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landopoet · 17 days ago

Text

taciturnity.

pairing coworker!lando x intern!reader

warnings mentions of sex, use of vulgar language

synopsis a date in italy sounds like a dream. what could go wrong?

taglist @sheblogs @n3versatisfied @number-0-iz @gigicisneros @urfavnoirette

find part one here: clandestine

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It’s a quarter to six when the plane lands.

You and Lando had been texting about the date so much that it began to feel like it’s the only reason you’re in Italy. It’s only when you get an email from your supervisor, instructing you of all that you need to do over the weekend, that you get out of your little love-coloured bubble.

It’s Thursday evening, media day, and arguably one of the most busy days of a race weekend. Your supervisor let you know that their official photographer would be taking pictures today, so you could get settled in at the hotel and prepare for tomorrow. Which is incredibly fortunate, as you have to prepare all your camera settings, charge the batteries, bring your laptop hard drive and adaptors.

Stress would be overtaking all your emotions if you weren’t so excited to see Lando on Saturday.

You can already imagine it— the white button-up, the flowers in his hands, the candlelight on his face and the glare of his eyes as they burn into yours. It’s nothing short of magical, the way you imagine your first date, and you’re sure it’ll be even better in reality.

That night, it takes you far longer to fall asleep than anticipated. You know you should be asleep, resting up before the following day as you had to take pictures of Lando on the paddock and on track. It’ll be your first time working with fast-moving subjects, but you’re sure you’ll get the hang of it quickly.

Besides, it’s not like you’re here on full pay, anyway. Even if you don’t get good shots, you’ll be gaining experience and Eliza has nothing she can do but advise you to do better.

The sunlight filters through the hotel curtains and you rub your eyes awake, glancing at the alarm with blurry vision. It’s about fifteen minutes before you were supposed to wake up, so you take that as a chance to check your social media apps and contact friends.

In the flurry of notifications on your screen, one stands out more than others— lando followed you from Instagram. A small smile creeps its way onto your face and you click the bright blue follow back button.

You slip out of bed roughly five minutes after, having spent that time looking through his posts and finding his photography account, which he failed to mention before.

The tile floors in the bathroom distract you from thoughts of him and you zone back into your reality— it’s Friday and there’s work to do, and you’re not just here for matters of love.

Lexi calls you just as you’re about to tug on your shoes. “Heya,” she cheerily says, her smile evident in her voice. “You up yet?”

A small scoff leaves your lips as you press your phone to your shoulder with your cheek, using both hands to tie your shoe. “Bold of you to assume I wasn’t up before my alarm.”

“Ugh, of course you were.” she fakes disgust. “Anyway, Eliza asked to meet her in the foyer so just come down when you’re ready. And manifest that you run into Lando in the elevator.”

You roll your eyes, playfully, even though she can’t see it. “I’ll manifest that I won’t. Bye.”

Down in the foyer, Eliza gives you a brief rundown of your tasks for the weekend. Lexi’s ones are obviously more complicated than yours, but you feel intimidated by the amount of work you’ve been given.

You have to upload pictures from Lexi’s SD cards to your laptop, edit them and get them ready to post as soon as they’re done, as well as email them all back to Eliza and snap pictures whenever you can (Eliza said you could keep those to yourself, as she’s not convinced you’re as good as you let on.)

Lexi gives you a look and you read it as “she's such a bitch”. To which you can’t help but agree.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The paddock is as busy as you’d imagined.

The buzzing of people trying to get to wherever they were going made your head spin but it felt so great at the same time. You’ve dreamed of an opportunity to be at such a large event, more so as a guest and not staff, but this’ll do for now.

Your eyes scan the crowd of people as you’re walking towards the garage and you can see everyone, except the one person you’re looking for.

As if on cue, you feel two hands on your shoulders. “Looking for me?” The curly haired man can’t help but point and laugh at the way you gasp and clutch your chest.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that, Lando,” he shields his head as you gently slap at his arm. “And, no, I wasn’t. I was admiring the scenery.”

“Scenery, right…” He takes a look ahead, seeing nothing but the back of heads. “Beautiful, Italian heads, truly a sight to see.”

“Why aren’t you in your car? I thought you’d be out on the track by now.” You looked up at him, noticing how tightly the race suit hugged his neck, making his adams apple pop even more.

He swallows and you watch as it rises and falls, mesmerising you. “There was some trouble with it, but it should be fixed before quali,” he explained. “I just popped down to my driver room for a quick break from the people.”

“Break from the people or to stalk me?”

Lando clicks his tongue. “Ah, fuck, you figured me out again.” He watches as you try to hide your smile behind an eye roll. “I’ll get going before they start to miss me. See you later.”

The man sends a wink your way before he disappears into the crowd of beautiful, Italian heads.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

It was infuriating, really.

Lando wasn’t a jealous person. He didn’t think of himself as such, anyway, nor did he notice ever feeling that sharp pang of slight hurt before. All it took was to see you and Daniel talking for him to finally experience it sharp enough that he’ll remember.

It’s been about twenty minutes of you giggling at the Australian man’s jokes, him flashing you a smile as often as he breathed. Lando rolled his eyes for the millionth time. Daniel wasn’t really that funny, so there was no reason for you to be smiling at him so much.

It should be Lando you’re giggling at.

And he knows he could just walk up there, insert himself into your conversation, but what good would that do? He only just got you to go on a date with him and him being jealous would only hinder the chances of it actually happening.

Even though he knows it will. You were so excited about it on text that Lando was sure you wouldn’t miss it. He even got to pick out your outfit, as he swore not to tell you a thing about the place you’ll be meeting him.

Still, the worry of some unfunny, poor driving racer like Daniel taking you away from Lando lingered.

“You alright, mate?” One of the engineers in the garage nudged Lando’s shoulder and the Brit swiftly nodded, eyes still glued to the way your face lit up at another one of Daniel’s remarks. Stupid.

“I’m trying to focus up for quali. Is the car good to go?” He finally peeled his eyes away from the sickening scene in front of him to look at the engineer.

“Yeah, it wasn’t wrecked too badly so we’re only doing some final checks. Should be good to go in an hour.”

Lando nodded, turning his eyes back to you again. This time he failed to hide the scowl forming on his face— Daniel’s hand was on your bicep as he pointed towards the track, evidently explaining something.

You can show her without touching her, dumbass. Lando thought, eyebrows set so low on his face that they might as well be a moustache.

It was stupid to even think in such a way, as you were nothing but friends. For now. Lando knew you’d be a tough shell to crack but he feels it in his guts that you’ll, one day, be his.

He’s been enamored by you ever since meeting you. The way your dress sat on your body, perfectly fitting in all the right places; the way your hair laid against your back and shoulders, waves so deep he was ready to drown in them. Lando was never one to fall for one so quickly, but with you it felt just right.

And when you invited him home, fuck was he done for. He couldn’t have ever imagined the sounds that escaped your mouth when his hands dipped beneath your panties or the way you’d look rolling your hips against his, lips parted and, oh, so inviting.

One night stands were his usual routine. It was easy— he’d meet a girl, fuck her, she’d be on the same page as him and they’d never talk again. But with you, he changed his opinion quickly. Just after that one night he spent with you, he couldn’t bear to even think of another woman.

Lando was one lucky bastard that he worked for the same company you had interned for. Fortunately for the Brit, life put you two in each other's path when you were so clear about not wanting to see him again. He took it as a sign to make you his, no matter what it takes.

He never expected you to reject him that much, though. At one point, Lando was beginning to lose hope and feared that it was just a waste of his energy to even try and get close with you. That was until he caught Lexi in the elevator, a few hours after you had gone home for the day.

The girl, who was more like a friend to Lando than a coworker, told him how you didn’t actually dislike him. Of course, he took that as a huge ego boost and it only heightened his confidence that you were into him, too. Maybe not as much as he’s into you, but it’s enough for him to try and make it work.

He just never expected to fall in love with you so quickly and only realise it when you were talking to an ex-teammate of his.

So, maybe it was justified for Lando to feel jealous. Afterall, it’s not everyday he falls in love with a girl from the bar.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Max: I’m sure she’ll be there, mate.

Lando glances at the message that flashes across his screen, hoping it’s from you, but he’s quite disappointed to see that it’s from his best friend. It’s been ten minutes since Lando arrived at the restaurant, and although the time you agreed to meet was in five minutes, he can’t shake the feeling of something being wrong.

Though he’s sure you’re just navigating your way through the city. Lando understands the struggle, he was just the same when he first visited. But now, after coming here for six years, he feels like he knows his way around the place.

Lando can only imagine how cute you are when confused— eyes reading Google Maps from your phone as you bite down your bottom lip, slightly puffing them like you usually do when focusing. If he’s being honest, Lando has stared at you for long enough to notice the small habits, and pick up on them, too.

For example, you tap your fingers against any surface whenever you’re even the tiniest bit anxious. You also bounce your knee and do this thing with your eyebrows that Lando can’t get enough of. There’s so much to you that he hasn’t even learnt about yet, and it only makes him that much more excited to get to know you further.

Lando catches himself bouncing his knee and tapping the table when the twenty minute mark rolls around.

It’s been twenty minutes since you agreed to meet up at the restaurant that Lando set a special reservation for, in a secluded area hidden from the public eye. That’s the reason he didn’t just pick you up from the hotel. Sure, it’d be the gentlemanly thing to do but neither of you wanted the news of your blossoming romance to hit the headlines just yet.

“Would you like to order anything while you wait, sir?” A waiter asks, notebook and pen ready to write as he expectedly tilts his head to the side. Lando glances over at him, catching a glimpse of someone who looks like you, in the far distance.

It takes him less than three seconds to notice how the girl's hair isn’t as long as yours, how the shade of her skin is just a tad off from yours and how her face, even from so far away, resembles nothing of the features he had grown to adore.

He glances back at the waiter. “Uh, no, thank you. My date will be here soon.”

The waiter nods and scurries off to another table, leaving Lando in the company of none other than himself, the candlelight and the bouquet of flowers he had left on the chair opposite of him. It was a bouquet of red roses. You had mentioned those being your favourite briefly during your conversation at the bar, and Lando couldn’t help himself and bought the biggest bouquet he could find.

One hundred and fifty roses is enough, he reckons. Or not. Surely not. You deserve way more than measly roses, wrapped in a beige paper that made Lando feel uneasy the more he looked at it. It was either that or the fact that it’s been forty five minutes since he last checked the time.

It’s been an hour and you haven’t shown up.

Lando’s not one to get mad easily. Hell, he’s never actually been mad at you nor could he ever be. What he was feeling was a lot closer to betrayal than anger.

First it was you getting cozy with Daniel— sitting on two chairs in the McLaren garage, knees touching and laughs echoing so loud it made Lando’s head hurt— and now this.

