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hangesdarling · 4 months ago

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Hii,can I request headcanons for a psychiatrist hange zoe x insane reader

(Hope this fits your rules)

insane as you are — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x female reader

SYNOPSIS. Your psychiatrist helped you escape the asylum.

CONTENT. blood, stabbing, angst, murder, inaccuracies (i can do smth worse than this, let's do that next time)

A/N. I shortcircuited writing this: Hange is insane too with an "I can fix her" syndrome. billy russo and krista dumont from the punisher s2 kinda inspired me to write it like this

"This is somewhat unoriginal of you. I was betting you'd come up with something better," Hange heaved a grunt, trying to keep the knife you drove through their shoulder in place. The gun you stole from the guard outside your door had four missing bullets, not even one caught you in the encounter—such a shame. Your eyes flicked over their slumped form against the wall.

"Sorry for putting you in such a situation, Hans," you walked over and kissed their forehead. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Don't get killed on your way out."

"Won't be."

It wasn't a great plan to begin with. Just because you were locked away in some cheap standard comic asylum doesn't mean all the guards are stupid. You weren't superhuman either so that's a far stretch of a difference from the escape stories you read about on your stay there.

What irritated you the most was probably the bullet that gashed the surface of your cheek right when you couldn't afford to be bleeding out.

It was rough. The guards put up a fight. Just a standard Tuesday night.

You had to thank Hange for the lowered security, and failing machinery inside. Only then did escaping become possible with getting little to no injury.

Once the red and blue lights of police cars zipped through the streets, you knew it was headed for the old, cheap asylum that housed you for at least five years.

Snow drizzled outside, the night bluish with speckles of snowflakes falling. You caught one on your finger and almost laughed at yourself for wanting to cry. You forgot what snow felt like. The place treated you like a sewer rat with very little ventilation. You only had small, barred clerestory, and mud-colored bricks to gaze at in each waking moment. Even the sheets are bland.

Only when Hange arrived in your life did you have the chance to see what was outside after such a long time. It's been a year since the asylum sent an overqualified psychiatrist in front of you and it brings a smile to your face at where you at now.

The night was cold but you were warmed by the thick coat you stole from a stranger on your way out. You left the poor man bleeding on the pavement but thankfully not a speck splattered on the coat. It has such an expensive, natural color to be stained.

You sat obscured on a rotting bench near the alleyway, waiting for your lover. Sure the proceedings may take longer than you'd like. They will be interrogated, after all.

A few minutes and many strangers passed by after you spotted their familiar dark green coat. They turned on the next street and you soon followed.

"They did such a half-assed job on this one. No wonder you're still bleeding," you complained, tearing the poorly wrapped bandage on Hange's shoulder.

"Are you even surprised by such a degree of incompetence at this point?" Hange chuckled, taking a shot of brandy. You were straddled on their lap as you bandaged them properly.

"I guess not."

"We dodged a bullet back there, you know," Hange said, setting down their glass to place their hands on your hips.

"What happened?"

"They sent someone too curious for her own good. Almost had evidence against us. But we staged it well somehow."

A laugh escaped your lips, "We did not."

"I know," Hange laughed, showing you that broad, charming smile you love. "We need to get away in a week or so. We can't hide for long."

"I have some plans you might want to hear about."

"Go on. Shoot."

You took the bottle of brandy from the side table, not even bothering with the glass. You gulped the liquid down your throat, missing the burn of the alcohol.

You set it back down and took Hange's face on yours which was already focused on you anyway.

"You sure about this?" you asked.

"About what?"

"This thing we planned. Running away."

"We planned this long ago."

"But are you sure?"

"Yes."

A sigh, perhaps of relief, passed your lips. Then you smiled.

"You're insane, Dr. Zoë."

They grinned, squeezing your hips a bit, "Try me."

But good things don't last as much as you'd love them to. You were bound for destruction no matter how much you tried to keep your bloody hands to yourself.

"Hey, baby, please," Hange called with a sigh, nursing the shallow gash in their arm as they kneeled in front of you.

The bloody knife unfurled from your fists, clattering against the floor.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sobbed. Their hands tried to reach yours but you were afraid to touch them again.

"I know you didn't mean it," Hange tried to soothe your sobs, brushing a tear from your cheek.

"You should just call the police," you mumbled, hugging your knees.

"I'm not doing that after we've been through," Hange said strongly. "Our flight will be in a few days."

"I don't want to hurt you again. I didn't mean to—"

Hange sensed another burst of apology from you again. They cupped your face, forehead leaning against yours.

"I know, Y/N, I know," they ran a hand through your hair. They gently tugged you to your feet and pulled you on the couch with them.

"I thought it would be okay again," you said through tears, gaze falling down your hands with much hatred and disappointment. I thought I’d be okay again.

"It will be. Eventually. We don't have to rush anything."

Their small side hug warmed your heart and yet you still couldn't get around the fact that you're dangerous, even for Hange. Knowing that you can't even control that sort of impulse was a slap in the face.

"Are you willing to give all of these up, everything you built?" you said slowly, fiddling with your hands. "For me?"

They laced their hands around yours, pressing a kiss on your cheek.

"You know I will," Hange said softly. With a gentle sigh, they added, "We'll be okay."

"I'm not sure about the me part."

A humorless smile spread on your lips.

"I want you to be okay on your own terms," Hange can't help but crack a smile. "Damn, I can lose my license ten times over just by saying that."

You laughed, pushing your fear to the back of your mind this time. You kissed them, as gently as you could, as if they would fall apart in your hands.

"I think I get what you mean."

Hange knew it wouldn't be easy. Only god knows how many times you'll turn up at their door with blood on your hands from people you don't remember or how many times they'll meet the end of your knife. But only Hange knew and understood your internal turmoil. The urge to just cut off your own hands rather than hurt them again. Hange found the gentleness built within your walls. It was fiery and stinging. It hurts to hold. But akin to the moth to a flame, Hange still held you closer and closer even if it felt like digging a knife deeper into their chest. They persevered even with all the awareness of the faults these situations present. They didn't spend years studying psychiatry only to wander from patient to patient, hoping some of the therapy would stick. They knew they could piece you together in some semblance of normal. And they knew you'd let them.

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

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suchatinyinfinity · 5 years ago

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WIP Wednesday

My WIPs include:

Season 2 Billy Russo x reader requested by @something-tofightfor

Benjamin Greene x reader for @obscurilicious

Part 7 of A Familiar Face, Ryan Brenner x reader

Brainstorming and outlining Benjamin Greene x reader for @something-tofightfor and Ryan Brenner x reader for @witchygagirl (and maybe outlining a connecting piece to Swan Song)

Fellow fic writers, tell me about your WIPs?

#wip wednesday #i am lost in a wip hole and its so deep #fellow fic writers #s2 billy russo x reader #benjamin greene x reader #ryan brenner x reader

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celestialspecial · 2 years ago

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If you're new to my writing- may I suggest starting with the story I'm most proud of :')

These Beautiful Torments

Recovering from the fight that has left him badly wounded both physically and mentally Billy tries to piece together the parts of his past. To remember who he is, or was, but it’s never that easy is it?

Warnings: Trauma, Depression, Eventual Smut, Violence, Unplanned Pregnancy- Canon? We don’t know her. (If i missed any feel free to let me know)

Writers Notes: Ok this is my first chapter testing the waters of an idea that I’d thrown out there a little while ago. Let me know if you like/want more- I have a few chapters planned but will determine if I continue it or not :) Love you all bunches. *cover image to come soon!

It was always the lights. Flashing. Blindingly bright. Music lilting in the background. And the taste of blood. Filling his mouth and dripping out onto the ground below. Then he saw the haunting visage, a skull, burned into his retinas, emblazoned under his eyelids by those damned lights.

Then he’d wake. Sometimes slowly but more often than not, jolted. Attempting to rise himself upright only to find his body strapped down to the bed he lay in. He was still here, in the hospital. How long had he been here? A sharp shooting pain streaked across his forehead, eyes scrunched shut pleading for the pain to cease.

Keep reading

#billy russo #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo s2 #billy russo the punisher #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #the punisher au #frank castle #marvel #marvel fanfic #fanfiction

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fific7 · 3 years ago

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Baby Can I Hold You - Part 2

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Billy Russo ghosted you over two years ago. But now he’s back in your DM’s. Based on the song by Tracy Chapman and set in my Punisher S2 AU, it does not follow canon and is (to my mind) gloriously free of a certain female psychoanalyst.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral and unprotected, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

But you can say baby

Baby, can I hold you tonight?

Maybe if I told you the right words

Ooh, at the right time you'd be mine

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

His mouth next your ear, you heard him whisper, “Please…. I just wanna hold you.”

You stopped struggling momentarily. His voice - childlike, vulnerable - made you think of his years growing up in the system, abandoned by the very person who should’ve loved him, protected him, cared for him - and this hit you like a slap in the face.

You began to think that he had in fact more or less regressed to being a kid, and you guessed that he hadn’t had too much affection shown to him during those formative years. He’d never been fostered out for longer than a week or two as he was too much of a handful, and landed back in the kids’ home every time.

Giving in, you whispered back, “Alright, Billy. But that’s all, okay?” “Whaddya mean?” you heard next. “No groping, no sex, just hugging - okay?” you answered, realising you’d have to spell everything out in black and white for this new Billy. “I wouldn’t tryta have sex with you!” his voice sounded indignant, and he rearranged you slightly within his grip so that you could actually look at each other, instead of you being crushed against his chest. His eyes blazed into yours, “I wouldn’t. I know we musta had sex when we were seein’ each other… but since the accident… I don’t… I can’t….”

Wow, you thought, that was unexpected. “Okay, I understand,” you cut in as he stumbled over his words, “I get it, Billy. I’m sorry.” He shrugged, “I’m alive - guess I gotta be thankful for that.” You settled back down a bit, sighing and hoping you could get back to sleep. However, Billy was holding onto you so tightly, you were sure he was cutting off your circulation. “Billy, you can loosen your grip a bit now, I’m not going anywhere.”

His arms loosened round you to a much more comfortable level and you closed your eyes. You felt his nose making its way to snuggle against your neck again but didn’t object. Trying to sleep, you attempted to stop your mind from working overtime but all you could think about was how damn weird this was. Billy Russo - back in your bed after two years. If someone had bet you this would happen, you’d have told them to get out of town. But here he was, that lean athletic body of his lying so close to you…. You heard his breathing slowly even out and you knew he was asleep.

Eventually, you slept too.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The next morning was - thankfully - Saturday, so no early rise for work. But you’d still awoken with a start, disorientated and with that panicky feeling that you’d overslept. Slowly, your brain told you not to worry, it was the weekend and also that you’d had a disturbed night. You raised your sleepy eyes and looked up into Billy’s sleeping face, looking remarkably peaceful given the turmoil that must inhabit his head right now. So - not a dream, then. He was here, for real.

You moved back, stretching as you did so and Billy’s eyes opened immediately, staring straight at you then looking quickly round the room, before returning to gaze at you. “Morning, Billy,” you said, “if you can please let go of me I’ll make us some coffee.” “Yeah, mornin’.” He let his arms fall away from you and you got up, heading firstly to the bathroom and then to the kitchen. While you filled and switched on the coffee machine, you heard Billy moving around in the bathroom and then he too strolled into the kitchen area, looking very relaxed and not self-conscious at all despite being in just his briefs.

“I slept good,” he announced to you, “ thanks for lettin’ me stay.” You nodded, “No worries, Billy,” then hesitated before saying, “but we need to talk about what you’re going to do now.” He turned and padded over to the sofa, retrieving his jeans and t-shirt and pulling them on then walking back, zipping up his jeans and buttoning them as he approached you. You found yourself thinking that he still managed to make this very ordinary action look sexy, and feeling a blush making its way onto your face, you turned back to the coffee machine. “Tryna get rid of me already?” you heard, and looked back over at him. “Not necessarily, but you need to have a game plan, right? Find out what’s happening at your company, for one. How long were you in hospital, Billy?”

He ran his hands over his face and up over his head, which you noticed he did a lot. “Mmmm - three months or so.” “OK, so what were you told about the situation at Anvil?” “Nuthin’. Just that my apartment got sold to pay my medical bills.” “Are you sure that actually happened? It must’ve been a really quick sale.” He looked at you quickly, “You think it wasn’t?” “I don’t know but you see what I mean? There are things you need to find out about. And while I’m not a doctor so won’t be second-guessing what you’ve been told, I do think it’s important you find out about these basics as soon as possible.”

You were surprised by the huge smile you suddenly got from Billy. “I knew I was doin’ the right thing, comin’ to you first.” Taking two mugs out of your cupboard, you filled them with coffee and took a couple of croissants (thankfully not stale yet) out of your bread bin and some squares of kitchen towel to use as napkins. You handed him a mug and a pastry and indicated that you should both head to the living area. You realised you’d adopted an almost parental approach with him.

He just seemed so much like a little kid to you. That explosion had really had a massive impact on him psychologically. As you sat down in the armchair, Billy on the sofa - you remembered how he used to be; arrogant, self-confident, assertive, an air of danger about him. Now he consistently questioned things and was jumpy, skittish. Had no filter, like children when they ask or say things. To your surprise, you felt tears welling up in your eyes and blinked them back a few times. You were determined that you weren’t going to actually cry.

Billy, obviously still with some sniper senses intact, noticed nevertheless and asked, “Why are you cryin’?” There he goes again, you thought, straight to the point. “I’m not crying.” “Yeah you were - just about anyway! Why are you upset?” You decided to be direct too, “Because I was just remembering the old Billy. You’re so different and it’s… sad to see you like this.”

His face twisted into a scowl, “A helpless idiot, ya mean?” he hissed.

“No, Billy. A damaged, lost soul…. a child, almost.”

Now his eyes filled and he blinked furiously. “No! I’m…. I’m not,” he replied, accompanied by a vigorous shaking of his head. You nodded, “You are, Billy. Maybe you don’t realise it, but you’re really vulnerable right now. Still recovering from your injuries and with almost complete amnesia. I’m surprised your psychoanalyst didn’t get you into some kind of rehab place while you recover your memory.” His eyes dropped from yours, “Yeah, he wanted me to. But I told him I had a place to go.” “And he let you leave his office without checking on that?” Billy gave a sly smirk, still not looking at you, “Yeah. Said I was stayin’ with a friend.”

Quite frankly you doubted that any medical professional would’ve allowed Billy to spin them a line like that and not insist on more details, so you suspected Billy was lying to you.

“Billy….” you waited until he looked at you once more, “You’re not telling me the truth. Did you skip out out on him?” His scarred face pinked up, his eyes swivelled away from yours again and he gave a quick nod. Totally like a kid would, you thought. “Okay. Well the second thing I’m going to do is call him and let him know you’re here. The first thing I’m going to do is say to you….” you took a deep breath, unsure if you really wanted to make the offer you were about to make. You drew in another breath before continuing, “…that you can stay here while you recover.”

His eyes met yours swiftly, “Why would ya do that for me?” Suspicion was evident in his tone. “I’m willing to do this because you need help, Billy. Someone in your corner, to watch your back. So many people could take advantage of you right now.” His eyes narrowed, “An’ you won’t?” You merely shook your head. “Why not?” Direct - again.

Now you looked away from him. “Because I used to have feelings for you, Billy. And even though you were a complete shit to me, I honestly wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I didn’t do something to help you now while you’re in recovery.” You looked back at him and he was staring at you, kind of like he had when he’d first arrived at your door. Then he gave you that huge smile you’d had from him before and he bounded up and over to where you were sitting, grabbing you into the bear hug you were beginning to get used to. “Thank you,” he mumbled into your hair. You patted his back, “It’s OK, Billy, it’ll be fine.”

