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its-my-little-dumpster-fire · 5 years ago

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Let It Burn ( s e v e n t e e n )

Billy Russo x Reader, 8.2k

A/N: It’s long af. @something-tofightfor is my bad influence in all things. After this... I’ll have to slow down with the Billy updates and I’m already sad about it. Work is about to pick up and I need to spend some quality time with Season 2 of the Punisher to make sure everything I have written right now still fits. Sorry for the year long time jump and the rambling. But hey, Billy’s back! or is he?

And for those of you keeping score at home, this brings us up to 2x04.

Summary: Billy is awake and he’s not happy.

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Every night was the same. Working with Billy, talking to him freely, and wishing that he’d move a toe or a finger or squeeze your hand back when you clung to his.

Agent Madani returned more often than you would have liked, but there was little routine to it and you couldn’t avoid her with good planning. If she was there with Billy when you arrive to work, you’d busy yourself until she left. Only once did you muster up the courage to come in and inform her that your need to do your job outranked her need to abuse law enforcement’s access to your patient. She stared at you, not menacing, not even threatening. You didn’t find anything about her all that threatening, but her eyes narrowed and moved between both of yours, making you think for a brief second that she may be trying to place your. Scrolling through her memory for a reason to question you. You’d never met her. Nearly, the not one, but two nights you stumbled upon her and Billy on what appeared to be dates, but she hadn’t seen you then. You were sure not even Billy saw you those nights and he was the truly observant one in that pair. You stood your ground as if you had nothing to hide and eventually, with a disinterested noise and disappointed frown, she left, promising to another time, grinning toward Billy’s feet and retreating with more entitlement in her walk than you thought possible for someone who’d just been denied what they wanted. With Madani out of sight, you laughed to yourself in relief, turning immediately to Billy as if looking for his approval. The smile died on your lips when the only response was the steady beeping, a weak mechanic reminder that while Billy was still alive, he was hardly still with you.

Despite everything going on in your world, you couldn’t imagine not spending time with Billy. To do that, without raising extreme suspicion, you had to keep working. Your life seemed to spiral much like the mark on your arm and so little remained in your control, but your time with Billy was untouchable even by your own chaos. At least for now. He didn’t notice the changes in your hair or appearance. He didn’t comment when you were more irritated or complaining, nor was he able to comfort you when it was sadness that weighed you down and added to exhaustion. Billy could only offer his presence and even then, it was not knowingly. It was all he could be for you and yet having someone to free cry in front of, someplace to swear and curse the world for all the harm it had allowed. You couldn’t ask for much else, having already been given a gift in him greater than you could have expected. Billy was your safe place, for many months, while you wrestled with the past and the present. The future was not guaranteed. Not for you or Billy, but you promised yourself that given the opportunity, you’d return the favor, with what little you had to offer.

Then one day, after eight months of the deepest sleep, Billy woke up. Another poorly timed doctor’s appointment kept you from seeing him the day he finally opened his eyes. Before you had your chance to see those eyes for yourself, Billy was removed from your care and the hospital entirely. When you arrived at room 309 and there were no badges posted up by the door, you feared the worst and burst through the door with enough force to startle the poor orderly fixing up the room for its next inhabitant. The relief you felt upon learning that Mr. Russo hadn’t died was nearly extinguished when you were told he was moved to a more secure hospital across town. He was alive, you reminded yourself, going about your round in a haze. That’s what mattered. Not that he was missing from your day. Though part of you was selfish enough to cry over it. The brightest spot in your day had been taken from you even after so much had been taken already and it hardly seemed fair of the universe to bring you and Billy together so frequently only to rip you apart again and again.

There was no reason for you visit your former patient and with that reality came a dullness to the coming months. It had been almost a year since talking to Billy, really talking to Billy and hearing his voice in return, and the time felt so much more real when you weren’t seeing him everyday. You recalled the pained tone in his voice the night he called you, instructing you to go home and on more than one occasion you wished that you had. Perhaps you’d have seen him that night if you’d listened. You certainly wouldn’t have been at Anvil when it came crashing down. Without the revelations of that night, you wouldn’t have endured so much pain over the last year. You’d have remained in blissful ignorance. But that wasn’t for you anymore. Now you were armed with the truth and living with it. Some days… your weaker days… you’d have traded the truth for a real shot with Billy. You’d have traded anything to see him again. To hold him. To abandon the truths that would keep you apart and just be together. Be who the universe claimed you could be.

A quick and violent weight distribution woke you suddenly from your impromptu midmorning nap. Job lurched off the couch and sprinted toward the back door. His low growl was different from anything you’d heard from him before. Normally, the beast had no qualms about making his displeasure known, especially to passers by. But this noise started deep in his barrel chest and seemed to stay there, rumbling through his twitching lips and echoing off the shiny kitchen floor.

The second you opened the door to reveal the all too familiar eyes of your soulmate, you felt ridiculous for not guessing it was him just by the ominous change in the site with Job’s guarding.

“Billy,” you said without anything else to say. The shock in his eyes was evident when your hands found his t shirt and you pulled him across the threshold. His whole body was rigid as your arms wound tightly around his middle. He was stronger, full of life again, so you hugged him tighter, hiding your face in his chest. It was what you’d been craving for months. After surviving the worst months of your life, all you wanted was to hold on to Billy and be held back, like those nights in the dark. Like the night of your attack. Billy protected you, killed for you, and then he held you, though we’re sure none of those things were in his plan. This time there was no corporeal attack, nothing for Billy to stab or slice open to make right. He’d been in a coma for most of the losing battle anyways, he couldn’t possibly understand how much you needed him. At least not until you told him. He’s here now. He’s really here. He came.

When your embrace wasn’t returned, your arms fell and you pulled away, keeping your hands against his ribs to remind yourself that he was there. “Well, don’t just stand there,” you laughed awkwardly and stepped away, regretting the moment you were no longer touching him. “Are you hungry?” You asked out of habit, uncertain what the protocol was for when your soulmate appeared at your backdoor...wearing someone else’s clothes, you guessed by the way the shirt had been pulled inside out. No version of Billy you’d ever met would wear a leather jacket with a gaudy fur collar, but the clothes they’d wheeled him into the hospital wearing were destroyed and without family to bring him something new, someone’s forgotten or maybe purposefully forgotten clothing was likely all that was available to him. The hospital’s clothing supply wasn’t known for being fashionable, only functional, and even then only sometimes.