He could think of a million reasons as to why you didn’t show up, but the fact is that you stood him up, and that’s not something he’s sure he can easily forgive.

The waiter rounds Lando’s table again, only to find some cash to pay for the champagne he had ordered and the sad bouquet of roses sat on the chair.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Time management isn’t really that hard when you think about it.

You had always struggled with doing your tasks on time, whether it be homework, university assignments or work related matters— it seemed impossible for you to get shit done on time. You were notoriously known as being late for everything, all the time.

Friday evening seemed to prove you different. You had managed to edit, compile and send out the photographs from both practice sessions before nine p.m., as well as edit your own photographs and review them with Lexi until eleven, meaning that you actually managed to go to sleep on time.

Which meant that you’re at the paddock bright and early, helping Lexi prepare the cameras and other knick-knacks that you weren’t paying much attention to. Your brunette coworker nudged your shoulder, head nodding towards a particular curly-haired racer that just stepped into the area. You couldn’t deny that the race suit made him look particularly attractive, so you took your time to soak it all in.

He happened to be walking towards the two of you and when he was close enough, both of you smiled and said, “hi, Lando!”

The man nodded at Lexi, eyes not darting to stare at you like they usually would. “Have you got the pictures ready? I want to post some to my Instagram, if that’s okay.”

Lando knows that it’s you who edits the pictures, compiles and sends them out. He got the email an hour after making it back to his hotel after you stood him up. Yet he had no intention to even speak to you, when you made it so clear that humiliating him was your priority.

“Uhm, yeah. Y/N should’ve sent you the email, did she not?” Lexi tilts her head to the side, watching the man make no effort to answer her, so she turns to you. “Did you not?”

“I did, I made sure to send that one first.” You explained, so incredibly confused by why Lando was acting this way. “You should double-check your email, Lan.”

“I’ll see you around, Lex.” Is all he says before making his way across the garage and towards the Ferrari one, possibly to talk to Carlos. Lando introduced you two the evening prior and you noticed how close the two were, finding it sweet how many people Lando was friends with across the grid.

Lexi turns her eyes back to you, eyebrows knitted together and face contorted into a confused grimace. “What was that about?”

Your eyes still expectedly look towards where Lando walked off to. “It’s like I wasn’t even here.”

For the next few hours, you try your best to trace back your steps and figure out what the hell you had done to make Lando so rude to you. The only thing you’d understand is maybe not texting him last night to check in, but he knows you were busy and you made sure to tell him multiple times that you couldn’t come hang out. Still, that doesn’t seem like something he’d mind.

“Earth to Y/N?” Daniel waves his hand in front of you.

You suddenly zone back into reality and notice the aussie next to you. “Oh, sorry. Hi, Daniel.”

“Heya, you okay? You’ve been staring at him for a while now,” he laughs, teasing you about your little crush on Lando. You regret telling him all about it yesterday and just roll your eyes.

“I don’t know.” You answer, honestly. “He’s acting like I don’t exist, but at the same time he’s acknowledging me because he covers his face every time he notices my camera focusing on him, and this morning he just fully ignored me in front of Lexi.”

“Okay, let’s calm down.” He places a reassuring arm on your back. Lando, of course, notices and the scowl on his face deepens. “I could go talk to him, maybe something personal happened. You never know.”

Daniel watches as you nod and then lets go of you, swiftly walking towards the McLaren driver standing at the pitwall. He approaches Lando carefully, trying his best not to upset his ex-teammate further. “Hey, Lando. How’s it going?”

Lando glances at Daniel with a look that would’ve killed you if you were in the aussie’s place. “Fine.”

“Oookay…” Daniel pulls his lips into a tight line. “I, uh, noticed the new intern you’ve got.”

“Noticed.” Lando scoffs. “You’ve been eye-fucking her since yesterday.”

“What?”

The Brit waves a hand in the air. “Nothing. Did she send you to speak to me?”

You anxiously watch the two men speak, noticing how alarmed Daniel looks and how Lando hasn’t stopped frowning since morning. That cannot be good for his wrinkles. Daniel says a few more things, his face changing to the exact same frown as you see on Lando’s face.

When the aussie comes back, you open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off. “Do you travel a lot?”

The question takes you aback. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll take that as a no,” he continues. “What day do you think it is today?”

“Uh,” you shrug. “Saturday? I don’t-”

“Yesterday was Saturday, Y/N.” Just as the words leave Daniel’s lips, you feel your heart drop to your heels. The realisation of what you did hits you as soon as the aussie says it. “You stood him up.”

Your eyes instantly flicker towards Lando, who’s looking at you with nothing but hurt on his face. Fuck.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Lando did not feel like talking to anyone after the race. Sure, he won it, but it didn’t feel much like a win without you there to celebrate. So when Lexi told him there’d be a meeting, he scoffed and got off the couch in his driver's room. He made his way through the building, shoulders slumped and eyes focused on his phone.

Last thing he needed right now was some bullshit meeting about you.

Lexi told him she needed to talk to him, fill out some documents about your internship and she needed him to write a review of how it’s been working with you. To Lando, it sounded like a load of crap but he had nothing better to do, and maybe he could write a review so bad that you don’t get to work with him anymore.

“I don’t have all day,” Lando’s voice echoes in the mostly empty room, the only company in the small space being… you. He rolls his eyes, “Where’s Lexi? I’ve a meeting with her.”

“I have a meeting with her.” You furrow your brows, evidently confused and slightly petrified of the tone in his voice. It’s only been a day so you don’t expect him to have forgiven you, but he could at least stop acting like he cared enough about you to be upset for so long.

It didn’t seem like a big deal to you that you missed the date, because you thought it was just Lando’s way to get into your pants again. You weren’t opposed to it, but for him to get so upset about not getting to fuck you on Saturday seems a little extensive.

Lando takes a seat at the table, not sparing another word to you until the door opens again and in comes Lexi.

“Oh, good! Both of you are here.” The two of you glance at her, confused by what she’s up to. She picks up the keys for the room from the table and steps back out, only peeping her head in to say, “I’ll be locking you two in here so figure out whatever the hell is wrong before I do it for you. And please don’t break anything.”

“What, Lex-“ Lando stands up to try and reason with the woman, but the door is already locked. He runs a hand over his face and groans. “Fucking hell.”

You sit in silence, eyes following his figure. From the way he stands, you can see the way his McLaren uniform hugs his shoulders and how his hair has grown a little more– since the last time you remembered seeing it– into a sort of mullet.

The man sits back down, turning his chair away from you so he doesn’t have to bear seeing you looking at him dumbfounded again. It’s taking everything in him not to rip that door off its hinges and leave the room.

“Lando,” you speak first, breaking the silence you were sure would last forever with no intervention. You test the water by just saying his name and when he doesn’t answer, you roll your eyes, “don’t you think this is a little silly?”

That’s what gets him to turn around. “What?”

“This,” you wave a hand over him. “Your whole i’m so angry i didn’t get laid act. It’s stupid.”

Lando’s speechless. There’s no way you think that low of him, right? Surely you’d assume he was even a little genuine when planning a date with you. He’s not even sure what to say to that, all he feels like doing is going back to his hotel room and forgetting everything that just happened.

Instead, he’s stuck in this room with you for an unknown amount of time and god knows what else you think of him that you’d find fitting to say. Lando chooses to find comfort in staring at the wall, since the data here is as shit as his mood. He can feel your eyes boring into him and he’s not sure if he likes it anymore– usually, he’d do anything to get your attention. Now that you’ve expressed that you see him as some sort of whore, he’s not so fond of it.

“It’s not an act.” Lando mumbles after a prolonged silence. Your eyes shoot up to his green ones and the sheer sight of his face sends shivers of anger, or maybe irony, down your spine.

There’s no other reason as for why he’d be so upset about you missing the date. You’ve seen your fair share of pussy-hungry men, Lando among them, and his reaction really isn’t anything short of fitting. But you at least expected some understanding from him, as you both work at the same place and he knows your schedule as well as his own.

You admit, what you did was fucked up. But would you undo it if you could? The answer is: highly unlikely. Knowing his current reaction, you regret even letting him buy you a drink, let alone allowing him into your home.

After another moment of silence, you sigh and look back at him. “Look, Lando. I know a quick fuck is always fun, but-”

“Quick fuck?” He asks, disbelief staining even the most subtle tones in his voice. “Is that what you think I want from you?”

“Is it not?” You seethed in frustration. “If it’s not, then why the hell have you been so rude to me recently? What have I done that’s so terrible? I know I stood you up, and I apologise, but if it’s not about a quick fuck, then what is it?”

Lando feels his heart beating in his chest so hard that it might leap out of his ribcage and into your hands, and you’d finally realise that the beating of his heart resembles the subtle soundwaves of your laughter. Maybe you’d realise something he hasn’t quite been able to accept yet.

It’s another beat of silence with Lando’s eyes down at the ground, a look of something you couldn’t quite read plastered on his face, and you glaring at him with fire behind your pupils.

“See? You have nothing to say, because it’s true.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not some random chick you can pick up and play with whenever you so please, Lando. I have feelings and priorities, and a job that I really fucking-”

“I love you.”

“-love, wait what?” You glanced at Lando, thoughts suddenly jumbled by what he had said.

A veiny hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, either to hide his embarrassment or out of frustration. “I don’t know how it happened, but all I know is that every fucking day, I wake up and I’m checking my phone in hopes of seeing your name.” He decides to look out the window when he finally removes his fingers from his eyes, trying his best to ignore how intently your eyes are burning into him. “It feels pathetic to admit that I’ve caught feelings, especially since you see me as a heartless prick who fucks and dumps girls regularly.”

A sarcastic chuckle leaves his lips and you feel your whole body run cold.

You watch his chest rise and fall, a vein in his neck growing more evident as his heartbeat quickens. “It’s never been about the sex, Y/N. I’ve wanted you since the second I laid my eyes on you. Is it that hard to try and imagine that I’d actually feel something for you?” Your heart drops when he finally turns to you. The rage in his eyes can’t compare to the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Lando hears the door lock click but it stays closed, and he takes it as a sign to finally leave. You rise to follow him and when he’s at the door, he harshly turns to you. “Don’t bother. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

#lando norris #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #daniel ricciardo #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando smut #lando fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n

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shyniisparkles · 2 years ago

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Traditional Bathroom - Bathroom

#Inspiration for a large timeless kids' beige tile and ceramic tile travertine floor and beige floor claw-foot bathtub remodel with raised-pa #beige walls #an undermount sink #beige cabinets #granite countertops and white countertops architectural details #crown molding #custom built homes #bathroom design ideas #claw-foot tub #girls bathroom

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arthistoryanimalia · 2 years ago

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For #MosaicMonday:

Another one of the 420 original 1906 Moravian tile mosaics by Henry Chapman Mercer on the Pennsylvania Capitol floor, many featuring PA animals: #98 bat!