How long it would take for it be fine, you really weren’t sure.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

As promised, after you’d extracted the psychoanalyst’s phone number from a reluctant Billy you rang and left a message on his voicemail, informing him of Billy’s whereabouts and leaving your phone number with him. While he would be relieved to know where Billy was, you had no doubt that he wouldn’t be particularly happy that he was hanging out with a ‘civilian’. He’ll just have to live with that, you thought.

Then you headed to that drawer in your kitchen which everyone has, where all the ‘old shit you don’t want to dump’ lives. You dug out a tatty old address book you hadn’t looked at for ages, flipping through the pages until you found phone numbers for both Frank and Curtis. Why you’d kept it, lord only knew as of course nobody used them any more, but for some reason you had and right now you were happy that you did. Peering back into the living room, you saw Billy was still sprawled out on the sofa watching the TV although you realised he’d actually dozed off.

You grabbed your phone, tiptoed to your bedroom and closed your door behind you, before dialling Frank’s number. Back in the day, you’d met him and Maria a few times and had even spent some time at their place with Billy. But you still hadn’t known Frank that well and you felt apprehensive as you heard it ringing. At least it wasn’t disconnected, you thought.

A gruff voice answered, “If you’re sellin’ something, don’t even bother tryin’.” You said quickly, “Frank?” There was a pause, then, “Yeah?” his voice sounding wary. You said who you were and then explained how Billy had turned up on your doorstep complete with almost total amnesia.

“Oh, yeah - I remember you. You an’ Billy, you were together for a while, right?” You sighed, “Yeah, until he vanished on me two years ago. Hadn’t seen or heard from him since. Apparently when he was at his doctor’s office, he found a piece of paper which had been in his wallet and it had my name and number on it. Someone - don’t know who - tracked me down for him and he turned up here last night. Said he had nowhere to go.” Now you heard Frank sigh. “Right…. me an’ him got caught up in an explosion while we were on an op. I got off lightly but Russo….” another pause, “…it totally fucked him up as you can see. I’m lookin’ after Anvil till he gets back.”

“Oh okay, so he’s still got his business then? He said his apartment had been sold to pay his medical bills. That he’d got nowhere to go. He didn’t even seem to remember you or Curtis.”

“Yeah he’s still got Anvil. And yeah, he doesn’t remember anyone from his previous life right now. An’ his apartment got rented out, with that money gettin’ used for his medical costs. So that is true, he can’t stay there as someone else has leased it for now, but I wanna know who told him it’d been sold. I needta have a word with them.” His voice had turned menacing and you were glad you weren’t that person. “I did think that sounded like a really quick sale but I guess it can happen. But he could’ve got what he was told mixed up…. he’s really got almost no memories of anything.”

“Want me to take him off your hands?” questioned Frank, “He could stay with me and Karen.” Your mouth dropped open and you were glad you were on the phone so he couldn’t see you. “K-karen?” you stuttered, and he said, “Oh… you wouldn’t know about…. uhhh… Maria passed away.” You could tell there was still a lot of pain in his voice and you said quietly, “Frank, I’m so sorry to hear that.” You knew the two of them had been as loved up as two people could be, which is why you’d been stunned to hear him referring to another woman who he seemed to be living with.

Now, sadly, you knew why that was. Frank cleared his throat, “Yeah… she had a heart attack, ‘bout two years back in fact. Undiagnosed heart condition. So Karen’s been great, helpin’ me out with the kids. Dunno what I’d’ve done without her.” “Glad you’ve got someone with you. It helps - a little.” “Yeah,” he agreed, “it does. But anyhow, whaddya gonna do about Russo?” “I don’t mind him staying here for now, I’ll make sure he keeps going to his head doctor as he calls him..” a chuckle from Frank, “…and I was kind of hoping you and Curtis might come over and visit, maybe help jog his memory a bit?”

“Yeah, we can do that,” agreed Frank, “how about tomorrow?” “That would be amazing, Frank,” you said gratefully. You hadn’t yet thought about what would happen on Monday when you had to go to work. Billy was obviously unpredictable at the moment and you wanted to be able to keep tabs on him, and you were hoping that his two friends might be able to come up with a Billy baby-sitting plan. However you’d wait until tomorrow when you saw them to mention that, it would be better discussing it in person.

After you and Frank had agreed an approximate time for their visit, you ended the call and went back through to the living area. Billy was still dozing, moving a little restlessly but looking quite peaceful nevertheless. You stared at his scars while he slept, as you hadn’t wanted to scrutinise him too closely before. That explosion had really done a number on Billy’s face, but he was still a handsome man. Or so you thought.

As you looked at him, the old feelings you’d had for him were stirring in your heart. Guess I never really got over this guy, you thought. You perched on the edge of the sofa and without thinking, laid your hand gently on one ruined cheek.

His eyes flew open and your wrist was instantly grabbed in a pincer grip. You yelped in surprise and you saw his eyes focussing on you. As soon as he’d done so, he released his hold on you. Rubbing your wrist, you said, “Sorry - I didn’t mean to startle you.” He struggled up the sofa a little, half sitting up, “Just felt something on my face…” he was staring at you now, “was that you?” “Yes, Billy…. we’re the only two here.” He nodded, “Okay, just thought I was back in the hospital for a minute.” Then looking at your wrist which you were still rubbing, “I’m sorry too.”

You stood up, “No, that was my bad. I told you not to creep up on people and here I go, doing just that.” He cocked his head to one side like a bird, “Why’d you do that?” Looking down at him you said, “You just looked… kind of sweet while you were sleeping.” His mouth quirked into a sardonic lop-sided grin, “Dunno how you can think this…” pointing to his face, “could look ‘sweet’.”

You shrugged and turned away from him, making your way to the kitchen, “Well, you did.”

As you headed to the fridge and started looking for ingredients to make brunch, you heard, “You like me again, huh?” followed by a low chuckle. You decided to ignore him - probably because that’s exactly what the situation was - and asked Alexa to play you some funk/soul music.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The rest of the day saw you and Billy literally just couch-potatoing in front of the TV, with you supplying food, snacks and drinks along the way. Every so often, you’d be aware of his head turning towards you as he lay sprawled on the sofa and you sat draped sideways over the armchair. You ignored this until once when you decided to look back and meet his gaze.

“Thanks for this,” he surprised you by saying, “lettin’ me stay here, I mean. It’s gooda ya.” You broke eye contact, looking back at the TV. “It’s fine, Billy. I’m just doing someone I knew a favour when they need a little help.” “Knew?” he questioned you, “You know me.” Still staring at the screen, you replied, “No… I stopped knowing you the minute you decided to evaporate into thin air. And now, I definitely don’t know you, as so much has - unfortunately - changed for you.” Deciding you didn’t want to have this conversation any longer, you asked, “Drink?” He nodded and you got up and went to the fridge.

Pouring yourself some wine then grabbing and opening a bottle of beer for Billy, you walked back through and put your wine down on the small unit next to your armchair before leaning across and offering the beer to him. He took the bottle from you and put it on the floor, then grabbed you by the arms and pulled you down onto him.

Those big brown eyes of his were now close up and gazing into yours, and somehow you just knew what was coming next. Billy crashed his lips onto yours and began kissing you ferociously. You gave it a minute or so and then forcibly pulled back, scrambling off him and going straight to the armchair and plonking yourself down in it. When you looked back over at him, he had the biggest, smuggest grin on his face. “Yeah…” he nodded, “…I remember that too.”

You didn’t say anything but thought to yourself that while he might’ve had a memory of you two kissing tucked away in his head somewhere, he’d definitely forgotten previous Billy’s smooth, suave and sensual way of kissing.

Eventually you said to him, “You’re here to recover, Billy. That’s all. You weren’t with me before you got hurt, and I’m here to help you get better, that’s all.”

He stared back at you, a calculating look in his eyes and a small smirk now playing over his lips, “Yeah. Okay, I know that.”

But you had the distinct feeling that he was just saying what he thought you wanted to hear him say.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

That evening Billy had arranged his tall frame on the sofa again with his blanket and pillow but had soon appeared beside your bed, just silently gazing at you until you finally turned back the bedcovers and let him join you under them. A small smile on his face as he climbed into bed with you, his arms immediately slid round you and he glued his body to yours, before adopting his favourite position - his nose pressed to your neck. It did make you feel a little like his comfort blanket, but you thought that it was probably what he needed right now so you’d live with it.

Waking up on Sunday morning with Billy still attached to you like a baby animal clinging to its mother, you attempted to stretch and became aware of something hard nestling against your leg. So…. nature was taking its natural course again it seemed, judging by the impressive erection he currently had. You decided it would be a very good idea to get up right this minute and make some coffee - just in case he decided to try and put it to good use. As you stood next to the bed and pulled on your robe, you watched as Billy sleepily awoke and immediately looked at the empty space next to him.

Then his eyes widened and he lifted the covers and looked down at himself. “That’s one thing on the way to recovery, obviously,” you said with a smirk. Swiftly his head came up and he stared at you, startled. “Good morning, Billy,” you greeted him properly, before heading out of the bedroom.

A few minutes later in a rerun of the previous morning, he found you in the kitchen making coffee and buttering toast. Again in just his briefs, this time he walked right up to you and placed himself behind you, arms sliding round your waist and pulling you back against him - and his erection. His lips were at your neck and he was much less desperate this time, gently putting his lips against your skin and placing little kisses there. “I’m rememberin’ again,” he whispered. Quite honestly he was making you melt, but you pulled yourself together and continued getting the mugs out as if nothing was happening and that your senses weren’t still on a rollercoaster.

Another whisper, “You’ve made this happen,” more kisses, “this is all down to you.” You turned your head towards him slightly, “Your body’s just slowly recovering, Billy. It’s your mind we need to worry about.” He dropped his arms and swung himself away from you, leaning against the counter beside you, arms folded. “My mind will take care of itself,” he declared, sulkily. “This…” he indicated the bulge in his briefs, “hasn’t happened since I woke up from the coma in hospital. What’s wrong with sayin’ you’re the cause of it?” You shook your head, “Because it’s not true, Billy. That’s just a natural thing that happens during the night. It’s probably happened before but you just weren’t aware of it because you were asleep.” “No,” he said firmly, “I’ve not woken up like this all the time I spent in hospital.”

You handed him a mug and a plate of toast. “I hear you, Billy and I believe you, but I think it’s just a coincidence. I think you’ve relaxed a bit more since you’ve been here and maybe during the night you stayed hard for longer than usual, and that’s why you woke up with an erection for a change.” Looking into his still sulky face, you smiled. “It’s not important anyway. It’s just good that your body’s getting back to normal because I’m sure that’ll also help psychologically.” You started heading towards the living area.

A loud dramatic sigh from him as you went, and you said over your shoulder, “Anyhow, I hope you’ll be in a better mood soon, Billy. You’ve got friends coming to visit.”

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@blackbirddaredevil23 @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep @supernaturalcat7 @obscurilicious @strawb3rrydr3ss @bruxa0007 @aleksanderwh0r3 @theshadowkingsqueen @bat-luna-cat @carlywhomever @paracosmenthusiast

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#billy russo #the punisher 💀#billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #ben barnes

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the-cult-of-russo · 4 years ago

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Hues of Gold

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Request : do a billy russo x reader with the reader having an art job and them meeting due to that somehow

Warnings: none

A/N: Here it is, my first Billy x Reader. I'll be getting to the prompts in my inbox too but still feel free to send me more requests. You don't need to pick from the prompt lists, if you have an idea then just send it on over. Nothing is off limits and I write for every type of Billy. S1 Billy, S2 Billy, pre-show Billy, all the AU Billy's you can think of lmao Gimme them all.

You tilted your head a little, eyes sweeping across the paint on the easel in front of you. The piece was coming together nicely. You'd started at humble beginnings with your artwork as a street artist. You hadn't been able to afford art school and you didn't feel like people needed to if they just felt it. And you did. You'd been a hit with your expressionist art and before you knew it, you were getting wealthy clients and more money. Now you had your own little studio with an apartment on top. It wasn't flashy but it was yours and you loved it. The work you thought was good enough for your new clients would go up on your website, they'd buy them and then you'd send them off to their new home. It was simple and you got to spend every day painting to your heart's content.

You bit your lip as you mixed two golds together to get the perfect shade you were after. Some of your pieces were weirder than others, others being more realistic or using average colors. Some of them were darker in theme or used more vibrant colors with looser shapes. It was all dependent on how you felt when making it. The one currently being worked on wasn't finished by any means. Oil paint often required many layers and getting it to dry in between time. But if someone was to gauge your mood by this one, well… they'd say you were most likely sexually frustrated. It was a naked woman laying on her back on rumpled sheets, just her torso and a bit of her leg to leave the rest to the imagination. Her male counterpart was pressed up against her as the bodies melded together, his hand gripping her thigh. The colors you'd picked for this were hues of red, orange, yellow and gold, making it look like the couple were set ablaze. The epitome of passion. It was coming along nicely.

Your work cell rang breaking you from your thoughts. You gave your hand a quick wipe on the ratty towel next to you as you picked it up, answering with your full name.

"Hi, I'm lookin' for some art and I've heard you're the girl to go to," a smooth voice came through the phone. The fact that someone recommended this guy to you made you smile. It always did. It meant people were pleased with your work.

"I am. Have you checked the website? That's where my current pieces are," you murmured softly.

"I did but… I haven't really found the one yet. And a friend of mine tells me you've got a bunch of exclusive stuff at your studio," he replied.

You glanced around your studio. He wasn't wrong entirely although you wouldn't call them exclusives. You'd call them rejects if you were honest. Your new clientele were more demanding and it made you second guess your pieces more often than you'd like to admit. This led to many of them finding a home in your studio instead. You were unsure who the man's friend was as typically you didn't have people come to the studio. It was a very rare occurrence and you couldn't imagine him being interested in any of these pieces. But a customer was a customer.

"You're more than welcome to come down and look at them. I'm not sure you'll find what you're looking for though, I've kept them offline because they're in the reject pile," you snorted wryly. His smooth chuckle was soothing as it hit your ears and you nibbled on your lower lip.

"Well I'll be the judge of that," you didn't know what he looked like but you could hear the smirk in his voice. You told him the address before hanging up.

You were a little nervous of someone coming into your space and judging the art you'd already deemed not worth putting up for sale, but you decided to roll with it. It was too late now and it wouldn't be a good look for your business to tell the guy he couldn't come. You decided to continue the piece you were working on to keep your mind occupied, having no idea just when the man would decide to show, or if he would at all.

It was an hour later when the large wooden door knocked and you called out that it was open. You stood up and wiped your hands on the towel again, not that it helped much. You were sure you had paint on every part of you, it was half the fun of making art. The man walked in and you were a little surprised by just how handsome he was. He was dressed to the nines in a suit with his hair slicked back, the sides shorter than the top. He certainly looked like your usual clients but you couldn't remember any of your fancier clients ever bothering to call you, never mind actually coming to see your other pieces.

The smile he shot you was disarming and you replied in kind as you walked over to him. You reached out your hand to shake with his before retracting it rapidly when you noticed just how much of a poor job the towel had done. He seemed amused if his chuckle was anything to go by and you snorted.

"Uh… welcome. Feel free to look around. I haven't really got prices for these since I wasn't gonna sell them so I'll settle for whatever," you shrugged with a smile. Anything was better than nothing that you were getting by keeping them here. Besides, you were pretty sure he wouldn't even like any of them.