Billy stared at you, wide eyed as if he couldn’t believe the question. Or the welcome. Even Job had tentatively crossed the linoleum flood to push his snout under Billy’s large hand. At the feeling of cold against his palm, Billy’s long fingers gripped your dog’s maw until Job whined deep in his throat.

“He’s ok, Billy,” you stepped up to him again, running your hand down to his wrist. You were conscious not to grab it, seeing clearly how jumpy he was. Your fingers curled around his hand and fell in the spaces between his. Job relaxed under your touch and simply waited for Billy to do the same. It took more than a few seconds. Billy’s eyes were on yours, baring down on you in a way that should have threatened you, if not for the sheen that covered them and the subtle quaking under the goatee that covered his chin. “You’re ok, Billy,” you said softly and as if hearing you for the first time, his hand relaxed. You’d never call Billy passive. Not in your wildest dreams. But he let you pull his fingers from around the dog’s snout and twine your fingers with them. He let you pull him away from the darkened corner of the kitchen and into the light, but you could feel his hesitation.

He took another step, letting the weak yellow kitchen light illuminate the scarred flesh of his cheeks. Your breath hitched and he immediately retreated, like you had struck him. Of course he did, but you grabbed his hands and pulled him back into the light. In another life, not so long ago, you’d hide your tears from Billy, but here they seemed appropriate. The scars didn’t frighten you, they were not offensive to your delicate constitution, they wounded you. Gently you dragged your hands up his arms, still so strong after seeing so much violence, up the side of his neck until your fingers could trace the lines on his face. Billy closed his eyes, unable or unwilling to look at you, while feather light touches followed lacerations and sympathetic gasps escaped your lips.

He didn’t say anything, but every time you touched a new scar, you felt him try to pull away. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen his face, but it still took you back to the night he was wheeled into the hospital. His face was obscured by dark blood, caked black and somehow still oozing through the flaps of skin that struggled to hang on. That sinking feeling in your stomach returned, the sense of impending doom that paralyzed you and made you want to run simultaneously. You shook your head wildly, brushing your thumbs under his closed lashes, fingers on his temples as you coaxed his eyes open. He’s alive, you reminded yourself.

“I am so sorry, Billy,” you whispered and he closed his eyes again. You knew he’d never accept pity, especially not from you. “Not for the scars,” you clarified. “For the pain,” you whispered, pulling his head down until your foreheads touched. “I hate that you hurt.”

“Hurt like a bitch,” he said flatly, but you heard the subtle shake in his voice. For once, you thought it might be real.

“Come on,” you said simply, tilting your head until your lips brushed the bridge of his nose and the raised scar there. Not a kiss, but enough contact to draw him out and follow you into your living room. He tried to convince you to leave the lights off, but you refused. He needed to see your eyes on his, not his new face and you intended to stare those black orbs down until he couldn’t take it anymore like you had so many times in the past. You’d broken through his bullshit before and it seemed you’d have to do it again.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said, extending a hand toward the couch. Before you could turn your back on him, his fingers closed around your forearm and you understood Job’s whining. It was unclear whether or not Billy was unaware of his own strength or if he was using it intentionally. Not me, you told yourself, not against us. He came here.

“You’re not leaving me in here alone,” he said in a gravelly voice. The tone was clipped and the shaking told you that if he’d slowed down his demand, he might have tears to fight instead of you.

You nodded and pulled your arm through his hand, squeezing his fingers with your own when you found them. “You’re not alone, Billy,” you assured him and pulled him behind you like a child.

It was unnerving. Having Billy in the kitchen with you, following your every move with his black eyes. You could practically feel him jump when you closed the silverware drawer too quickly. It was a level of alertness that superseded anything you’d experienced from him and you slowed your movements intentionally to ease him. You also avoided turning your back to him.

While waiting for your leftovers to heat in a saucepan, you sat across from him at the small dining room table, watching him flick the silver travel mug you’d given him to fill with water. You heard a dull, metallic clink every time the flat part of his nail collided with the side. His middle finger reared back and he flicked again, the mug moving just a hair in response to the repeated assault.

“Recognize it?” You smiled.

“Should I?” He asked spitefully.

“It’s yours,” you shrugged. Billy’s eyes stayed on the mug, now that you were close to him again, his vigilance had died down. He shook his head as he scrutinized the vessel without an ounce of recognition. “You really don’t remember?”

“How’d you get it?” His question was sharp.

“One morning, I was running late for work and spilled my coffee across the counter. You were already up and about to head out...” you paused, taking time to remember Billy in his suit, dark grey and a deep navy tie, standing in the kitchen watching you struggle through your rushed routine with an amused smirk. It was a painfully normal memory, not at all representative of what you were to each other, but one glance across the table told you that the man in your kitchen didn’t share in your recollection, so you continued with more detail than necessary. Billy wordlessly passed you his own mug already full and ready to go. He took your gratitude, but pushed you out the door before you could offer too much. You’d found the mug in one of your bags after moving. Had things ended better with Billy, you might have called him to return it, but as it was, he didn’t seem to miss it and from the way he watched you tell your story in a quiet skepticism, you were sure he wasn’t missing it now. “You were a lifesaver that day too,” you joked, remembering with an unexpected fondness the night that Billy actually saved your life. Maybe it was the delivery, or maybe Billy wasn’t in the joking mood after being released from the hospital, but your joke fell flat and your grin fell with it.

“Doesn’t sound like me,” he grumbled, pushing the mug away from his crossed arms and you shook your head. I guess not. “Why were you there?”

“It was when we lived together,” you explained with a furrowed expression. He cocked one eyebrow and met your eyes with a suggestive look. “We weren’t sleeping together,” you added quickly.

“That definitely doesn’t sound like me,” he said louder and again you had to agree with him.

“Billy, do you...you really don’t remember?”

He slapped his hands against the table and stood up to start pacing your kitchen floor. Job pulled his face up from where he rested next to Billy’s chair to keep tabs on the man stepping over his body like a broken metronome. “He-here’s what I remember,” Billy pointed a long accusatory finger across the table at you. “Service, Ok?” He tilted his head for emphasis and his eyebrows lifted when he licked his lips. “I remember Iraq, clear as day, and I-I-I-I remember a shitty apartment in Queens, but I wasn’t wearin’ suits, ok?”

