looking for you for three years, baby. I never stopped. Had a little help, too. And last week, I got a picture of you with two words. New York.”

Roman had a smile on his face, but it wasn’t warm or loving. It was a predatory smile a wolf would give a sheep. The knowledge that someone had sent him your picture and told him where you were filled you with confusion. Had he hired people to locate you? You had been so careful for the last three years, at least you thought you had, but someone managed to find you.

And it was a terrifying thought that you had no idea who.

Someone had been watching you, for God only knew how long. A sinking stone of uneasiness settled in the pit of your stomach with that knowledge. But Roman didn’t allow you a second to overanalyze every moment of the last three years to find the mistake that led to this one, to find the face that had been lurking in the background of your new life. He took another step forward, and the inauthentic smile slipped from his face like it had never existed.

“You’re coming home with me, where you belong. Tonight.”

There was an imbalance of emotions warring within you. Even though you were terrified of the man standing in front of you, there was an overwhelming hatred and anger you felt towards him. You weren’t going to cower, not this time. You weren’t going to willingly submit to him and the fate he had planned for you, not like you used to. The old version of you he knew was gone, and you were going to make goddamn sure he knew she was never coming back.

“No.”

Roman looked genuinely taken aback by your refusal, his anger faltering for a moment with shock. You’d never told him no. You’d never stood up to him. But your defiance clearly enraged him.

“Excuse me?”

“I said no.”

Roman stared at you like you’d grown two heads. His face was a murky mess of perplexity and irritation. He let out a harsh exhale through his flared nostrils.

“I don’t want to fight with you-”

The audacity he had to say that instantly set you off, and you didn’t allow him to finish his blatant lie.

“Yes you do. Because it makes you feel powerful, doesn’t it? Hurting me? Makes you feel like a big, strong man? Is that why you killed them, Roman?”

The question seemed to reduce his vexation momentarily to pure ignorance. His face twisted up in puzzlement that was entangled with annoyance.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You murdered four people, you sick fuck. You’ve gone completely psychotic-“

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about! I didn’t kill anyone-”

The accusations seemed to piss Roman off, lighting the short fuse on his temper that was sure to explode at any second. You weren’t sure why he was denying it here right in front of you when he’d already confessed over the phone, but you were done playing his bullshit games.

“You want me to leave here with you? You’re gonna have to kill me too you fucking coward. Because that is the only way in hell I would ever go back to Woodsboro with you, you sorry ass mama’s boy.”

Immediately, Roman lunged for you with a growl. He grabbed you by the arm and struck his fist against your face hard, sending you to the floor. Pain instantly started to throb in your cheekbone, but when Roman grabbed you by your hair to tug you up to your feet, you mustered all the strength you could to throw a punch of your own, your knuckles colliding with his nose resulting in a sickening crunch.

He let go of your hair and stumbled backwards with a loud grunt of pain, clutching at his nose. Pulling his hand away to look down at the evidence of your defiance coating his fingers, Roman turned his head to look at you in shock and rage as blood leaked from his nose.

“You fucking bitch.”

Grabbing you once again by the throat, he punched you right in the stomach, nearly knocking the breath out of you, and then he struck you across the face again, sending you backwards to crash through a glass coffee table that shattered into several glittering pieces. Pain shot through so many different parts of your body, you couldn’t even tell which part of you was injured the worst. Roman was on top of you in a flash, wrapping both of his hands around your neck, gritting his teeth as he started to choke you.

Your eyes went wide with panic, and you struggled to breathe, your hands frantically clawing at his arms and reaching up to grab at the collar of his shirt, and eventually his face. He pulled his head back and away from your reach, letting out a grunt as he lifted your head to slam it back down against the floor, causing a throb to resonate in the back of your skull. In a split second, you were transported right back to the night you ended up in the hospital.

It was all too familiar. Roman holding you down, staring down at you with toxic rage in his eyes, his hands restricting all air flow to your brain as he choked the life out of you. Somehow, you’d ended right back up in the place you’d worked so hard to avoid. This time, there were no neighbors to call the police on your behalf. This time, no one was coming to save you. Blackness was slowly closing in on your vision, like the Iris shot of an old movie, signaling the end.

But this wasn’t your ending.

Blindly feeling around on the floor beside you, glass shards got stuck in the gauze that was still wrapped around your injured palm, and your fingertips brushed against a large jagged piece. Grabbing it tightly in your hand, you used every ounce of remaining strength to drive it into Roman’s thigh, and he roared in pain as he let go of your throat, looking down at where you’d just stabbed him. Taking advantage of the moment, you grabbed one of the heavy decorative pieces that had been on the coffee table and struck him across the face with it. Roman fell over onto his side with a grunt, bringing his hand up to his temple that now had a gash in it.

Immediately you began to cough and suck in deep gasps of air, clutching at your chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a revolver tucked into the waistband of Roman’s jeans, and your eyes widened with panic when you saw him start to reach for it. Scrambling to your feet, ignoring the sharp sting of glass shards scratching and piercing your bare skin, you took off running towards the bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it before dashing into the large walk in closet. Billy had to have a gun somewhere. You began searching through drawers and cabinets in a frenzy, searching for a gun or a knife, anything.

As you pulled open one of the bottom drawers of a dresser and started to search through it, a flash of white caught your eye, and your breath hitched in your throat.

Grasping the chin of the mask, you tugged on it to pull it out from underneath a thick piece of black fabric. It was the very mask you’d seen earlier. The white rubber stretched in a ghastly expression, emphasized by black soulless pits for eyes and a mouth. Your breathing grew heavy as you grasped the black fabric, and your blood ran cold spotting a tiny shard of emerald green ceramic embedded in it.

