Quite a lot going on at the moment.

Rae, she/they, 23 Trying to get back into writing, but it's been a while so feedback is appreciated. Minors DNI. 18+

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Masterlist

Billy Russo x Reader

Bond to Happen Series List

Into the Unknown Series List

Billy Russo's Pet Series List

Possession, Part 2

Oneshots/Drabbles/Etc. Master List

The Darkling x Reader

The Greed of Men Series List

Single Glimpse of Relief One Shot

TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Magnolia Jasmine Series List

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Chapter 18: The Storm Hits

Word Count: 2700ish Warnings: betrayal, heartbreak, intimidation, some blood, smallest touch of violence Bond To Happen MasterList You find yourself at his apartment door, laptop in hand. There’s a moment of hesitation at the surreality of the situation. Then you use your free hand to pound on the door. A low, simmering anger is beginning to combine with your disbelief as you try to ground yourself.

It opens to a seemingly surprised Billy Russo. “What’s wrong-”

You shove past him, opening your laptop on the kitchen island counter and pulling up the files. “What the fuck is this, Billy?”

The concerned look on his face drops and is replaced with something confident and self-assured. “That is an expedited guardianship application and the evidence that goes with it.”

“No shit. Why is it from you?”

“I want to keep you safe, especially after what happened in the park, and this is one of the best ways I can do that.” You realize that without relying on your magic to differentiate between truth and lies, it’s easier to see through Billy. How long have you been this blind to him? All the times you trusted him, all the things he did, how much of it did you see through rose colored lenses? Those lenses are beginning to shatter now and fuck does it hurt. 

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Bull-fucking-shit,” you snarl.

“I’m not sure why you don’t believe me, sweetheart. I haven’t lied to you before. Would you like a drink?”

“Are you going to add it to your extensive list of ‘positively received courting behaviors’?” You snap.

“I honestly thought you were aware of my intentions, Blue. I thought you knew how much I care about you.”

“I don’t believe you. This-” you gesture towards his relaxed form as he presents himself as caring. “Isn’t working on me anymore.”

He grins. “I think it still works plenty, sweetheart.”

“I’m not agreeing to it. The guardianship. I’ll fight it the whole way with Matt and Foggy’s help. I will drag out the process as long as inhumanly possible. And when I can’t anymore, I will fucking disappear. Retract your application and maybe we can talk about this.”

Billy’s face darkens, the smile falling off his lips and his brows lowering. The almost predatory look has you resisting the urge to take a step back. 

“I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t think so’? You don’t get a say, Billy.”

“It’s cute that you think you’re in charge here.”

“What-”

“Shh, I’m talking now,” he interrupts.  “Here’s what is going to happen. You are going to accept me as your guardian, effective immediately. You are going to make it look like you are happy about it, especially to all your friends. You will move in with me and tell me all the things you’ve been hidin’ about your magic-and yourself. You will do what I say, when I say it, and in return, I’ll keep you safe and give you everything you could ever want.”

You’re certain your face must have what the fuck written all over it but you swallow down the words and force yourself to ask,“And if I don’t?”

Billy turns away, pouring himself a drink and taking a sip before answering. “I think you’ll find that blood binding is quite difficult to run from.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What have you done?” 

“That day we were attacked, you and I were both bleeding. I took the opportunity to mix our blood before having you healed.”

The Sanguis Ligare. It only needs the intent of at least one, generally very powerful, magical creature to bind two supernatural beings together via blood. If you ran, he would know where you were because of it. You want to cry. You refuse to cry. 

“Oh my gods, it just keeps getting worse,” you mutter to yourself. “How could you even do a blood binding? I thought you were human?”

“A dangerous assumption to make, don’t you think, sweetheart?” Billy’s eyes flash fully black, sclera and all, and this time you do step back.

“What the fuck, Billy? What are you?”

“Come on, you’re supposed to be the expert. Or was that degree really just a waste?”

“How am I supposed to know, Billy? You’ve obviously done an excellent job keeping it under wraps. Does Frank even know?”

“He has his suspicions, but no.” He takes another sip of his drink, leaning back against the counter. “Surely you must have observed some of my… peculiarities… over the months we’ve known each other.”

You think back to every offhand comment and disregarded thought you’d had about Billy. How he always seemed to hear you, no matter how far or how quiet you were. His animal magnetism and the revolving door of women he slept with. The solid black eyes.

“That day we went to the potential site, you kept delaying us leaving and once we were there, you kept finding something you wanted me to double check. I thought you were being thorough, but it was almost like you were stalling.”

“Go on, ask.”

“Did you know when that storm would hit?”

“Down to the second.”

“If I asked you what animal you identify most with, would you answer?”

“I think you already know what I would say, Blue.”

“I’d like to hear you say it.”

“A black panther, specifically a jaguar.”

“Well fuck.” You had never stood a chance. “You’re a siren?”

“Well done. I knew you were clever.” If only it didn’t sound so condescending coming from him now. “So everything I felt was just your power?”

“Oh no, that was all you, baby. I only ever hid my aura from you, I never used it on you.”

“I don’t believe you.” You don’t know what to feel. This is all too much at once.

“I’ve spent the better part of a year buildin’ your trust and we got as far as holding hands. Do you really think I was callin’ to your lust?”

Your freeze response turns into flight as you make a mad ill-advised dash for the front door. Billy’s arms cage you in on both sides before you can so much as turn the handle. Gods, he moves ridiculously fast. 

Turning around to face him, you try to calm your breathing and say shakily, “Why? Why would you do any of this? How do I benefit you?”

“You don’t need to worry about that right now. All you need to worry about is doing what I say.”

“I-I can still fight a blood binding. There are ways to undo it.”

“Sure, you can try. It might even work, but then I’d be forced to share your confession to multiple murders with the police. Or I could always just threaten to hurt your friends. That usually does the trick. Or maybe, if that’s not enough, I can go down south and say hi to Charlotte for you.”

Your eyes are wide and you feel tears welling up. This isn’t the man you know. This is someone else, it has to be. This is some sort of monster.

“I’ll- I’ll tell Frank.” Your voice is an unsteady whisper.

“Do you really think that- even if he believed you and chose to help you instead of takin’ my side- that he could get to me before I hurt the people you care about and ruin your life? And then there’s the question of if he can even stop me at all. You’d likely just end up pissin’ me off and killin’ half your friends in the process.”

“You were supposed to be my friend.” You know he can hear you, even with how quiet and utterly heartbroken you are.

“I am your friend, sweetheart. I can be a really good friend. As long as you do as I say.”

This is a nightmare, it has to be. Some sort of magicless induced state where the world has turned upside down. If only that were the truth. 

“How long?” You croak out around a throat thick with emotion. “How long has this been your plan?”

“Since before you ever met me. Why d'ya think you got the job so quickly with such a shit work history?”

A tear escapes your eye, slowly trailing down your cheek. This is Hell. You must be in Hell. Maybe you’re being punished for your sins, for being a monster, for killing people and enjoying their suffering in however small a way you had.

“Please, let me go, Billy,” you plead.

“Never, baby.” His voice is laced with possessive affection and coated in condescension.

Billy brings a hand up to your face, caressing the skin of your cheek and you see red. Before even his reflexes can stop you, you turn your face and sink your teeth deep into the meat of his palm.

“Fuck!” Billy yells, yanking his hand away from your mouth. You can taste the blood in your mouth.

Billy threads his fingers through your hair and gives a painful tug, forcing you to look up at him. “That wasn’t very nice, sweetheart.”

You make to spit in his face, the irrational urge to lash out still flowing through your veins when Billy presses his injured hand sharply against your throat. 

“Final warning. Play nice or I’ll make sure your little lawyer friend's building has an unfortunate and unexpected gas leak. Am I understood?”

The fight drains out of you and, with years worth of experience behind you, you push down the painful emotions. You nod as best you can with the firm grip he has on your throat. It;s not enough to deny you air, but it is slowly blocking the blood flow to your brain. Billy waits a few beats before letting go of you. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to compartmentalize, if not for your own sanity, then for the sake of your friends’ lives.

“I need to call Matt and Foggy. I hung up on them in a hurry and they’re probably concerned. Matt’s going to be hard to fool. He’ll know if either of us lie so we should stick to telling the truth or at least what’s technically the truth and being vague while minimizing purposeful deception. Karen should be easier to convince, she was already trying to convince me to spend more time with you. I’m not sure about Frank. You’d probably be the expert on that.” You were rambling, you know that. But you have to compartmentalize right now. If you don’t you will break down and there is no one who could help you if you panic now. 

“Frank will be fine.” Billy’s looking at you curiously, and you’ll be damned if you know why.

“What?” You snap. “I’ll do as you say, you lying son of a bitch.”

“Watch it,” he warns, pointing a finger at you. “I know you’re upset, but that’s no reason to resort to name calling.”

“So you want me to just be quiet and take it, huh Billy?”

“I expect you to behave.”

You scoff.

“For what it’s worth, I do care about you.”

“That’s worth nothing to me, Billy. You care about me because you want to use me. Everything you did was to get me to trust you.”

“Does it matter my motive if everything I said was the truth?”

“Of course it fucking matters!” There goes the anger you had tried to reel in. “You did

one of the worst things you could have done. You purposefully built my trust and you know how hard that is for me with everything I’ve confessed to you. You were fucking perfect, made me l- made me like you. And it was all because you wanted to possess me, to use me.”

“There’s more to it than that. This will benefit the both of us. You’ll see.”

“I would have said yes! If you asked me on a date, if you wanted a real relationship, I

would have said yes. If you needed my help for something, I would have said yes! Gods, have I ever been able to tell you no when you asked me for anything? Any chance to be close to you, I took. I guess saying no isn’t up to me anymore either. Right, Billy? You can just take what you want. You want to know everything I’ve been hiding? Fine. I feed through touch. That’s why I’m fucking tired all the time- cause I can’t stand when most people touch me. I guess that just gives you another excuse to twist against me doesn’t it, Billy? How much more do you need to know about me so you can use it to hurt me?” Billy makes a noise somewhere between a scoff and a snarl. “If I wanted to hurt you, you would know it. We’ll talk more about this once you’ve calmed down. For now, call your lawyers and tell them whatever you need to for them to believe you.”