“Billy, I-“ where is this coming from?

“AND YOU WEREN’T THERE!” He hollered and Job scrambled to his feet, placing himself directly behind Billy with a slight snarl lifting his upper lip. The expression and the black eyes matched Billy’s too well and you felt like a fool for not seeing it sooner. “SO WHY-“ he started with his voice still raised. It quickly fell with him as he collapsed off to one side, falling into your refrigerator and slapping the side of his buzzed head. You heard a sob escape him and immediately you were on your feet. Billy didn’t let you come close, straightening up when you approached and holding a hand out between you, not for you to grab. “Why-wh-wh-why, do I remember all the..all the BULLSHIT,” his voice raised again before going quiet once more, “why did I know where you lived?” He asked innocently, but spoke again before you could answer. “Why did I know that I could come here?” You opened your mouth to explain, but he cut you off again. “Why IS IT,” spittle flew from between his teeth as he took a menacing step toward you, looking down at your face with an intensity you’d honestly never experienced and didn’t expect in the middle of your day off. “-that I can’t pull your face from a godforsaken line up, can’t pull your name out my ass, but I know...” he raised a hand to his temple, pressing two fingers into his skin, tapping for emphasis, but also digging in a way that should have been hurting him, “how come I look at you and I know you’re telling me the truth?”

“Come on, Billy,” you said laughed quietly and crossed your arms in a meek posture, so unsure what else to say to a man who just swung from manic rage to quiet innocence with little more than a breath in between. Your eyes fell to the floor before lifting back to his arm where all the answers were hidden under shitty fake leather. “You know.”

The move was so quick it could only be reflexive. Billy reached across his chest, his fingers stopping just short of his opposite forearm as if he was afraid of touching the mark. His hand hovered over it, the tip of his middle finger just barely grazed his jacket sleeve and you saw his adam’s apple bob under the realization. Billy shook his head. His mouth contorted into a sneer that quivered uncontrollably and his eyes grew wetter and wetter by the second.

“No,” his voice shook and he took a step toward you.

You knew that words wouldn’t be enough for him, so without speaking, you started to unbutton your flannel shirt, pulling it open and shaking your arms from the sleeves. You stood before Billy feeling absolutely naked even in your white tank. His eyes stayed fixed on yours, his bottom lip curled up in between his teeth. He just stared, unmovable, while you took slow tentative steps toward him. With only a breath between you, you were half certain that Billy would sprint away from you if you moved or spoke to quickly to him. There was discomfort colored all over his face, but when you reached for his hand, he didn’t fight it and he allowed you to take it in his, until moving it on his own. The long fingers traced careful lines up your forearm, sending a goosebumps like a cool sheath over your entire body when his middle finger dragged over the thin flesh of your inner elbow. It reminded you so much of the soft touches from his kitchen, the first and only morning you’d had to witness Billy’s extra curricular activities face to face. Only this was different. That morning was a performance, much like the rest of Billy’s life. This Billy, this wide eyed, quivering lipped Billy didn’t have it in him to perform. Maybe this stripped down version was your first time meeting him. When his hand reached your bicep, he squeezed the flesh and turned your arm out, greeting the mark with a quiet, but pained noise.

The two of you sat and for a long time, Billy was quiet. It was strange, explaining your connection to a man that likely never believed in it to begin with. You tried your best to capture your first meeting, how excited he was over the prospect of starting his own company, but you could see how much it pained him to hear about what he’d lost. You told him about sleeping in the small room when he moved into his apartment, a detail you hoped would help him feel more like himself. He didn’t say anything, but he nodded. So you included as much detail as you could stand to recall, painting him a picture of the years he’d lost. Billy didn’t ask any questions or look for more than you were offering and you wished he would, but you knew Billy’s attitude toward soulmates. He’d confessed it to you once and you couldn’t help, but think about that night.

“Come on…” you half begged, trying not to sound too excited, for fear that Billy would roll his eyes again. He did. “It’s been a year.”

“It’s not our anniversary…” he added sharply, looking away to find something, anything else to hold his attention.

“I never said it was,” you tried to defend yourself, but Billy narrowed his eyes. “It’s more like a birthday-”

“And I hate birthdays.”

“-the birthday of a beautiful friendship,” you tried. Billy looked at you for a moment, then blinked twice and silently turned his back to you. Too far. Okay. You slumped back into his couch, content to drop the conversation. Suddenly a glass of amber liquid appeared next to your head. You followed the long white arm extended next to you until you could fix your face into exaggerated confusion, just for Billy to see.

“Just take it,” he scoffed. You did and received his glass with a soft hand when he tipped the rim of his own toward yours, both of you drinking after the quiet clink. Billy walked around the couch and sat with a huff before taking another long drink, nearly draining it in a single go. If he’d given himself a single pour, he probably would have. “I don’t want to go out.”

“I wouldn’t suggest that,” you assured him, sinking down further into the leather cushion and making yourself comfortable. “It’s not our anniversary,” you added, parroting his sentiment. You thought you felt him bristle next to you, but you didn’t give it another thought.

After rolling his eyes off the side before landing back on you, Billy brought up what you’d been trying to ask before getting derailed by the unnecessary side bar of whether or not so you tried to carefully word your request. It had been equally clear and unclear how Billy felt about soulmates. He wasn’t actively pushing you away, not anymore, but the relative ambivalence he showed wasn’t exactly the most illuminating either. You figured that Billy Russo had never been a believer in your existence and you were endlessly curious what it was that drove him to tolerate you now.

Billy talked about Frank, which wasn’t a surprise. They sounded so similar, you sometimes wondered if Billy had two soulmates instead of one. He recalled a day in the barracks, sprawled out upon a cot, laughing with his brothers while he tried to read. A man named Gunnar, some bible thumper from the back country as Billy described him, tried to convince him that God himself had hand picked someone for him and that thought alone was enough to make Billy laugh out loud. It was clear that Gunnar disapproved of Billy’s way of life and he went away grumbling some prayer, which only made Frank and Billy try harder to conceal their urge to laugh. Billy scratched at his mark and asked Frank what he thought of the whole thing. Much to Billy’s surprise, Frank had no use for his mark, though he’d never reveal where or what it was. Maria was his wife, they made promises and children and love in their home, but they chose that life for themselves. Frank was bull headed and would never allow some discolored skin to tell him the direction of his life. Apparently, Maria’s mark disappeared when she was young, the unfortunate symptom of a soulmate who was taken too soon. Frank had never intended to find his other half, but when he found Maria and Maria found out she was pregnant, he convinced himself that he’d never need to. It was as close to sentimental the men came in the desert and you were more than entertained at the thought of two Marines, lying in their cots and talking about the possibility of soulmates. You snickered into your glass and Billy shot a half hearted glare in your direction before chuckling himself. Even he had to admit it sounded ridiculous, but clearly no topic was off limits when life wasn’t guaranteed in the desert on the other side of a thick canvas flap.