You didn't want to crowd him as he looked around so you went right back to your easel and sat on the stool. He walked around leisurely, stopping at each piece and looking at them. Your eyes kept flitting to him without meaning to, you weren't sure if it was how attractive he was or the nerves of having someone assessing your work this way. Maybe both. He didn't strike you as an art kind of guy honestly. Most of the rich clients weren't, they just wanted a statement piece for their walls for people to talk about. There wasn't anything wrong with that of course, but you'd be a liar if you said you didn't miss it back as a street artist when people bought a piece simply because it spoke to them and they loved it. Onwards and upwards though, right?

"So… who's the friend? That told you I had stuff here?" You asked after a moment, unable not to because your curiosity was getting the better of you. He glanced over at you from where he stood and smiled.

"Curtis," he replied. Your eyebrows raised a little with that information. You'd met Curtis back when you were a street artist and he bought something for the group he was running. He was a nice guy and he checked in every so often with you. You wouldn't say you were friends but you really liked him and you had some good conversations. You couldn't imagine Curtis being friends with this man though.

Noticing the shock on your face, the man chuckled.

"We served together when I was in the marines. He's a good guy, one of my closest friends," he supplied.

"You were a marine?" You hadn't meant to ask like it was such an absurd notion but it came out anyway. You just hadn't expected it He looked amused though and he nodded.

"Yeah. When I got out I set up my own private military firm, ex military people with no purpose. I give 'em somethin' to fight for. A brotherhood. We're doin' pretty well," he had a bright smile on his face, gesturing to his suit when he said they were doing well and you found yourself smiling back.

"You must be really proud. It's amazing that you're doing that for them. I mean… I never served or anything but Curtis tells me about some of the guys from his group sometimes. I bet you really help them," you said sincerely. You had no clue what it must be like to serve and you knew you didn't have the stomach for it. But some of the things Curtis had told you had made you sad and you were impressed that the man had set up something like this on his own. Something to help others just like him. He shot you another smile before going back to looking at the artwork and you couldn't take your eyes off him.

Figuring he'd catch you looking at him, you forced yourself to focus on adding more gold to the art you were working on. You weren't sure how long had passed until he spoke again and it startled you. You'd almost forgotten he was there.

"This one is… interesting. I like this one," he mused, eyes on the work on your easel as he stood beside you. Your cheeks tinged a little pink at the phrasing he used but you recovered quickly.

"Thanks. I like this one too but… it won't end up on the website. The last erotic piece I put on there apparently offended people," you said with a wry grin. He laughed, the sound low and short but his eyes went to you then. Holy shit, his eyes are… wow.

"Well it definitely doesn't offend me. How long will it take to finish?" He asked as his obsidian orbs went back to the painting.

"A couple of days at most. It's almost done and then it needs to dry and be sealed," it was nice talking about your work with someone, even as mundane as when it would be complete. You missed that interaction since you got the studio.

"I'll take it. How much?" he flashed you a smile that made your stomach flip around on you and you bit your lip with a smile back.

"That's up to you," you shrugged. You never bothered putting prices on pieces you knew you wouldn't sell and you hadn't expected to sell this piece. Even the prices on the website felt too much for you but it was born from the first wealthy clients and what they thought your pieces were worth. You just rolled with it, it wasn't like they'd miss it, right?

He hummed, the sound deep in his throat as he got out his wallet. You mused he must want it mailed to him when it was done for him to pay now rather than later but you were happy it was cash and not card. He handed you some bills and you counted it quickly, eyes widening as you blinked up at him.

"I can't take this. This is more than the pieces online," you frowned, holding out the money back to him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders.

"You said it was up to me," he replied with an easy smirk. Would you really sit there and argue with him about getting more money for it? No. But you were shocked he thought it was worth that much.

"I… thank you, sir," you smiled, stuffing the money into your pocket.

"Billy," he clarified, smirk still in place.

"Billy," you corrected with a shy smile. Something glittered in his dark eyes as you tested the sound of his name and he raked his teeth over his lower lip. Despite the fact you'd already given him your full name on the phone, you gave him your first name again and he mimicked you as he tested it out. Why did it sound so good coming from his mouth?

You cleared your throat, his intense stare was getting a little too much and you stood, walking over to the big table against the wall, grabbing a pen and pad.

"You can leave your details, I can mail it to you when it's done," you handed them to him and he twirled the pen around in his long fingers with ease.

"I'll leave my number. I'd like to come pick it up when it's done, if that's okay?" He asked as he scribbled his name and digits down.

"Are you sure? It's not an issue shipping it out," you replied as he passed you back the pen and pad.

"I'm sure. It gives me an excuse to see you again," he smirked, dark eyes boring into yours as your cheeks turned pink. He chuckled and with that he was out the door and you were left stood there gaping where he went. Did he really just…?

You stood there a moment longer, a smile working its way onto your face before you shook your head and sat back down at your easel. You glanced at the painting before setting to work and getting it finished. You couldn't wait for it to be done so Billy would come back. He was intriguing and you found yourself thinking of him as you continued your work.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher

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petertingle-yipyip · 2 months ago

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MAD AT GOD (BONUS) - MATT MURDOCK

DOOMSDAY

//ddba brings this series back, but i’ll aim for less parts per season. it’s also going to be 3rd person POV since it’s not a reader insert anymore// @fallingfavourites , enjoy june’s biggest canon appearance yet!// for anyone wondering what happens to liv after s3 or after punisher s2, here’s your answer!// MAG Universe

Pairing: Matt x Livia (former widow!OC)

Word Count: 3,832

Summary: It was never her fight, but she went. She left Hell’s Kitchen and with the snap of some fingers, Livia Yersova was gone.

Billy was gone. Livia and Frank had ended the war against John. Amy was sent away to safely live her life. There was a few days of nothing before she finally gathered the strength to knock on Matt’s door.

Before she could, he opened it.

“Can we talk?” She said haltingly. It was a lame way to start the interaction, but she had no idea what else to say.

He simply smiled and gestured her in. The apartment was so familiar it hurt. There were so many memories in that place. As she glanced the same living room, she were also hit with memories of Billy and Dex. She blinked them away, burying them deep in the back of her mind.

“Is June here?” She asked to delay the real reason she came by.

“No. Foggy convinced her to go to a Mets game with him. I guess Marci bailed… Is everything okay?”

She leaned against the back of the couch and he stood before her. She watched his hand reach for her hand, pause, then retreat.

“I wanted to talk about us.” She quickly stated. “I said we’d talk about it when I was back, and I’m back now.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “You want to start.”

It was more a statement than a question.

She had to lay it all out. If she and Matt had even the slightest chance of being together, she couldn’t hold on to those pestering thoughts.

“If you knew all I’ve done, all the things I can’t undo, would you really love me the same?”

“What did you do?”

No accusation in the question made the knot in her chest loosen.

“I traded friends like they were things to be used, hurt more people than I can count. I’ve left so much blood behind.”

Some he knew, others he didn’t. Sam Stein, Billy Russo, Dinah Madani, Morty Bennett, John from Ohio, Ray Nadeem, countless Widows, Lewis Wilson. Only his God knew what names she was forgetting.

“Would you fall in love with me again?” He asked instead. “You were here waiting while I was in that church basement.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She shook her head and the long back and forth conversation began.

—————

She and Matt were heading towards the deli when she heard it. Even though Livia was back, finding office space was more tedious than she had anticipated. Most places were either too expensive for what they offered or were too small for the growing firm. Three lawyers, an office manager/private investigator, and June (who had the fluctuating title of ‘disabilities assistant / secretary / receptionist’ depending on the day of the week and her mood) were a lot to fit into some of the square footage Hell’s Kitchen had to offer.

The familiar, two note whistle that she shared with her cousins served as an immediate siren in her head. If she was hearing that sound, then something was wrong. Nat wouldn’t come to her and whistle from the shadows of all was well, not when she was still considered a fugitive.

“Did you hear that?” Livia asked Matt, turning towards the alley the sound came from.

“No.” His brows furrowed as her arm slipped out of his.

“Oh, the one time.” She mumbled and took a step closer to try and see better. It could only be one of two people there, but why would either of your cousins be there? Yelena was supposed to be helping track down the rest of the Widows with Melina’s antidote and Nat was supposed to be hiding.

“I was paying attention to you.”

“Nice save.”

“Thank you.”

“Head inside, okay? I’ll meet you in a minute.”

“Liv…”

“I already know you’re gonna listen from the other side of the door.” She laughed slightly. “I’ll call if I need you.”

He frowned slightly but gave in, nodding slowly before heading in. Livia hurried to the alley, patting her front and back pockets to inventory two shock discs and a small knife as she answered the whistle with two notes of her own. Once she was deep enough that she was hidden from the main street, a hand landed on her shoulder.

Acting on instinct, she reached back and grabbed the wrist. Livia slipped under the arm and kicked out the back of their knee. Releasing the arm, she spun a roundhouse towards the back of his shoulders that would slam him against the building.

He dropped down and her foot hit the wall instead. She let her momentum carry her around and face him again. Livia was shocked to see Captain America standing before her, but her brain couldn’t really register that. He couldn’t know that whistle and Yelena wouldn’t hang around with Captain America, so where was Nat?

A new feeling of dread settled in her bones, which only furthered the need to know.

Livia acted quickly, throwing quick combinations of punches and kicks. He was able to avoid most of them but she quickly realized he wasn’t fighting back. He was just dodging or countering, which only annoyed her.

She threw a kick as a diversion before jumping up to grab the hanging ladder of the closest fire escape. When Steve turned to Livia again, she kicked her feet against his chest and threw him against the building. She had to drop quickly and she lifted her fist for another hit.

When she tried to make contact, she noticed she couldn’t move her arm. Looking over, she saw the red whisps surrounding your limb. Her head moved quickly to locate the source, Wanda Maximoff.

Livia’s other hand pulled a disc from her pocket and flicked it at Wanda, causing her to cry out and drop her control. Livia took a few tentative steps back with hands still raised into fists.

Steve moved to Wanda’s side and helped her stand. After a second of regaining their bearings, they faced Livia again.

“I can get into peoples’ heads, too.” She told Wanda, calling on her own power to intimidate them. Only when you found a source of fear for her, it was herself. Something about capitalizing on that felt wrong so Lucia withdrew her powers.

“We don’t want to fight, Livia. We just want to talk.” Steve tried honestly.

She shifted her weight between her feet, trying to make a game plan on taking out two Avengers, one that didn’t need to get close to shut her down. Livia looked towards the deli window but before she could call for Matt, a solid metallic arm came around her throat. There was no pressure in the hold but Livia knew she wouldn’t get out of it. It was The Vision after all.

“Где мой двоюродный брат?” She asked firmly, looking between the two that stood opposite of you. “Где Наташа?” (Where is my cousin? Where is Natasha?)

“What did she say?” Wanda asked carefully.

“She wants Natasha.” The Vision answered, slowly releasing his grip.

“Рад тебя видеть, двоюродный брат.” Nat said with a smile, finally coming into view. “And I thought you wouldn’t have missed me.” (Good to see you, cousin.)

“I just like to rub it in that you ended up being the fugitive.” Livia teased as Nat came to embrace her. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

“Okay.. Let’s go inside before you get arrested.”

“Actually, it’s better if we tell you on the way.” Steve tried and She gave a small laugh. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna tell him about any fight you want me to join so we might as well just talk inside. You guys can spare five minutes to explain it to both of us.”

“Please-“ Wanda tried but Livia was already backing towards the street.

“He’s probably gonna hear it anyway.” Liv shrugged and headed into the deli, hearing the footsteps following behind her.

With that, they all entered the deli. June was at the front of the store with Theo. He was showing her how to use the meat slicer, which Livia had argued against for the sake of June’s likelihood to slice her fingertips off. June’s eyes met Livia’s before scanning the crew she entered with.

“Liv?” June asked and the girl couldn’t hide the worry on her face. “What’s going on?”

“Stay.” Livia pointed a firm finger at June.

“But-“

“Stay.”

After getting to one of the backrooms, Matt joined the entourage for the quick rundown of the situation they were facing. An alien obsessed with some insanely powerful rocks was starting a collection that could decimate half the universe and current sights were set on the yellow piece embedded in The Vision’s skull.

“No.” Livia said after a minute of contemplation.

“Alivia, please.” The Vision tried calmly.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I’m not… I do local stuff. I don’t save the world.”

“We need every fighter we can get.” Steve argued.

“I can’t fight aliens, Captain.”

“Liv.” Nat stepped up. “I wouldn’t have come here if we weren’t a little desperate. I know what you can do.”

“You really think I’ll make a difference in this fight? You’re all talking about literal aliens. The worst I’ve gone against is a cult.” She deadpanned. “I’m not you, Cousin. I can’t save the world.”

“What if you can?” Matt spoke and his sudden addition to the conversation threw Livia off. Her head snapped towards him. “You should go.”

“And when I die, hundreds of miles away from you and June and all of my friends, what then?”

“You could also die if you stay.” He reasoned.

She groaned in annoyance and put her hands up in surrender. Livia recognized that she was going to win the argument as to why it was valid to stay, but she was tired of leaving her friends behind. She wanted to stay, to be surrounded by the people she loved and loved her. If what they were saying was true and half the universe was at stake, why would she willingly leave when she could lose them all?

Livia shoved past everyone and breezed outside. She took a deep breath and simply stood with her eyes closed and her face to the sun. After a few quiet moments, she felt a presence at her side. Looking over, Steve Rogers stood beside her.

“You won’t change my mind.” Livia warned.

“I know.” He nodded, which was unexpected. Livia turned a bit more to face him. “The girl at the counter… Was that June?”

“Don’t even think about asking her.”

“No.” He agreed. “Not a chance… Nat mentioned her though, said you’ve taken her in and helped her figure out her life.”

“Yeah…”

“Anyway I can convince you to do this for her?” He raised a brow with a hopeful expression. Livia couldn’t help but chuckle. “Guess not.”

“I believe in what you guys do.” Livia confessed. “I’m proud of Nat for being part of it, but I’m not her. I’m selfish and stubborn. I fight for mine, that’s it.”

He hummed in acknowledgment before shifting to face Livia head on. He seemed so much more human than she expected. All she knew him by were the stories, so to have him stand in front of her and almost understand felt so foreign.

“I’m not afraid to die.” Livia felt she needed to clarify.

“You don’t seem the type anyway.” He shrugged slightly. “You’ve had a few close calls though, haven’t you?”

Livia shrugged it off, though his eyes scanned various visible scars.

“I get why you wanna stay, Livia, I do.” He nodded. “But if you believe in Nat to save the world, why don’t you think she’d see you the same way?”

“But June…”

“If we don’t at least try to fight this, June could die either way.” He said bluntly. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. Isn’t she worth trying this for?”

“And what happens if we lose?” She challenged.

“Would you rather do nothing?”

With a heavy and reluctant sigh, she agreed. She never was good at doing nothing.

They went back inside together to announce her departure.

June was quick to offer to come along but Livia, Nat, and Matt were quick to shut that down. The young girl insisted another fighter would help but Livia, guiltily, challenged June’s ability to keep up in a massive battle. Reluctantly, June accepted the order to stay home and stood with Matt.

Through the conversation, Liv wondered why Matt was so quiet. She looked at him and realized he was doing what he always did, listened for what no one else could hear. He could probably hear the fast heartbeat that came with the anxiety that Liv felt buzzing from the heros. Those four needed help and she was one of the people they were hoping they could count on.

Nat had a lot of faith in her, according to Steve. So much so that it inspired the rest of her small team.

Go figure.