Reminds me of another smiley bat friend… 🙂🦇

(The British Library Harley MS 3244, folio 55v)

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porraelmo · 2 years ago

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Dining Kitchen in Philadelphia

#Photo of a sizable eat-in transitional kitchen with a farmhouse sink #raised-panel cabinets #medium tone wood cabinets #quartzite countertops #gray backsplash #subway tile backsplash #stainless steel appliances #two islands #and light wood floor and beige floor. kitchen remodel #exton pa #chester county kitchen and bath #fieldstone cabinetry #chef #quartzite

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hometoursandotherstuff · 15 days ago

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What a bargain! Here's a 1926 Craftsman in Pittsburgh, PA with 3bds, 1ba, 2,019 sq ft for $225k. Look at how nice it is.

Enter a large sun porch with an open archway to the living room.

The wood in this home is beautiful and look at the stained glass windows. Cozy fireplace, too.

Lovely big dining room.

Gated sun room with access to a patio. Beautiful leaded glass windows.

The kitchen was upgraded and still retains the vintage look with the original tiles. I would put an exhaust hood over the stove, though.

Off the kitchen there's a small sun porch with leaded glass windows.

The original stair railing has a newel post with a bronze statue. And, look at the beautiful stained glass window.

Nice large bedroom.

The updated bath has vintage tile.

The primary bedroom has beautiful wood paneling and a window seat.

All 3 bedrooms are huge.

The attic has lots of potential. It even has a sink.

Nice clean basement.

Around the back there's a driveway and a small yard.

3,332 sq ft lot

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2157-Fairland-St-Pittsburgh-PA-15210/11647709_zpid/

#craftsman homes #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour #homes under $250k

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hungermakesmonsters · 22 days ago

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The Red Ribbon

Chapter Four

Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it..

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour and puke mentions. All chapters will deal with smutty themes and include mentions/suggestions of sex work/work at a gentlemen's club (don't like, don't read). Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 7.6k

A/N : and here it is, the end... or is it? (yes, yes it is, no more cliffhangers, honest)

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

Master List

Chapter Four

It all happened faster than you could think. You moved with a speed you never knew that you possessed, pushing him away with a strength that, in the moment, felt superhuman.

You heard the startled oof as he hit the floor, but you were already halfway to the door before he found his voice and managed to call after you, demanding that you wait, that you stop.

You didn’t stop.

You couldn’t stop.

You felt sick and you needed to get out, your hands desperately pulled your clothes and mask back into place as you tumbled through the door. Turning, you slammed into the solid shape of Rocky and felt his hands on your arms. Concern painted his face as you looked up at him.

“You okay? What happened? Did he try somethin’?”

You shook your head, lifting your hand to cover your mouth as the churning in your stomach got worse.

“No, I - I feel - I’m gonna be sick...” was all you managed.

Rocky released his hold on you and let you stagger away, rushing back to the safety of the locker room, knowing that Billy wouldn’t be able to get to you in there. You crashed into a bathroom stall, ignoring the pain as your knees hit the cold tiles and you started to wretch, tears spilling from your eyes as you emptied your stomach.

Awkward sobs started to slip out as you gripped the toilet bowl for dear life, knowing that your whole life was in ruins.

You weren’t sure how much time passed but, eventually, you felt a hand on your back. Turning, your bleary eyes fixed on Val, who no doubt wanted to know why you’d just run out on a customer like the room was on fire. Her fingers slipped the mask from your face and she cupped your cheek for a second before pressing the back of her hand to your forehead.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve caught whatever Tomasina had last week,” she said before pulling back from you and offering you a bottle of water.

“I - I don’t know, maybe it was just something I ate,” you answered weakly.

Val’s gaze shifted from you to the toilet. “It doesn’t look like you ate all that much.”

You weren’t sure why, but her concern just made you feel worse. It didn’t feel like you deserved concern or compassion after what you’d done.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shame filling your voice.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Walking out on a customer,” you answered before forcing yourself to take a small drink and instantly regretting it when your stomach started to turn again.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s been taken care of.”

You didn’t know what that meant, and you didn’t dare ask. You were just glad that she wasn’t angry with you - that had to mean that Billy hadn’t told her anything.

“Is he... still here?”

“No, he left - though he did ask me to tell you that he hopes you feel better soon.”

Silence fell as you tried to process it.

Of course he hadn’t said anything to Val - he was probably too embarrassed, too humiliated to tell anyone. No, he was probably saving his ire for the next time he saw you, tomorrow morning at Anvil.

Your head turned back to the toilet bowl at the thought, but you managed to keep yourself from throwing up again with some deep, calming breaths.

“I’m going to call you a taxi to take you home, but you’re gonna need to take a few days to get over whatever this is before you come back, okay? I can’t have anyone else catching it and needing to call out sick. I’m not running a plague ship,” Val said, offering you her hand.

At any other time you might have objected, knowing just how much you needed the money, but you stayed silent. Staying away was for the best, it’d give you some time to deal with what had happened and time to look for a new day job.

Your legs shook and protested as you got to your feet, grabbing some paper to wipe your mouth before flushing the toilet.

Getting changed back into your clothes and leaving The Red Ribbon was something of a blur; Rocky insisted on escorting you in the elevator and seeing you to the back of a waiting taxi, all the while telling you to call him if you needed anything.

It wasn’t long before you were staggering awkwardly up the steps to your apartment, feeling ready to drop at any second. It was a miracle that you managed to stay on your feet long enough to reach the mattress on the floor that served as your bed.

You dropped, silently telling yourself that you’d shower and change into your pyjamas after you’d rested your eyes for a few minutes. But once you were down, you found that you couldn’t bring yourself to move. It all just seemed pointless.

And then the tears started.

It got so bad that you weren’t even sure why you were crying; because you were mortified by what had happened? Because you were definitely going to lose your job at Anvil? Because he was going to yell the next time he saw you? Or because you’d let yourself feel something and he’d never trust you or let you near him again?

The ache in your chest only got worse as you sobbed through awkward, gasped breaths, until you started to hyperventilate.

At some point, late in the night, you fell asleep.

When your alarm woke you, you felt worse than ever, like your head was stuffed full of cotton wool. You were shivering and uncomfortable, your jeans biting into your waist and the underwire from your bra stabbing you. But it was nothing compared to the pain in your chest, in your heart.

In the cold light of day, you felt worse than ever; for what you’d done and how you’d allowed yourself to feel. It had been careless, stupid, selfish.

Your second alarm started to sound but, for the longest time, you couldn’t even force yourself to move to start your day. And, when you did finally manage to lift yourself off the bed, it was only to reach for your bag and pull out your phone.

You hadn’t bothered to turn it back on since taking it out of your locker last night but, the moment you did, you were inundated with a barrage of missed calls and messages, all from the same contact; Mr Russo.

Answer your phone.

Please.

I just want to know what’s going on.

Please, I just want to talk.

I just want to understand.

Pick up your fucking phone.

There were voicemails too, six of them, but after hearing the first you didn’t have the courage to listen to the rest.

‘Look, can you please just answer your phone? I just want to talk... I - I want to know what the fuck is going on. Why are you doing this? Why did you do any of this? I don’t get it. Just - fuck - please just tell me what this is?’

You couldn’t tell from his tone exactly how he was feeling, but you’d never heard Billy Russo use the word please that many times before. You stopped listening just as the next voicemail started to play, only hearing the rasped word Bunny before ending the call.

All you could think about was that, in forty minutes time, you would be expected at your desk, and - you couldn’t. You couldn’t even think about what would happen if you turned up at Anvil; what Billy would say, what he’d do. There was no way you could face him, even just to hand in your resignation.

Opening your emails, you did the only thing you could;

I quit. Effective immediately.

Addressing it to him and quickly hitting send. You turned your phone off the moment you got confirmation that the email had been sent and threw it across the room, so you couldn’t be tempted to torment yourself with the other voicemails he’d left you.

Then, you practically crawled to the bathroom, feeling sick again, but your stomach was empty and all you ended up doing was sitting on the cold wood floor until you found the strength to get up, brush your teeth and change into comfier clothes.

You knew that you should do something, that you should try to put the pieces of your life back together as quickly as possible, but all you wanted to do was wallow. The cold didn’t help, your tiny apartment feeling more like an ice box than a home. You ended up on the threadbare sofa, wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly at the window as the morning sky grew darker and darker.

It was going to rain - not that it mattered, not that you had anywhere to be. It was all you could bring yourself to think about; the bad weather and the cold. Any time your mind started to drift towards anything else, you felt your chest start tightening and tears welling in your eyes.

You didn’t think twice when the intercom sounded; your neighbours were constantly ordering packages and food, or inviting friends around, but never seemed to be ready or willing to buzz people into the building. More often than not, delivery guys hit all sixteen buttons and hoped to get lucky.

You pushed the button, took a breath and; “hello?”

There was silence and, for a wonderful moment, you dared to hope that whoever it was had already been buzzed into the building.

But then you heard him.

“It’s me.”

Your heart threatened to stop. Of course he knew where you lived, it was on your file at Anvil - you should have thought it a small mercy that he’d left it until the morning to show up, but you were too consumed by panic to see any of it as merciful.

“Let me in. I just want to talk,” he said, tone bordering on demanding, but it felt like he was holding back.

“I quit.” You said. It was the first and only thing to come to mind, and it seemed easier than trying to explain why you didn’t want to let him in.

“I know you did,” he answered, “but I don’t accept your resignation.”

“What?” You asked, your voice coming out so small and quiet that you didn’t even know if he’d heard you.

“Just... let me in,” then after a beat, “please.”

“No. I can’t,” you said, trying not to give away that you were close to tears. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I don’t want to see you, I -”

“Bunny...”

“Please, I’m sorry, just... just leave me alone.”

You clamped a hand over your mouth, desperate to suppress the sob that managed to claw its way from you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said decidedly. “I’ll stay out here as long as it takes.”

You released the intercom button and stepped away from the door, suddenly feeling like a prisoner in your own home. How long would he wait, you idly wondered, how long before he realised that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted?

(But, Billy Russo always got what he wanted. Didn’t he?)

The door buzzed again but, this time, you ignored it. You ignored it for five minutes until, finally, it stopped and you dared to relax for a fraction of a moment before going straight back to worrying about whether he was still out there or not.

Rain started to batter your windows and you felt a cold draught leaking in through the crack in one of the frames and - surely he wasn’t going to wait outside in the wind and rain?

You made yourself a hot drink, eyeing the clock as the minutes ticked by; fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, an hour. And the rain continued to pour and the wind kept howling. He had to have given up, gone back to his office, back to all of the problems that you couldn’t help him fix.