“Was that the only time, then?” you asked, leaning forward to refill your glass for the third time. The whiskey made your tongue loose and your face feel warm. When you fell back against the cushions, you’d shifted and your shoulder was pressing into Billy’s. Neither of you reacted, but neither of you made any moves to remedy the situation either.

“Only time for what?”

You hesitated, but asked anyways. “Only time you ever thought about...me, you know?”

“No…” he admitted so quietly, you were certain he wouldn’t say anymore about it. “I was eleven, when… you know,” Billy started, shifting his shoulders and rolling his head slightly. You knew and were so tempted to rest your head upon his shoulder in a show of...affection, support, whatever he decided to read into it, you’d happily offer it. “Those doctors put my shoulder back together in a couple of hours, but I was in the hospital for 3 days, while child services did their investigation,” his voice changed to a spiteful tone and it pained you to hear the anger behind it. “Short lived…” he scoffed, bringing the whiskey to his lips again. “They were worried about my shoulder being all stiff, so it was,” Billy lifted his left arm to give you a visual, “strung up like this, swingin’ a little so it wouldn’t be glued to my side when I finally left,” Billy paused to lick his lips. “The, uh, mark was right at my eye line,” he cocked his head to the side, admiring the inky spiral now. “TV barely worked...So I looked at it, a lot. Probably the first time I ever paid attention to it,” he admitted with a chuckle and bit his lower lip before speaking again. “I thought… well, it was alright, to be young and think there was someone...somewhere who was just for me, on my team. If I ever needed someone it was then…”

“Billy,” you sighed, knowing your own preteen self wouldn’t have been much of a support for him, but regretting your absences all the same.

“Then that sick fuck sent me a bouquet of flowers and a get well soon card.” Your stomach dropped. “No one was on my side and the mark,” he dropped his arm and finished his drink, sucking his teeth loudly at the burn. “It was just a mark.”

There weren’t words for that kind of loneliness, so you didn’t offer any. Giving in to your earlier impulse, you rested your head against his shoulder. Your cheek was pressed against the scars that were covered by his black t shirt and Billy remained, leaning slightly in too. You were thankful for the moments of honesty Billy offered, tiny pieces of the soul that supposedly was the match for your own.

Billy had stopped holding on to your arm long ago and was inspecting his own now while listening to you share memories that he surely still had if he remembered his time in Iraq. The fact that you knew about those intimate thoughts, that you had memories of him sharing them with you over a drink in the apartment he allowed you to stay in… it spoke more to your connection than any inked skin you shared. By the sneer that was spreading across his lips and the way his chest rose and fell, you assumed he wasn’t just thinking of the bomb you’d dropped on him. That look was reserved for people he sought to end. You’d only seen it once, that night in the alley, with a stranger’s blood on your shoes and the image of Billy Russo wielding a knife so fluidly burned into your mind forever, but once was enough to know that he had only thing on his mind. One person. And you’d been the one to bring him up. Billy shot to his feet then, hands clenched in scarily white fists at his sides. He rolled his shoulders and without a glance backwards, started for the door.

“Billy!” You rose and followed him, leaning down to touch Job’s head when Billy’s heavy boots landed too close to his sleeping form. With his hand already on the door, you finally reached his elbow. Billy spun with lightning speed, throwing his elbow to remove your hand and you stumbled backwards away from him. Every step landed between your shuffling feet, reminding you how quickly he could catch you if that was his intent. The cold corner of your counter dug into your lower back just as Billy closed the miniscule space between you. His entire body loomed over you until you curved back and away, but Billy followed, not touching you, but still so close that the frantic breaths he took in and out warmed your face. His eyes were brimming with emotion, all conflicting and about to spill out over dark lashes. It was disarming to see Billy so raw and while it was clear that he was waiting for you to explain yourself, his eyes had, once again, completely stolen your words. “You… you’re upset, going out like this-”

“Gonna stop me?” he asked, brows lifting as his eyes drifted down, appraising and challenging you simultaneously.

Your head was shaking before his black eyes landed on yours again, looking more resolute than they had just a few seconds before. Billy turned to leave again and this time, without touching him, you breathed his name and he stopped. He didn’t move to face you again, but he stopped. You took a breath, shaking your head of the troubling thoughts that swirled while you looked over your counter. After scribbling your phone number on the back of a receipt, you folded it and extended your arm around Billy. His head turned to look at the paper, but made no moves to take it with him.

“Billy… just- you might need someone.” You could hear his jaw click before taking the paper from your fingers and shoving it into one of the front pockets of his jeans. Without another word, he stepped over Job’s body again and straight out the back door. Job whined when the door shook against the frame and stood to nose your hip for attention. “He’ll be back,” you assured him, taking another deep breath and trying to convince yourself of the same.

With Billy gone as quickly as he’d come, there was no reason to miss a lunch catching up with Bea and the food and company seemed like a better distraction than staying home and doing nothing, but overthink the fact that your soulmate had been released from the hospital with years worth of missing memories and questionable stability. Or maybe you’d dwell on the fact that he somehow managed to find your house not knowing who you were. Even better, you could fall into a rut, replaying the way Billy had looked at you with murder in his eyes. You were confident the look wasn’t meant for you, but there was nothing predictable about him anymore. It had been months and you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but Billy had changed. More and potentially more dangerously than you’d expected. Instead of thinking too long about the disturbing display in your kitchen, you got ready to go out, leaving Job with a twisted raw hide and a wink.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but part of you genuinely thought that you could make it through a simple lunch with a friend without Billy interrupting you somehow. The whole concept of a soulmate was becoming clearer to you. They were inescapable. You’d never really be free of Billy or your feelings for him, regardless of the changes in him. The fact that he showed up at your door without understanding why was at the very least proof that he wasn’t entirely safe from you either. Wishful thinking aside, you were hardly surprised to hear his name within the first ten minutes of finding a table.