Arriving in the shockingly advanced country, Livia had to remind herself to breathe. She followed Steve and the seemingly ragtag group to greet the people waiting for their arrival. She didn’t pay much attention to anyone except the face she’d recognized anywhere, no matter how long he grew his hair.

“Зимний солдат.” She mumbled, halting her steps. (The winter soldier.)

“Not anymore.” He smiled tightly. “Bucky.”

“You tried to kill me once.” Livia said tightly and Nat elbowed her in the ribs.

He nodded awkwardly. “About that…”

“Forgive me.” The Wakandan King, T’Challa, interjected calmly. “I don’t mean to interrupt but I can assure you, Mr. Barnes means you no harm. Miss…?”

“Yersova.” Liv inclined her head in a subtle bow. “Alivia Yersova.”

“Welcome to Wakanda, Alivia.” He smiled kindly.

She returned the expression but said nothing else. If the King trusted Barnes, maybe he wasn’t a threat.

Before she could really get her footing, she was fighting aliens with nothing more than her Bites, her staffs, and her suit. She fought beside her cousin, the Winter Soldier, a talking raccoon, a tree, Captain America, the Hulk, the king in a bulletproof cat-suit, and the god of thunder. Despite the various cuts and bites she received and the ever present ache in that broken rib, she held her own surprisingly well. Her wrist hadn’t even failed her.

Maybe she could make it home. The thought of returning to June and Matt in one piece seemed to be enough.

Until it wasn’t.

It wasn’t until the end that she accepted the losing battle she had walked in to.

“Tell them.” Was all she managed to say before she was gone, dust at her cousin’s feet.

Days went by before Matt heard anything on Liv. He had covered Hell’s Kitchen every night, listening for her heartbeat or her voice. He called out to her, in a way that only she would know, but he was greeted with nothing. Nothing but the ghost of a feeling, a feeling of regret from so far away that it barely registered.

After people disappeared around him, after he heard hundreds of heartbeats just disappearing from around the city without explanation, he had never prayed so intently. All day, pacing the apartment with only June for company (who laid on the couch reading a book Liv had given her), he mumbled prayers that she would come home. That she would walk in and try to apologize, only for him to shut her up with an embrace that he would never let go of.

But the person that came to the door wasn’t Liv. It was Natasha.

“Hi.” She said awkwardly. “Can I uh, come in?”

“Where is she?” He asked and stepped aside.

“Nice place.. The rent high?”

“Nat?” June shot up from the couch, her book dropping to the floor.

“No, there’s a neon billboard across the street.” He groaned at the attempted small talk. “Natasha, where is Livvy?”

“Is she okay?” June’s voice was desperate.

“There was nothing any of us could do…”

“Natasha.” Matt said tightly.

“Matt, June, I’m sorry.”

“No.” June whispered.

“No. That’s not good enough. Where is she?” Matt insisted.

“She’s-“

“What happened to her!?”

“I don’t know…” There was regret in Nat’s voice but her words weren’t a lie. That only made it worse for Matt.

“How- How- How are you going to fix it?”

“I don’t know if we can.”

Matt shouted in frustration, throwing the nearest thing at the wall. June flinched, which made him feel even worse, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He’d apologize later.

“What happened?” June asked firmly, coming around the couch to stare down Natasha.

“Thanos got the Stones. He snapped his fingers and… Half of the living universe is gone.”

“Gone how? People and animals and things don’t just disappear, Romanoff.” Matt argued.

“The Stones are-“

“Forget the damn stones, alright? This-“ He gestured outside. “This is on you!”

“Wait a minute.” She answered angrily. “I did what I could. We all did! He already had majority of the stones. What else do you think we could’ve done?”

“You didn’t need to come get her in the first place. She was finally happy with her life. She was helping people and she had her friends and June and me. You took that away.”

“You both wanted her to go!”

“Not to die!” June yelled.

“Because of you!” Matt continued his rant. “Because you came here! You’re her family, Natasha, and you knew you could play that card.”

“So what? You-You think I manipulated her into going?” She laughed in disbelief.

“I think you didn’t actually need her. I think you just didn’t want to die so you brought someone else who could.” Matt said simply, with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“God, you’re an asshole. I don’t know what Liv saw in you.”

“Maybe you should go.” June said flatly. Matt heard the shuffle of material as the girl removed one of the gloves she wore despite Matt’s insistence she didn’t have to around him. “Thanks for telling us.”

“June, you don’t think I meant for Liv to die. Do you?” Natasha tried.

“I don’t know… But now she’s gone and you’re here. What do you think that looks like?”

“None of us knew who would disappear. The king of the country we were fighting in disappeared!”

“Just get out, okay?” Matt sighed. “Before you get someone else killed.”

Natasha scoffed and threw her arms in resignation before heading to the door.

“I loved her too, y’know.” She said as she stopped in the doorway.

“Goodbye, Nat.” June said firmly.

She slammed the door behind her and Matt felt everything in his body go limp. He fell to the arm of the couch first before sinking to his knees. June was quickly beside him, looping one arm through his and leaning against his shoulder. Once he couldn’t hear Natasha’s footsteps in the building anymore, he sobbed.

He shifted and wrapped his arms around June, who buried herself in the embrace. The poor girl was shaking in his arms as she cried. He wanted to scream, to shout at God and curse fate. He silently pleaded, bargained to bring her back. He offered himself, to switch places. But he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

Alivia Yersova wasn’t coming back.

When Matt felt he could breathe again and June had settled, which felt like hours later, he found his phone and dialed the only person he could think to talk to.

“The hell you want, Murdock?” Frank answered gruffly, as if his own sulking had been interrupted.

“You have any idea what’s going on out there?” Matt asked, his voice raspy from his raw throat. He tried to clear it away but that only seemed to make it worse. “The.. The people disappearing?”

“Why would I know anything?”

“I don’t know, I just…”

There was a moment of silence between the two, broken by only June’s sniffle.

“Who was it?” Frank finally asked.

“Hmm?”

“Tell me… Tell me it wasn’t June. June’s okay, right?”

“June’s fine. She’s right here.”

“Hi Frank.” June said loud enough for Frank to hear.

“What then? Liv okay? Let me talk to her.”

“Frank, she… I can’t..”

“Don’t.” Frank said tensely, understanding what Matt was struggling to say. “Don’t you dare.”

“It took her, Frank. She’s gone..”

“Look, that’s not funny, Murdock. Alright? Give the princess the phone.”

“I can’t.”

“Murdock.”

“She would’ve wanted you to know.”

“Don’t bullshit me.” Frank’s voice wavered and that was enough for Matt to break again.

“She wasn’t even with me… She was trying to stop this.” Matt explained, losing the fight to keep his voice level. “Her cousin came and-“

“Her cousin.” Frank scoffed, looking to redirect his pain to anger. “Her cousin. The one that left her for dead in that hellhole they grew up in and only calls when she needs someone to help with a fight?”

“Natasha’s not that bad… She was scared, though. Whoever they were against, this guy was something else.”

Another silence passed.

“Her cousin gonna fix this?” Frank asked finally.

“She doesn’t know how.”

“Alright, well, I’ll pick up some beers and head over then.”

“Why?”

“Cause Liv wouldn’t want you to be alone.” He said simply, as if it should’ve been obvious. “You sound like shit and the only one that can drag you out of this ain’t here so, guess it’s my job this time around.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Frank. I just wanted you to know.” Matt rolled his eyes but he knew he would enjoy the company.

“Yeah, yeah. You and her, man, both think you can do it all by yourself. Swallow your pride, Red. I’ll be there in twenty.”

With a small scoff, he dropped the phone.

“You, um…” He said carefully to June. “If it’s too hard for you to be around… No one would blame you.”

“You’re all I’ve got left.” Her voice was so small. So afraid.

“I didn’t mean it like that, kiddo. You’re always welcome here. I just..” He shrugged weakly. “I didn’t know if you’d want a change of scenery?”

“Frank was right.” June said stubbornly. “Livvy wouldn’t want you to be alone. I was there for her through your death. I’ll be here for you through hers.”

“Livvy’s not here anymore, June.” He gently reminded her. “It’s up to you now.”

Her breath hitched slightly, the way it did when she was very specifically calling on her powers. He sighed to himself in defeat.

“You don’t think you can be around me without thinking of her.” June accused flatly. There was no emotion in her voice, just stating a fact. “You want me to leave.”

“I love you, June. You know that. I don’t want you to go but-” Matt defended.

“But what?”

“You’re just so much like her.”

“I don’t want to be alone.” She squeaked.

“You don’t have to be.” He shook his head, what was left of heart shattering in his chest. “No, you- You’re right. You’re right, you should stay.”

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kayhi808 · 2 years ago

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Lol That ending was a surprise? 😲 😂 Good! I need to keep this interesting. Thank you so much for reading and sharing @e-dubbc11 😽💕

Perfect Match - Part 5

Bill and I just got seated at a table in the back of Lil' Frankie's. It was a couple blocks away from my building in the East Village, so we decided to walk there. It was a nice evening, not too humid. We definitely worked up an appetite, because everything on the menu sounded delicious. We got a couple of pizza's and a bottle of wine. I can't remember the last time I chose to go out on a date. I've met up with men my father or grandfather wanted me to meet. Potential husbands. Bill is different.

"Where'd you go after you left with your family?" The place is pretty busy & it's noisey enough that our conversation can't be overheard.

I confide in him, "We went back to my grandfather's place. He was not happy."

"Were you ok??" Billy finger tilt my head up to meet his gaze & I see his concern.

"I wasn't the one he was mad at. He was upset with my father. That he hit me. The situation with you. I told you he doesn't think I can run New York. That no one will listen to me because I'm a woman."

"That's short-sightedness on their part if they believe, truly believe that. Being narrow minded won't grow a business. It'll turn stagnant."

Nodding my head, "I learned everything from my Nonno. The Syndicate is so…archaic. The head of family needs to be a man. My father will marry me to someone he can control & manipulate. So he can control New York as well as business my grandfather still maintains in Italy.

"You're ok with an arranged marriage?"

"I was brought up knowing this. This is how it's done in this life. It's business."

Billy laughs, "You are a different type of woman," drinking his wine.

"I made it clear to grandfather that I want New York for myself. I'm not marrying anyone my dad's picking out. He'd stick me with some asshole & I'll be trapped at home popping out babies. Then I'll be under my father & husband's thumb. Fuck that."

"What'd your grandfather say to that?"

Frowning, "I won't marry without his approval." Sigh. "I don't really want to talk about this anymore."

"I'm sorry, Angel."

*****

The months pass and Billy & I have been able to spend more time together. It's been really nice getting to know him. Some evenings he'll drop by the club or restaurant that I'm working at, have a meal or drink and wait for me to get off work. Billy is currently waiting for me at the bar so I gather my things to leave when I hear my name being called. Shit. It's one of the guys my father tried to pawn me off on. "Paulo. How have you been?"

"Good! Just returned from Italy. I saw your father while up there."

"How nice." I try to sidestep him but he cuts me off. "Paulo?"

"I was thinking you and I should get together..."

"No, thank you. Excuse me, please." I go to step around him and he stops me by grabbing my arm.

"Don't be rude," he spits out, squeezing my arm harder.

"Take your hands off me." Out of the corner of my eye I see Billy walking over. I easily break Paulo's hold and step away. This pisses him off so he tries to grab me again. I pull him, following through with his own momentum and he ends up on the floor. Bill's there & steps on the side of his knee. With pressure Bill can crush his knee. Knees aren't made to bend that way.

"Uh uh uh. Stay down."

"Are you fucking dumb, freak? You got a death wish? Do you know who I am?"

I lean over him and hiss, "You forget who I am!? Don't you ever lay hands on me again. You're no longer welcomed here. Get out before I have security throw you out." Bill releases him & steps back, pulling me behind him.

"Stupid bitch! It's no wonder Tony is trying to get rid of you. Manhattan isn't even enough to buy you a husband. Fucking whore!" You dickhead! I don't even have a chance to respond. One second Paulo was spouting his bullshit, the next he's gasping and gagging because Billy punched him in his throat.

We leave him on the floor. Security will deal with him. Billy steers me out of the lounge, with his hand on the small of my back. We get into the elevator, that will take us to the garage. "You good?"

"Fine." The rest of the way home is in silence. My mind is going over what kind of revenge I can take on Paulo. This is the type of meatheads my father thinks he can marry me off to. Never. Ever. I'm shaken out of my thoughts by Billy's cough. I turn to him & his posture is relaxed but his expression is hard. "Thank you...for back there."

He turns to me & gives me his cocky smirk. "Of course." I can't help but smile back & he grabs my hand & kisses my knuckles.

*****

Billy has been out of town on business. It's been a little over 2 weeks and I'm surprised at how much I miss him. I don't expect him to check-in or anything. He's working.

Which makes it an even better surprise to find him at my front door. "You're back!" Grabbing him by his shirt and drag him inside the apartment, I'm lifted into a kiss, his mouth devouring.

"Hey, Angel." He whispers against my lips. I give him a quick kiss and bury my face in the crook of his neck. He smells so good. He hasn't put me down, my feet dangling. He puts me down when we reach the couch.

"When did you get back? I pull him to sit next to me.

He picks up my braid & starts wrapping it around his fist drawing me closer, "A few hours ago." He pulls my braid until i'm leaning up against him & I drop my cheek against his chest. I feel him kiss the top of my head. "I fucking missed you."

I look up at him, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, "Did you?"

He frowns, "Yea...what's wrong?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, but keep talking. "I'm just going to tell you. I've been thinking a lot on how to bring this up...but...

"You're pregnant."

"What?! NO!" You laugh. "No. I'm not pregnant." I sit up and move away from him & he frowns, but keeps his hand on my leg.

"What's going on?"

Just say it.

Spit it out.

I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"Will you marry me?"

I see the shock on his face & he may even look a little nauseous. "I think I'd rather have you pregnant."

@idaofinfinity @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @e-dubbc11

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #s2 billy russo au

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer’s Tag Game

@lowlights tagged me in this (thank you!!) and since the original post was getting a little long, I started a new one. These were fun to answer and think about!

Please state and link/explain the following fics:

What you’d consider your first fic: The first fic I started writing here is I See You- a Billy Russo x Reader (secondary Frank Castle x Karen Page) story that is... still unfinished. I really want to shove my nose to the grindstone and get this one done before the end of the year though, because if it stretches into 2022 it will be a three year old wip and I would really like to finish it before that happens. To explain? It’s a “what if” fic- what if Billy Russo didn’t die? What if he didn’t lose his memory? And what if, despite everything, he had someone who cared for him? Masterlist can be found here.

Your softest fic: Belvedere- an Ezra x Clara (Point of No Return OC) one shot. It goes along with the PoNR Universe (Prospect) so it should be read as a companion to that story, but it can be read as a standalone if you’re familiar with the world and characters of Prospect. To explain? It’s just a tiny snippet of time for Ezra and Clara that takes place well before the events of the film and in which they get to be completely and wholly happy. Ezra in love is a pure delight to think and write about, so if you want to read all about how warm and soft his t-shirt is or how safe and secure it feels inside his arms, click here. (series masterlist for PoNR here.)

Fic you’re most proud of: Definately Resol’nare- a Din Djarin x Navina Harsa (Star Wars/The Mandalorian OC) story. I know that it may not seem like it, since there are often large gaps between updates, but believe it or not I am very proud of this one. Before I started writing it I had never even dipped a toe in the SW fandom, and it intimidated the HECK out of me... still does... but I am pretty darn proud of myself for doing it anyway, and for how much research I am doing/have done for it. To explain? It’s a continuation of Din’s story after S2 of The Mandalorian, following his journey as the Mand’alor as he works to unite the clans... with the addition of a new ally whose interpretation of The Way is very different from his own. The Resol’nare masterlist can be found here.