You turn away from Billy, his face is only upsetting you, and force yourself to control your breathing. Then you call Matt. It takes some persuading, but they seem to more or less believe you when you say you were surprised Billy had submitted for guardianship, but were working things out and you were actually looking forward to strengthening your relationship. You send a quick text to Karen with the same information, letting her know you were okay, but would likely be radio silent for a bit.

“Are you happy?” You ask Billy as you turn back to face him.

“Yes.”

“What would you like me to do now?”

“I’ll take you down to your apartment to pick up some of your things. You’ll be staying here with me from now on.”

Everything's a blur as you go to your apartment and pack a bag. Your hands keep shaking and you refuse to look at Billy. He offers you his bedroom and leaves you alone. You collapse the moment you’ve locked the door behind him. Heaving sobs break out of your throat. There's this pounding, violently hollow feeling in your chest. It hurts so badly. You wish it would stop. You wish everything would just stop.

******

Billy should have been ecstatic. Everything was falling into place and he had you right where he wanted you. Ever since Dr. Hobbs had figured out what you were, he knew all his scheming was worth it. You would be worth it. All he needed to do was get you healthy again and no one would be able to stand in your way, except him of course. He should have been happy, and to some degree, he was. Even Rawlins and his menageries of supes and witches would not be enough against a siren and a weaver. But seeing your face fall when he told you the truth, that had not been an experience he enjoyed. He could practically hear your heart breaking. Billy rubbed the mostly healed bite wound on his hand, maybe he had pushed you a bit too far by trying to touch you when you were that upset.

Maybe once you were settled and he explained everything, maybe then you would be more understanding. Once you knew about Rawlins and what really happened to Frank’s family. How Billy hadn’t known until it was too late. How he had cut ties as soon as he could afterwards. How he had done everything he could to become stronger so he could be rid of Rawlins once and for all. Maybe then you wouldn’t look at him like he had just ripped your heart out of your chest.

Billy told himself you would be more useful if you were happy. If you truly liked him and trusted him again, it would be easier to control you. He wouldn’t let himself acknowledge the fact that he really just wanted you to be happy with him. To choose him over anything else. No, he wouldn’t let himself think about that. Instead, he would work on the next phase of his plan. He would make you fall in love with him. And this time, he would be honest about his intentions. He’d give you your space, your time to adjust.

All of that could begin tomorrow. For tonight, he would pretend he couldn’t hear you crying in his bed while he sipped whiskey in the living room.

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Bond to Happen Part 17

Warnings: depression, guilt, references to suicide/attempted assault/murder, Billy Russo is his own warning. Shit is going to get dark before we get our happy ending.

Word Count: 2000ish

Masterlist

The panic begins to set in. You’ve never felt this weak, this powerless, and disconnected in all your time as a magic user. It takes a moment of deep breathing before you can even sense the smallest spark of power, flickering in and out. “I can barely even feel any of it, no auras, no static, no buzzing.”

“Breathe with me, baby. What can you feel?” His cooling aura washes over you. It’s faint and you can’t feel the emotion behind it, only its presence.

“You. I only feel you.”

“It’s okay, you’re probably just drained.”

“Oh my gods. I killed them.” Memories continue to rush back to you in fragments as you struggle to keep your breathing steady. “They’re both dead?” You look to him for confirmation.

Billy nods. “You saved both our lives, Blue. You did the right thing.”

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” you say to yourself. Everything feels so heavy, so hopeless and repetitive and painful. You will always be stuck in this cycle of violence and you hate that you have no power over it.

Billy holds you tighter. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair pleadingly.

“I’m so tired of hurting people. I’m so tired of being in pain all the time. I just want it to stop.”

Billy takes a deep, steadying breath. “From what I’ve seen, you’ve only hurt people who were going to hurt you. There is no shame in that.”

“And if hurting them made me feel better afterwards?”

“Sweetheart, what aren’t you telling me? I know there’s more to this than what happened earlier. How can I help you if you don’t trust me?”

So you tell him. You tell him about the blonde who roofied you and the men who tried to kill you in the rain.

“I didn’t want to, I really didn’t. They were going to do awful things. I couldn’t help it, I just reacted. Everyone is so afraid of what witches are capable of, and I pretend like I’m harmless. Like I’m some good person. So people aren’t afraid of me. But they should be. Everyone should be. I killed for the first time drugged out of my mind, a fledgling witch against a man twice my strength. I ripped his throat out and walked away from it. The second time, I was so weak, so starved of energy, and I brutally murdered 4 men. I thought I had left that all behind when I came to New York. I thought I had been doing so well. I’d gotten into trouble, but I didn’t kill again. Until you were bleeding out in front of me. I am the monster they expect me to be. Maybe not right now, maybe not tomorrow. But even weak and beaten, all it takes is a push and I will do terrible things.”

“You defended yourself-”

“I used an appalling amount of force when there were other options. I didn’t care, I didn’t look for another way out, I just tore their life away from them. And it made- it makes me feel strong- I never feel strong anymore and I hate it at the same time.”

“It’s okay to feel strong, sweetheart. There’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Maybe,” you say dismissively. “Those people yesterday-” you hesitate before continuing.  “they didn’t seem to be trying to kill me, but they definitely wanted you dead. Why is that?”

Billy’s arms stiffen around you minutely, just for a moment before relaxing. “I used to work with them. I can’t really tell you anymore than that, but suffice to say they don’t like me.”

“Why do you think they were after me? Who was the boss they mentioned?”

“I don’t know, they might be working for someone new. But you tell me, why would they be interested in you?”

If you were smart, you would have noticed the evasion and turnaround tactics at that moment. But you weren’t smart. You were blindly trusting of a man who had never been anything but perfect in your eyes, and you refused to see anything wrong with him.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you sigh. “I just…”

“Just what, baby?”

“I just want it to stop, I want some peace. I’m so tired of all of this hurt and fighting just to exist.” Small tears slip from your eyes directly onto his neck as you sniffle. Billy is silent for so long you aren’t sure if he heard you. “I want to say something, sweetheart. First, I want you to know I’m not angry at you, I could never be angry at you. You got that?”

You nod against him.

“Look at me,” he says softly and you raise your head to meet his gaze. “No one’s life is worth more than yours; not mine, not those asshole mercs, not anyone’s. Don’t you ever go doin’ something that you know is gonna get you killed ever again. You hear me?”

“Billy, I’m not going to just stand by and watch the people I care about die when I can help them,” you argue petulantly.

“And suicide is the answer then?” Billy’s face is twisted into an almost sneer.

“It’s not- it wasn’t. I’m not-. It’s a spell, it’s not suicide.”

“A spell to kill yourself, that sounds like suicide to me.”

You turn your head to avoid his eyes, they see too much and it’s almost painful to look at him right now. He lets the silence stay, heavy and thick for a moment, in the air.

“Blue, do you want to die?” He asks, hand reaching for your’s slowly.

A sob rips itself from your lips. “I don’t know,” you whisper as the tears fall.

“Oh baby, come’ere.” He pulls you close to his chest and hums soothingly.

“When I was 13, I was … struggling. I was in a new home, no friends, no baseball. My shoulder still actin’ up and I was so angry at everything- everyone. One night my foster parents were out and I went lookin’ for some booze to take the edge off. I found a gun instead. I don’t know what was goin’ through my head but I picked up that gun and just…. Well, whatever I was gonna do, it didn’t matter cuz the front door opened and I ran outta there like my ass was on fire. I spent years after that doin’ reckless shit, not really carin’ if I lived. Everyone saw me as some pretty pity case and I hated it. I honestly don’t know how I made it to 18. Joining the Marines probably saved my life. It gave me direction, something to point my anger at. Focus, a team, control. For the first time in so long, I wanted to live.” Billy takes a deep breath. “I’m not sayin’ this to make you feel sorry for me or anything. I just want you to know you’re not alone. We’re in this together, we just need to find you that something that makes this a little easier. Something that grounds you or focuses you.”

“You’re a really good friend, Billy,” you murmur, unsure what to say. There are 3 words you want to say, words your whole body seems to be screaming at you to confess to him, but you swallow them down. 

“Just promise me you’ll try, or at least talk to me when this shit starts gettin’ too heavy for you,” Billy begs you. 

“I promise, Billy.”

*******

That evening, an unknown number called Billy’s phone. 

“Russo.”

“You have something I want,” Rawlins said.

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific, Rawlins.” 

“Your little witch. Name your price.”

“She’s not for sale,” Billy says evenly. 

“You always have a price, Russo.”

“Not this time. She’s been useful. I think I’ll keep her around for now.” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve gotten attached,” Rawlins scoffs.

“You know better than that, Rawlins.”

“And you know I always end up getting what I want.”

“Good luck with that. After that stunt you just pulled, you’ll be lucky if you ever end up anywhere near her.” Billy hangs up and sets his phone carefully on the table so he doesn’t throw it in his anger. He had known Rawlins was behind the attack, he just wasn’t sure why Rawlins would be so fixated on you. Maybe Dr. Hobbs would have answers after she finished examining the blood and hair samples she took from you. Regardless of the results, Billy needs to move fast to make sure no one can take you from him.

“Speak of the devil,” Billy mutters to himself as his phone rings again. 

“Dr. Hobbs, what do you have for me?” Billy asks as he picks up the phone.

“She’s a Fate, specifically from the Clotho bloodline. Most commonly called Weavers.”

“Like Greek Fates?”

“That is a classic example.”

“And what’s that mean?”

“It means if you get her healthy, there are few creatures more powerful.”

“How few?”

“1 or 2 on each continent. Depending on age and species, maybe a dozen in the world.

Of course, that is assuming she is fully fed and confident. As is, a human could kill her easily.”

Billy growls at that. “How does she feed? She’s mentioned touch. What do I need to do?”

“It’s hard to say. There is very little literature about her kind. She would likely be able to tell you more than I can. It looks like consensual physical contact, generally from a particular person close to her, often called an anchor, is most effective.”

“And how do I find her an anchor?”

“I could only guess, Mr. Russo. Any answer I give you would be purely conjecture.”

“I understand. Tell me.”

“I think that the anchor is a more specific term for bondmate within this species. It’s likely that you may already be the equivalent of an anchor to her.”

*******

“Hey Matt, what’s up?” You mumble as you answer the phone. You had been trying to nap away your emotions.

“I have news, is now a good time to talk?”

“As good as any. What’s going on?”

“We have some bad news, Blue.” Foggy sounds apologetic.