It was over. Done.

And, still, your heart ached with a loss that it didn’t understand. He’d never been yours, and you’d never been his.

A sharp thump on the door had you almost throwing scalding coffee over yourself, and a second had your heart missing a beat. Then came two more knocks, rattling the whole door in the frame. Slowly, cautiously, you crept towards the door and peeked through the peephole.

He was soaked to the bone, his usually perfect hair limply stuck to his forehead, causing rivulets of water to run down his face.

Billy knocked again and you almost jumped out of your skin, stepping back from the door as if you thought he was about to knock the damned thing from its hinges.

He must have heard your gasp, because he spoke seconds later.

“I just want to talk.”

There was an edge to his tone, something you were more than familiar with. He was frustrated, annoyed. Which - of course he was. You’d lied to him, you’d let things go too far. You’d pretended to be someone he could like, someone he could maybe even grow to care about, someone unlike you, the disappointing and useless PA.

“Please, just go away,” you muttered quietly,

When you got no response, you glanced through the peephole again, hoping to find him gone, instead he was leaning against your door, his head hanging forward.

“I’m not going away,” he finally said. “You’ll have to face me eventually.”

You knew that he was right, and the fact that he’d just spent an hour standing outside in a storm was testament to his stubbornness.

Leaning, you pressed your forehead against the door and closed your eyes, and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “For all of it. I never meant for things to get so out of hand.”

“Please open the door,” he said and you could have sworn you heard a tremor in his voice, a shiver.

(He was soaked through, of course he was shivering.)

You knew what you had to do, after all, the whole situation was your fault. As much as you hated it and as scared as you were of him getting angry, he was owed an explanation. You took a few more deep breaths, struggling to find Bunny’s confidence inside of you as your trembling fingers reached for the deadbolt, then the chain and, finally, the lock.

You pulled the door open slowly, looking anywhere but at Billy as he stepped into your apartment.

Once he was inside, you retreated halfway across the living room, casting him an uncomfortable look that caused him to wince. His coat was dripping all over the floor, but it seemed to be the least of his concerns, his full attention fixed on you.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, trying to figure out how to even explain what had happened.

“Did you know it was me from the start?” He asked. “Was it all just some trick? Some sick joke?”

Your stomach knotted, hating that he could think you’d be that malicious even for a second. But you didn’t blame him for jumping to that conclusion, not after everything he’d told you last night about his business partner betraying his trust.

“N-no, it wasn’t anything like that. I didn’t realise who you were until I saw you at the Rockefeller Center, at the ice rink...” your eyes dropped to his feet, to the wet growing patch in the carpet. “Why did you go looking for me?”

It was his turn to hesitate and struggle for an answer.

“I wanted to find you, I wanted -”

“I told you it couldn’t last,” you interrupted, finally managing to find a shred of Bunny’s confidence. “I asked you not to ruin it.”

“You said it wouldn’t last because I’d get bored and move on. I wouldn’t have.”

That... that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say.

“If you knew who I was last night, why didn’t you say something?” He continued. “Why let it go so far? What did you have to gain from not telling me?”

“I - I don’t know!” Your voice broke and you tried to blink back the tears that threatened to fall. “I was going to tell you but then you showed up and you were so upset and I just wanted to make you feel better -”

“Make me feel better by letting me think I was about to fuck someone else?”

There it was. Someone else. Not you. Because Billy Russo would never choose someone like you.

“Right, because that’s all it really comes down to, isn’t it? You’d be perfectly happy right now if you hadn’t found out. You’d be happy if you could imagine it was literally anyone but me, right?” You said, anger and resentment slipping into your tone. “Well you weren’t the only one who was disappointed. Have you got any idea what it felt like to find out that the guy who was so sweet and kind to me when he couldn’t see my face, was actually the asshole who goes out of his way to make me feel like shit at every opportunity?”

Billy was silent, taken aback by your outburst.

“I never...” he tried, but seemed at a loss for words.

“Every day, for months, you’ve yelled at me for fucking up - and I wouldn’t even fuck up so much in the first place if you didn’t treat me like shit, if you didn’t constantly make me feel like fucking up is all I’m capable of,” you continued, finally finding that spark of Bunny inside you and grasping it tight with both hands. “You wanted to know why I changed my limits? You. You’re why. You’ve constantly made me feel like you were going to fire me and you have no idea how much I needed the money I was making from Anvil.”

You saw him look around, finally getting a good look at your apartment, at the way you lived, and you could tell he had questions. The money you made at Anvil alone was more than enough to see you living somewhere nicer, and the money from The Red Ribbon should have had you living more than comfortably.

“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I don’t know why I didn’t stop you last night -” you shook your head, “- maybe for a minute I dared to let myself believe that you really were nice and sweet, and that you could want someone like me...”

You finally fell silent, your confidence slipping away again.

This time the silence lingered for thirty long seconds, and when you managed to bring yourself to look at him again, you found his face was an unreadable mask.

“You’re right,” he said.

Infuriatingly, he didn’t tell you which part you were right about straight away. You remained quiet, forcing him to be the one to fill the silence.

“You’re right,” he said again, a tremor in his voice as he shivered. “I haven’t treated you well, and I’m sorry. I’ve been under so much pressure the last few months that I - I don’t think I really even realised I was doing it. But that’s no excuse, I should never have taken my problems out on you.”

He let silence fill the space between you again, and when you looked at him, you could see the genuine struggle on his face.

“I never wanted to be like that with anyone,” he confessed as he continued. “That was why I kept coming back to you - why I wanted to find you - because when I was with you and I could pretend that none of my problems existed, I was happy.”

The wind outside grew stronger, howling and shaking the windows as thunder sounded in the distance.

“I know it wasn’t real,” resignation filled his tone, “but I - I wanted it to be. I wanted to be that version of me without the mask... with you...”

You sniffled awkwardly, still barely holding the tears at bay.

“But it wasn’t me that you wanted. It was Bunny,” you said, your voice becoming little more than a low mutter.

“I think that some part of you is Bunny,” said Billy, almost managing to force a smile. “Just like some part of me is the guy who was nice to you.”

Oh, how you longed to believe him.

“I think we could be those people... if we gave each other a chance...”

Your heart seemed to come to a complete stop in your chest and the room became so quiet and still that you could hear every shivering breath that he took.

“What?” You asked in barely little more than a whisper.

“I want to know what we could be like out in the real world, with no masks to hide behind.”

It was an uncomfortable confession and, if you didn’t know him better, you might have thought that he was scared of voicing it. But, surely not. Right? Surely he didn’t mean what you thought he meant.

“I thought...” you trailed off for a few seconds in confusion. “I thought you were angry at me.”

Wasn’t that why he was there, because he thought you’d been playing some cruel joke, because he thought you’d tried to trick him?

“I was... to begin with,” he said, shrugging. “After you ran out, when you wouldn’t answer my calls, but this morning, I was at the office, waiting for you to come in... I was thinking about firing you, I had your personnel file in my hand...”

He took another awkward pause and just... stared at you, confused, like you were some complex puzzle that he couldn’t understand.

“And, I realised that, if I fired you, I’d never see you again. That I’d lose you and Bunny forever, and I couldn’t go through with it. When I got your email and I knew I needed to see you, I knew I needed to do something. I needed to get you back.”

You shook your head at the sheer insanity of it all. Billy dared to take a step forward when he saw the gesture, an almost pleading expression on his face.

“This isn’t how I should’ve gotten to know you - I know I’m doing everything backwards here, but all I’m asking for is one chance.”

He was trying. He was trying far more than you ever expect him to. More than that, it felt like he was fighting for you and... you hadn’t had anyone fight for you in a really long time. But, still -

“It’s not me you want,” you said, deflating a little at the thought, hating that you couldn’t be what he wanted you to be. “I’m not like Bunny.”

Billy laughed.

For some reason that was so beyond your comprehension, he actually laughed.

“You realise you just called me an asshole, right? You told me exactly how you felt, and you didn’t back down. You made me stand outside in the freezing rain for over an hour - I think you’re more like Bunny than you realise,” he said, taking another step. “But you don’t have to be. I don’t want to know some pretend version of you. I want to get to know the real you. That’s why I went to the ice rink.” He hesitated, swallowing awkwardly. “And I want you to know the real me.”

“Billy,” you said, and it felt strange to call him that - Billy and not Mr Russo. “What are you even suggesting?”

“I - I don’t know. Come back to work at Anvil - or don’t. Let me take you out for dinner. Or let me see you again at the club. We can put the masks back on, you can pretend that you don’t know it’s me, that -”

“We can’t do that.”

You couldn’t, could you? You hadn’t even been able to pretend that it wasn’t him last night when you’d almost let him fuck you. But the other things?

“Why not?” He asked.

The million dollar question.

“Because you’re... you, and I’m just... me.”

Million dollar question meet bargain bin answer. You knew how stupid it sounded the moment it left your lips but, really, was it any more ridiculous than the rest of the conversation?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Billy asked, finally taking a moment to brush his wet hair back, away from his forehead.

“I’m not good at... this. I’m not good with people,” you quickly continued when you noticed he was about to interrupt. “With Bunny it’s different. I have a safety net. I have a two hundred and fifty pound security guard to keep me safe and a manager who vets every single person she lets through the door, out in the real world I’m...”

You trailed off into a telling silence, letting your gaze drop to the floor.

“Who hurt you?” He asked, barely containing the spike of anger in his voice.

The last thing you wanted to do was tell him some sob story and have him feel sorry for you but, after all the lies, it felt like you at least owed him some honesty.

“My ex - not physically, and he wasn’t really bad to me but,” you let out a heavy sigh and found his dark eyes staring intently at you, “he made me cosign on a couple of loans and then he walked out...”

“What?” He didn’t even try to hide the anger.

“That’s why I need two jobs - and I can still barely keep my head above water.” You said, forcing another shrug. “I’m a mess. My whole life is a mess, and the last guy I trusted -”

“I’d never hurt you like that.”

And, some part of you was more than willing to believe him. In the time it took you to almost formulate a response, Billy had closed the distance between you, coming to stand in front of you.

“You don’t even like me,” you said softly.

Billy reached for you slowly, giving you ample chance to pull away before gently cupping your cheek with his cold hand.

“Yesterday, you brought me coffee and you asked if things were alright,” he said simply. “I’d been an asshole to you, and you still cared enough to ask. As Bunny, you asked me if I was sleeping enough and you got me to spend my birthday with my friends, and for the first time in years, I actually enjoyed my birthday. You didn’t have to do any of that, but you did because you’re a good person.”