Fic which shows your progress: I think the first fic that showed real progress for me was Core Drive, a Logan Delos x Reader story which is still in the wip phase, however what has been posted feels like a big step for me from the things that I was writing previously to it. To explain? It’s definitely got some heaviness to it as it deals with topics such as addiction, suicide, depression and loss, but it is very much a fix it fic in which Logan gets a new lease on life and a chance to choose his own path and plot a better course for his future. The masterlist for Core Drive can be found here.

Your favorite WIP: 110% Aphelion, the Oberyn Martell x Reader story that @something-tofightfor and I are collaborating on. Oberyn is one of my favorite fictional characters of all time, and I always have a lot of fun writing for him because of his personality and mannerisms. But this is also the first time I have collaborated with another writer on a story, and getting to work with Rachael on this is not only adding to the fun factor but is also just a really fun experience and one that I feel is helping me to grow as a writer. To explain? Its a modern day vampire AU with ties to Westerosi history that incorporates the Lannister/Martell feud and it is a BLAST. Masterlist can be found here.

Tagging a few writers who might want to play: @something-tofightfor @insomniamamma @littlemisspascal @valkblue @suchatinyinfinity

#fic writer game #writer game #this was fun #pedro pascal characters #ben barnes characters

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illshowyourhurricanes · 5 years ago

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Flash: Focus (Part two)

Finally, I bring to you part two of a request by @something-tofightfor for image 7 of my image prompt list, choosing season 2 Billy Russo as the subject. You can find part one, titled “Zoom”, here. Thank y’all for reading and I really hope you enjoy!

Rating: R

Word count: 2300 on the nose.

Tag list: @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor @logan-deloss @lexxierave @madamrogers @yannii04 @gollyderek @carlaangel86 @maydayfigment @vetseras @thisisparadisemylove @malionnes @thesandbeneathmytoes @crushed-pink-petals-writes @delos-destinations @luminex3 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @tenhargreeves @witchygagirl @fific

As always, if you’d like to be added to or removed from my tag list, just shoot me an ask or DM!

The room was spinning, tilting, like a terrible, sudden case of vertigo. You needed to sit down; you were dizzy and heady and nauseated and your hands had started to tremble. Russo. Billy’s voice echoed in your ears, over and over again and it was all you could hear. Everything else fell away.

This was the man you had fallen in love with, a fact you’d admitted to yourself when it was the end, when he kept doing tour after tour after tour and the letters and Skype visits stopped. Everyone experienced lost love, the one that got away, and Billy was that for you.

How did he end up here? What had happened to him— did he get injured overseas? How long had he been in the psychiatric ward at Sacred Saints? Who had he killed?

Taking a few steps back, you sank down onto one of two hard, uncomfortable chairs against the wall, clipboard on your lap. You stared at his signature there again on that release form and cleared your throat.

“Excuse me, of course. Mr. Russo.” His name burned your throat like straight whiskey; felt abrasive on your tongue. You harbored no hard feelings or ill will, but you had so many questions. And another one invaded your mind then, blinking on and off like a neon sign, blinding and intrusive. Why is he pretending not to know me?

The two of you spent years together, passing time with greasy food in a neighborhood diner and dripping ice cream cones for dessert melting in the park; you’d spent time tangled in sheets, sometimes for most of the day; you’d lose time taking picture after picture of his perfect face with your old instant Polaroid camera… pictures you had somewhere in a shoebox in your apartment, stacked with other forgotten things you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of, collecting layers of dust. Your heart continued to race, You had to say something… so you said the first thing that entered your mind.

“How’ve you been, Billy?”

________________

“How’ve you been, Billy?”

How have you been, Billy? Fucking peachy.

“Best time of my life,” he answered, glancing at you out the sides of his eyes, his view partially obscured by his mask. It took a few moments for it to hit him, but when it did, he immediately bristled, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. It wasn’t easy, but he stood, the barrier of the bed along with a few feet of tile flooring between them. Holding his stance, he turned to look at you straight. Billy. He always signed as William Russo, but you had called him…

“Billy?” He almost spat the name. It meant one of two things: either that you knew him— which was impossible, he had not one iota of an idea who she was until you volunteered to introduce yourself— or his reputation had preceded him. “You’ve been told,” he continued, jutting his chin angrily toward the windows. “Didn’t they tell you I’m a felon? A dangerous man, to myself and others. A murderer.” His lip was curled beneath his mask, heat from his anger causing beads of sweat to form at his brow.

“Part of it’s true.” He rolled his left shoulder, feeling a satisfying crack. “I’ve killed a lot of people, I could be a dangerous man.” He paused to let out a laugh, smirking at the horror in your eyes. “I’m a Marine. Bet they didn’t tell you that part, did they?”

His eyes flashed with anger, and you quickly attempted to diffuse the situation. Abandoning your camera in your lap, you shook your head vehemently. “I know you were a Marine.” I know what it’s like to watch you leave for another tour overseas. I know what you look like in your dress blues. I know what it’s like to live with the thought of possibly seeing you for the last time.

“Were?” His laugh was muffled, but not enough to disguise the darkness behind it. “I’m a lieutenant. Special Forces.”

Your heart bled for Billy then. You heard the clear conviction and pride there in his voice behind the slight anger. His accent was thicker than you remembered. And it hit you in another harsh, sudden rush of realization that Billy wasn’t pretending not to know you; he didn’t know you.

He didn’t know a decade had passed since he’d seen you, because he had no memory of your existence, your name. The last thing he remembered was fighting in Iraq. He’d lost years of his life, a life where he’d made a name for himself in the name of corruption, a life when he’d been living on sex, money, power, manipulation and murder. It was a life he didn’t know and a life you didn’t know either. To both yourself and Billy, it was ten years of nothingness.

“Lieutenant.” You corrected yourself softly. There were so many questions you wanted to ask him, but you were skittish about asking. This wasn’t the Billy Russo you knew. This was a phantom of someone you used to know. Concentrate on your work, Y/N, you told yourself. You’re here to do a job, not get yourself re-involved in Billy Russo’s life.

With two quick strides, Billy crossed the room, sitting in the identical chair a yard away. You managed to look at him and found him peering at you intensely, a curious yet accusing look in his eyes softening into one of desperation. You’d never seen desperation in Billy’s eyes, and it was heartbreaking to the point that your breath caught in your throat. What happened to him?

“Frank.” His voice was just a shadow louder than a whisper. “Frank Castle… I need to… do you know Frank? I need to see Frank.” Dropping his head, Billy ran a hand over the short spikes of hair on his scalp. Once upon a time, you’d had a soft spot for his hair. You wondered why it had been shaved. “Please.”

Your chest seized and felt tight like you were in a vise. You suspected that Billy wasn’t quite this open with so many people, his therapist perhaps, but why you? You were only there to take a few pictures; you should have been gone, on your way home to a glass of red wine and some reading in bed, relaxing before returning to Sacred Saints. Tomorrow was photo talking day, but something nagged at you that photos of Billy couldn’t wait. Even before you’d known who he was, you had felt that intuition.

But things hadn’t gone to plan, weren’t going to plan. So many wrenches had been thrown into your plans that they were barely recognizable. And you knew you had to answer Billy, but how?”

“Frank Castle,” you repeated. You had just moved back home to New York recently; you’d done a lot of traveling over the years, rented a place on the West Coast close to Napa Valley for most of that time. After you were satisfied with the bulk of your portfolio when you’d come back. “How do you know Frank Castle?” You had no plans to lie to Billy, and you wouldn’t allow a wrench to be thrown in that.

“Frankie, he’s…he’s my best friend. My brother.” Again, he dipped his head and fixed his eyes on the floor. “I have to speak to him, please help me.”

Swallowing past a lump of emotion that had become lodged in your throat, you dreaded what you knew you had to say. “I’m sorry, Billy. I don’t know a Frank Castle.” Why would I? You were quick to add, “But I’ll… if there’s a way, I’ll try to help you. I want to help you.”

You paused for a moment, cursing yourself for getting involved. This wasn’t just a quick, professional snap of a few photos any longer. This had turned into you, a stranger in Billy Russo’s inky black eyes, offering to see what you could dig up on this Frank Castle; this became you, foolishly putting yourself in a position that would inevitably lead to more time spent with the man you’d once loved that had, at one time, alluded to a future with you. But the question that seemed branded in the foreground of your mind the whole time, gnawing at your nerves and on the tip of your tongue… it was ringing in your ears, constantly threatening to tumble out of your mouth: What happened, Billy? How did you end up here?

And despite all that was happening, this unfamiliar version of Billy Russo that you were still coming to terms with-- the man sitting across from you was not at all the man you’d known so many years ago-- wasn’t off-putting. You weren’t frightened, and you wanted to ask him. You had all but decided to, but suddenly, you remembered you were there to do a job. You had photos to take. You needed the images you’d capture of Billy, and you were afraid that if you asked a question that was considerably personal, your initial reason for reintroducing yourself into his life purely by chance would be foiled. Swallowing the words back down with the lump that had formed in your throat, you double-checked the settings on your camera that you’d mindlessly fiddled with earlier. Everything was ready.

“Is now a good time?” You gestured to your camera that you held in one hand.

Billy remained still for a moment, not saying a word. He was still thinking about Frank, and he was thinking about the woman in front of him who had offered to help. For what? What’s in it for her? What’s her motive?

“You help complete strangers search for people often?” he asked, and you were struck once again with the thickness of his accent. He wasn’t trying to hide it at all, and you wondered if that was intentional, or if he just didn’t care. Either way, your memory didn’t recall such a stark accent; it had always been there, but not so obviously.

His question hung heavy in the room, and slight movement caught your eye. He had leaned forward in his chair, tilting his head to the side, eyes narrowed through the two holes of his mask. The way he regarded you with suspicion unnerved you, because what was also apparent in his eyes was a calculated coldness, and even that was partially removed. Billy’s eyes were, underneath it all, empty. You felt your chest constrict, followed by an awareness that you couldn’t seem to inhale an adequate amount of air. Your thoughts were on rotation. Billy, what happened to you?

Before you could answer, he spoke again, asking the questions that had originally popped into his head. “Why-- for what? You get what?” His eyes narrowed a fraction more. “You got a motive.”

The last of what he said wasn’t as much of a question as it was a statement. The surprise you felt was written all over your face, an unconscious raise of your eyebrows and widening of your eyes.

“A motive?” you repeated. Your expression of shock melted into one that mimicked confusion: a furrow of your brows. You felt almost dumbfounded, and you looked around the perimeter of the room. “What kind of motive could I possibly have, Billy? What could I “get” from doing it? Maybe helping someone to have some peace of mind, because it doesn’t seem like the people around here are giving you much of it.” Your voice was soft, but firm in your conviction. You felt like this man was an imposter, a total stranger. Yet, in a contradictory manner, you were still utterly jarred at the fact that he didn’t remember you. There was no looking past it. How was it possible to be so affected by someone you no longer knew?

Billy blinked, and any shadow of emotion he’d held in his eyes was erased, replaced with the blank emptiness you’d seen when you first walked into the room. You looked away, out the window, and saw that the sun was hanging low, just over the horizon. You needed to get home.

“I’m going to take a couple of shots if that’s okay with you. I’ll be back tomorrow to do some more work.” You turned your attention back to Billy, glancing upward into those empty eyes. Hopefully, I’ll have some information for you.

He seemed as if he were far away, somewhere else entirely. His eyes were almost glazed over, and within two seconds, he was back again, though he wasn’t looking at you; instead, he dipped his head and ran two hands roughly over the short, dark hair on his scalp while rolling his left shoulder. Then, he raised his head and focused on you. Two tilts of his head, first to the left and then to the right, had you holding your breath. Some of his mannerisms were uncannily familiar. All at once, Billy was finally still, and with a sniff, he nodded his approval.

Finally able to do what you’d come to do originally, you held your camera to your face and peered through the viewfinder. Your heart dropped into your abdomen; Billy had once been your favorite subject to photograph, equally as attractive in any photo as he was in real time. It was he who was in full control of the camera with his defined, angular jawline, a smirk of his full lips or his dazzling, full grin that could light the entire city during a blackout. You thought you might give anything to take just one more Polaroid of that man that had been replaced with the phantom you had in focus.

I’ll work with what I have, you thought to yourself, and with the light pressure of your index finger, you pushed the shutter.

#dani's 150 followers event #drabble requests #image 7 #s2 billy russo x reader #flash #flash: focus #flash part 2

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scribeofmorpheus · 7 years ago

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Dangerous Liaisons part 3 (Billy Russo x Reader)

Part One, Part Two

A/N: This entire chapter was inspired by the glorious serious Billy gif below. Also, the timeline for this fic takes place before Iron Fist but after Daredevil s2, which is between November 2015 and February 2016. This chapter gave me so many problems, I had hit a stone wall and was torn between an Overprotective Billy and a Jealous Billy. In the end, we know which one won out. (I’ll add the jealous Billy scenes in the deleted scenes page later!)

Words: 3259

Warnings: Ward is an Ass! Slight NSFW

Summary: An overprotective Billy, an overstepping Ward Meachum and an encrypted file lead to quite the eventful day.

(Gif is mine)

You burst in through the office doors making your way to your boss’s office. You were a few minutes late to a meeting with a prospective client you had been asked to help secure thanks to your late night antics. The only reason you were even fashionably late was thanks to one fantastic maniac of a cab driver.

"How's it look?" You asked the receptionist.

She gave you an empathetic look and warned in a droll voice, "He's in a mood," she was referring to Ward. Just fucking great! You were in no mood to deal with Ward's temper tantrums this morning.

"Just my fucking luck."

You made your way into Ward's office and excused yourself when you had interrupted him mid-pitch. The clients didn't seem completely impressed by what he was selling. Ward gave you a look of displeasure as you made your way to the table.

"Ah, let me introduce you to the woman who will be heading this proposed project once it gets off the ground, Miss Y/N Y/L/N," Ward introduced you to the group of overseas clientele mid sales pitch.

You walked around Ward who whispered menacingly, "You're late." No one else heard it, but he had made his point. He didn't like being left to clean up your mess, he was probably seething. It took every ounce of his self-restraint to keep from giving off any visible signs of his anger. You knew him well enough that a simple clenched jaw and balling of his fists set off the alarms in your mind to keep from interacting with him after the meeting.

"A pleasure. Sorry I'm late, traffic." That was a lie, but it was New York, you could blame being late to anything on traffic.

You had taken over from Ward and started relaying the details of the current contract you had set up between Rand Enterprises and an overseas company looking to sell their shares in favour of being converted into a new global group of Rand Enterprises. The pitch had started off a bit rocky but once you were in your own headspace you had no fears of the proposal being rejected. The meeting dragged on for hours and every once or twice you would see your phone screen light up as someone tried to call you, Ward was not too happy about your phone distracting from the pitch even if it was on silent.

It had taken you nearly three hours but the contract was finally signed with no need to make any amendments to the original deal. Everyone left the table feeling pleased with how smooth everything had gone. Everyone except Ward that is, who was still trying hard not to let that vein on his forehead pop.

"A pleasure doing business with you. I'll be sure to draft the first legal buyout draft and send it to your offices by tomorrow," you thanked the businessmen as they made their way out of the office.

"I hope ours will be a profitable relationship," Ward added.

When it was only you and Ward left in his overly large office he walked round to you, hands folded, chest puffed up and nostrils flaring. He was not holding back anymore.