“Oh my God,” Bea exclaimed in a whisper that barely qualified, pointing to the tv in the corner of the cafe. “Don’t you know him?”

The grunt you used as a response was as unladylike as it was noncommittal. Early on, when the prospect of a soulmate was still exciting and teeming with possibility, telling a friend about Billy would have excited you. That was forever ago and before that morning you hadn’t said his name out loud in months. Like the closer you came to him, the less you wanted to share that with the people around you. He never explicitly asked you not tell anyone, but you always felt it, deep in your gut, that discretion was preferred for a man like Billy. So much so that only time you felt confident enough to speak his name aloud was in his presence.

At your shrug, Bea put a hand on your shoulder and pushed you to face the news channel. “You do! You brought in Carla Russo, that’s her son!”

“Yeah, that-“ you started, but thankfully Bea’s excitement was uncontainable.

“Aren’t you worried?” She asked with wide eyes and a motherly frown.

“No,” you shook your head and stated simply, “I’m not.”

She hissed your name in shock before leaning in closer, whispering as if to share a secret. “He’s a bomber,” she revealed, though everyone watching along with you had heard the breaking news.

You almost laughed, but caught yourself and shook your head again, lifting your eyebrows knowingly as you nodded toward the television. “If Billy Russo wanted someone dead, he wouldn’t use a bomb to do it.”

At Bea’s jaw dropping, you regretted your words, but it was the truth and that’s all of the truth you were able to share in the moment. Telling your friend and former colleague that you’d once watched Billy slice a man’s fingers clean from his hand before doing the same to his larynx, didn’t seem like the kind of information Bea would be able to handle.

“That’s not comforting!” She informed you, but as you collected your sandwich from the pick up window, you shrugged again. It comforts me.

Sitting back at the table, you watched the screen from over Bea’s head as it ran a security video of Billy yelling at the doctor who helped him escape before retreating down the sidewalk in scrubs and socked feet. So he wasn’t released. And those clothes weren’t from the hospital’s lost and found. God, you didn’t even want to think about where that horrible coat came from. You hadn’t expected to hear from him after that, deciding that his surprise visit that morning was simply the result of being confused. If Billy Russo didn’t want to be found, even with memories that resembled alphabet soup, he wouldn’t.

Bea hugged you with one arm across the console of your car, whispering a well meaning “be careful” in your ear, which you assured her you didn’t need. As far as she knew, you hadn’t seen Billy since the first day he visited his mother at the home and you wouldn’t do anything to hint otherwise.

As if the universe heard your silent declaration, your phone rang while you were still waving to Bea through the window as she closed the metal gate in front of her house. It wasn’t a number you had saved and you hesitated to answer, usually letting unknown callers go to voicemail, but something told you to pick up. It’d been an hour or so since Billy stuffed your number into his pants pocket with the care of someone who’d intended to lose it before he could use it and you couldn’t ignore the churning in your gut. Answer dummy.

“Hello?” No answer. You thought you heard a breath. Someone’s on the other end. “B-“ you bit your lip, unsure if you should say it out loud. It could be anybody. “Is that you?” You decided to ask. Pointed enough that he’d know you knew, but too vague to be of interest to anyone else.

Your mystery caller hung up without another word and your head fell forward against the steering wheel, knowing you’d do something stupid the second you opened your eyes. Sure enough, without a second thought or moment of hesitation, you’d typed the number into a search and paid the disturbingly low fee to find its source. Anyone can find anyone if they wanted to and the thought was nearly as chilling as the results. Payphone with an address in Brooklyn, which you quickly plugged into your GPS. The second your intended mark pulled up on the map, your stomach dropped, a park that without knowing Billy Russo you’d have never known existed was visible in green just a few blocks away. “Dammit,” you swore, turning the ignition over and pulling back onto the street, hoping you’d be wrong.

You weren’t and disregarding the yellow hydrant, you pulled up alongside the park, flipping on your hazards and praying that you wouldn’t be long. There’s a dark mass huddled on a bench near the blacktop basketball court. From that vantage, he could scan the route he would have taken everyday to and from the dirty yellow door of the Ray of Hope Group home and you do the same, letting your eyes drift from the sunburst pattern on the signage down the street, following the little paved trail that wound between trees before ending at a green wall behind the north facing basket. Kids were playing and laughing loudly despite the chill, but Billy seemed invisible. Not a soul was near him or the court before him.

You made lots of noise, stepping on crunchy leaves and sighing loudly, alerting him to your presence well before taking a seat on the bench next to him. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Natural causes,” Billy said coldly, wringing his hands where they were clasping between his spread knees. You looked down and noticed the orangey-red tint to his skin, darker where it fell and dried in the creases of his knuckles and around his blunt nails. The white t shirt he wore was hardly recognizable as similarly hued stains left a terrifying splatter clear as day.

“That’s a lot of blood from natural causes, Bill…”

“How do you know about Arthur?” He asked, voice shaky and hands twisting around themselves tighter. Dried blood fell in flakes around your feet.

“You told me about him,” you answered simply.

“How did you know where I would be?”

“I know you, Billy.”

He stood, spinning and caging you in where you sat, white knuckles with dark red lines twisting around the bench on either side of your shoulder. “Why is everyone lying to me?”

“Who is lying to you, Billy?” He shook his head wildly, eyes cast down at your lap. Even hiding his face, you could see his mouth pulling back and his nose scrunched up, twitching under the threat of tears. You should be terrified of him, but you placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the collar of his jacket was also damp.

“I know you’re telling me the truth,” he whispered. “I don’t d-d-don’t know you, but I know you’re telling me the truth.” Billy Russo didn’t stutter. He didn’t say anything that didn’t serve a purpose. He didn’t say anything that he hadn’t thought through. The sniveling, the fear. Jesus, Billy. You could almost cry yourself. “Here? You know?” He pulled one hand from the bench behind you and clapped it over his heart, twisting the bloody fabric of his t shirt in a fist that pounded against his chest. “I feel it right here, but up here…” he let go of the fabric and gestured randomly toward his head, hanging low so you couldn’t look directly into his eyes. “I-I-I...who the fuck are you?” His words fell out of him with a sob as he fell forward. Did he know you’d catch him? Was it even voluntary?