You stared at him, completely lost for words, trying to understand how the bar was so low for him that you doing the bare minimum had had such an impact on him. But, then, you remembered the little things he’d said, that he’d given away; people only wanting him for his money, his mother abandoning him, one of the few people he’d ever trusted betraying him.

You’d given him something so simple, something so few people had bothered to give.

“Maybe better than I deserve,” he continued, his thumb tenderly brushing your cheek, “but, if you’ll let me, I want to try to be worthy of someone like you because I do like you.”

“How?” You dared to ask, some part of you wanting to believe that what he was saying was real.

“We could go back to the start, take things slowly, get to really know each other,” he offered, fiercely clinging to the shred of hope that you’d offered him. “Anything you want. I just want a chance to see if this could be something.”

“No,” you said. “I don’t want to go back to the start.”

The corners of his lips dropped and he looked at you as if you’d just driven a knife into his chest, his face paling as he felt the pain caused by your refusal so acutely. His hand dropped from your cheek. You’d never seen him look so defeated.

It was unbearable.

You moved suddenly and without hesitation, surging forwards to tenderly press your lips to his in a kiss that was reminiscent of your first night together at The Red Ribbon. Billy tensed in confusion but quickly pressed his hand to your cheek again.

He was frowning when you pulled back, obviously not understanding what you were clumsily trying to tell him.

“Don’t want to go back to the start,” you muttered, trying to explain yourself. “I want to start here, right now.”

Your own hand moved, pressing to his chest over the damp fabric of his shirt, feeling the way his heart was pounding. For you. His heart was racing, hammering against his ribs, and it was all for you.

Billy let out a sigh, an awkward and relieved sound that sent a shiver down your spine. You lost yourself in his eyes as he stepped closer, closing the last little bit of space between you and wrapped an arm around you.

Then his lips were on yours again, his tongue running along the seam of your mouth. The kiss quickly became more passionate, more eager, until you felt the damp from his coat sleeve starting to soak through the back of your sweater.

You squirmed, smiling against his lips as you clumsily pushed his coat off his shoulders.

“You’re soaking wet,” you murmured against his lips.

“That’s my line,” he answered back, letting his coat fall to the floor.

You couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of you, pressing your face to his chest to hide your embarrassment.

“I knew you were trouble the moment I laid eyes on you,” you said between gasps of laughter.

His arm tightened around you, like he couldn’t even fathom ever letting you go again. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you all but melted against him. But it wasn’t long before you realised you needed to do something about his wet shirt too. So, slowly, almost cautiously, you started to unbutton it.

You were almost methodical in the way that you opened his shirt and ran your fingers over the exposed expanse of his chest. Billy stood silently, watching you as mapped every inch of cold skin with your eyes and fingertips, stopping and paying particular attention to each scar you found. You had to remind yourself that he had been a Marine, and that every mark was something that he had survived.

When he shrugged off the wet shirt, your fingers traced a silvery scar on his shoulder - it looked older than the others. Much older, something from his childhood. Your eyes caught Billy’s for a moment, and he simply shook his head.

“It’s okay,” he said as if reading your mind. “I’m okay now.”

Maybe one day he’d tell you about the scar, and all the others but, at that moment, it wasn’t important. The past wasn’t important, just the here and now.

Still, you leaned closer and pressed your lips to the scar, and his arm wrapped around you again. You were content to pepper light kisses along his shoulder and up his neck until you felt him shiver against you.

“Come on,” you said softly, running your fingers down his arm and taking his hand in yours, “let’s get you warmed up.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Billy followed as you led, pulling him towards your bedroom but, about halfway, you ended up pressed against him again, kissing him, unable to stop yourself. You found your back pressed to the wall right beside the bedroom door, his hands pulling off your sweater.

“Now we’re even,” he said, smiling against your lips.

Playfully, you shook your head and quickly started to undo his belt and pants, forcing him to awkwardly kick them off, along with his shoes. Then you were moving again, pulling him into the room and towards bed.

He caught the flicker of embarrassment on your face at the mattress on the floor, at the mostly empty room, at the whole sorry state of your life, and he quickly kissed you again, silencing every terrible thought in your head.

“If you think I care about anything other than getting you naked right now, you’re sorely mistaken,” he muttered, before delivering a playful nip to your bottom lip.

“Oh, you want me naked, do you?” You answered back.

“I do.”

“And, I suppose you’re the sort of man who always has to get what he wants, aren’t you?”

“You’re learning quickly, Bunny.”

He didn’t give you the chance to answer back and continue your little game, his lips covered yours again and his fingers started to push your loose fitting sweatpants down your legs. You stepped out of them as he continued to walk you backwards, towards the mattress that served as your bed until you felt it at your heels.

The next thing you knew, you were on your back beneath Billy, his body pressing you down into the mattress, your legs tangled with his.

Fingertips raked down his back, following the ridges of his spine as you pulled him closer, losing yourself under the weight of him and the want that had been building in you over the last week and a half, You wanted to suffocate on his lips while you were crushed beneath him, you wanted and wanted and wanted.

When he pulled from the kiss, gasping for breath, your lips chased his, not wanting even a second of reprieve from him. And, the way he looked down at you, his dark eyes turning incredibly soft, was almost enough to make your heart stop beating.

“You’re perfect,” he said softly, shaking his head, confused. “How have you been in front of me all of this time but I’ve only just noticed?”

“I seem to remember you noticing my ass pretty quickly.”

Billy laughed and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, a tender gesture that made you melt inside.

“I’ve got a confession to make,” he said. “That grey skirt you wear for work sometimes...”

“Mr Russo!” You gasped, feigning indignation. “Are you saying you’ve been checking out my ass at work?”

It shouldn’t have been the huge confidence boost that it was but, to think he’d noticed you that way before seeing you in the revealing bodysuit at The Red Ribbon did make you feel better about yourself.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I don’t appreciate the days you wear your charcoal suit...” you added after a beat.

“You mean you’ve been checking out your asshole boss?”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his lips to yours. “He might be an asshole, but he’s a handsome asshole.”

You swallowed his laughter with your lips, kissing him as you squirmed beneath him, pulling your leg from between his so his hips were nestled between your thighs. Billy took the opportunity to shift closer to you, pressing down and - fuck, you swore into the kiss at the feeling of his hard cock against you.

He took advantage of your moment of shock and started trailing kisses down your neck, grazing his teeth over your collarbone and sinking lower still. You arched your back as he reached behind you, letting him relieve you of your bra.

The sound he made, the low rumbling in the back of his throat at the sight of your exposed breasts should have been criminal. It caused a heat to lick through your body, shooting down your spine to your core and had you clenching around nothing.

Your head fell back on the pillow as he took his time acquainting himself with your tits, his cold hands quickly warming as he alternated between groping and kissing, paying particular attention to the stiff peaks of your nipples.

“Billy, please...”

The words slipped out as a quiet plea and, the moment they left your lips, you all but forgot about them, as if you’d never even spoken them to begin with. You weren’t used to this, you weren’t used to feeling worshipped and wanted. You weren’t even sure what you were asking Billy for but the moment his lips started to trail down towards your stomach, you felt like all of your prayers were about to be answered.

You bit your lip as you looked down and caught his dark eyes staring up at you just as his tongue slipped from his lips and traced a circle around your navel. A soft gasp escaped at the warmth of his tongue against your skin, already starting to imagine what you hoped was going to come next.

His gaze held yours and you didn’t look away - you were certain you couldn’t have, even if you’d wanted to. As his fingers hook on your panties, you lifted your hips, feeling your cheeks start to warm as you were completely bared to him. Billy slipped lower down the mattress, his hands urged your thighs apart so he could drink in the sight of you.

A desperate and needy sound managed to slip past your lips as his fingertip trailed through your folds and the wetness that betrayed your arousal.

“You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve imagined this, Bunny,” he said, sounding as breathless as you felt, “you spread out beneath me, moaning for me while I devour this sweet pussy.”

Your cheeks grew hotter still, but any shy embarrassment you might have felt at his words was snuffed out by your own desperate need for him. Without realising you were even doing it, you shifted your hips, pressing against his finger, desperate for more.

“Billy, please...” you said again.

A shiver ran down your spine at the smirk that appeared on his lips at your quiet plea. For a moment he looked torn, like he was considering teasing you, making you really beg for him (and some part of you knew that you would), but it quickly became clear that he didn’t want to deny himself.

Parting your folds with his fingers, he bowed his head and -

“Fuck!” You moaned.

The heat of his tongue against your sensitive flesh was simultaneously too much and not nearly enough. His hand gripped your thigh tighter, holding you down as he continued his assault on your senses. He started with long, slow laps of his tongue, teasing from your entrance up to your clit before starting to focus his attention on the swollen bundle of nerves.

Your thighs trembled and tensed as he alternated between slow circles and rapid flicks, easily starting to push you towards orgasm.

Billy groaned against you and you felt the vibrations of it through his tongue. He muttered something - no doubt something utterly filthy - but you couldn’t hear it over the needy noises he was pulling from you, the moans and the gasped pleas, begging him not to stop.

You came quickly. Easily. You started to moan and writhe beneath him, not caring that he’d managed to push you over the edge so easily. But your orgasm wasn’t enough to stop Billy or even slow him down. His tongue sank lower, lapping at your entrance as it clenched and spasmed, lapping up your arousal until you felt like nothing more than a sloppy, desperate mess beneath him.

And, once that orgasm had started to subside, he started to push you towards another.

Two fingers easily slipped between your walls and his tongue returned to your clit, causing you to cry out his name so loudly that you were sure you felt his lips pull into a smile against you.

Reaching down, you tangled your fingers in his damp hair, half wanting to push him away so you could have a moment to regain his sanity, and half wanting to pull him closer and let him completely devour you.

His fingers set a quick rhythm, betraying his impatience. Your eyes caught his and you could see his need, his want. And you found yourself wanting exactly what he did. You wanted him to fuck you.

You kept your eyes fixed on his, biting down hard on your lip as his teeth grazed over your clit. Then he pulled the throbbing nub between his lips and you were sure that you saw stars as you started to come again.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, breathless beneath him as he started to move back up your body.

“That was everything I imagined and so much more,” Billy said, wiping his wet lips on the back of his hand before capturing your lips in a kiss.

One of you let out a groan - though, honestly, you weren’t sure which - and the kiss quickly took on a life of its own. Hungry, needy, passionate, both of you taking and giving in equal measure, building anticipation for what was about to happen.

Reaching down, you pushed his boxers from his hips, getting them as far as you could before using your feet to push them the rest of the way.

“That’s a neat trick.” He smiled against your lips.

“I’m a woman of many talents,” you retorted.

“I bet you are.”

Any thought of responding was quickly ended by the press of his bare cock between your thighs, the tip teasingly nudging its way between your folds.