“Lawyer bad news?”

“Unfortunately,” Foggy answers.

You tuck your legs up underneath you and grab your favorite throw pillow, pressing it to your chest as you put the phone on speaker. “Rip off the bandaid.” 

“Someone submitted a request for guardianship to the WBI.”

“Okay, we’re prepared for that, right?”

“We are. The difference with this request, is they have extensive evidence of positively received courting behaviors. They are alleging that there is already a bond being formed between the two of you.”

“That’s ridiculous! What courting behaviors?”

“Drinks, food, gifts, dates, and nights spent together.”

“I don’t do any of that with anyone. I mean except for our friends.”

“To make sure we are all on the same page, can you list your friends that you would engage in this behavior with?”

“If you make the definition of ‘date’ some sort of outing and ‘nights spent together’ as sleep overs, then it would be the two of you, Frank, Karen, and Billy.”

“No other dates, outings, or nights over with anyone outside of that list?”

“No, I only spend time with anyone else in work situations.”

“We have the evidence if you would like to review it.”

“Can you email it over?” You open your laptop and review pages and pages of documents, receipts, texts, even pictures of you.

“I don’t understand,” you say in confusion. 

“Are these accounts accurate?”

“Yes, this all happened. Um, can I call you back?”

“We really should talk more-”

You hang up on Foggy, pure disbelief shooting through you. Your stomach drops and anxiety prickles against your skin. Your breathing is quick and shallow.

This is all Billy. The coffee, the food, the zoo, game nights, Central Park, the site visit during the storm, the night after Stevens, the night after Central Park. All of this is Billy.

-----

Buckle up, yall.

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Possession Part 2

Trigger warnings: brief mentions of sex and murder, customer service hell-scape (not literal)

Word count: 875

Tell me we are not doin’ this for the next 12 hours.

You’re lucky, today is only a 10 hour shift. You continue scanning items, listening to the repetitive beeping and background chatter.

Are you sure we aren’t in Hell right now?

Don’t be a baby. We’re only 2 hours in.

This is so boring.

Boring is better than the alternative. I’m sure you’ll see soon enough.

“I have some coupons,” your customer says, handing you a stack of paper cut outs.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but these are for a different store. And they’re expired,” You explain.

“But they should still work. The last time I came here they accepted them.”

Yeah right.

“Unfortunately, I can’t accept them.”

“You can though. You just have to type some things into your computer. I’ve seen it done,” she continues.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s against store policy.”

“What are you stupid? Just put them in your computer. It’s not that hard!”

What a bitch. I would’ve stabbed her by now, but that’s just me.

“I’m not stupid, ma’am. There is nothing I can do. It’s against store policy.” You keep your tone even. 

“Are you arguing with me? The customer is always right. See this is what’s wrong with your generation.” She huffs and puts her hands on her hip.

I’m older than you and if she was talkin’ to me like that, I wouldn’t stand for it.

Be quiet. You're gonna distract me.

“Ma’am, I cannot accept these coupons. Are you ready for me to finish the transaction?”

“No. I’m not. I want to speak to your manager.” She folds her arms over her chest.

Fine by me. Make her someone else’s problem.

You wave over your manager. “Hey Roger, could I have your help with something real quick?”

“Sure, what’s going on?” Roger asks. He’s nice, you like him as a manager. He usually has your back.

You open your mouth to speak, but the woman interrupts you and begins complaining. Roger is patient, explaining the exact same thing you did and finally getting the woman to leave. Roger isn’t a very tall or particularly strong man, but he’s nice and polite and you have a bit of a professional crush on him. He claps you on the shoulder and gives you an apologetic smile once he leaves. 

He wants to fuck you.

Jesus Christ, William. He does not.

I thought you were gay. How can you have a crush on him?

I’m pan. Equal opportunity as far as crushes go. Gay is just a bit of a catch all term I use when I don’t feel like explaining.

So you would be down for a threesome? You can hear the grin in his words.

You literally are just another dude. Could you be any more cliche?

I could. 

I’m gonna be clear right now. That was not a challenge.

Kinda felt like it.

How old are you, William?

I lost track. I’ve been outta Hell a couple times. Last time was during the Civil War, I think. Time before that is kinda fuzzy. I think some war for independence. When I was human, I fought with swords.

Damn you're old. If you’ve done the possession thing before, why are you so bad at it?

Ouch. I did just fine before. I think something’s wrong with you, not me.

So you’re blaming me for your possession? Take some responsibility for your own actions, my dude.

Responsibility is for suckers. 

You roll your eyes and focus on the rest of the shift. Billy is mostly well behaved-ish and only mentioning murdering the customers occasionally.

Damn look at the rack on her.

I will not.

If I saw, that means you looked.

Okay, I noticed, but it would be impossible not to. I’m not going to stare, that’s rude.

You can practically feel the demon pouting in your mind as he says, Now you’re just bein’ mean.

I know we established you are old as dirt, but I’m not gonna go around ogling women for your amusement.

What about ogling men?

What?!

You said no to women, that leaves a lot of options open. Can we ogle those?

First of all, there is no we in this and no. We are not ogling anyone. Oh my God she’s coming to my lane.

The beautiful brunette woman with the low cut top and killer curves is loading a handful of items onto the conveyor belt. You avoid looking at her as best you can as you scan the items.

“I like your hair,” she says. “It suits you.”

You stumble over your words. “You too. I mean, I like your hair too. Thanks.”

You’re hopeless, sweetheart.

I am not! I was just unprepared. 

“You’re cute,” the woman smiles. “I’ll see you around.”

You hand her the receipt and nod stupidly.

Absolutely hopeless.

Ugh, just a bit.

She wanted to fuck you too by the way.

She did not! How would you even know that? You’re out of date for human interactions by a couple centuries. 

I’m an incubus, plus fucking is timeless.

That’s such a weird thing to say. Of course I get a literal sex demon stuck in my head. God must hate me.

Join the club, buddy.

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Bond to Happen: Part 16

Trigger Warnings: injury, death, attempted sexual assault, canon typical violence, disowning of a family member

Word count: 3300ish

Masterlist

How had such a good day turned so bad so fast? Watching the blood slowly drip down the blade at your neck was terrifying and not in a fear-of-losing-his-investment sort of way. Well, not only in that sort of way. When you leaned into the blade, his heart stopped only for you to brutally and efficiently kill your attackers before healing him and dying. It all happened so fast, too fast for him to react. The bullets embedded in his body were coated in a toxin, likely some sort of neurotoxin, maybe something spelled.

For a moment, Billy is frozen. He isn’t sure if it’s the poison laced bullets or his own shock. Not that he would ever admit it, but the events of the last 15 seconds were completely unexpected. You had killed two people with ease, in a swirl of blood and carefully calculated movements before healing his stomach wounds, neutralizing the poisons, and passing out. 

Billy leans over you, calling on his senses to listen for your heart, for your breath. Nothing. Your heart isn’t beating, you aren’t breathing. He can’t feel your magic anymore. It’s gone. His monster tugs at his grasp, not in search of more violence, but instead urging him to fix this. To save you. To save his m-. Billy shuts down that line of thinking and takes action.

He moves you onto your back and begins CPR. 30 compressions. 2 breaths. 30 compressions. 2 breaths. 30 compressions. 2 breaths.

“Fuck!” Billy yells. You still aren’t breathing. 30 compressions. 2 breaths. 30 compressions. This time, when he breathes into your mouth, his heightened senses pick up on the weak pulse of your heart. Your lungs exhale his breath and inhale shallowly on their own. If he couldn’t already hear sirens, he would continue until your heart beat was steadier, but he couldn’t risk waiting. Getting wrapped up with human police would take too much time. Time he needed to make sure you would live. Billy scoops you up into his arms, wincing at the strain it puts on his healing shoulder. If he didn’t get the bullet out soon, the flesh would close over it and it would need to be cut open again. He grit his teeth. Nothing he hadn’t been through before. With you in his arms and the fresh pulse of death in his veins, he hurries towards his car as fast as he can while keeping your head from shaking around dangerously. The car was farther than he would have liked, and the both of you were covered in blood, but he got you into the back seat without hindrance from the people on the street. They likely could sense, consciously or not, the lethal power coming off him after how well he had just fed.

“Breathe, sweetheart. Just keeping breathing,” he says, more to himself than you.

The second he’s on the road, he calls the doctor he keeps on the payroll. Then he calls the apartment building and tells them to go into a yellow level lock-down. Only residents are allowed in, no guests. Any non-residents on the premises must leave immediately. The entire drive, he can barely hear your heartbeat, even with his heightened senses. Breaking several traffic laws and running more than one red light, he makes it to his apartment building in record time. Billy doesn’t waste a second as he pulls you back into his arms, listening to your heart and making a beeline to the elevator. He takes you directly to his penthouse and notifies building security to allow Dr. Hobbs in.

Billy places you on the cushy rug in the living room and busies himself by grabbing the first aid kits and assessing your injuries. He cleans the wounds on your neck first and presses a gauze pad over the cuts before beginning on the self-inflicted knife wound on your arm. He’s most of the way through cleaning it when Dr. Hobbs arrives.

Billy quickly explains what happened, finishing with, “In under 4 minutes I was able to get her heart beating again, but barely, and I still can’t feel her magic.”

“This is the same woman we have been talking about over the last few months. Correct?”

“Yes. Fix her.” The Doctor is smart enough to hear the threat in Billy’s words.

“I need space, preferably with you out of the room. You might want to get that bullet out, it’s about to heal over.” Dr. Hobbs is professional and practically emotionless. He paid her well and she did what he asked, no prying questions, no ethical drama. It helped that she was afraid of him, though she hid that fear well.

Billy nods at her suggestion, heading to the master bathroom to begin the process of digging the bullet out of his shoulder. He had barely gotten his shirt off when Dr. Hobbs yelled for him.

“Her heart stopped again, I need you to continue CPR while I work.” Again the emotionless and uncaring tone. Billy didn’t know why her nonchalant attitude was bothering him today. He usually preferred it. Billy ignored those thoughts and pressed his overlapped hands over your heart, beginning compressions when the doctor barked another order. “Stop. The heart is beating again. Remove your hands.”

A low growl slipped from Billy’s lips as he did as instructed.