You wrapped your arms around Billy’s shoulders as they shook. Tears and blood and spit were falling on you as he cried loudly against your chest. The hand behind you stayed on the bench, gripping the rubber coating so tight it squeaked under his palm, while his free hand wrapped all the way around back until his fingers dug painfully into your side. You brushed one hand over his head, scrubbing your palm over his hair buzzed short and split where a scar ascended behind the hairline and hadn’t grown back. His sobbing was drawing too much attention and you smiled awkwardly over his shoulder to a concerned woman across the way.

“Billy…” you breathed between shushing him and trying to calm him down. “You have to get up now, Billy… you can’t stay here like this.” He gripped you tighter and you knew you wouldn’t be able to stand without convincing him to do the same. “Hey… come on now… we have to get out of here.” Billy took a deep breath and loosened his grip. “My car is right over there,” you nodded your head even though you knew he wasn’t looking. “We gotta make it there, okay? Then we can get you cleaned up and-“ you didn’t finish as Billy was already nodding against your chest and leaning back to push himself off his knees. When he pulled away you gripped the edges of his jacket and closed it shut around him, trying to keep the bulk of the blood from plain sight. He walked quickly, beating you to your car as if he thought you’d leave him there.

He was silent in the front seat, knew jumping up and down in agitation as his head whipped back and forth, taking in every building and every turn. It was making you nervous, his frantic energy filling the space and frying your nerves right along with him.

“Billy....this is bad,” you said, trying to keep your breath even. “you gotta, gotta do something,” though you had no idea what to offer.

“I did do something,” he said in a terrifyingly cool tone. It reminded you that there was blood on his shirt. A lot of it and as far as you could tell, none of it was his.

“Then you gotta talk to somebody,” you tried again.

His fist collided with the dashboard of your car so fast, you nearly jumped out of your skin. The noise was jarring and unexpected, but the swift movement of his arm was what got you. You knew Billy. You trusted Billy with your life. But this wasn’t Billy. Not all of him at least.

“Billy-“ you tried again, hearing the way his breath flew in and out of his lungs at a speed that made you anxious.

“I DON’T WANT TO TALK!” He yelled, falling forward into his own hands. Through the buzzed strands you could see the tension of his scalp as stained fingers dug into his own skin and moved over his hair. “I DON’T WANT TO TALK!” He screamed again, subtly rocking in his seat.

“Ok, Ok, Ok,” you gasped out, trying to keep your eyes on the road and on the man next to you. “You don’t have to talk, Billy,” you spoke quietly, like soothing a spooked animal. Everything about him reminded you of one. Eyes wide and alert. Wounded. Scared. Ready to lash out at the drop of a hat. Willing to kill anyone or anything just to survive the perceived threat. All you could hope in the confined space of your front seat was that you gave Billy no reason to suspect you and you were fully aware of the possibility that it would end both of you if he did.

You were quiet for a few more blocks, waiting for Billy to calm himself down. Though it felt more like waiting to see if he was capable of calming himself down. Through your periphery, you caught Billy with his head back against the seat back, his chest was rising and falling too quick for you. He tossed his head back and let it collide with the leather a few times, wincing as if he was in pain, though you could tell it wasn’t the head banging that caused it.

Through the fear, you felt it and it surprised you. Just the mark, you reminded yourself. A subtle beating started deep inside you, like someone knocking on a door with no chance of it being opened. It got louder and you glanced back at Billy to see if he could hear it too. Of course he couldn’t, but at the red light, you slowed to a stop and watched him lick his lips and roll his head back and forth, back and forth against the seat. Through the scars and the blood, he looked remarkably like your soulmate. Despite knowing exactly who was in your passenger seat, it was the first moment of recognition you could claim. Billy Russo. Your Billy, if you could call him that. The dark shroud that told you to stay away lifted and through it only one thought remained.

He’s still in there.

When his breathing returned to a more human pace, you steeled yourself and prepared to speak again, not totally convinced of what you should say.

“Billy-“

“Let me out,” he said quickly, gripping the door handle before you’d even processed the request.

“Wh-“

“Stop the fucking car!” He landed a fist hard against the door, just above the handle. You flinched again and looked around the street for a place to pull over, fearing that if you didn’t Billy would lunge into traffic. He nearly did, pulling on the handle just as you found a vacant corner where you could flip on your hazards and-

“Billy!” You called after him, when he made his manic escape. You fumbled with your seat belt, but managed to exit your car. “Wait a fucking second!” You called again, conscious that screaming his name now that you were outside would be dangerous for both of you. He turned and slammed both open palms against the roof of your car, leaning over it to glare at you. You kept the car between you, standing just inside your door. His nostrils flared, but his eyes were welling up again. How he could be both broken and ready to break another was not surprising to you, but seeing it so plainly on his features was new. “Where are you going?” You couldn’t stop him, but you had to know he’d be safe. You had to and you couldn’t explain why.

He sneered at the question and looked nervously up the sidewalk, eyes fixed on something you simply couldn’t discern.

“I’m gonna go talk,” he growled, slapping the roof of your car again and turning away. His long legs carried him quickly as he pulled the big leather jacket around him and stuck to the shadowy parts of the sidewalk.

You watched him speed away until through the darkness and the other bodies on a mission tonight you couldn’t tell his tall figure from Adam. Selfishly, you felt immense relief that Billy had clearly seen something or someone and for the time being was out of your hair. You needed to breathe and collect yourself and figure out what the hell was happening to you... to Billy. Even more selfishly, you felt an immense sadness, a betrayal of whatever shred of your connection survived with him, that he couldn’t get away from you fast enough and on the off chance, he did talk, it simply wouldn’t be to you.

What a stunning tag list. You’re all fucking heroes for reading this mess.

@something-tofightfor @the-blind-assassin-12 @songtoyou @disengagefrmreality @littlemermaidprobz @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lexxierave @suchatinyinfinity @actuallyazriel @strugglingsemicolon @christinawxxx @cerezahowl @octosapiens @stories-you-wont-hear @thesumofmychoices @gollyderek @charmed-asylum @ilkaeliseb @lysawayne @bugboy-and-icegirl @thefinalexperiment @ofheroesandvillains @operation-spot @ariminiria

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fific7 · 3 years ago

Text

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-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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kayhi808 · 1 year ago

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Pefect Match - 14

Once you touched up your make-up, you made your way downstairs, where one of the wedding planners assistants were waiting for you with a photographer. Your dad wanted to ride down to the venue with you, but Billy nixed that idea before you got a chance to. Quick pictures were taken & some candid. You didn't want to be late. The assistant helps you into the car, packing in you & your dress so it doesn't get too wrinkled. You were in for a bit of a drive going into the city from your grandparent's estate. She jumps in the back with you & the photographer is up front with the driver. This is it! You start heading out to The Glasshouse.