"How dare you be late today?" He barked at you, "Did I not make it clear that it was imperative we land this deal?" He swept a hand through his shiny hair before taking a breath, a poor effort at calming himself down.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from making matters worse and egging his tantrum further.

"What the fuck was so important you'd risk missing this meeting for? And don't feed me that bullshit about traffic."

You were getting sick and tired of his attitude, but what could you do, Ward was your boss and to be frank you'd rather deal with his temper than your father’s judgement if you lost your job.

You looked Ward square in the eye, he found the raw intensity of your angry gaze discomforting. He was forced to look away from your eyes as he fidgeted about, shuffling from one foot to the other. He wasn't just angry but agitated too. He looked to be sweating a little as well.

"It's not bullshit. This is New York, I chose the wrong cab and left home later than I should have. Hence, the traffic," You shot back. "Besides, I closed the deal, didn't I?"

Ward loosened his tie and went to plonk himself down on his office chair spinning it to face the window that overlooked half the city. His head hung back on the neck rest.

"Just draw up the paperwork. I expect it on my desk in the next two hours."

Two hours? He was being unreasonable and you knew it was his way of punishing you for being late. It wasn't impossible to have the paperwork done by then, but it was going to be a bitch.

You grabbed your phone and bag off the table and made your way to the door, "I'll get right on it."

"Next time… turn your phone off during meetings. I need your full attention when you're here," Ward's words were no longer coated in angry undertones, it was different this time. His words sounded proprietorial, it made you feel uneasy around him.

You didn't know what to say so you went with something that sounded detached and professional, "I apologise for the oversight. I thought I had turned it off earlier."

You walked out of the office before you could give Ward the chance to say anything else, itching to place some distance between him and yourself. You hated having to deal with Ward on legal matters, you preferred working with his sister, Joy. She may not have been as joyful as her name suggests, but she was less of a handful.

Back in your office, you began to type up the legal documents Ward had requested -more like ordered- of you. As your mastered hands typed away at the keys, your phone's screen became illuminated, someone was calling you. You looked at the caller ID and to your utter disbelief, it was Billy calling. You needed to learn to use a password for your phone.

"Did you program your number into my phone this morning?" You sounded both impressed and sceptical.

"You should really make it a habit to put a password on your phone. Besides, I wasn't sure when I'd see you again, so I took the initiative," Billy's voice was low and soothing, the stressful events of the morning quickly forgotten as soon as his voice met your ears.

Instantly, you blood turned to ice as panic set in. If he had access to your phone, could he have seen the sniffer device? You rustled through your bag for a second and then let out a sigh of relief. In your panic, you had forgotten Cecil had disguised your sniffer device to look like a turtle-shaped USB drive.

Thank you, Cecil, you praised inaudibly.

"Y/N, are you still there?"

You cleared your throat, "Yeah, sorry. I'm a bit preoccupied with work, I'm practically buried under a mountain of paperwork," you groaned.

Billy chuckled, "Want me to come save you again?"

"Tempting… but I think I can manage to save myself this time," you said brazenly. A cheeky smile spreading across your face.

"I don't doubt that. How about you save me from a boring night alone by letting me take you out on a proper date tonight? We can get to know each other a little bit better over a few drinks, seeing as how we didn't spend a lot of our time together… talking."

He was sly, you'd give him that, a part of you wanted to see him again, be near him again. You felt your resolve failing as you opened your mouth and let the words spill out.

"I get off work at five. I'll text you the address. Goodbye, Russo," With that, you hung up the phone and dialled for your secretary on the office phone.

"Yes, Miss Y/L/N?" Gavin, your secretary, answered.

"Hey, Gavin. Can you call the IT department and tell Cecil to come up here. My computer froze again."

"Right on it boss-man," Gavin said in a peppy attitude.

You cut the call and continued working on your paperwork, your computer working in perfect condition.

*** You were halfway done drawing up the documents when Cecil walked in looking like death itself. His messenger laptop bag was strapped across his skinny chest and his long bony fingers clutched onto a disposable coffee cup like it was some ancient prized treasure. His curly dark hair was ruffled and his eyes had circles moderately the same colour as his hair: dark.

You eyed him up and down, the poor kid looked like he'd survived a few rounds with the grim reaper.

“You look like shit."

Cecil gave you the stink eye before walking around your desk to lean against the table next to you, he made sure to move some office equipment around to make room for him to plant himself atop your desk lazily.

“Someone rudely awoke me last night. I'm an insomniac which means whatever precious few hours of sleep I do get should not be disturbed," He droned out.

You pulled out the turtle shaped drive and handed it to Cecil, "Disguising it in this-" You pointed at the drive, "-was a good idea," you applauded his ingenuity.

Cecil took a large swig of his coffee before extending his hand to you. You placed the drive in his palm and watched him twist it and turn it this and that as though he could process information simply by staring at a storage device. You smirked at him in amusement.

Cecil never ceased to amaze you. From his terrible flat humour to his constant sleep deprived state, he reminded you a lot of your brother. He was about the same age too, only less chipper or emotionally weighed down. Of course, the drawback of that was the fact he was cursed with have permanent bags under his eyes, you don't remember a single day where Cecil looked well rested.

You felt the poisonous sting of grief threaten to make itself know, being around Cecil had revived all your repressed emotions towards your brother. And yet despite the fact you tried to close yourself off to him, treat him with indifference, he had a way of lighting up the room even if he only ever wore black clothing and sported a perpetual blasé look.

You balled your fists to distract yourself from the emotional pain by focusing on the physical pain of your nails digging into your palms. If Cecil had noticed your subtle emotional break, he hadn't bothered to comment on it.

He pulled out a pair of large noise-cancelling headphones and placed them over his ears. The sound of muffled metal could be heard faintly coming from his headphones. You grimaced at the discomfort your own ears would have suffered had that been you.

Cecil spun around and then reversed towards your large glass office doors, "I'll text you once I sort through the data. Don't call me, it will be ready when it's ready and not a moment earlier."

You shook your head at his terrible social skills, musing at how freeing it must be to have no filter for your words or have to pretend around people. You mouthed a heartfelt, "Get. Some. Sleep" at the kid and watched his give you a Vulcan salute before disappearing down the office hallway.

***

Your two hours were nearly up when you had just finished proofing the paperwork for Ward when the man himself waltzed into your office, airs about him like he hadn't just had a moment of distress earlier.

"Mr Meachum, I was just finishing up the first draft. I was going to ask Gavin to deliver the documents to you," you affirmed.

Ward seemed taken aback for a second, fixing his tie in place. When he finally caught on to your meaning he cleared his throat and pinched his nostrils, taking a deep snort like inhale, "Ah, yes, the paperwork. That's not actually why I came down here."

"Oh?" Now it was your turn to look on in confusion. Ward fiddled skittishly with his hands, not knowing whether to fold them or lean them on your desk, he settled for the former.

"I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just wound up about this new deal and you are one of the few people I depend upon to be on their A-game. I'm sorry for overstepping my boundaries. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you," Ward stepped closer to you, almost like he was about to make a move.

You watched him cautiously, not entirely sure on how to process his apology.

"It's alright, don't worry about it."

You quickly hit send and your mail was sent to Ward and Joy's collective inbox for them to read over the contract. You stood from your chair and grabbed your small bag off the ground as you made your way towards the door. You hoped Ward would pick up on your not-so-inconspicuous indication that you were trying to bolt before this conversation got any more uncomfortable.

He didn't.

Instead, he stepped in front of you, looking down with a sleazy smile, "Listen, how about you join me for a drink? Least I could do to make up for being such an asshole earlier."

You kept your composure and held yourself steady, you had dealt with many unwanted suitors who didn't know when their advances were not welcomed. However, Ward was your boss, you had to deal with this in a muted manner, make him become disinterested, "That won't be necessary. Besides, I already have plans."

Something in Ward snapped and his demeanour changed from unprofessional to angry, "Is that the reason you got those personal calls during the meeting this morning?" His temper was getting worse by the minute. What was his deal?

"I don't see how that is your business, Ward," You dropped all pleasantries and glared back at him. You had never called him by his first name and the blatant disrespect of it had enraged Ward further.

Ward grabbed your forearm and leaned in closer to your face, nostrils flaring and veins protruding, you were prepared to sock him in the jaw when you heard Gavin's soft voice stammering worriedly in the distance, "S- Sir, you can't just- You need to make an appointment. Sir!"

You lifted your head to see Billy standing tall and menacing in front of both you and Ward. Poor Gavin looked at a loss for words as he stood behind Billy completely dumbfounded.

Billy's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. His dark eyes turning black as he gave Ward a lethal stare. If looks could kill alone, Billy could have easily mastered that deadly skill. Something about the severity of his gaze burned you, for the first time in a long time you were reminded what fear felt like. Cold shivers crept up your spine and Ward showcased his own look of dread.

"Let. Her. Go." Billy glowered. His voice a tone darker than you remembered. Ward complied, but then he turned to stare down Billy instead.

"Who the hell are you?" Ward barked.

"Billy Russo, who the fuck are you?" Billy glared at Ward's hand still clenching your arm in a death grip. Ward loosened it and you snatched your arm away.

"Ward Meachum, the CEO of the building you’re standing in," Ward said with an air of entitlement.

Billy took a step closer, his figure towering over Wards. He pinched his nose and inhaled deeply, "So what, that gives you the right to manhandle your employees?"

"That gives me the right to do whatever the fuck I damn well please."

Both men glowered at each other. They looked like feral beasts about to claw each other to shreds. Impeccably well-groomed feral beasts.

Billy standing up to Ward was enough to light that fire within you instantly, you gulped at the tense moment unfolding before you.

Finally, you took it upon yourself to diffuse the situation before more damage could be done. As much as you wanted to punch Ward in his perfectly polished teeth, you needed this job, which meant Billy couldn't fight your battles for you. Not that you needed him too.

You placed your hand on Billy's chest, ushering him out of the office, "Billy, let it go." He didn't budge an inch. "Russo!" You snapped at him garnering his attention. His eyes snapped to yours faster than lightning.

"Whatever you say," Billy gave you a reassuring smirk, but his fists were still balled up on his sides. As he turned around to leave your office, he shot Ward one last menacing glare.

"Have a pleasant day, Mr Meachum," you said, tongue in cheek. Ward simply scoffed and clenched down on his jaw hard enough you could see his vein straining against his temple.

On your way out Gavin looked like he was about to say something, clearly, he was beyond shocked at witnessing that little power wrestle between Billy and Ward, "That's quite alright Gavin, you're excused for the day," you said.

***

"How can you work for such an asshole?" Billy's hands were locked in a death grip on his steering wheel. His nostril flaring slightly.

You let out an ironic laugh, "Don't most people?" Billy didn't find your comment amusing, he was too tightly wound. "Hey-" you whispered as you pulled his face to look at you, "Anyone ever tell you how hot you look when you’re angry?"

Billy smirked, "Well, now they have."

"Thank you… Though, I hope you know I didn't need you to come to my rescue. I can handle myself."

"I know you can. If you don't take shit from me, chances are you don't take shit from anyone else."

"Glad we're in understanding then," you said as you pulled Billy closer for a kiss.

The kiss soon turned impatient and needy, both of you letting out lewd sounding pants. You were already wet from watching Billy be all aggressive towards Ward, you knew you couldn't last the rest of the night and you certainly didn't want to wait either. In fluid movements, you slid your panties off, manoeuvred around his gear shift and pulled up your pencil skirt to straddled him in his seat. Billy chuckled.

"Someone might see," he said, though he wasn't protesting. A suggestive smirk plastered on his godlike features.

"I know," you breathed out before you unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and began to fuck him in his extremely expensive car in the underground parking lot. His leather seats let out moans of their own every time you gripped them for stability.

Part Four is HERE!

MASTERPOST

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As Always: I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, feedback is always appreciated. If you want to be added to any tag lists just ask -I don’t bite I promise!

Tags: @songtoyou @rainyboul @itsjaynebird

Permanent Tags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet

#Billy Russo x reader #Billy Russo #William Russo #reader insert #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #ward meachum #rand enterprises #marvel netflix #scribescribbles #The punisher imagines #the punisher #ben barnes

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thewriterthatghostedyou · 3 years ago

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Ok so I have a few new fic ideas in my brain and I want your guy’s input on which one to do next (after shadows and scars is finished or if I have time)

Nurse! Reader x S2! Billy Russo

An apocalypse AU (low key inspired by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor ‘s edge of time (go check it out) (But with which character? 🤔)

Winter soldier! Bucky x Hydra doctor! Reader (reader is forced to work for hydra or will be killed/ tortured)

Law enforcement! Reader x Billy Russo (Would be a bit dark and yanderey)

A teaching Bucky about modern day technology or cooking Drabble/ one shot (massive amounts of fluff)

S2! Billy repeatedly coming to Reader’s coffee shop since he thinks she’s cute but is too shy to act on it

The possibilities are endless y’all, let me know what you think

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queen-haq · 3 years ago

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IT HAD TO BE DONE. No one wants to read Billy Russo x Reader just being happy and boring together. And S2 with a feral Billy and the Reader? How could I not? I will say, my S2 Billy looks more like Logan Delos with scars (I love BB with longer hair than shaved head) but he still has those impulse control issues which will be a blast to write.

There will be pain but there will also be hope and I'm just so excited to write their interaction in a different dynamic where there's hate and not so much love. Lol.

As always, thank you 😊

Fic: A Woman Reborn (Part 1)

Pairing: Billy Russo X Reader (from A Woman Scorned)

Rating: R / 18+ only

A/N: This is a sequel to A Woman Scorned and takes place a few years after the events of AWS. You can read AWS here.

Summary: You and Billy are happily married when tragedy strikes, jeopardizing your relationship and everything you two have built together. Can the two of you find your way back to each other or is the special bond you once shared broken forever?

gif credit: @barnesdaily

Keep reading

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fific7 · 3 years ago

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Baby Can I Hold You - Part 1

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Based on the song by Tracy Chapman. Set in my Punisher S2 AU, it does not follow canon. Billy Russo ghosted you over two years ago. But now he’s back in your DM’s.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral and unprotected, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Sorry

Is all that you can't say

Years gone by and still

Words don't come easily

Like sorry, like sorry

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You spotted the voicemail notification with surprise, you hadn’t even heard your phone ring or vibrate. It was 2am according to the phone screen, so something must’ve woken you up. Maybe your subconscious had heard it while you slept.

Holding the phone up to your ear to listen to the voicemail, your jaw dropped. A voice you hadn’t heard for at least two years hesitantly said your name before launching into a stumbling message. When it ended, you shut off your phone, noticing with irritation that your hand was shaking.

You sat up on your sofa, realising you’d fallen asleep a few hours ago and hadn’t made it to your bed.

Billy Russo. Huh. That asshole. You couldn’t believe he had the balls to call you - after all this time.

You’d been dating him for a few months back then and while you were pretty sure it hadn’t been exclusive on his side, it had been for you. You’d fallen hard for that tall handsome devil of an ex-Marine with his dreams of becoming his own boss, and you’d made the mistake of harbouring that usually futile hope that you could convince the consummate player that was Russo to ‘settle down’.

Maybe you’d managed to silently communicate that to him somehow because one day, out of the blue, he ghosted you. No texts, no phone calls. His phone numbers were discontinued. He’d moved out of his apartment without leaving a forwarding address. You were heartbroken at the time, and even more so six months later. One of the newspapers did a big splash on some up-and-coming new businesses in town and one of them was Billy’s. The accompanying photo had shown him in a BDE pose, fancy suit, hair in an undercut and swept back on top, arms folded across his chest, those magnetic dark eyes of his staring into the camera. A bold company logo on the wall behind him, “Anvil”.