Your fingers pressed into his back and your eyes fixed on his again, wanting him to know that there was no doubt in your mind. You wanted him.

Lifting your head, you kissed him, gasping softly against his lips as you felt his cock notch into you, slowly pushing between your still-sensitive walls until he was buried to the hilt. Your head dropped back onto the pillow, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by all of the thoughts and feelings currently racing around inside of you.

Billy looked down at you, seeming equally lost in the moment, stock-still as if he was holding himself back.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, “I’m okay.”

“Not you I’m worried about,” he answered with an awkward smile. “You feel so fucking good.”

There was an endearing flash of embarrassment on his face and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning up at him, loving that you were able to have such an affect on him

“Hmm, if you keep making comments like that about my body, I’m gonna have to report you to Anvil HR, Mr Russo.”

Billy let out an awkward groan and you felt his cock twitch inside you.

“Don’t,” he warned, barely biting back a laugh. “Don’t call me that while I’m inside you, Bunny, or this is gonna be over before it starts.”

“Call you what?” You asked teasingly. “Mr Russo.”

“Bunny...” he all but growled against your lips as he kissed you again.

Finally, he started to draw his hips back and any part of you that wanted to continue to joke and tease quickly fell silent. He set a slow, steady rhythm, letting you feel every inch of his cock as it slid in and out of your heat.

And it was perfect. You’d never experienced anything so perfect before.

Hitching your thigh on his hip, you let out a long moan, giving yourself over to him completely.

Eventually he started to pick up the pace, easily pulling more eager sounds from you. Again and again, his lips crashed into yours, each kiss more desperate than the last, like he was trying to prove a point to you.

His arm hooked beneath your knee, pushing your leg up higher, allowing him to sink deeper inside you, and you knew that you were lost. You knew that no man would ever make you feel that good again.

“Billy,” you moaned as he nipped your lower lip again. “... feels so good...”

You felt yourself clench around him, your thighs starting to tremble again as another orgasm threatened to wash over you.

“Let go,” Billy muttered, “come for me, Bunny.”

And you did. You cried out for him as you shattered, your back arching off the mattress, your whole body feeling like it was burning with pleasure from the inside out. It was the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced and, as you moaned and writhed beneath him, you felt Billy let go too.

He gave a grunt as he started to come undone, his cock twitching as your walls clenched around him, the both of you getting lost in ecstasy together.

Billy kissed you again, just as eagerly as every time before, kissing you like he was still trying to prove his worth to you when he’d already more than won you over, as the pleasure slowly started to ebb.

Minutes passed and the pair of you stilled, holding each other tight, neither wanting to let go for the longest time.

When Billy finally moved away, it was only to lay beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. Minutes passed, neither of you speaking, both seeming to just enjoy the close and tender moment.

“What happens now?” You finally dared to ask.

You got no answer and soon realised that he’d fallen asleep snuggled up beside you.

You didn’t have the heart to wake him, knowing that he needed the rest.

It could wait.

Everything could wait.

The only thing that mattered was the moment, everything else could be figured out later.

For a few sweet minutes, you watched him sleep, gently running your fingers through his hair. But, exhausted by the drama of the last few days, you shifted closer and closed your eyes, and soon fell asleep in his arms.

A/N : I mean, it's not technically a cliffhanger, it's more of an open sort of ending??😂 I know I say this every time I finish something, but maybe one day I'll come back to this. But, I don't know, I feel like with this ending everyone can have their own idea of how things play out. I enjoyed this though and I enjoyed the challenge of trying to write a more contained story. idk if anyone has noticed this about me but everything I write tends to end up really long, so it was nice to play around with a more straight forward plot? Anyway. I hope everyone enjoys this ending and the fact that Billy is finally getting some sleep.

If you've not voted for what I'm going to write next the poll is here!!! I have no idea what's going on or what's winning and it's a little terrifying. (71 people have voted so far and that's completely mindblowing, so thanks for that!)

In other news, next week I will be posting a cute little one-shot follow-up to Catch Me if You Can. I'm not going to tag everyone who was on the original tag list because it feels awkward and weird to tag people on something I finished almost a year ago. But I'll tag the people who've asked to be tagged on all the Billy stuff.

Anyway hope you all have a great week, and thank you so much for all the love and support you've shown this story!

Tag List : @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @dreadfulxives18 @shwnirwin

@ladyblacky @spitecrow @oliviaewl @snowkestrel @theendofthematerialgworl

@super-clearlysaltybouquet @danzer8705 @benbarnesprettygurl @themorriganisamonster @watersquirtpewpewboomm

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #trr ff

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boylesflooring · 5 months ago

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Media Contact : Boyle's Floor and Window Design 705 E Gay St, West Chester, PA 19380, United States 610-429-9773 https://boylesflooring.com/

#tile stores near me #tile store west chester pa #flooring near me #carpet stores near me

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strawberryforks · 1 year ago

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blue walls, blue eyes, and the blue blanket // cole walter x reader

summary: you don’t have a good home life and end up unofficially moving in with the walter boys.

warnings: physical & verbal abuse, underage drinking, counsellors depicted in a negative light, swearing, canon divergence–jackie’s family never passes away, so while katherine and her mother are still good friends, they’ve not met/moved in with the walters.

word count: 5957

there’s a ding, and the principal is speaking over the pa. everyone stops what they’re doing so nothing is missed. after all, this doesn’t happen often.

the teacher freezes, dry erase marker still pressed firmly against the board, the end squishing and ink bleeding atop the letter he was writing and danny, who’s sitting beside you, gives you a look. you know its meaning, recognize the weight behind it, and know this routine. you stand up quickly. the backs of your knees slam into the hard plastic you had been sitting on and the chair goes skittering back, bumping into the pair of desks behind you.

you’re too tired to send that apologetic smile to anyone else. fortunately danny isn’t. making sure you aren’t alone, aren’t the only one being disruptive and making noise in an otherwise silent classroom, he braces a hand on the back of his chair, twisting around, to face your wide-eyed classmates. “sorry about that,” he whispers.

your movements are all harsh. they’re fast and full of annoyance, as you swipe your textbook, pencil kit, and water bottle off your desk and into your awaiting tote bag.

standing up, you make your way to the door. the teacher stares daggers at you the entire way. They go to grab your arm and you flinch away. “don’t touch me,” you grit, hands gripping around the doorknob so tightly it hurts. air is hitting your face, propelled towards you by the door you shoved open, when you hear your dismissal “please send y/n l/n to guidance,” spoken over the announcements. your teacher follows you out into the hallway, shouting instructions that you reluctantly follow, after you.

you count the tiles on your way. nearly running into the blue door, you end at fifty six.

ms jacobs, tara, as she’ll insist you call her, is a nice enough lady. she has curly brown hair, brown eyes, and perfectly painted on lipstick. she looks disarming, as a counsellor with the numbers of everyone that could ruin your life on speed dial, you suppose she has to. still, this isn’t new. she leads you further into the room and gestures to a chair “take a seat.”

when you don't, her smile becomes more strained. “please, y/n. this doesn’t need to be difficult, we just need to have a chat.”

you sigh, shoulders sagging as you plop down into the hundredth blue thing in this office. doors, trim, there’s a ridiculous amount of the colour and you don’t like it. blue, represents sadness. it’s something you’ve had enough of. sure, there’s other colours. posters upon posters–some neon, and green leaves stuck onto a large potted plant. there’s other colours just like there’s other feelings, but the one you’re stuck on, the one you can’t get over is sadness; it's blue.

“i hate the colour blue, Ms. Jacobs.” You tell her.

“why?” she asks, interested in you opening up further. you don’t.

“are you going to give me the run-down? tell me what i can and can’t say?”

her brows furrow. “do i need to? i called you here to talk about your grades but if there’s something else going on–”

“there isn’t ms jacobs. i do appreciate the concern, though. about my grades. they’re passing, i don’t see the problem.” you didn’t have a single grade above fifty five. it was hard to, when all of your teachers assigned heaps and heaps of homework and you would rather take a deep-dive into hellfire, brimstone, and lakes of lava, then return to the place you were expected to complete it at.

“call me tara.” you don’t.

“ms jacobs, if it would make you happy, i’ll try harder.”

“it would, y/n. thank you.”

you gather your things and stand. a glance at your phone lets you know your second class is over, so you plan to head to the cafeteria. “and y/n, just know that whatever you say to me is confidential.” Unless you are or are planning to hurt yourself, someone else, or if someone is hurting you.

“bye ms jacobs.”

walking into the cafeteria was masochistic in a way, when they were serving your favourite food, and you had no lunch or money to buy any with. still, in your hurried text chain with danny, this is where you had decided to meet. If you had to sit with the theatre kids to score some time with your friend, you would, although it would be better if you could grab him and go somewhere that didn’t make your mouth water and stomach ache.

walking over to his table, you noticed alex was there too. Just chatting with his brother. You and alex weren’t the best friends, but he was nice enough, and like issac, lee, nathan, and cole, you had his number written down in your notepad under the ‘just in case’ column. you didn’t mind alex, he was polite and much like his brother, danny, never made you feel less than. alex was always armed with a smile.

“danny!” you called, announcing your presence so you wouldn’t scare anyone. you smiled at Alex who as expected, mirrored your expression. “nice to see you. mind if I cut in and steal your brother?”

alex nods, “be my guest. i’ll see you at the end of the day danny!”

he leaves and then you’re pulling danny up and along with you. he barely has time to grab his lunchbox before the two of you are leaving the cafeteria and heading outside. you slump down against the brick wall and danny takes a seat across from you. cross-legged, he pulls out two sandwiches and hands one to you. you eyes widen.

“i’m pretty observant,” he supplies, shrugging.

“thank you, d” you eat the sandwich, and it’s a good one. “do you have plans after school?” ‘please don’t be busy, please don’t be busy, please don’t be busy’ you repeat in your head over and over again. it’s a mantra, you’re manifesting. hoping, hoping, hoping.