The assistant is a sweet woman, but her incessant chatter is getting on your nerves and putting you on edge. Is there a polite way to tell her to shut up?? You try to concentrate on the vows you plan on saying. The thank you speech for later tonight, anything to drown her out.

The van in front stops suddenly, and from a side road, a large vehicle slams into the front drivers side of your car. It has your car, spinning off the road, and slamming into a road sign. Your head smashes into the glass window on the side. Blood starts pouring out of your wound. You quickly cover it with your hands, trying to stop the flow of blood from getting on your beautiful dress. Your body is wrecked with pain, your ears ring & your vision blurs. What happened? What's going on? The assistant is screaming & crying. You lean over to check on your driver & photographer. Air bags deployed, so they are groggy but alive.

The door is pulled open & you are dragged outside. "Please help." Thinking a good Samaritan pulled over to assist you, you clutch on to their arm, but you notice too late the gun in their other hand. Three quick shots lodged bullets into the brains of the driver, photographer & assistant. You try to jerk away, looking up at the man who has you. There's 3 of them, all dressed in black with masks. No. No. No. A crack of pain makes you dizzy as the back of his hand meets your cheek. You feel a trickle of blood from your cheek now mixing with the blood from your head wound. The random thought floats through your mind that your dream dress can't be saved. A sob escapes your throat, and you fight back.

The second man approaches & presses a gun to your forehead. "Enough! If you fight, I will shoot you! Now be a good girl & put your arms behind your back," pressing the muzzle harder into your head. His voice. Deep & authoritative. You know his voice. You've heard it before. You do what you're told. "Tie her up!" The skinny tall one who's just been staying on the side comes up to you to secure your wrists. "Relax your arms!" The gun holder squeezes your arm. "Don't tense up, you ain't getting loose." A bag is thrown over your head and you panic. You can't let them take you. Billy. You fight & scream, not caring if they kill you. Pain explodes as the butt of the gun is slammed against your head. The last thought that flitter through your brain as you lose consciousness, is that this was supposed to be the happiest day of your fucking life. Billy. You were going to slaughter everyone responsible for ruining this day for you.

*****

Billy and his groomsmen moved to a side room. He couldn't stand at the front of the aisle having people stare at him. He hears Frank, Micro & Curtis' whisperings. They think you left him, decided not to marry him. Billy's heart wouldn't survive if you left him. He wouldn't survive. The two of you spent the last 2 months talking about your life together. Which rooms you were going to flip into nurseries when the time comes. You told him you wanted a cat. A white Persian, but you wanted to name her Ginger. You dreamed together of places to travel. Changes you were going to make with New York. You loved him. Bill knows this. He feels this. You would never leave him.

Your grandfather enters the room & makes his way to Bill. Bill hisses at him, not wanting the others to hear his disrespect, "What the fuck, Enzo? Where is Y/N?" Looking around, "Where the fuck is Tony?"

"She said she was leaving in 10 minutes. She needed to touch up her makeup. Your note & gift brought her to tears. She should be here."

"And Tony?"

Sighing, "He just left. I have had men following him."

Bill absent-mindedly plays with his phone & hits the call button to try your number again for the dozenth time. This time the phone is answered. Everyone hears the pickup. Bill says "Hello" a few times before someone responds. It's a voice that is digitally altered. "We have your fiancé. Sadly, she won't be making it to the wedding today, but I'll give you a chance to see her again. I want the rights to New York signed over legally to me."

Enzo shouts with more rage than expected, "I want to speak to my granddaughter, now!" There's no doubting the love he has for you. Or what lengths he'll go to, to get you back safely.

"Bill...Billy, is that you?" You cry through the phone & Bill's heart breaks. You sound lost & broken.

"I'm here, Angel. Are you ok? Have they hurt you?" Bill hears your scream through the crackling phone line and he loses his breath.

Crack! The sound of skin on skin, like a slap. Followed quickly by more screams & a voice in the distance not digitally modified. "Fucking bitch! Bite me again & I will knock those pretty teeth out. It will be easier for you to choke on my cock then!" Everyone in the room tenses.

These men aren't just threatening his girl with pain, but with rape. The sentence replays over & over in Billy's mind like his brain is trying to tell him something. It's not the words. It's the voice. He's heard that voice before. With all the stress and fear and anxiety rushing through him, Bill can't place where he's heard that voice before.

"Who am I transferring the business to? I need time to get the papers drawn up. I won't be able to transfer it without my son's signature. Do you have Tony, too?"

"Get the paperwork & I will sign it. MIchael Aldo Fontana. Do you need me to spell it?" Bill & Curtis exchange looks. Why bother disguising your voice yet cocky enough to give us your name. That makes no sense. Something doesn't add up.

"You didn't answer me about my son."

"Yea, we got...Mr. Luciano! You have an hour to get the paperwork set up."

"I want proof that my granddaughter is unharmed before I sign things over."

A harsh laugh echos through the phone. "Your time is over, old man. You don't make the rules," and the phone disconnects.

Enzo, looking every one of his 76yrs, "It's Tony. He has Y/N. They are using Fontana as a scapegoat. This is Tony's doing. When you told me you suspected my son of being the one responsible for the threats to Y/N, I promised I'd look into it, but I couldn't find anything. It was suspiciously TOO clean. When you first got engaged, he also started talking about the transfer of power. He tried to convince me to transfer mine to him first and then to you & Y/N. He thinks to control Italy & New York.

"All I want to know is how the fuck I get my girl back." Frank eases closer to Billy. He can only imagine what Bill is feeling. If anyone took his family, he'd snap.

"We have to wait for the next call. Then when he gives us the location to meet & sign, that's when we will pounce. I will get Y/N back to you, I promise.

"Fuck that!" Bill stands, "When you know where she is, we all go. I am getting my girl back if I have to kill everyone in sight, including her dad." Billy leans into your grandfather's space snarling, "Are you going to get in my way?"

Your grandfather raises his hands trying to placate Billy. Frank grabs his arm, pulling him back, thinking Billy will attack the old man.