“I’m picking up something unusual, but I think I’ve seen it before. I want you to slowly step back until I say stop. Start now.” The whole while, Hobbs kept her hands hovering over you, a light orange glow flickering over your prone body. Billy slowly steps backwards, eyes on you, ears straining for any fluctuation in the weak thrum of your heart. “Stop and come back here, but don’t touch her yet.”

Your heart has stopped beating again. Billy’s hands ached to touch you, to help you, but he trusted the Doctor, at least in her medical expertise. It was one of the longest 20 seconds of Billy’s life before the Doctor spoke again.

“Put your hands on her, skin to skin contact, no CPR, don’t do anything except touch her.”

Billy complys but this time fully growls, “Would you care to share with the class, Doc?”

 The second his hand touches your bare skin, your heart starts beating again.

“I need you to be completely straight with me, Mr. Russo. You told me she was a Seer, with some other odds and ends that I saw on her file. Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”

“You know everything I know, she’s kept the rest hidden so far,” Billy snaps.

“Then my second question. Were you able to successfully complete the bond?”

“No, it’s still a work in progress.”

“I’m going to need to look into this, Mr. Russo. I thought maybe it was because of a completed bond, tying her life force to yours, but the way her body and what I can sense of her aura are reacting to you is something else entirely. She should be dead by now. It doesn’t make sense. The best I can do for now is take care of her wounds and give her some fluids. After that, you need to maintain as much skin contact as possible. Every time you touch her, she … reacts… in a way I don’t understand. You said she has issues with touch with most people?”

“Yeah, except for a handful of people she’s known for a while, she can’t stand being touched without preparation, even then it drains her. What’re you sayin’, Doc?”

“I think that her aversion to touch within certain parameters is a clue to help me figure out what this is, what she is. Until then or until she wakes up, I’m in the dark.”

*******

You think you are dead. You aren’t sure, but wherever you are, it’s dark, for the most part soundless, empty. You feel nothing. No pain, no cold or heat, not even your own body. You have no perception of time. No up or down. You aren’t sure of your name either, though occasionally you hear a distorted voice saying ‘sweetheart’. You don’t know what that means, but it feels familiar and safe. You aren’t sure what you would need to feel safe from, you can’t remember any danger. You can’t really remember anything at all. There is only the void and the rare echo of a voice you swear you once knew. 

There is nothing but the void and that voice, until there isn't. Until suddenly there is a painful, pulsing pressure and shouted words. Sometimes said pleadingly, other times angrily. More than one voice, a man and a woman. The man’s voice is alluring, even in its anger. Alluring, like a siren’s call. Except you don’t think he calls for your death. You can’t be sure- of anything really. You are still nestled firmly in the grasp of the void, it only allows you moments of sensation. 

The nothingness slowly slips away and you can feel again. Not much, not anything you understand, but the touch is bright like a beacon. Calling to you, trapping you in the embrace. Maybe ‘trapping’ is not the right word. You don’t want to leave. You want to stay wherever this place is. Warm and soft and full of color. You are so very tired and you think it would be quite nice to rest here.

******

A Few Years Earlier

“I’m harmless, Dad, please! I’m still your daughter! We’ve always known I had something, even you and grandma have abilities. Why am I so different?”

“Our family has gifts from God, meant to strengthen our family, not give us power over others. Your witchcraft is unnatural. Power like that only comes from one place. The Devil!” He’s spitting mad, looking at you like you are a stranger to him.

“Mom, please. I love you, I’m still part of this family!” You’re begging, the only thing holding back tears is the shock.

“No child of ours would sell their soul to the Devil. No child of ours would become his whore for magic.”

“I didn’t do anything for this, I wouldn’t. I’m not a - please just give me a chance!”

You don’t understand. You knew your parents were religious, knew they had some outdated thoughts about witches, but you never knew it ran this deep. You never thought they would turn on you like this. You came home today, after deciding to finally come out to them, expecting them to listen, and maybe help you figure out how to handle these burgeoning powers. Not condemn you for them.

Your father has disappeared while you plead with your mother, but he quickly returns with the shotgun usually stored in a locked safe by the door. It’s aimed towards the ground and his finger is off the trigger, but there is a cold steel in his eyes.

“Please, Daddy. I’m good! I promise I’m good. I’ll do anything. I’ll have my magic bound. I didn’t ask for it. Please don’t make me leave! You’re my parents. Don’t you love me?” Your voice cracks as the reality of the situation sets in.

“We never should have let you go to that school. Our daughter died when you first used this magic. You are no child of ours anymore. Grab your things and leave.” He cocks the gun to punctuate his words. You shove what little you had unpacked from school into your bags and grab everything worth keeping in the room. Well, everything you can fit. You have to leave so much behind. So many memories.

“That’s enough, get out,” your father orders. You grab your bags and head towards the front door.

“Let me say goodbye to Charlotte, please. Let me just tell her I’m leaving. Don’t make me leave, please. Please!” They practically shove you out the door and you’re grateful your keys still hang in a lanyard around your neck.

“Don’t you ever come back, hag.” 

“Please, let me see Charlotte. One last time. I’ll never come back, please.”

“Your sister is better off without you. Our family doesn’t deserve your curse. If I see you here again, I’ll act within my rights to defend my family and property.” With that, they slam the door in your face.

You get in your car and drive a few miles down the street before you pull over. Your tears are free flowing and you can barely see. You scream and slam your fists on the wheel.

“I’m good,” you cry to yourself. “I’m good, I’m still good.”

That was the last night you saw your family. It was one of the worst days of your life.

*******

A few months after leaving home

The club is loud, but you like it. It drowns out your thoughts. All you have to focus on is the drink in your hand and the move of your body. Edward, the blonde guy from the bar, keeps following you around the dance floor. He seemed nice when he bought you a drink, but he asked you to come home with him, and you weren’t up for that. The night gets hazier and hazier, the room spinning faster and faster. Strange, given that you’ve only had three drinks so far. You head outside, maybe you just need some air. You don’t remember walking much farther and you definitely don’t remember lying down on, what is this-grass? Something’s grabbing at you and you don’t like it, but your limbs are slow to respond. Maybe this is a dream. You feel like it anyway. All heavy and disoriented. The hum of your magic is faint, though, which doesn’t make sense. Usually your dreams are where your magic is strongest these days.

A sharp tug on your jeans grabs your attention. Your eyes open, a feat in and of itself. Blonde hair.

“E-ed-ed..ward?” you mumble in confusion.

“Shhhh, go back to sleep.” It is Edward. Why is he trying to pull off your jeans? Your magic flashes in warning, slowly growing stronger.

“No, getoffme.” Your words are slurred and he ignores them. You can’t move enough to fight back. You don’t know how to use your magic in this state. You can barely react. Until his palms grip your thighs painfully.

Your magic surges in your veins, burning through the drug in your system and you can finally move. Your memory of what happens next is spotty at best. But the flashes of the night that do remain, those you will remember in exacting detail for years.

Edward hadn’t liked that you started moving, hadn’t liked the orange glow in your eyes, and you demanding he stop. He began attacking you in more ways than one. You remember your head being slammed into brick and you saw red. So you fought back the only way you knew how. With your fists and your feet and your teeth when he tried to pin you. You kept fighting until you held his crushed trachea in your hand, while his body bled onto the pavement.

*******

Several months later

The thunder cracks above you as you make your way home. It’s raining and you love the

feeling of cool water against your skin. You know you shouldn’t be out alone this late, but your boss needed you to cover someone else’s shift and you need the money.

You are caught off guard by a blunt strike to the back of your head, knocking you over. Sharp kicks to the stomach, yelling voices, hateful names spewed at you. Pain. Again and again. Your magic gifts you a vision of all the times this has happened before. The other woman and the girl, practically still a child, that they had beaten near death and then burned. This is what they intend for you. A brutal breaking of your body before reducing it to char and ash. Then they will plan for their next ‘cleansing’ as they call it. Your magic pulses through you in a dull throb and you send out a wave of orange energy, pushing your attackers back.

Like a woman possessed, you barely need to look as you strike. Thunder covers their screams, disguises the gunshots as they shoot at you. Only two bullets actually find purchase in your skin, there pain nothing but a buzz that fuels your rage.You rend flesh and snap bone until only one man is left alive. Begging on his knees before you. Praying to a God you know will not save him. You thrust your magic into his mind and hear his frantic thoughts. You read the memory of his beginnings as a child in a small town with small ideas. How his thoughts progressed to fear of the unknown. Then into the hate he was told was justified by powerful men in high places. The constant rhetoric on his television, idle fantasies with friends, joking plans, then into his mission. Your eyes blaze as you watch him cowering in front of you.

“How many women have you killed? How many have you tortured and sacrificed? You think you are so much better than us. You think you’re on a holy mission to rid the world of a great evil. In what world is burning people alive the order of a- how do you people describe him so often, oh yes,- a kind and merciful God? If this is what you call your God’s mercy, then you can have mine.” Your voice was loud as you began, full of anger and pain, until it settled into a quiet fury. 

“Thank you. I’ll never do anything like this again. I’m sor-”

“I’ll give you the mercy of a quick death.”

*******

You wake up screaming, pushing off the hands trying to drag you down. You can taste the blood in your mouth, you smell it. Everything is red, it must be red. So much blood.

“It’s me, it’s Billy. You’re safe!” A voice is calling out to you over the thundering in your ears. “You’re home! Focus on my voice, sweetheart. It’s just me.”

“Billy?” Your vision is dark, you can barely see your surroundings, but as you force yourself to listen to his voice, you can see him clearly.

“Yeah, baby. It’s just me. We’re in my room. It’s okay.” His voice is soothing, though you don’t fail to notice the edge underneath it.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is hoarse from screaming.

“It’s okay to be scared, sweetheart. Can I hold you?”

You nod and he wraps his arms around you, tucking your head underneath his chin. You can hear his steady, slightly elevated heartbeat. “How did I get here?”

“You don’t remember?”

You shake your head against his chest and he reassuringly strokes your hair with one hand. “We were attacked on our way home from the park last night.”

The memory slowly permeates your mind. Flashes at first, then everything at once. A small cry slips from your lips.

“Sh, sh. It’s okay, baby. We’re safe.” He rocks you slightly as you try to get control of yourself.

“You were shot! And I-” you cut yourself off before you can voice the rest, choosing to switch trains of thought. “Your shoulder? How is it? I only healed your stomach, I’m sorry, it was the priority, but I -”

“My shoulder is fine, sweet girl. It was healed last night. I called the occult doctor and she took care of things.”