“y/n/n, i’m sorry, i actually do. erin tried out for the school’s production and she wants help going over her lines–i would invite you to tag along but…”

“no, no!” yoy laugh. manifesting doesn’t work, mantras are pointless, and shit, what are you supposed to do about tonight? “no, danny. don’t worry about it. i know you like erin and this is the perfect opportunity! if she’s asking for help with lines–i mean you’re awesome–but let’s be real, you can go over lines with anyone. so, if she’s asking you specifically for help, that's such a good–a really good sign!”

you two talk for a while longer but it’s easy to see your mind is elsewhere.

the bell rings, you head to your last classes, and then home.

you’ve got to go home.

well, to your house. that place, those four walls, they stopped being your home a long time ago. when your dad got drunk and your mom got mean.

cole walter pulls up beside you on your way home. his truck slows down, nearly to a stop, and you keep walking. your headphones are on and you’re pretending you can’t hear him. you can, but, you hope he’ll tire of shouting, slam his food on the gas pedal, and leave you in a cloud of dust. “y/n, hey! l/n, you need a ride or what?”

the truck stops, pulls off the side of the road and then you’re hearing a door slam and cringing, face crinkling as you realise you should’ve just said no. shouted it, even.

cole walter jogs up to you. he knows your house is quite far away. too far away to be walking. he calls to you again but you’re still walking forward. he places his hand on your shoulder. you know he’s there. you know he’s beside him and still you fucking flinch. the second time today and you're feeling pathetic. you shouldn’t be–really shouldn’t be. it’s not your fault that people can’t seem to respect the concept of personal space, not your fault that your trust has been violated, shredded and spat out, so many times that touch makes you jump. makes you want to jump, or crawl, your way out of your own skin. you flip your headphones down, letting them fall around your neck, but turning your music up a few clicks so you can still hear it. music is your vice, but no one’s complaining because it’s better than alcohol or drugs or, i don't know, being an asshole–you do that too. unintentionally sometimes. like now.

“what?” you snap. on the defensive.

cole isn’t surprised by your flinching. You were dead to the world, listening to music so loud he could hear it from where he stood paces away from you. if he were you–if it was your hand that had sat down onto his shoulder and surprised him he probably would have shouted. he caught you off guard, he was sorry. both of his hands stuck up in the air. “that’s my bad. sorry for scaring you.”

“sorry for–” you guess he did scare you. in a way. “it’s fine. what are you doing here?” you take your time looking at cole. his sharp jaw, full lips, his blue eyes. usually you hate that colour, but on him? it’s not so bad.

“offering you a ride. youe place is pretty far from here, yeah?”

“it is but i like walking.”

“walking is fine and all, but it’s getting colder and it gets dark around five now. by the time you make it home it’ll be past that. my truck has heat, comfy seats, and i’ll even let you have aux.”

you’re not a stranger to the effect cole walter has on everyone. not at all. when he smiles at you, you feel your cheeks warm. you’re an idiot for not taking him up on that offer. your feet already ache and your legs burn.

some things hurt more, though.

actions, all of them, have consequences.

“i’m fine, cole. but thank you. you’re sweet.”

he shakes his head. you aren’t walking anymore, instead, stopped on the side of the road just waiting. this conversation, it’s going places. places you don’t like. “i can’t let you walk home alone. not in good conscience.”

he’s jogging back to his truck and pulling up beside you. he’s leaning over the centre console and pushing the door open. leaning over further, and helping you up, not starting to drive again until your seatbelt is buckled. if only that was the least of your worries. if. only.

“so what do you want to play?”

you plug in your phone and queue up your playlist. a sad song blasts and you hit skip very quickly, not missing the questioning look cole sends you. you laugh, “don’t tell me you’ve never listened to sad music while you’re reading.”

“i don’t read much, and most of the music i listen to is because of the lyrics. those ones were… dark.”

choosing to disregard most of his statement, you echoed his words back to him. “you don’t read much?”

“alex reads a lot. you two would get along.”

“shared interests aren’t everything. we don’t have much in common but i enjoy your company and danny and i click and we both hate each other's favourite tv show with a passion.”

“what show is that?” you tell him and he grins. “that’s my favourite too–seriously. we should get together and watch it sometime.”

“i’d love that!” so, shared interests aren’t everything, but they’re certainly something. you smile for a couple more kilometres and then it gets harder. when you see the sign with your civic on it, you know that the ride, no matter how awesome it was, and how much fun you had, wasn’t worth it.

you hop out of the truck–cole offered to walk you to the door but you denied, knowing you were already in for it. “thank you, though.”

He nodded. “i can give you a ride tomorrow, too. anytime you need one, really. just ask–or get danny to. I really don’t mind.” you smile. thank him again and climb out of the truck. you walk confidently until he pulls out of the long driveway and onto the road. then you sigh, and it’s because of cole’s conscience that you get home before it’s dark enough for you to slip in unnoticed.

you pause on the porch. you don’t want to go in, but you don’t have a choice. not really. what are your other options? run off into the woods and let yourself be some colorado woodland creature’s lunch? knowing what’s coming, it doesn’t sound too bad. you open the door and nearly sob when the wind slams it shut behind you.

your heart beats hard in your chest like your father’s boots do on the floor. “where the hell have you been! days, gone for days. you couldn’t call, couldn’t fucking text,” with each word, most of them slurred, he storms closer. it’s not even suppertime and his eyes are glassed over with that familiar film, his breath a pungent reminder, as obvious as the one in his hand, of what he’s been drinking all day. your mother is behind him in the hallway, puffing on a cigarette, uninterested. “there’s no respect! ya here the brat? thinking they run the place. comin’ and goin without a care.”

“i don’t–i know i don’t run the place.”

“damn right you don’t!” the half empty–you’ve never been a glass-half-full type of person, not growing up in this–bottle of beer come flying at the wall. it hits just above your head, the liquid and brown pieces of glass falling all over you.

“look what you made me do now! gone and spilled m’drink.”

you had taken your converse off at the door. always being yelled at for trekking in mud and dirtying the floor, the hurried steps you take backwards, hurt. your dad is wearing work boots, steel toe, but the only thing between you and the broken glass is a thin pair of socks. your skin splits. the light blue fabric on your feet turns dark red.

you whimper and each step hurts more than the last. then you bump into the wall. “dad, please.”

“calling me tha’ like you think it’ll make me forgive you. fuck,” he throws a glance over his shoulder. “how’d we make something so… so pathetic?”

your mom shrugs, like she hasn’t a clue, either.

“dad, please. i’m sorry, okay? i’ll call next time.”

“there won’t be a fucking next time! get your shit and get out. all we do for you, all we do and you’re still impossible. keep you fed, clothed, give you a place to sleep and just get attitude, attitude, and disrespect. i’m done being disrespected. done!”

“you can’t just kick me out! i have nowhere to go.” you yell. you yelled. you yelled. oh god. oh hell. oh shit. you see his leg rear back and you go to jump out of the way. you’ve already been kicked out–you just need to get out, and quickly. you jump over his leg but then his fist is wrapped in your hair and you’re falling. then the boot you dodged is slamming into you side. again, again, again. tears are streaming down your face. you’re sobbing.

then he’s picking you up by your shirt. lifting you, dragging you. he opens the door, grabs your bag, your shoes, and throws them outside. then, then he throws you. you land on the porch, body aching and pressing into the hardwood.

the door slams and you’re still sobbing. you’re pretty sure that your new mantra is ‘fuck’. it’s what you repeat over and over again as you drag yourself up and away from the front door. You need to get away, you need to get away. You really need to. creating distance between you and that door, you and those people, is priority.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.”

running isn’t really in the cards for you. you limp away and don’t miss your mother peering out the kitchen window. you guess that from her perspective you do look pathetic. but no more pathetic than your dad, the grown man who had to hurt you to feel powerful and get his point across. your pace is terrible but the darker it gets, the further you get. you’re in the woods now, with no idea where exactly you are and not much supplies. maybe you will end up as woodland creature dinner. there’s not much you can do to help it now. you think about calling someone and then you realise your phone isn’t in your bag. you start to shake. choked laughter bubbles it’s way out of your throat. you’re laughing and then the hysterics shift and you’re sobbing. arms wrapped tightly around yourself you cry for what must be hours.

later, slumped against a tree trunk you decide to tackle your feet. one problem at a time, one shard at a time. you pluck pieces out of your skin and the blood makes you feel nauseous. when the job is done, you slide your socks back on, and walk towards the sound that comforts you most. Rushing water. you find a river, and kneel at its edge. you wash your socks, yourself, and dry on a stone in the sun. you scrub the dirt and grime from your feet. when your socks are mostly dry and the cuts have stopped gushing blood, you put on your shoes and lace them up. then you follow the river. you’ll reach town soon enough. your face isn’t marred, just the rest of you, all hidden beneath layers of clothes–a long sleeve, a flannel, blue jeans.

ideally, you’ll find danny.

you don’t live in an ideal world. the boy you find is not danny but he wants something you can give and has something you need–a place to sleep. you do so without clothes, lying next to him. What you did was in the dark, would stay that way, because before he woke, before you were made to converse with the nameless boy, you dressed and snuck out. the walk of shame was just that, shameful. you felt horrendous. your body still hurt and you found yourself walking into a cafe you knew haley, will’s wife worked at.

asking for handouts made your stomach sour but you couldn’t do much else.

haley was scrubbing down a table when you approached her. “hey, haley.”

“y/n, hey, how’s it going?” then she turned to you and realised, not good. that it was not going good. you shot her a flattened smile. “i really hate to ask. like, i really really do, but i haven’t eaten in a bit and was wondering–”

“yeah, yes. of course. just have a seat, i’ll grab you… do you have any dietary restrictions?” you answer her, and when she comes back, handing you a wrapped meal you thank her profusely. “is there anything you need done around here? i appreciate this so much, but i don’t want to take advantage. i can clean–i’m not a great cook but I can make coffee.”

“you don’t need to do anything. you aren’t taking advantage. not at all. is there anything else i can do for you? anyone i can call? your parents?”

fear fills your eyes and perceptive as ever, she catches it. “not them, please.” is what you whisper. haley nods, disappears behind the counter and makes a phone call. then, she dotes on you for the next ten minutes until wil pulls up outside. he comes in, walks over to your table and sits down across from you.

you’re pretty sure you’ve been caught. the ruse, it’s very much up.

“what’s going on, y/n?”

you shrug and sip at the hot chocolate haley made for you. “well, come on. you don’t have to say anything right now but let’s get you home.” you stand, ready to go anywhere but, and will stops you. “my parent’s home, danny’s. katherine knows you’re coming. come on, kid.”

you follow him to the car. most of the drive is silent, but you thank him when the walter’s house homes into view and katherine is waiting outside on the porch with a smile. up the few stairs, and you head straight for her. you’re grateful for her gentle nature, because as you throw your arms around her and squeeze, she simply rests hers on your back, rubbing soothing circles. “they–they kicked me out.”

she takes a minute to respond, only because she finds this hard to process. you were a good kid, a great one, and she, having so many of her own, couldn’t think of a single thing that would make her abandon or discard one of her own children. “you’ll stay with us then.” it isn’t a question and you’re glad because how would you have answered? your mouth is dry but your eyes aren’t.

you sit in danny’s room. he isn’t home from school yet but he will be soon. katherine and george are upstairs making room for you. you feel like a burden, they assure you that you are not.

you’re waiting for danny, only he isn't who makes it home first. it’s cole. he walks in, tosses his bag down onto the bed, none the wiser that there’s another person in the room. his back faces you and he’s rifling through a drawer when he hears you hiccup. he turns around quickly. Sees you, crying in his brother's bed and immediately his brows are furrowed. “y/n?” he walks closer. the bed is near to the ground so he drops onto his knees. he’s close to you know but he’s made himself less intimidating. “y/n/n? hey.”