"Don't worry. When it comes to my son, I will be the one to deal with him. You can sort out Michael and the rest & get Y/N out. But Tony is my son, therefore my responsibility."

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

@snowkestrel & @jvanilly - I tagged you both since you seemed a little worried from the other chapter. 😘

#billy russo #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfiction #S2 billy russo AU

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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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illshowyourhurricanes · 4 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 · 6 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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its-my-little-dumpster-fire · 5 years ago

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I just let it burn || I just let it burn || How many times do I got to tell you? || And when will you ever learn? || I just let it burn

Billy Russo x Reader, Soulmate Tattoo AU, follows the events of the Punisher S1 (2017) and S2 (2019)....for a while

Before Season 1

Introduction Soulmates exist. They’re said to love unconditionally, whatever that means, but no one is promising you perfect. Especially not Billy Russo.

Part One Chance meeting that will change the entire course of your life, but you don’t know that yet.

KRYPTOS: Sharp Dressed Man Billy Russo and first impressions.

Part Two You agree to meet up with Billy and he shatters all expectations. He’s not at all what you expected him to be, but isn’t that the whole point?

KRYPTOS: Flirtin’ with Disaster Billy Russo and a date with destiny.

Part Three You and Billy are getting to know one another. One night that changes the course of Billy’s entire life, but you don’t know that yet either.

Part Four Billy has a funeral to attend, but you are not invited. He’s acting strange, unsurprising, but what is normal after losing your ‘family’.

Part Five Billy talks you about his service, but he’s really talking about Frank Castle. You inspire Billy to give a little back after a chat with Curtis.

Part Six Billy pulls you close, lets you see parts of him no one else does. But then helping a stranger drives him away again and you’re not sure how to fix it.

Part Seven Billy Russo meets with his mother for the first time and it doesn’t go well, but their distance draws you two together again as you comfort him.

Part Eight Big changes when Billy lets you move in with him. He’s more comfortable around you, you’re uncomfortable around his dates.

Season 1

Part Nine Living with Billy gives you a front row seat to some well hidden quirks. Billy Russo is kind of a geek pass it on, but he wants to talk and it sounds big.

Part Ten Sunday morning with Billy in bed, that’s the dream right? An interruption leaves something unsaid, but unexpected date leaves you speechless.

KRYPTOS: Dance with Darkness Billy Russo and the job that’s never done.

Part Eleven it’s a bad idea spying on Billy and his new woman, but you do. You make a decision about your future, but Billy isn’t around to hear about it until it’s too late. (Parallel to Episode 1.06)

Part Twelve You meet someone new and he’s not Billy. Dating is hard when you can’t seem to shake your soulmate in a city of millions. Also, you get a dog.

KRYPTOS: The Devil You Know Billy Russo and the tale of two soulmates.

Part Thirteen Billy calls and it’s unexpected, but seeing Billy in action, really in action is almost as jarring as seeing him protect you from harm. (Parallel to Episode 1.08)

KRYPTOS: Wicked Games Billy Russo and blood.

Part Fourteen Talking to Billy shouldn’t be so easy, but some connections are soul deep. Things are “heating up” for Billy and you should probably stay away. (Parallel to Episode 1.12)

Part Fifteen THE chapter. You’re in the hospital. So is Billy. Neither one of you are ok. Memento Mori. (Parallel to Episode 1.13)

KRYPTOS: Ticking Bomb Billy Russo and nothing left to lose.

Season 2

Part Sixteen Billy Russo is neither armed or dangerous now that he’s in a coma, but you get some things off your chest and overhear a lot about him that you definitely weren’t supposed to know.

KRYPTOS: Storm Comin’ Billy Russo and the dreams that keep him awake. (Parallel to Episode 2.03)

Part Seventeen Billy breaks out of the hospital and comes to see you. He’s not sure why, but you aren’t the only one from his past he visits. Sorry Arthur. (Parallel to Episode 2.04)

Part Eighteen Coming home to find Billy waiting for you isn’t uncommon, but how much can a relationship grow when you’re called in by Brett Mahoney.

KRYPTOS: Before I Knew What Love Was Billy Russo and his hiding spots.

Part Nineteen You’re questioned -off the record- by Dinah Madani and the time you’ve spent with Billy is rubbing off on you. He likes that. A lot.

Part Twenty Someone from your past reappears and you spill some of your unfiltered feelings to Billy. His response is... pretty on brand.

Part Twenty One Billy learns what you’ve been hiding from him and he is driven to something- or rather someone- else.

Part Twenty Two While planning your trip, Billy learns what happened to him (Parallel to 2.08) and you help fill in some blanks.

Interlude Billy has plans to leave the city with Krista. At least he told you. (somewhere around Episode 2.10 or 2.11)

Part Twenty Three Basement stuff. Whirlwind. (Parallel to Episode 2.13)

Post Series, we left canon back in Season 2.

Part Twenty Four After facing Frank, you wake up somewhere unfamiliar with people you don’t know and a plan you didn’t agree to.

Part Twenty Five Frank’s plan is in motion and you can’t stop it now.

Part Twenty Six Billy Russo isn’t going to leave New York without telling you how he feels. Or at least, he’s going to try.

Part Twenty Seven** Billy Russo’s Excellent European Adventure featuring a soulmate that has no idea what she’s doing, but she’s doing it really really well. (warning: contains sexual content) ((+18 only))

Part Twenty Eight** Billy Russo crashes the after party of his soulmates funeral and does what he does best. (warning: contains sexual content) ((+18 only))

Part Twenty Nine Shit hits the fan. You and Billy are officially on the run.

Part Thirty The finale. Everything has been pointing to this moment, but Billy wasn’t ready.

Unrelated One Shots (aka deleted scenes that I got tired of wrestling with because they didn’t fit in my timeline and I’m still bitter about it. Expect more.)

Armed and Dangerous. (Billy comes to see you before his showdown at the carousel)

Deleted Scene, unnamed, unimportant (Billy visits and shows off his scars)

Bonus

Wildfire- lettering

Wildfire- lettering part 2

Asks

Thought Process and Decision Making

LiB: Soulmark Asks ONE and TWO and THREE

#let it burn #billy russo #billy russo x reader #let it burn masterlist #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher fic #billy russo x you #billy russo fanfiction #ben barnes character

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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.”

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

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

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