“You’re okay?” You ask dubiously, leaning back to look in his eyes.

“Right as rain.”

Satisfied by his answers, you pull yourself back against his chest.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” There is a blatant concern in his voice and something that sounds like fear. You dismiss it, you’ve never known Billy Russo to be afraid.

As you take stock of your body, your heart rate increases. Physically, you are tired, bruised, and sore. That isn’t what’s terrifying you.

“My magic- I can’t connect to it.”

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Bond to Happen: Part 15

Trigger Warnings: canon typical violence, magical self harm, technical suicide (feel free to message me for details) Word Count: 3000ish

You call Matt that afternoon. “Do you really think that going to the WBI is a good idea?”

“I think it’s worth the chance, all things considered.”

“And you really think you and Foggy can protect me? At least give me enough time to find a way out if things go bad?”

“I do.”

“Then I’m in. What do I need to do?”

“Paperwork, and a lot of it. Then we go to the WBI, file for a Review of Identification,

submit some of your blood, and a formal reading of your magic.”

“When do we start?”

Matt made room in his schedule so the two of you could begin that evening. It was a lot of paperwork and you were grateful when Foggy came by to help, no questions asked. Much of it had information only you could answer. When your abilities had begun to show up and how they progressed. Family information with as many details about any nonhuman members as possible. Sleeping habits, eating habits, sexual habits, fears, hobbies. Even your favorite color. The more personal things you filled out on your own, but much of it you let Foggy and Matt record in their professional interpretation of your words.

You call Billy before it gets too late. “Hey Bill, would it be okay if I took a few days off? There are a few things I want to get done before I come back to work.”

“Of course, take as much time as you need. My offer still stands, if you want a couple weeks paid time off, it’s yours.”

“Three days should be fine, no longer than a week. I’ll keep you updated in case things change.”

“I’m here if you wanna talk or if you just want some company.”

“Thanks, Billy.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

You hang up and turn back to Matt who has a strange look on his face. 

“What’s that face for, Matt?”

“You and Russo have gotten pretty close.”

“That’s not a question,” you point out.

“He seems… nice.”

“He is. He’s actually a really good guy.”

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Yeah…”

“Do you ever think it might be a bit much? The presents, the whole ‘shoulder to cry on’ act, catering to your needs? That inhibitor cuff alone is a pretty big gesture to come from a friend who also happens to be your boss.”

You have to fight the urge to be defensive. “I’ve known him for a while, Matt, it’s not like this all came on overnight.”

“You’re right. You’re right.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’.”

“Sometimes he just seems off to my senses. Like there’s something I’m missing. I can never catch him in a lie, his heart stays steady all the time. It’s just strange, is all.”

“Maybe you can’t catch him in a lie because he isn’t lying to any of us, Matthew.”

“Maybe, Blue. Just be careful with him?”

“I’m always careful, Matt,” you bristle before softening your tone. “But I’ll keep what you said in mind.”

*********

You wore your most professional outfit that Monday morning as you, Matt, and Foggy went to the WBI New York office. You were grateful that Matt and Foggy never left you alone through the whole process. The investigators took a few samples of your blood and hair, which was the easiest part of all of it. The magic scan was uncomfortable as they asked you to activate your abilities and hold them in that state. You were honest and told them you were magically exhausted. The technician assured you that as long as you could use a small amount of power, the scan would work. It just needed to see what pathways were lighting up and how.

The technology was a beautifully intricate combination of something like an x-ray with complex spells woven into it.

The whole process took the better part of the day and you were dead on your feet when you finally got back to your apartment.

*********

“Russo.”

“Hey, Billy, it’s me. Are you busy?”

“Hey, sweetheart, not at all. How are you doing?”

“Better actually. The cuff has been a lifesaver. I was wondering if you were free to hangout sometime in the next few days? I was thinking of visiting Central Park since I won’t be as overwhelmed anymore and thought maybe you could come with me?”

“I’d love to, are you free tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yup, I’ll just be home relaxing all day.”

“You deserve the rest, sweetheart. I’ll swing by and pick you up at around 3?”

“That works, I’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Me too. Bye, Billy.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

You smile to yourself as you hang up. 

*********

“It’s so nice to be able to enjoy being outside, Billy. You have no idea how loud everything was before the cuff.”

“I’m glad it’s been helpful.” Billy holds out his arm for you to take as you stroll through the busy park. You take it with a little laugh.

“What?” He asks.

“It’s just nice to feel like a real person again.”

“How long has it been that bad?”

“Most of the time I've known you,” you admit.

“Shit, sweetheart. You shoulda said something.”

“I kind of just accepted it. For a while there at least.”

“And now?”

“Now… I’m trying to hope for something better.”

“You deserve the world. One day, someone will give it to you.”

“Maybe. I’m taking baby steps for now. Matt and Foggy are helping me with some witch stuff, I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”

“Is this walk part of those baby steps?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’ as you speak. “Karen says I need to spend more time with people outside of work.”

“And I was the first person on your list. Aw, sweetheart, I’m touched.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” You roll your eyes at him as he grins at you.

“I’ll do my best.”

“What have I missed over the last couple days? Fill me in on the office gossip.”

“I’m the CEO, I don’t gossip.”

“Of course not.”

“But now that we’re on the topic, I did hear that Anvil has been divided by some strong opinions on the espresso machine.”

“I knew it. Did Josie end up going through with her plan?”

“She did, no one could tell the difference.” Billy continues sharing how everyone reacted once Josie came clean and how it led to a mild prank war the next day. The two of you were laughing and leaning into each other, enjoying the afternoon when the hair on the back of your neck prickled.

“Stop for a second, something feels wrong.” Your words halt Billy’s animated rambling and his expression turns serious. The sun has barely started setting, warm light still breaking through the trees of central park. There are few things that should be able to penetrate the protection of the cuff. The first and only one you think of in that moment, is if your life is in immediate danger.

“I thought you were wearing your cuff?” He looks down at your wrist and you shake your head.

“I am, I don’t know what it is.” You pull off your cuff to try and get a feel for what’s setting the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“What do you see?” He asks, leaning down to look into your eyes.

“I can’t see anything, but I have a bad feeling, Billy.” It’s pure instinct, something deep in your gut urging you to run.

“Let’s get back home. You stay right next to me. Got it, sweetheart?” His words leave no room for argument and you nod your understanding. He takes your hand in his, keeping his free hand near his hip, where his gun is. You are almost out of the park, you had mostly stayed on the outskirts anyway. You can just barely see the street when a jolt of fear runs up your spine, telling you to hit the ground. With an unnatural burst of strength, you jerk Billy towards you, dropping to the ground as a gunshot pierces the air, the bullet flying right through the spot the two of you had been.

“Stay low, move behind those trees-”

“There’s more than one, others on the ground around us,” you tell him as your Sight flickers in and out. Billy nodded, pulling out his gun. He didn’t seem rattled at all. He was focused, with a terrifying lethal look on his face. You were glad it wasn’t directed at you.

“Go to those trees and hide, text Frank, but stay very quiet and do not move. Do you understand?” 

“I understand,” you say and make a low dash for a thick pocket of trees with enough bushes around the base that you would be out of sight. By the time you could peek between branches, Billy had already disappeared. You shoot off a quick text to Frank, including your live location and switching your phone to silent.

We are being attacked, multiple armed assailants, Central Park.

Then you stick your phone firmly into the waistband of your jeans, under your shirt and jacket so you don’t lose it in case of a struggle. It is eerily quiet for only a few moments, but those moments seem to drag on for an eternity. Your breath sounds as loud as thunder to your own ears and you work on slowing your racing heart. Your Sight is erratic, like a TV with a bad signal, only blurry images are coming through and so much of them are filled with blood. 

The sound of gun fire ruins any hope you have of calming yourself and now all you can think about is Billy. You can’t see him, in any way, you can’t feel his aura. You can’t hear him, only the occasional unrecognizable yell or grunt mixed in with so many gunshots. In hindsight, you were a little too focused on what might be happening with Billy and not worried enough about your own surroundings. With your Sight, no one with the intent to harm you should have been able to get so close without you noticing. 

You guess you have to accept that your Sight is officially broken when you notice the masked man creeping towards you, not even a dozen paces away. He sees you, you know he does when your eyes lock. You move to run, blood rushing through your ears in a feeling so strangely reminiscent of the ocean. Your panic is all consuming. You are weak. Alone. Unarmed. Sightless. Likely magicless. With no self defense training. All you could do was run, and even that wasn’t enough. The man caught you in seconds, tackling you to the ground as you let out a scream. Your attacker wrenches you onto your back and grips your face.

“What’s your name?” He yells. You shake your head, mouth frozen in fear. He doesn’t like that. The man backhands you causing your head to jerk sharply to the left as you see stars, bright blotches of light to contrast with the dark tinge to the edge of your vision. He jerks your head so you face him again, this time, he presses a knife to your neck. You can’t see it, but you can feel it as it shallowly cuts the vulnerable skin of your throat.

“Your name! Tell me your name!” He demands, spittle flying. You give your legal name carefully and it seems to be what he wants to hear as he drags you upright, keeping the knife close to your neck as you stand. He pulls your back to his chest, free arm pinning you as the other shoves the knife until it connects with skin. You don’t think he intends to kill you in this moment. But he isn’t being very careful with the blade and you’ve been cut twice now. You can feel the blood oozing down your throat.

“RUSSO!” He roars. The only thing keeping you from flinching at the sound is that sharp knife.

“Let her go, Mills.” You can’t see him, but you recognize Billy's voice. You’re relieved that he’s still alive. You knew he was capable, likely as capable as Frank when he acted as the Punisher, but you’d never seen him in action before.

“Drop your weapons first,” your captor orders.

“You know you aren’t making it out of here, Alex. Your team is dead. You only have two options, kill her or let her go. You’re gonna die either way. You just get to pick how quick it is.” There’s a quality to Billy’s voice that you have never heard before. Not when he argued with Frank, not when he yelled at his team for messing up, not when he was trying to scare new recruits. It held his usual confidence, but where he usually sounded playful, now he sounded like a predator toying with his food. Confidence, amusement, anger, murderous intent. A combination you had never expected to hear from the man you knew. 