“hi Cole.”

“are you okay?”

“i’ve been better.”

cole doesn’t ask, he doesn’t push. instead he opens his laptop, logs into his netflix and puts on the favourite show you both discussed watching together. when the two of you are settled. him on the floor, face resting on the mattress, where you’re curled up in a blanket that belongs to his brother, he breaks the silence. “do you want me to get danny?”

“where is he?”

“he’s with erin at the school. i think they’re going over details for the production. but i can go get him if you need him. do you need him?”

you shake your head. as danny’s best friend you were the biggest ‘derin’ shipper there was. plus, cole was here. he made things okay. “no, no thanks. i don’t really want you to go anywhere if that’s okay?”

“that’s more than okay, but i will say, my bed is comfier.”

you smile for the first time in a bit, looking at the uncomfortable position he has himself in. “yeah? well, we should definitely watch this, over there then.”

“my thoughts exactly.” cole grabs the laptop, grabs you, still wrapped in the blanket he tells himself he’ll replace from the linen closet, and carries both over to his bed. you squeal a bit and bite back a real whimper when his hand touches what you know has to be a massive bruise, sitting you down.

you fall asleep, leaning against him. he pauses the show, closes his laptop, and promises to resume it when you’re awake to watch it with him. then he sends a threatening text to his brother, danny.

COLE: Y/n/n has had a rough day and is sleeping in our room

COLE: Wake her up and you’ll get hit

DANNY: is she okay??? ALSO since when do you call her y/n/n???

COLE: I’ll see you later

COLE: Tell Erin hi for me

DANNY: fuck off

george and katherine didn’t receive that same threatening text but when they peeked into the room to check on you and found you cuddled up against cole, snoring lightly, and looking peaceful they left you be. your room was ready and in the morning you moved into it. your clothes were dirty and katherine washed them for you but in the meantime… well it was her dresses or… or what you went with.

you knocked your fist against the door and cole opened it, shirtless.

“hey cole,” look at his face. just his face. only his face.

“hey y/n. What can i help you with?”

your hand flew to the back of your neck which you rubbed awkwardly. “can i, uh… would you mind if I borrowed a pair of jeans and a belt?” cole chuckled, then realised you were completely serious. then he gave you the jeans. then the belt. “need a shirt too?”

you laughed, cheeks stained pink. “i wouldn’t mind…”

he handed you the plain black one in his hand. “riding with me to school?”

“if i’ve got shotgun.”

“‘course.” he said, grinning.

you headed upstairs and got changed. the pants were big but with the belt, and them cuffed they fit alright. then, came the shirt. it fell mid thigh but once you tucked it in a bit it didn’t look too terrible. you brushed your hair, your teeth, and headed downstairs. george looked at you with wide eyes and you shrugged, “i don’t really like dresses?”

katherine sighed. “we’ll get you some clothes after school.”

“from the thrift store!” you amended.

she rolled her eyes but agreed anyway. then, you were sitting beside cole on the way to school, during the one class you shared, and at lunchtime. you weren’t ditching danny, just his time was split between you and erin now. they started dating. they were sweet, good for and to, each other.

you’d only been living with the walters for two days, but everything was great. until cole invited you to the lake house. two coolers had you feeling buzzed and when it was your first turn, playing ‘truth or dare’, you picked truth and ended up faced with a question you didn’t want to answer. so you turned, and pressed your lips to cole’s. his lips parted in surprise, but then he kissed you back, tongue slipping into your mouth as he deepened the kiss. his hands flew to cup your face, your eyes were shut, and you were feeling things. until someone whistled and another yelled: “get a room!”

next round, you were three coolers in and ballsy enough to pick dare. “i dare you to jump into the lake!”

you rolled your eyes. like that was difficult. sure, it was a bit chilly, but you’d been in the river days ago. rushing water compared to water the sun had beat down on all day was nothing. you grinned, and ran to the edge of the dock, canon-balling and sending water flying everywhere. when you surfaced you saw the asshole who wore cole’s jersey shaking water out of his hair like a dog. you grinned, and started to swim back over when you saw something that caused you to sober up quickly. the foundation and powder you had painted on top of the hand shaped bruise on your arm had worn off. gone. It was gone and fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck.

when you didn’t get out of the water immediately cole was curious. when your face reflected horror, he was concerned.

“you good?” you weren’t. he walked over to the edge and dipped his hand in. the water was freezing. “come on out, you’ll get sick.”

you shook your head, plastering a clearly fake smile on your face. “my immune system is really strong and i want to swim! i’ll be fine cole, gonna go that way.” you make a gesture with your head and begin to paddle in that general direction. away from the lakehouse, away from the people, away from the party. away from cole—or, you tried to get away from cole. he walked on the bank, steps matching your strokes as he followed you. “get out of the water, y/n.” you were still swimming, and now cole was having to duck under and climb over branches and bushes to continue following. now, you couldn’t even hear the people at the lake house.

“no thank you.”

“don’t be stubborn. this was—it was funny thirty minutes ago! It’s lost the charm. just get out, we’ll go back and…”

“i don’t want to go back.”

“then we’ll go home. would that make you happy? we can leave, we don't have to go back to school, i can take you home.”

“i want to stay in the water, cole.”

“y/n, just get out of the fucking lake. it’s not that hard! i don’t understand why you won’t—“

you’re in waist deep water and all of you is submerged until it isn’t. you stand up quickly. teats sting your eyes and emotion clogs your throat. “you don’t understand, huh?” your voice breaks, shatters, and cracks. “does this help? do you see why when i say i want to keep swimming, i mean it? do you see why i want to stay in the water cole?”

he sees something. he sees bruises on your arms. deep purple handprints put there by too big hands and with too much force—force that never should have been used on you. he’s blinking, his eyes are seeing but his mind isn’t thinking, not fast enough.

“do you see?!” you’re shouting now, sobbing too. “because the makeup washed off and now you can see it. bow everyone can. everyone will see and then they’ll report it and i’ll end up in the system in an equally shitty situation! cole,” another wave of sobs interrupts, “cole don’t make me get out of the water.” he doesn’t, he climbs in with you. water soaks his boots, the bottoms of his jeans, you hear it slosh as he takes large steps and closes the distance between you both. “y/n/n.”

“what?” it’s a sob, a plea.

“we’re going to get out of the lake. i’m going to walk you through the woods, out to the road and then i’m going to go get my truck. i’ll be ten minutes tops. i’ll grab my hoodie too.”

“it’s… it’s back on the chair.”

“the red one, i know.”

“okay…”

cole keeps his word, but after five minutes you hear his truck. it stops, he hops out. he sets the hoodie on top of you and you shimmy into it. “No one will see, no one you don’t want to know, will know. but y/n, you will never go back there, okay? not to that house, not ever, because if you go, i’m following, and the things i do, most authorities will not agree with.”

“i don’t ever want to go back there.”

“you won’t ever have to.”

“thank you.”

“don’t thank me for helping you with something that never should’ve happened. we’ll get you some ice as soon as we’re home.” cole cranks the heat up and angles the fans to point your way.

he opens your door for you and walks closely behind you. no one else is home—katherine and george both working and the others at school. cole raids the freezer for anything remotely icey and heads up to your room. he makes a pit-stop to grab his laptop and some snacks from a drawer none of his brothers would ever know about. he steals the blanket you like off of danny’s bed too—the soft one with the blue plaid.

you both watch the show, he looks concerned when you press the frozen peas to your side too. you lift your shirt, show him the damage and he freezes. “ugly, huh?”

“nothing about you has ever been ugly, y/n/n but jesus, maybe we should go to a hospital.”

“flattery will get you everywhere cole but there’s no denying i looked like van gogh fucked up starry night—and no hospital. they’d like immediately call someone. plus i think they’re just bruised and not broken so that’s good.”

“i’m sorry that this happened to you.”

“oh don’t do that. i hate when people apologise for things that aren’t their fault.”

“can i apologise for danny, then? for him not realising what was happening sooner?” cole asked. people weren’t perfect, you realised that then, cole having said the first thing that genuinely upset you. this was no one’s fault. No one but your scum of the earth parent’s.

“no. danny didn’t do anything wrong. i didn’t want him to know and usually i’m good at hiding these things.” a bitter laugh, and: “usually.”

“i blame the alcohol, but, i guess it’s nice that you know.”

“i’m glad i know.”

and he is. he carries your bag, your books, even goes thrifting with you and katherine. “i like this one,” he’d said, holding up a shirt that barely had any fabric to it. you rolled your eyes for the fiftieth time and picked out a baggy graphic tee shirt instead.

at school he walks you to and from your classes. he sits with you at lunch and helps you come up with excuses—none so awesome that they work without the grin and charm he lays on your pe teacher.

weeks later, your bruises were healed, and to the blind eye, the only indication you’d been abused was the occasional flinching. cole tended to call out his moves before he made them, especially if you weren’t sure exactly where he was. your arguments–few and far between, seriously, the only thing you’d argued about so far was where you went for lunch, were had with calm voices and distance between the two of you. cole was perfect. he never caught you off guard, he was just always there.

wouls see you getting anxious and move closer. “i’m going to hold your hand,” he’d whisper. when you needed someone to talk to it was always him because he was always there.

then, one night, the two of you were sitting on that same blue plaid blanket. the one you loved–the one cole had paid danny $40 for. you were both staring up at the same stars, both wondering the same thing: when had you become so close? you weren’t sure if there was a turning point, a particular defining moment, but cole had taken danny’s place in your heart as ‘best friend’. cole had done that and more. he was more to you than that. he baked your favourite pastry, would go just about anywhere with you, and he made you smile. he made you feel safe. he had told no one your secret–but katherine and george had a clue, enough of one that they welcomed you with open arms and seldomly raised their voices. enough of one, that for that first few weeks, the ice was always restocked in the freezer.

they had an idea.

but cole knew. knew everything. knew and made you feel okay in spite of everything. he knew and still.. still looked at you like… like that. cole, he leaned in closer. you waited and listened. “i’m going to kiss you. because i want to. because i love you how you deserve to be loved. and not because of some truth or dare game.

“it wasn’t bad though, right? because i thought it was a pretty good ki–”

cole walter kept his word. he kissed you, and sure, the kiss at the lake house was good. this one was just better.

#cole walter x reader #cole walter #cole walter x y/n #cole walter x you #mlwtwb #mlwtwb imagines #cole walter imagines #my life with the walter boys #danny walter #alex walter

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