All the color drained from your face in horror, the truth spreading confusion and betrayal through your bloodstream like a poison.

It wasn’t Roman.

It was Billy.

You didn’t have time to process that revelation before a loud banging started sounding on the bedroom door, Roman’s angry voice yelling out your name as he tried to break it down. Your eyes frantically darted around the large walk in closet. You still hadn’t found a gun, and you were panicking when the glint of something caught your eye. On one of the shelves, a diamond shaped thick piece of glass sat proudly, engraved with Billy’s name and the details of the award. It looked heavy, and the pointy tip appeared sharp.

Hearing the wood start to splinter under the weight and force of Roman’s relentless effort to break it down, you snapped out of your panic and shock, and in a split second, you made a decision. Pulling the black robe on hastily along with the mask, and the gloves that had been balled up in the middle of the fabric, you stood and swiped the award off the shelf. Slipping out of the large walk-in closet, you pulled the door shut just slightly, leaving an intentional crack in it. Just as the bedroom door had burst open, you’d snuck into the dark bathroom, hiding in the corner behind the door, the black robe keeping you concealed in the shadows.

Roman’s footsteps were heavy and angry, and you could even hear how hard he was breathing.

“You stupid whore. Where you gonna run now, huh? You got nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. You’re locked in here with me baby.”

You kept your breathing as quiet as possible, and the mask aided in muffling the sound. A humorless chuckle sounded from Roman, and you heard his footsteps leading him exactly where you wanted him.

“You know, you can pretend all you want, but you haven’t changed. You forget baby, I know you. Better than anyone. You haven’t changed, and you haven’t learned a goddamn thing. You’re still that stupid little girl, always running for the fucking closet-”

Roman kicked the door of the closet open, aiming his revolver towards where he thought your cowering form would be. A crease of confusion nestled between his brows as his stormy blue eyes glanced around, finding the space empty. Gripping the door handle in his other hand, he yanked it forward and pointed the gun towards the corner behind it, but to his annoyance, you weren’t there. Shoving the door against the wall, he angrily looked around the large walk-in closet, looking over spots he might have missed while blinded by rage.

Silently slipping out of the bathroom, you slowly stalked towards him, the thick glass heavy in your gloved hand. Roman was standing in the doorway of the closet, his broad shoulders taking up most of the frame, his back to you. Clutching the award tight in your hand, you raised it slowly, and with a feral yell, you drove the sharp end right into his back, making him drop the revolver and shout in pain as he reached behind him. As soon as he turned around, you let out another yell as you struck him across the head with it as hard as you could, knocking him down to the floor.

Blood immediately started to flow from a fresh cut above his eyebrow, and Roman grabbed at his head as he turned onto his back, grunting in pain. But as soon as he looked up and saw you standing there in the black robe and Ghostface mask, the bloodied award grasped in your gloved hand, his blue eyes widened, and his face paled. You saw an emotion paint his features you’d never seen in Roman before.

Fear.

Power surged through your body, electrifying every nerve ending inside you. Grasping the mouth of the mask, you slowly pulled it up and over your head, staring down at him in pure hatred, your chest heaving from how heavy you were breathing. The anger pumping through your bloodstream was more intense than anything you had ever felt. Standing above Roman, staring down at him and seeing him being the one cowering on the floor looking scared, it awoke something dark in you that had always laid dormant, waiting for this moment.

“I have changed, Roman. The girl you knew, is dead. I fucking killed her.”

Roman slowly held his bloodied hands up, his wide blue eyes staring up at you as he began to plead.

“Cass…baby…just let me-”

“And I am not locked in here with you. You’re locked in here with me. Only one of us is walking out of this room alive, and it is not fucking going to be you.”

Before he could say another word, you dropped to your knees and struck him with the thick glass again. Climbing on top of him, you let out another feral scream as you started to strike him, over and over and over, unleashing every ounce of pent up rage that had been festering within you, bubbling up to this eruption. Everything all came rushing back at once. Every sharp sting from a slap, every taste of blood in your mouth from his fist connecting with your face, every broken bone from being thrown to the ground, the physical and metaphorical loss of your voice when he crushed your windpipe, the paralyzing fear that had caused you to uproot your life and change everything about yourself, the isolation that had come with it, and the fear for your fucking life; all of it fueled your unhinged retaliation.

You didn’t stop. Not when he begged, not when he held his hands up in defense, not when he cried out in pain. He had never stopped, not with you. You repaid him in the exact same ruthlessness he’d always shown you, until your arms ached and the face you used to be terrified of in your nightmares was reduced to a disfigured pile of meat and bone.

Dropping the award to the ground with a loud thud, your eyes were wild and your pupils were blown wide open, like a feral animal after an attack. Your chest was heaving from the physical exertion and your lungs felt like they were on fire. A twisted sense of euphoria spread through you like a wildfire, and that heavy weight of fear that had been suffocating you was finally gone.

A sudden noise made your head snap up. Billy was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, his gun grasped tightly in his right hand. His dark brown eyes glanced down at the lifeless body beneath you and the puddle of blood surrounding the carnage. His gaze slowly wandered over the sight of you in the black robe, the Ghostface mask forgotten on the floor behind you, the bloodied award of his on the floor beside you, and the splatters of deep maroon on your face and in your hair.

When he finally met your gaze, he was struck by the untamed rage burning in your eyes.

He slowly slipped his gun into his holster, raising his hands up in a show of surrender. But he didn’t look scared. Staring up at him, you saw a flicker of what looked like…pride, in his eyes. He was staring at you in awe, like you were the most magnificent creature he’d ever seen. All of a sudden, his lips slowly spread into a wicked grin.

“I knew you had it in you, sweetheart.”

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