So at the time you’d assumed that he felt you wouldn’t fit in with his new flash image. Asshole. You’d swallowed the hurt and humiliation and moved on with your life. A new job that you loved, a new apartment, a new hairstyle, a few boyfriends along the way but nothing serious. You’d buried the memory of Billy Russo and those few months together deep down. Way deep.

The only thing you hadn’t changed back then had been your phone number. And now…. now, there was this voicemail.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Forgive me

Is all that you can't say

Years gone by and still

Words don't come easily

Like forgive me, forgive me

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

His voice had sounded unsure, stumbling. Not the authoritative tone he usually took. Asking if he could come and see you. That was it. Nothing else. What the fuck? you thought. He’d dropped you like a hot potato all that time ago, and now he actually thought he was just going to waltz in and say Hi like nothing had happened, no time had passed? Not a hint of “Sorry I didn’t get in touch” or anything.

Fuck that six ways from Sunday you thought, and hit Delete. There. Gone. You went through to your bedroom and faceplanted on the bed, falling asleep again very quickly.

The next couple of days passed by, and you pushed the thoughts of Billy and his voicemail out of your head, applying yourself to your editing job with enthusiasm. You occasionally got to edit some potential bestsellers by famous authors at the publishing house you worked at, and you truly enjoyed it. Sometimes you thought you’d like to try your hand at writing yourself, didn’t they say that everyone had at least one good novel inside them? But then you’d laughed at yourself. Who were you kidding? But hey, maybe one day.

You’d eaten your evening meal and were relaxing in front of the TV, watching some detective series you’d kind of been following, but not very closely. You were just trying to figure out how the new prime suspect had been identified when there was a knock at your door. You jumped, startled. Who the hell was this? Peering through the spyhole, you found yourself looking at a caricature of Billy Russo. Still had those big dark eyes, but now there was a close buzzcut and numerous scars over what had been his pristine face… you reeled backwards, shocked.

He knocked again and still you hesitated but looking again through the spyhole, you saw an almost desperate look entering his eyes. Maybe you ought to hear what he had to say. You sucked in a breath and opened the door. Billy just stood and stared at you, drinking in every inch of your face and then looking you up and down.

“Ummm, hello?” you ventured. “Yeah,” said Billy. “Hi.” “Surprised to see you, Billy, after all this time,” you said next, watching his face intently. He was still staring at you, and you suddenly realised there was no recognition in his regard. “Look, come in,” you said, stepping to one side, “you can say what you’ve got to say and then go.” He walked past you and began to make his way round your apartment, looking at everything as he went. You began to wonder if he was maybe apartment-hunting; it was almost like he was here to view the apartment - he was ignoring you.

You closed the door and just stood there, arms folded, watching him. Eventually he finished his tour, and sat down on your sofa. Taking off the ratty fur-collared leather jacket he wore and placing it next to him, he picked up the remote control and turned down the volume on the TV. Then he finally looked up at you, eyes looking wide and apprehensive. “Who are you?” he asked. You burst out laughing and headed to your kitchen area, taking two beers out of the fridge before returning to the sofa and handing him one. You sat down in the armchair across from him. He was frowning at you, “Why did you laugh at me?” “I was laughing at what you said, Billy,” you replied, removing the top from your beer and throwing the cap popper across to him. He caught it, and popped the top off his bottle.

“I was laughing because you totally disappeared on me two years ago, then turn up here tonight and instead of offering an apology or at the very least an explanation, you ask who I am?!” Billy took a swig of his beer then looked back over at you, for long minutes. “Obviously you know who I am,” he said eventually, “but I’ve lost my memory.” You sat back in your armchair, “Oh.” It was all you could think of to say. What else could you say to that? Then you asked, “What happened to you?” He now leaned back against the sofa; he’d been sitting forward with his arms on his thighs, a ‘high alert’ pose. He looked a little more relaxed now.

“Me and… and one-a my buddies were on an operation. We got blown up.” One hand went to his face, “This happened. An’ I lost my memory.” You continued looking at him, before saying, “I see. I’m sorry to hear that. Is your buddy okay?” His head dropped, “I dunno.” He picked at a thread on his jeans, “My psychotherapist says I needta take things slow and not try to remember too fast.” He pulled on the thread firmly, “Or get told too much information.”

You took a sip of your beer, “Why are you here, Billy? You don’t even remember who I am.” He finally looked up at you, “I found your name and number in my file. He went out and left it on his desk. Someone I know found out your address for me.” You assumed the ‘he’ was the psychotherapist, but no idea who the mysterious ’someone’ was. “And why did you reach out?” you asked.

The big dark eyes gazed deep into yours, “Thought you could tell me some things… about me. The head doctor won’t tell me much of anythin’.” “Didn’t he say he thought that might be bad for you?” His hand slammed down on the arm of the sofa, “I needta know!” he said in a loud and angry voice. You jumped, and he lowered his voice, “Sorry. I get kinda frustrated.” His hands went to either side of his head and then up and over his buzzcut. You sighed, “I hear you, Billy. What do you want to know?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

An hour or more later, you’d told Billy as much of his own story as you could. In the small silence that followed once you’d stopped speaking, you said quietly, “I can’t tell you more than that - about Anvil or anything about it - because, ummm - well, we weren’t in touch by then.”

You’d looked away as you said it, but you knew his eyes were on you. “You never said anythin’ about us,” you heard. Still looking anywhere but at him, you replied, “Well… we dated for a few months but then you… just disappeared on me.” Now you did bring your eyes to his. He had a puzzled look on his face. “Why?” he asked. You gave a short laugh, “I don’t know, Billy. You just totally disappeared. Phone numbers disconnected, you moved out of your apartment… I guess you felt I didn’t fit in with your dreams and aspirations.”

“Oh.” He had the grace to look embarrassed.

“Yes…. oh.” You laughed again, no humour in it though. “It was really quite cruel of you, Billy. If you’d wanted to break up with me, you could’ve just said.” He nodded, slowly, “That does seem to be a kinda asshole thing to do.” He sat back, “An’ I really never contacted you again?” You shook your head, “Nope.”

He took a piece of paper out of his jeans pocket, “It’s weird then. Your name and number were on this piece-a paper… in my file like I said. It was listed as bein’ in my wallet.” You shrugged, “Maybe it was from when we first met - I wrote down my name and number and gave it to you. You probably just forgot to take it out of there.” You couldn’t see the writing on the paper from where you were sitting to know if it was yours or not. He looked confused again, “But I’d-a taken it out of my wallet to put your number in my phone so why would I put it back in there? I’d-a just thrown it away.”

You shrugged again, “I don’t know, Billy. All I do know is I never heard from you again. Just saw a photo of you in a newspaper a few months later, you in your fancy suit standing in front of the Anvil logo. So like I said - I guess I just didn’t fit in with your plans.”

He was staring at you again. “I can’t believe that,” he said, quietly. You felt your face heat up, “Well, believe it - I haven’t seen or heard from you in two years.” You stood up, “Now - I’ve filled in as many blanks for you as I can, so it’s time you went.” You picked up his empty beer bottle and his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist as you did so. Startled, you jumped back and pulled your hand away. Oh god, was he going to get violent? You felt panic rising but he held up both hands, “Sorry! I’m sorry. Seems like I’ve also forgotten how to act around people.”

You picked up your own empty bottle and took both bottles over to the kitchen bin, dropping them in with a clatter. “Yeah, you need to work on that. You don’t go grabbing people like that.” You turned round to find he’d followed you to the kitchen area and was literally right behind you. “Billy! You don’t creep up on people like that either!” He backed off, hands held up again, “Fuck, I’m sorry, okay?! I can’t fuckin’ do anythin’ right, can I?!” You relaxed slightly, “It’s okay… I’m sorry too, I’m extra jumpy I guess.” “Why?” He asks questions just like a kid, you thought.

“Because you turned up out of the blue, that’s why! And… you’re Billy, but you’re not the Billy I knew.”

He nodded, “I get that. Suppose it was a bit of a surprise for ya.” “A shock, more like.” “I have that much of an effect on you?” You saw the trademark Russo smirk on his face, and thought to yourself that some things don’t change. “How would you feel if someone you’d…” you stopped speaking abruptly, instead walked back to the sofa, picked up the leather jacket and held it out to him.

“Bye, Billy,” you said firmly. “What were you just sayin’?” he asked, staring at you. You shook your head, “Nothing. Just get going, Billy.” Instead he walked past your outstretched arm holding the jacket and sat back down on the sofa. “Can I stay here tonight? Please? I got nowhere else to go.” You looked up in the ceiling in exasperation, “You must’ve been staying somewhere before now - where was that? And you had a place of your own surely? What happened to that?” “Got sold to pay for the medical bills. Got discharged from the hospital today, went to the psychotherapist’s office then straight here.”

“What about Frank? Or Curtis?” He shook his head, “Don’t remember them.” “Couldn’t your ‘someone’ find them for you? They’d help you, wouldn’t they?” “Didn’t ask him. You were right there in the file so I wanted to see you first.” Sighing, you said, “Okay, alright… you can sleep on the sofa. I’ll get a blanket and some pillows for you.” You turned on your heel and headed to your bedroom, quickly checking over your shoulder that he hadn’t followed you this time. You saw with relief that he hadn’t, got a blanket and pillow out of your ottoman and went back into the living room.

Billy had stripped off his top and jeans and was sitting there in his briefs. Your eyes went wide, woah - that was quick. You dumped the blanket and pillow on him and he placed the pillow at one end of the sofa, opening out the blanket and pulling it over him as he lay down. “Thanks for this,” he said, “y’see, I haven’t forgot my manners.” You hummed, “Okay…. the bathroom’s down there if you need it. G’night, Billy.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You lay down, pulling your bedcovers over you. Wow. What a headfuck this evening had been, you thought. Billy Russo without his memory. You laughed to yourself, well it was exactly like he’d wiped you from his memory two years ago so nothing much had really changed, had it? You closed your eyes and sleep eventually came.

Something woke you, you weren’t sure how much later. You went to sit up, but then you became aware of two arms around you, a body lying alongside yours and a face pressed into your neck. You heard yourself give an involuntary small shriek, before realising it was Billy. His head came up, eyes staring into yours. “Billy!” you exclaimed, “What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?”

He pulled you closer to him, “I remember this,” he said proudly, “…us two. Like this.” His nose pressed against your neck again, “I remember your scent.” You pushed him away as much as you could, and tried to extricate yourself from his arms. “That was years ago, Billy… you left me, do you remember that yet? Huh?” He had a hurt look on his face, “I don’t think I did forget about you,” he huffed, “I think I was just out makin’ some money and then I’d-a come back to you.” “Bullshit, Billy,” you scoffed, “that’s complete and utter bull.” He sat up more, “How d’you know that?! Why’d I keep your name and number then, tell me that?” “Just a stupid coincidence.” He shook his head, “No… don’t think it was.”

You managed to get yourself out of his arms and stood up off the bed, “Please go back to the sofa, Billy,” you said calmly, but he shook his head, folded his arms and pouted like a toddler. “Wanna stay in your bed,” he huffed, “it feels right.” “To you, maybe, but not to me. You’ve been AWOL for two years, for fuck’s sake!” You were getting really annoyed now. He pulled the covers back over himself and settled down even more, looking back at you with a triumphant look on his face. “An’ now I’m back, where I think I needed ta be all along,” he pronounced. You turned and walked away, “Well I’ll sleep on the sofa, then,” you said, trying to keep your voice level and not yell at him, which you felt like doing.

You’d just made it through the door when you were grabbed from behind and dragged back into the room, then he picked you up and threw you down onto the bed. You yelped as your back hit the mattress, but he just quickly lay down next to you and had you in a vicelike bear hug before you could even move.

His mouth next your ear, you heard him whisper, “Please…. I just wanna hold you.”

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #ben barnes #the punisher 💀

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illshowyourhurricanes · 5 years ago

Text

Rewind, Restart

This S2 Billy Russo fic was, for all intents and purposes, planned (albeit roughly) to be a New Years’ Eve drabble, simple and maybe a touch angsty and done at about 600 words. The only things that stayed the way I planned? This is S2 Billy Russo, and it takes place on NYE. This one grew a mind of its own, and i’m about 99.5% sure it’s going to turn into an all-out series. There is most certainly angst and a lot more to come. Sorry (but only a little).

Special thanks to @the-blind-assassin-12 @ladyofnaps @thesandbeneathmytoes for their input!

Synopsis: Billy Russo returns. You’ll have to read more to find out the significance. No trigger warnings here!

Rating: PG-13ish for some language and implied smut.

Word count: 4078

Taglist: @dylanobrusso @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor @ms-delos @madamrogers @lexxierave @agent-bossypants @yannii04 @gollyderek @carlaangel86 @poindexted @maydayfigment @thisisparadisemylove @ladyofnaps @malionnes @thesandbeneathmytoes

If you would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please just shoot me an ask!

Your mind was finally working with you again. You were, for this first time in awhile, having normal thoughts: you had leftovers to reheat for dinner, you had a like of laundry to wash, you had e-mails to respond to. The numb autopilot you’ll been operating on for most of autumn and the beginning of winter were thawing like your fingers after returning to the heat of your home after being out in the snow.

Finally, the thoughts of Billy Russo, ones that snatched your spirit and tore it to shreds, were no longer holding you hostage. A new year was just there on the horizon, and you’d made a promise to yourself: that man, everything he had stood for, the memory of his cold, black, empty eyes… they’d be no more. The twisted sadness your heart held onto with a tight grip as you’d learned of his demise— and then his escape— would be no more. You wouldn’t allow that man to steal one more second of your happiness, your life. He’d never been worth it, and all the time you’d spent wasting on thoughts of him was time you’d never get back. He had a knack for taking things that weren’t his, even when he was nowhere in sight. It had been well over a year since you’d laid eyes on him and somehow, in that way he always did—that way you used to love— he still crawled under your skin uninvited. He took up residence there, lying dormant only long enough for you to all but forget about him completely before he flared up again, parasitic and vile. You’d had an inflammatory case of the side effects of loving Billy Russo for far too fucking long. In just a few hours, your were bound and determined to be cured.

The clock on the far wall of your living room ticked with a soft click, one you’d grown so accustomed to, it was rarely noticeable. 10:42. There was no chance of you going back out, leaving your apartment, fighting through the throngs of people— lunatics who had thought it a brilliant idea to spend New Years Eve in New York City. You preferred the solitude of your apartment, a few glasses of wine, and maybe enough of it enough to assist you in dozing off before the clock struck midnight.

A half hour later, you were feeling the warmth of the alcohol in your chest, spreading along your insides. For the first time in awhile, there wasn’t a chill lining your bones: even the pads of your fingers and tips of your toes were warm. The trilling of loud laughter and heaviness of uneven thuds— footsteps of a neighbor, you presumed— passed outside your door. Allowing your eyes to close, your rested your head against the back of your couch as the low volume of the television provided a little hum of company. A late Christmas commercial, the one with red and green foil-wrapped Hershey Kisses playing “We Wish You A Merry Christmas’, grabbed your attention just momentarily and your brows knitted together as you picked your head up to glare at the technicolor screen.

Billy Russo has always hated Christmas.

****

Billy’s mind was fractured. His memory, the pieces of it he still had— It’s like a jigsaw puzzle,, Billy. We just have to fit the pieces together— were as jagged and torn as the puckered scars over his cheeks, his forehead, the bridge of his nose. Those weren’t as bright, not as thick as they once were, but they were blatantly obvious. They’d never heal completely, never disappear. His memories, however, seemed as if they’d never reappear or become more vivid. He remembered nothing concretely past his time in the Marines with the exception of one thing.