Billy slowly moves into your view. You admit, your vision is still a bit blurry, but you swear his eyes are completely black, the color spreading into the white of his eye. He’s holding a gun, different from what you originally saw him with, and it’s aimed carefully towards your attacker- and you, given the position you are in. 

Two bangs go through the air and Billy lets out an animalistic snarl of pain as he drops to his knee, trying to see where the shots came from. You struggle as you see blood pooling from his stomach. He moves to stand, to at least aim his gun at the new enemy before they can shoot again. He isn’t fast enough. Another bang and his right shoulder jerked back.

“Not the whole team, Russo. Guess that cozy desk job made you sloppy,” a feminine voice calls out. “Don’t worry, your pretty little pet witch will live. The Boss wants her unharmed, for now at least. You know how he gets. Go ahead and say goodbye before I put you down.”

Time seems to slow to a halt and you are hyper aware of the blood on your skin, the knife at your throat, the throbbing of your cheek. Billy is going to die if you don’t do something. You are going to be abducted and Billy will be dead. 

You refuse to lose him. So you end up doing something positively insane. Something that will kill you. Better to use your death to save someone you love, than live with his death. Your magic reserves are low like usual. Not enough to help in this situation. You need another source of life, another aura that is easily accessible in this moment. The man holding you has no exposed skin for you to grab, and even if he did, you quite literally are not strong enough to pull from his aura forcefully. It’s an unfamiliar practice with an unfamiliar aura. No, your would-be abductors are not an option. You need an aura you are intimately familiar with, one you use and manipulate on a daily basis. 

Blood magic is illegal, and energy cannibalization is used only by the most desperate, inane witches. Well, you never claimed to be smart. In this moment, this heartbeat drawn on into a thousand, you’ve made your decision. You slowly press into the knife, quickening your blood loss without killing yourself immediately, and you draw on the power of your own life. As soon as the connection via blood is made, you force your magic to draw from your own life force. Electricity runs through your skin and you’ve never felt more powerful. A bright flame that will burn out quickly, so you need to be precise. 

A touch of magic to heat the handle of the blade, swiftly catching it as the man holding you drops the weapon in pain. You pull the bangle off your wrist to reduce the block on your energy. You throw a wall of energy in front of Billy, protecting him from any attacks as you whirl around and slash the throat of the man who held you. The knife is light in your hand, the spray of blood warm on your face, the feeling of ending a life a twist in your skull. The woman has opened fire on you, but your magic pushes it off course as you charge her. She meets the same fate as her comrade. You force your Sight to work, checking for immediate threats, before turning to Billy, dropping the wall of energy. You can’t hear his words. You don’t have time to listen anyway. Your heart rate is already dropping. Your hands grasp his shoulder and stomach. You don’t hear the hiss of pain, but you register the movement and order him to stay still. The voice that comes out of your mouth is not your own. It’s empty, emotionless, overlapping in echoes upon itself. The shot to his stomach has done significant damage. Your magic pulls out the bullet and prevents more blood from escaping his body. You are running out of energy, so you take your stolen knife, coated in the blood of your enemies, and drag it against your inner forearm. A movement swift and precise, intended to draw blood, but not deep enough to kill. Your Anima Viverra will kill you soon enough, no need to make it any messier. With the final draw of life from your blood, you place your hands over Billy’s stomach wounds and force every last drop of magic you have into them. 

You don’t hear his words. You don’t feel his hands as they try to stop you. As they try to stop the flow of blood from your skin. As they beg you to stop, to focus on him.

The once fatal, toxin filled wounds are now mostly healed. Satisfied with your work, you allow the exhaustion to consume you as your body tries and fails to heal itself. Then you die. ------------- I don't have it in me to keep up with a tag list right now. Thank you for your interest and support.

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Bond to Happen Part 14

Warnings: panic attack, dissociation, guilt

Word count: 1400ish

“You’re having a panic attack, sweetheart. I need you to focus, okay?”

You aren’t sure you can do that, but you nod. Whether Billy is real or not, he’s never let you down. You trust him, even if he is a figment of your imagination.

“What’s your favorite color, baby?”

“Brown,” you say, near silent, but he hears you clearly.

“What are 5 brown things you can see right now?”

“Your eyes…. The lamp….” Your chest still feels tight, like something barbed is constricting around your lungs.

“Good, you’re doing good, keep going.”

“The chocolate chips. The coffee. Shoes.”

“You are doing so good, baby. Just keep focusing on me and this moment right now, okay? What are 4 things you can touch?”

Your hands have been clenched tightly, nails digging into your skin, but you force one to relax. Your right hand reaches out as you answer without speaking and brush your fingers across the counter, the chair, the material of his sweater, the short hairs on his jaw. You keep your hand on his cheek, slowly stroking it absentmindedly with your thumb. He leans into your touch and you continue to stare at him, uncaring if it’s impolite.

“3 things you can hear?” Billy’s jaw shifts under your hand as he speaks. The room is slowly coming back into focus.

“Your voice. My heart. The street.”

“Good job, baby. 2 things you can smell?”

“Coffee and bacon.”

“One thing you can taste?”

For a brief moment, you think about leaning closer and tasting his lips. But you don’t.

“Chocolate.”

“Are you with me?” He asks, eyeing you assessingly.

“Mostly,” you answer softly. Memories are still trying to drag you back into the hellscape that is your mind, but Billy grounds you. You move to lift your hand from his face and he stops you by covering your hand with his own, warm palm.

“You can keep touching me if it helps- if you want.”

You nod, accepting his words instead of questioning them like you usually would. You’re still too out of it to deny yourself his comfort, at least for the moment.

“Do you wanna move somewhere more comfortable, sweetheart?”

You shrug. It doesn’t really matter to you right now. As long as you can focus on him and not the triggers, you don’t care.

“We’re gonna move to the couch, okay?”

You nod, but don’t get up from your seat.

“Is it okay if I pick you up?”

You nod and he doesn’t hesitate as he scoops you in his arms, your legs wrap around his waist, your arms over his shoulders, your face buried in his neck, inhaling deeply. He moves the two of you into the living room, turning so he can sit on the edge of the couch while keeping you in his lap. You’re stiff as you slowly unwrap your legs, drawing them to the side and forcing your arms to loosen. Billy rubs his hand up and down your back and you slowly relax against his chest. Once the tension has drained from your muscles, he leans back against the couch, allowing the two of you to settle against the leather. 

The steady thrum of his heart and the whoosh of air in and out of his lungs, almost reminds you of a cat’s purr. It’s soothing and you find your mind clearing.

“Thank you,” you say into his chest.

“You don’t have to thank me, baby. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not today.”

You feel Billy press a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m here when you’re ready.”

Three words instinctually jump to the tip of your tongue. Three very dangerous words that you have so rarely said since your family disowned you. Words with a meaning you can’t undo once you speak them aloud. You swallow them down. For now, this moment is enough. Billy’s arms wrapped around you, the rise and fall of his chest, the press of his lips against your hair, this is enough for you. No need to muddy the waters with something so permanent as the truth of your feelings for him.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.”

You nod, knowing he can feel the movement against him.

“Are you okay? And I don’t mean right now, I mean in general. Are you physically and I dunno, magically okay? I know you’ve been gettin’ the migraines and’ve been tired. But is there somethin’ more? Somethin’ worse?”

“No, just some shitty psychic symptoms.” A lie. One you say automatically. To answer honestly would mean you would have to explain the draw you feel to him, the energy you feed on, the way you are slowly breaking. And you can’t do that. You won’t do that. Not with him. Not today.

“I thought we were close enough not to lie to each other, sweetheart.” Billy is too smart for his own good. You’ve known this for as long as you’ve known him. He’s observant, but he’s never called you out like this. You wonder how much he can see through you. You wonder how much he has figured out on his own. You don’t answer his question and he doesn’t push. He only grabs the remote and turns on some nature documentary. 

You watch some sort of monkey climbing in a tropical forest. Billy’s chest continues to rumble against you, lulling you to sleep, your body drained after the intensity of the morning.

*******

You are back in the snow. For the first time, the black jaguar sits clearly 10 paces in front of you, trapped in a large cage with iron bars. Moving to get a closer look, you walk face first into the bars, realizing it is not the predator that is in the cage, it’s you.

*******

Billy is reluctant to let you go home on your own, even after you wake from your nap seeming much more yourself. You don’t mention what occurred that morning and he doesn’t bring you up.

“Before you go back to your apartment, take this,” Billy says, handing you the silver cuff from last night. You take it and turn it over as you examine the runes.

“How does it work?”

“Something about absorbing and reflecting any sorta psychic energy. While you’re wearin’ it, you won’t be able to see auras, use your sight, or any of that sorta thing.”

“What’s the catch?”

“It wears off eventually. The more you use it, the faster it’ll burn through the enchantment.”

“Thank you, Billy.”

“‘Course, sweetheart.”

*******

Billy had never been more grateful for Curtis’s insistence on doing some sort of therapy or talking than he was this morning. When he told you about Stevens, he had expected you to be upset. He had been prepared for tears, maybe some female hysteria- that was a normal reaction, and he would swoop in and make you feel better. He had not been prepared for a full blown panic attack and you dissociating so badly you could barely speak. He knew there was more, a lot more, to your past than you let on. You’d hinted at pieces of it, often with words that came off as if you were joking. What he saw this morning has him reevaluating every off hand comment you’d made, every flinch and recoil, every time you’d forced a brave face when he could hear your heart racing.

While Billy knows this is something he can use to his advantage, but for some reason, he feels conflicted. He had not enjoyed watching you pale and panic. It had been truly uncomfortable.

Billy’s phone begins to vibrate in his pocket and he answers without looking.

“Russo.”

“I have a job for you.”

Billy almost regrets answering the call once he hears Rawlin’s voice, but it’s better to

know than to be left in the dark. “I don’t work with you anymore, Rawlins. You know that.”

“I allowed you your freedom, but now it is time to continue paying off your debt to me.”

“That debt has been paid: in blood, and death, and time. There is nothing left between

us.”

“I made you what you are, Russo. Never forget that. Without me, you would still be in

the mud with the other gutter rats.”

Billy clenches his jaw to keep himself from saying something reckless. “I’m out Rawlins.

We’re done here. Take your job to someone else.”

Series List

If you want to be put on, or taken off my taglists, feel free to tell me!