He remembered you.

Some of the things he recounted were quick snippets and some flickered in half-seconds, like a montage of images on an old television set. A half a second of your smile, the way your entire face lit up, eyes so bright with amusement, they made the lights in Midtown New York seem dull; the way you searched his face, anchoring onto each feature and assessing every single one like it was the first time. Sometimes, he could still feel the feather-light touch of your fingertips trailing over his spine, the tickle of your hair fanning over his shoulder, the malleable way your lips molded to his.

Then, there were those certain memories, the ones that he savored, lingered in, begged desperately to relive again and again, the ones that lasted longer. He remembered galas, the clinking of glasses, the way he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, and the agitation of the anticipation of unlocking the door lightning-fast, murmuring in your ear how you looked stunning in that dress, but it suited the floor better, the dragging of his mouth over your skin. He remembered the almost non-stop giggling in his car after too much champagne, or the way you fell asleep late at night fast and heavy, chattering away one moment and breathing deep and evenly a minute later. He remembered the way you taste, but beyond it all, the memory he carried with him that was more vivid than any other, was your eyes brimming with tears and the way you lifted your chin despite the way you were falling apart when he walked out of your life. Billy had many things to regret, or so he’d been told, but deciding you weren’t worth his time had been the most reprehensible. Yet, Billy had no choice. He had been conditioned to be hard, cold, and callous The one person who had threatened to challenge that idea was you.

Vanishing hadn’t changed that. There had been a time in Billy’s life where he had the certainty that he was indestructible. He sneered at the thought as he lifted his head and stared into the mirror, his eyes no longer empty, but filled with disdain. But look at you now, Russo. He turned and grabbed his coat, pulling it on in a rush. Look at you now.

*****

it was a drunk party-goer knocking on the wrong door.

11:15, and you’d heard enough stumbling and loud slurring to fill your lifetime. You’d heard blaring music, reverberating bass. There was undoubtedly more than one obnoxious party going on in your building. The sheer number of people attending these parties was, you were sure, well above the lawful maximum capacity.

The knock sounded again, this time louder and with an added urgency. You rolled your eyes upward toward the ceiling, annoyed, but found yourself getting to your feet. Your wine glass was empty, anyway, and you were in dire need of a refill. On your way to the kitchen, you stopped at your door, sliding the chain lock into its slot before inching the door open, speaking though the small gap immediately.

“Wrong door,” you said abruptly, barely glancing up at the face of the man standing just beyond the threshold. He wore dark jeans, a leather jacket layered over a black hoodie. Your eyes scanned upward, obviously unimpressed with his wardrobe, and for half a second your gaze was drawn to a tawny knit beanie covering his hair. It was only then that you lowered your eyes to his face, and your jaw slacked. Deep gashes slashed the man’s forehead, the bridge of his nose, the angles and planes of his cheeks. Dark stubble hid his chin, yet you suspected there was some degree of damage there, too.

Your heart immediately began to hammer in your chest. You knew his features, even as distorted as they appeared, and you were met with a lightheaded certainty as you forced yourself to meet his eyes. The deafening sound of your blood rushing in your ears clouded your head and you blinked in absolute disbelief; you couldn’t believe the same pair of inky black eyes had once appeared to be so utterly empty.

Now, they were bottomless. There was so much held there, so many layers of hurt, of fear, the heaviness of anger, endless questions and a slight shadow of grief and loss. His eyes were wide and you were absolutely certain you had to be imagining the glimpse of glossiness there. Billy Russo didn’t possess so much emotion.

“It’s not the wrong door.” When he finally spoke, words got stuck in your own throat. His New York accent was thicker than you’d ever heard it previously, and his voice was quiet. He wasn’t CEO of Anvil anymore. There was no arrogance, no authority to his tone. “I remembered…” A slight smirk passed over his features for mere seconds before vanishing. It was all the evidence you needed that this man and the man you remembered wee one and the same.“I remembered the building, the apartment number. I never forgot it.” His voice almost took on a sense of pride and accomplishment, yet his expression had faded away. His eyes, however, bored into yours and you felt almost violated. “I never forgot you.”

Still, you stood stunned, frozen like a statue with your empty wine glass in your hand, unable to move, having trouble comprehending his words. Who was this man? He stood with a slight stature of defeat, skinnier than you remembered him. His mangled cheeks were sallow, hands you remembered roaming over every inch of you stuffed inside coat pockets of a coat the man you’d stupidly let yourself fall in love with would never be caught dead in.

“Billy…” His name over your tongue felt like home. Some unknown force seemed to come over you and you found yourself undoing the chain lock and taking a few steps back, allowing Billy to come inside. You didn’t know why you’d said his name. You didn’t know what else to say, or how to begin. You were well aware of how seriously hurt he had been and that he had escaped from the hospital he was admitted to, was a wanted man. But for all the things you felt for Billy, there had always been a stark, bold absence of fear. Yes, he was a dangerous man. He could kill without breaking a sweat and you knew as much as he would allow about what he was previously involved in. Presently, however, you possessed a wealth if information he didn’t remember, and it was all unbeknownst to you. You had no idea that Billy’s mind was fractured.

He followed you inside, the door closing with a soft click behind him. You were hidden behind the refrigerator door, cork of the Cabernet Franc you’d been slowly nursing clenched between your teeth. You filled your glass to the brim this time, pausing before re-corking the bottle. “Wine?” Why were you offering this man who continued to haunt you uninvited a glass of wine? Perhaps you were more buzzed than you thought.

Billy nodded in response, but you had already turned to retrieve a glass, filling it halfway with the crimson liquid. It almost looked like blood.

You returned to sit across from Billy, reaching to set his drink down in front of him before lowering yourself down into your chair. The picture was one that had been painted many times before, Billy laughing, tie loosened around his neck and long legs stretched and sprawled in front of him as he leaned back in his chair causally. Half the time you’d end up straddling his lap, your face dropping to kiss his full lips, dishes being left for the next morning.

The man across from you sat tall, his back rod-straight against the back of the chair he occupied. He stared, not with a set of eyes that devoured you, but appraised you instead, almost suspiciously so, yet with no apparent trepidation or hesitation. Your eyes swept over his face once more as you studied his features in the same way. His eyes— they jarred you, struck something in the core of you; you’d never seen anything like them. As he realized you were staring back, they narrowed slightly, darkening into an inky blsck, and for the first time in your life, you felt a slight twinge of fear for Billy.

As quickly as his reaction came over his face it vanished. Almost stiffly, he shrugged out of his ugly coat, folded the material over once and draped it over the back of his chair. It was followed by the long fingers of one hand pulling the old beanie from his head, and you heard your own sharp intake of breath as you gasped. His hair was cropped close to his scalp, a fraction longer than a buzz cut, the kind your older brother would get in the summertime as a kid. Billy had always had a head full of thick, jet black hair, kept short and close to his scalp at the sides, long strands at the top you loved running your fingers through and tugging at with just enough force.

Your mouth hung agape and he sniffed, raising his chin high. His gaze was heavy with apprehension and shame, anger sleeping through He clenched his jaw. “What’s the matter, Y/N?” Hoe voice was low and even, and he sounded a but hoarse. “You look like you seen a ghost.”

Clearing your throat, you blinked before you let your eyes trail down the length of every thick, dark pink, jagged scar— one on his forehead that slashed through his hairline, a lesser one on the left side; a horizontal gash across the bridge of his nose. One cheek boasted a myriad of scattered, messily stitched together areas of his cheek, after-effects of his injuries crossing over one another. His left eye was somehow still intact; a long, deep scar extended from temple to cheekbone; another an inch below, another closer toward his mouth.

He tilted his head to the side, raising his brows at your audacity and finally grasping the glass you’d placed in front of him. He gulped half of its contents down before lightly placing it back onto the tabletop, his eyes falling to rest there He seemed embarrassed. Billy Russo having the capability to be humiliated was almost comedic, but even more so, it was bizarre. It was striking. Beneath it all, it was sad.

There was a lump in your throat that you couldn’t swallow down and you tugged at the ponytail you had circling your wrist, raking your fingers through your hair before pulling it up and out of your face. Billy was picking at a crack in the oak wood of your kitchen table, eyes still downcast, when you finally spoke.

“Why are you here, Billy?”

*****

“Why are you here, Billy?”

Why are you here, Billy? He silently thought of his own name with an air of disgust. His head was spinning, fragmented thoughts crashing one into another into another, ricocheting inside his skull. His face felt hot, flushed with embarrassment and shame, another unwanted something he’d gained, yet never wanted. No one had ever stared at him like that, bold and unwavering, almost as if inspecting his imperfections in an effort to find more that he may have missed, as if he hadn’t lost enough. As if he hadn’t stood in agony in front of a mirror and contradictoraly avoided all reflective surfaces. As if he didn’t put effort forth to shroud the atrocity of what used to be his face under the solace of a hood more often than not, hadn’t been called a freak, was unaware of lips curled in disgust and whispers of contempt. Billy was anything but blissfully unaware.

He dropped his hand from the table and to his lap, inhaling deeply and slowly. Shaking his head, he knitted his brows together and lifted his hand again only to tap at his head. He ran his hand over his cropped hair, the short strands prickling the palm of his hand. It was an unconscious habit, one he’d developed at some point while locked away in the hospital, confined to his room like a convict in a prison cell, rotting away with cops just outside his door 24-hours a day, seven days a week. He wasn’t a good guy, they’d said. He’d had it coming, this thing that had been done to him. He was dangerous. A felon.

They were mistaken. They had the wrong guy. Billy was a Marine, he was ranked as a Special

Forces lieutenant. He wasn’t a felon.

He tapped at his skull again, nodding at you finally when the answer to your question dawned on him. His nod was emphatic, almost excited as if he’d solved a riddle no one else had been able to make sense of. Everything’s a riddle. Everything is a goddamn riddle.

“I remembered…” He shook his head, paused and clenched his teeth before correcting himself. “I remember you. And I knew… know, where to find you.” He had a faraway, almost glossy look coating his eyes, and they almost looked familiar, suddenly void of any emotion. He felt the memories, but he didn’t feel them.

“I remember Frank.” His eyes focused on your face again, looking for any type of reaction to his name. Frank was his family. He was his brother. “I don’t know where to find him.”

Your face remained the same, almost expressionless except for a slight air of curiosity. Frank was dead. And Billy had no idea. Your heart hammered unevenly in your chest, and you slowly shook your head. You’d heard Billy tell countless stories about his friend, but you’d never met him. That was the shadow of real truth in the answer you gave him “I don’t know where to find him either, Bill.”

Your heart ached for Billy, and for what? He’d abandoned you, he’d looked into your face, peered straight into your eyes and coldly informed you, without any warning at all, that you weren’t worth his time. He stopped calling, stopped texting, stopped coming to your building, stopped whispering in your ear and sending shivers down your spine with his voice like velvet, his lips like satin, his tongue burning like the liking of tiny flames across your skin. He’d offered no further explanation. You simply were not longer worth his time. Perhaps you had always been one of the many women he fucked. Perhaps that’s all you were to him, but the way he’s played the game just didn’t connect. He took you out. You accompanied him to business functions, galas and fundraisers. He spent time at your apartment when he was able, and your relationship never had a title and you didn’t need one. You knew you weren’t the only woman he seeked entertainment from, but you were the one he spent time with both between and away from the sheets. And one day, you became unworthy of his time.

Several months after Billy, you’d spent yet another weekend inside, blankly flipping through the television channels. Your relationship with Netflix was becoming too serious to suit your tastes. Finally settling on the droll of a contestant’s dull story on Jeopardy!!, his voice was cut off by a breaking news briefing. Billy’s name was read off, a familiar picture of his face on the screen as it had been many times before. Your eyes stung with the telltale prickling of tears, a sense of dread settling in your stomach. Instead of boasts of company revenue or success, the, CEO and founder of Anvil Security was severely wounded, hospitalized and in critical condition.

You remembered the way your hands trembled and how you felt unsteady on your feet for days. You remembered how you cried for this man who had shattered your self-worth and how, despite your unshakable belief that you hated him, you even prayed to a higher power you’d never believed in for Billy to pull through.

You remembered the swimming in your head when, months later, a live news update broke through a commercial break to report that Billy Russo had escaped from Sacred Saints Hospital, and that he was considered armed and dangerous. Jesus, Russo, what have you done? You never expected to see him again. And now that he was there, sitting at your table, asking questions about his best friend, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that, for years now, Frank Castle had been dead.

“I don’t know, Billy. I’m sorry.” Your voice sounded gentler than you had intended it to. When you saw the way he furiously blinked back the tears that had welled up in his eyes, the two seconds of shock that shot through you due to Billy showing that sort of emotion was overtaken by an overwhelming flood of grief. Frank was all that Billy had left, and Billy was processing that there was a very real possibility that he had lost Frank too. He swallowed hard, rolling his neck from side to side, silently begging for a distraction.

You demanded yourself to stay in that chair, to remain anchored and concrete. You sanctioned the order to not fall for Billy’s manipulation, not again, but there was nothing about this version of Billy Russo that held any sort of pretense. The Billy you’d believed you’d known, had certainly foolishly loved and, eventually, vengefully hated… that man was no longer existed. He was dead. This man sitting defeated and alone at your kitchen table was the truth behind the man he had— for years— mastered hiding behind expensive suits, perfect features, irresistible words and carefully calculated, intoxicating touch. He had been clever, confident, successful, coveted, powerful, rich, and revered.

And now, aa odd as it struck you, the totality of his belief that he was nothing was tangible in the space between the two of you. It tainted the air, and you understood. You’d felt like nothing before, and at the hands of this man. You’d had far too much pride to ever come out and tell Billy how you felt about him, wary about the consequences. The irony in it all was that he’d still walked out of your life, even without you saying a word.

“Billy.” You said his name softly, your voice little more than a whisper. You were careful to stand slowly; you didn’t have the details, but it was obvious something much more than the scars littering his face had affected him. Your intuition told you to tread lightly. You stopped half a foot from where he sat, those striking wide eyes of a stranger looking up at you, almost pleading for something… anything. “I thought about you,” you confessed, before you could stop yourself. “I worried.”

A deep line appeared in the slow furrow of Billy’s brow. He didn’t know what that was like—to be worried about. He felt a hollowness in his chest, because he was at a loss of words, of a way to react to your words. The beat of silence that passed between the two of you brought to your attention the quiet volume of your television in the next room growing louder with cheering. You heard the noisy applause of neighbors and their intoxicated friends through the thin walls. Midnight.

With one more step forward, you made sure Billy was aware, that he was watching your movements as you made them. He had always been clever, stealth, one step ahead any fool who was stupid enough to cross paths with him. Perhaps his reflexes were still unparalleled. And he would always be clever. But there was something that warned her to beware; to make sure that Billy wasn’t caught by surprise. He watched every step, every little mannerism— the annoyed bursting back of a chunk of hair that had falling into your face, the unconscious gnawing on your bottom lip as you thought.

Finally, you gently placed a hand on his shoulder. You were surprised to feel the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his hoodie and t-shirt. After meeting his eyes, you leaned down to barely press your lips to his cheek. The corner of your mouth softly grazed the edge of a scar, the one that overlapped over another, connecting with a third. You pulled back to see his lips parted in surprise. For the first time since he appeared on your doorstep, your mouth turned up into a small shadow of a smile. You could at least offer him that.

“Happy New Year, Billy.”

#billy russo x reader #s2 billy russo x reader #my writing #rewind reset #part 1

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