Series Taglist: evyiione, @ellooo0ooo, intothesoul, lupinsbookshelf

Billy Russo Taglist: @snowkestrel, happydeanpotter, jvanilly

Everything Taglist: @kayhi808,

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[hiraeth-witch-11]

hello! Hope you’re doing well!

i love your “greed on me” story so much! I can’t wait to see what happens with the main character!

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[hiraeth-witch-11]

Bond to Happen Part 13

Part 13

Warnings: Panic attack, mentions of death and violence, fantastical racism

Word Count: 3900ish

When Billy heard you were hurt, he had broken several traffic laws as he sped back to Anvil. It had been a long time since Billy felt rage like this. An even longer time since he almost lost the tight grip he had on his power. Stevens was currently testing his control like it was a fucking sport.

“I’ll ask you one more time. What did you do?” Billy growls through a menacing smile.

“Come on, Russo, how was I supposed to know that your witch was that sensitive? I didn’t even move, she touched me. How is this my fault?” Stevens was choosing to play dumb, blissfully ignorant to the monster lurking below Billy’s skin.

Billy barks out a humorless laugh.

“I don’t have an ounce of magic in me. You know this, how could I have hurt her on purpose?”

Michaelson is standing in the back of the room, Billy trusts him to be discreet. It helps, of course, that Michaelson has sworn himself into Billy’s service. Willingly and within certain parameters, but with an unbreakable oath. Michaelson knows things about Billy’s habits, his less savory jobs, and has seen pieces of the monster. He owes Billy his life and would readily die for him.  He’s loyal to a fault and knows that Stevens is just digging himself a deeper grave.

Billy slams his fist into Stevens stomach. As Stevens keels over, only restrained by the cuffs behind his back, Billy brings his knee up and hears a satisfying crunch as Steven’s nose breaks. The bound man moans in pain, struggling to catch his breath as he’s forced upright and shoved into a chair.

“Fuck, this is illegal, Russo. You have no right to detain me and I haven’t committed a crime. She got hurt because she’s a bloody fucking wi-”

Billy cut him off with a hit to the knee and Stevens screamed as bone cracked.

“Don’t be such a pussy, Stevens. I didn’t even hit you that hard,” Billy says dryly. It was true, he hadn’t used his full strength, mainly because he was trying to avoid damaging his knuckles so badly that they wouldn’t heal by the time he was back with you.

“How did you- that’s not. You’re supposed to be human!” Stevens cries.

“What a dangerous assumption to make, Max.” Billy allows his eyes to flash fully black, sclera included, for just a moment.

“I didn’t know! It wasn’t supposed to be that bad, just enough to make sure she was in her place-”

“Her place?” Billy roars and the light fixtures rattle.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry! Please, wait, I’ll tell you. It was a challenge for initiation.”

“Initiation into what?” Billy demands.

“The Witch Hunter Association. If you can drop or kill a witch in front of witnesses, you earn membership. I took a bunch of herbs in this tea that makes auras really potent and toxic while they’re in the system. I have to take the antidote by sunrise or it’ll kill me. You gotta let me take it, Bill.” Max is pleading for his life, not that it will do any good. Billy’s already decided his fate. The monster’s hungry.

“Tell me everything you know.” Billy pulls out a chair and sits in it backwards in front of Max.

After extracting every bit of information about the Association and the herbs Max had taken to strengthen his aura, Billy leans back in his seat.

“Alright, I think that’s all I need from you. What do you think, Michaelson?” Billy asks calmly.

“I agree, Boss. He’s told us everything he knows.” 

Billy nods his head and Michaelson leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

“I won’t ever do it again, Billy. I won’t ever bother her again.” Max is pleading, he still hasn’t realized his fate. He has hope for being set free.

“You won’t ever bother anyone again, Max.” Billy lets his control relax, his eyes shift fully black as his aura fills the room. It’s invisible to Max, but he can feel it. The terrifying, all consuming call of death. 

“No, no please. NO! NO! DON’T-”

********

“Call the supe cleanup team, John,” Billy instructs as he exits the room, wiping a drop of blood off the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, sir. What should I tell the others?”

“The clean up crew can figure out the details and take care of the human police. The body is intact enough that a glamor should do the trick. Tell the rest of the staff about the tea he had in his system when he attacked our Seer. It’s a shame that he didn’t get the antidote in time,” Billy says dryly.

“Yes, sir.”

*********

You don’t remember dreaming, you barely remember falling asleep, before something wakes you up.

“Hey sweetheart, sorry I took longer than I meant to,” Billy is within arms reach upon you waking, the feeling of his aura surrounding you entirely. Normally that would’ve freaked you out, given your history. But after all these months, you’d begun to accept that your magic doesn’t react normally to him. Both consciously and subconsciously, you feel safe around Billy. The office is dark, only a lamp illuminating his features.

“The sun set?” You ask, mostly to yourself. He nods. You’d been asleep for at least 2 hours. “Are we gonna go home now?” You sit up slowly and notice the blanket that had been placed on you, pushing it to the side. Billy nods again, watching you closely.

“I had the car dropped off while you were asleep. Do you need me to carry you?”

You stand, slowly this time, before answering. “No, I can walk. Can I hold your arm though, just in case?”

You honestly shouldn’t be walking, but it’s only through the building. With the death grip you have on Billy’s forearm, you can make it. His knuckles are a little red and swollen, and he’s grateful you’re too tired to notice.

You’re relieved when you finally reach the car Billy helps you into the passenger seat. As he puts your seatbelt on for you, you notice a couple drops of blood on the color of his white dress shirt.

“What’s that from?” You question, fingers brushing his color. 

“It’s nothing, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.”

You frown, but are too tired to argue. When the two of you arrive in the parking garage under your building, you stumble while exiting the car. Billy seems to appear next to you in the time it takes you to blink.

“Let me carry you up, yeah? We don’t want you fallin’ and hurtin’ that beautiful head of yours.”

You nod, too dizzy to comment on his flirting. Billy scoops you up and carries you into the elevator. His breathing doesn’t even change as he holds you.

“Is it alright if we stop by my apartment first so I can change?” Billy asks and you nod again.  Getting off on his floor, he carries you to the door, somehow managing to punch in the code and twist his key without dropping you. Once you enter, he gently places you on the couch and leaves with a promise to be quick. You’re half asleep when he returns.

“Hey baby, you awake?” He murmurs softly, not wanting to wake you if you’ve truly fallen asleep.

“Mmhmm,” you mumble, not opening your eyes.

“I’m not sure I believe you, seein’ as your eyes are still closed. Can you open them for me?” His voice is so gentle, his aura so soothing, you feel so safe you just want to sleep.

“Don’t wanna,” you grumble.

“You don’t wanna look at my handsome face? I’m hurt,” he teases. “Just let me get you settled and then you can sleep as long as you want.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You open your eyes and force yourself to sit up, stifling a yawn. Billy is wearing a tight black tee and gray sweatpants. Gods, this man is going to be the death of you. Sometimes you wish he wasn’t so beautiful, maybe then you could keep a clearer head around him.

“There are those gorgeous eyes,” he smiles, before it slips into a frown. “Is your magic splitting the color like this normal?”

“What?” You aren’t sure what he means.

“One of your eyes has a blue iris, like your magic, the other has a bit of that blue shade, but the rest is normal. I’ve never seen your eyes do this before.” He sounds worried.

“Me either.” You yawn again. “I dunno what it means. ‘M sure we’ll find out eventually.”

“How are you feeling? Anything hurt?”

“I’m just tired,” you admit as you rest your face against the arm of the couch. The expression on his face relaxes and he’s thoughtful for a moment, before he reaches into his pocket.

Billy pulls out a simple silver cuff, maybe two inches wide with tiny runes engraved on the inside. “I know this isn’t the best time, but this is what I was talking about the other day. It helps a lotta psychics and telepaths and those sorts. Blocks things out, helps with magic based pain. Do you wanna put it on now?”

You shake your head. “Don’t need it, ’m with you.”

He looks surprised, but recovers quickly. You’re so sleepy you’re not really sure if this is real or not. Maybe you’re dreaming. A really nice dream where Billy is all yours and no one will ever hurt you again.

“Okay, sweetheart. You wanna go down to your apartment now?”

“Can I stay here?” Your eyes are fluttering shut.

“You aren’t sleeping on the couch,” he chides.

“Am too.” You aren’t sure why you’re arguing and you don’t really care as you fall back asleep.

*******

Fuck, Billy thinks, this woman is going to be the death of me. You’ve fallen back asleep and he isn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t expected you to reject the cuff, even in such an exhausted state. He knew how much your magic had been affecting you lately. He also had noticed how relaxed you were around him. He’d walk into a room and the tension would drain from your face. If he really was providing you with some sort of mental protection already, this would work largely in his favor. Even without the cuff, he’d have leverage over you. But Billy didn’t want to think about that now. You are sound asleep and he can’t bring himself to wake you again. He has three options.

One, he can leave you on the couch and drape a blanket over you. Billy immediately dismisses that option. He saw the security footage, saw how hard your body hit the floor, how tightly your muscles clenched. He’d watch you convulse for 15 seconds before Stevens was out of the room. You would be sore in the morning and the couch would only exacerbate your pain.

Two, he could carry you downstairs and into your apartment. He would probably wake you in the process, but it was the responsible thing to do. Billy didn’t want to damage the trust you had in him by crossing any boundaries, so taking you home was the safe choice.

Three, he could put you in his bed and let you sleep comfortably while he took the couch. Looking at your peaceful face, he knew he had already made his decision. Billy was loath to admit it, but he craved your company and would do anything to keep you close. Lifting you into his arms so very carefully, being especially gentle with your head, he carried you to his room. Awkwardly pulling back the covers, he slipped you onto the silk sheets and tucked you in. Before he could leave, your hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Your eyes were still closed and your breathing was still slow and even. Billy wasn’t sure how to react. What was the gentlemanly thing to do here? What was the best way to maintain the way you say him?

He tried to unwrap your fingers, surprisingly strong for someone so much smaller than him.

“Don’t leave,” you sigh. Who was he to argue with your demand? Billy crawled onto the bed next to you, suppressing a smile at the way you pulled his hand close against you as soon as he settled on top of the covers.

*****

You were cold, bare feet crunching through snow as you walked through a clearing in a lightly wooded forest. Everything is unnaturally bright, though you cannot see a sum when you look at the pale blue sky. Crimson catches your eye. Only a few drops, but enough to stand out in stark contrast to the near endless white of your surroundings. You force yourself to move closer and suddenly find yourself next to animal tracks larger than your own hand. You lean down, knees hitting the ground with a thud, and press your hand to the tracks. Though the snow was still intact, they radiated heat, almost painful to touch.

A soft growl broke the eerie silence of your dreamscape. Your head snapped towards the sound just in time to see the tail end of a deeply black furred jaguar. It was familiar to you after all these months, but you had yet to see it head on. You couldn’t ever tell if it meant you any harm, so you kept a respectable distance from the creature. 

Sometimes, you swore you could hear an inhuman yet masculine voice singing softly in the background. There were never any words, at least not that you could identify, but the everchanging melody was enchanting. If only you could remember the song once you woke up.

******

You are comfortable, surrounded by extravagantly soft fabric. The only noise you can hear is slow, steady breathing from somewhere next to you. The smell of sandalwood and something purely Billy is everywhere, deepening your relaxed state. You are on your right side, hands loosely grasping something radiating warmth. You sigh in contentment before you realize whatever you are holding feels suspiciously like a hand. 

Your eyes crack open and you mumble in surprise, “Billy?” He’s still in the shirt and sweatpants he wore last night, sitting up on the bed next to you, one handedly typing on his phone. Your eyes are a little blurry with sleep, but you can see him clearly as he glances over at you, quickly setting down his phone.

“Hey sweetheart, how do you feel?” His voice is soft and the sound of it makes you irrationally happy, makes you feel safe. You don’t want to have to think yet, don’t want to have to talk about yesterday, but you force yourself to take stock. Your muscles are sore, the worst of it in your neck and back, and your throat is dry.

“A little sore. Nothing too bad.” The hand you are holding squeezes reassuringly and you startle. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“You never need to apologize for holding my hand, sweetheart. Do it as often as you want, yeah?” He smiles, looking at you for confirmation of your understanding.

“You really don’t mind? I can get pretty touchy with my friends and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You worry at your bottom lip between your teeth. Billy’s eyes dart down to your mouth and pause there for a moment.

He meets your eye and says, “You can be as touchy with me as you like. I don’t mind.” Then he winks at you and you can’t hold back a soft giggle.

“What time is it?” You ask.

“A little after 10 in the morning. I should probably feed you before you get hangry,” he grins. He squeezes your hand one more time before sliding off the bed.

“I’m not that bad,” you scoff.

“Didn’t you come in the other day after skipping breakfast and your glare scared some of the new guys? Josie had to convince them you were just grumpy,” he teases.

“It’s not my fault, I had a migraine!” You say indignantly, forcing yourself out from under the covers and off the bed, rolling your stiff shoulders as you stand.

“Those happen often?” 

“Unfortunately.” You frown.

“We can talk more over breakfast. You are welcome to take a shower and borrow some of my clothes, or I can walk you down to your apartment and we can eat there?”

“I’d like to stay here for now,” you admit without meeting his eyes.

“Fine by me, sweetheart. Let me know if you need anything.” He leaves once you nod.

He has a standing, claw foot tub, large enough to hold at least 2 people comfortably. You’d love to take an hour long soak in it, but you want to get back to Billy even more so you opt to shower instead. Keeping your hair dry as you shower, your mind begins to wander and you have to force yourself not to remember the terror of the day before. The pain isn’t the worst thing about the memory, it’s the fear, the helplessness. The fact that you should have seen that Max Stevens intended to cause you harm before it happened. Why hadn’t you seen it? Were you broken? Could you no longer keep the people you cared about safe? What use were you if you couldn’t even protect yourself? It was different to weaken and die from starvation and exhaustion, but to be harmed by someone else, that was not how you wanted to go.

You leave the shower before you can continue to follow that line of thinking, it wouldn’t help you feel better. Wearing Billy’s clothes on the other hand, that made you feel better. You pull on a sweater and sweatpants with drawstrings that you tie tightly. You look into the mirror as you try to tame your bedhead. The eyes looking back at you catch you off guard. Your normal color is mixed sporadically with magic in one eye, while the other is blue, so blue it seems to be pushing the boundaries of your iris. That was unusual and a bit concerning if you were being honest with yourself. There was nothing that could be done about it now, so you followed the scent of bacon out to the kitchen.

“Are you making pancakes?” You ask in surprise.

“It’s from the box, but I figured you’d probably be hungry after everything. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and I have some juice and fruit in the fridge. And of course, your coffee,” he says, handing you a warm mug of coffee topped with whipped cream. You take a sip and moan at the taste.

“You are perfect, you know that?” You state with adoration.

“I’m not sure if you’re talkin’ to the coffee or me, sweetheart.” He smirks at you as you sit down across from the kitchen island, watching while he flips pancakes. You see that some have littler chocolate chips and you grin widely.

“Both, definitely both.”  You drink quietly for a few minutes as he stacks a plate of food in front of you. “You know, I think you’ve really ruined your Billy Russo Reputation with me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You make sure I eat almost everyday, you let me sleep in your bed and hold your arm captive because I was too tired to go back to my apartment, you never ignore my calls, and you’re always saying sweet things and making promises you don’t break. That’s a far cry from the scary gorgeous CEO playboy that I was warned about.”

“Maybe I’m just different around you, sweetheart.” There’s a soft smile on his full lips. You wonder what it would taste like.

“Maybe you’re just softer than you let on,” you tease lightly. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t think anyone would believe you, sweetheart.”

“Frank would,” you insist.

“Hmmm. Maybe.”

You grin to yourself, enjoying the pseudo-domesticity of the moment as you eat. Billy picks at his food as he remains standing across from you.

“We need to talk, sweetheart,” Billy says as you slowly clear your plate.

“Okay,” you agree quietly, avoiding his eyes.

“Yesterday, has what happened with Stevens ever happened before?”

You hesitate, not sure exactly what he’s asking and not wanting to reveal too much of your past by accident. “Could you be more specific?”

“Have you ever reacted that way to touch before?”

“No.” The truth, technically. Simple touch has caused you to faint, to freeze up in pain, to vomit or cry. But it had never been that severe solely from a touch.

“Has something similar to that happened before?” Of course he’s smart enough to rephrase.

“Yes,” you admit reluctantly.

“You wanna elaborate on that, Blue?” He seems a bit angry, you know him well enough to know the anger isn’t directed at you.

“Not particularly. What happened to him after?” You try to change the subject.

“He’s dead, he poisoned himself to make his aura stronger and died before he could take the antidote.”

“He’s dead?” you gasp.

“Yes, good fucking riddance.”

“How- why? Why would he do that?”

“Because he was a piece of shit.”

“Obviously, but why would he just risk that to attack me? His life, his reputation, his career. Was I his only intended target?”

“Yes.”

“Why would he do that? Did he know me beforehand? Was it personal? What did he say?”

“Can we just leave it, Blue. He was a bad person who wanted to hurt you. Do you really need all the details?”

“Yes! Why would he risk so much just to get to me, Billy? I don’t understand-”

“Max Stevens dosed himself with a highly toxic combination of herbs in an attempt to severely harm and hopefully kill you so he could be initiated into a society of witch hunters. He didn’t take the antidote in time and died during questioning. He was a racist piece of shit trying to join a fucking cult by hurting a random witch,” Billy snaps.

“Oh.” Your face falls as his words hit you like a strike to the chest.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I shoulda picked up on it before hiring him. He never shoulda got that close to you.” His tone is gentle after such harsh words. 

“I never did anything to him,” you say dumbly.

“Bad people do bad things. It’s not your fault, baby.”

“I thought it was supposed to be different now. I’m good, I swear I’m good,” you whisper, tears beginning to pool in your eyes.

“Of course you’re good, none of this is on you.” You aren’t really listening to Billy’s words. They’re empty, he doesn’t know you, not really. Not what you’ve done. Not what you are. Not what you are capable of.

“But they always come anyway. I should’ve seen it.” You’re mumbling, lost somewhere between the present and the past. Emotions from painful memories creeping up. There is a soft ringing in your ears, your breathing is shallow, and your heartbeat is picking up. The rush of your blood through your body sounds suspiciously like thunder. Thunder and a warm, rainy night-

“Look at me, sweetheart. Eyes on me,” Billy orders. You didn’t notice him move, but he’s crouched to the side of your seat, concern displayed plainly on his face. Everything is blurry, nothing is in focus except for him. You aren’t sure if he’s real. Are you real? Is this real? Or are you back in that alley in the rain?

**********

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[hiraeth-witch-11]

Hi. Just wanted to let you know that Billy Russo’s pet is awesome. Please write more of it. Can’t wait ❤️

Thank you! I definitely plan on continuing it!

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Billy Russo's "Pet" Part 2

Warnings: Billy Russo, nonsexual forced nudity

Word Count: 1000ish

Your head throbs as you wake. Resting on something warm and soft, the chill has been chased away from your limbs. Nuzzling into the warmth, you inhale the smell of the forest combined with something spicy and a surprising sweetness. 

“I knew you’d like me if you gave me half a chance,” a voice says teasingly, their laughter sending vibrations through their chest and against your face.

You try to jerk away, remembering where you are. Strong arms wrap around you like steel bands.

“Nuh uh, none of that now. I need to get you cleaned up before we have our little chat about how things are gonna work around here. Do you understand?”

You refuse to look at his face as you spit angrily, “You’re insane. Let me go!”

Billy sighs in disappointment, hand reaching up to grip your jaw roughly as he forces you to look at him.

“I don’t wanna hurt you anymore than I have to.” A pause then a sly smile. “Or anymore than you beg me to. Are you gonna listen or am I gonna have to compel you again?”

You flinch at the idea. Everytime he compels you, it feels like your mind and body are not your own. You try to fight it, but it just makes it worse. It’s a horrific feeling, one you would do just about anything to avoid.

“I’ll listen,” you answer quietly. You’re too tired to try and escape again right now. You need to rest and figure out this man’s patterns, his weaknesses. Picking your battles to get on his good side and keep yourself safe. Then you can bolt the second you get another chance. Preferably with shoes this time.

“Good girl, pet.” 

The words elicit a response from you that is not at all controlled by your brain. Of course the creepy monster man had to be sexy. You try to tamp down on your lust and maintain your anger. “I have a name.”

“I’m well aware.” Billy lifts you and carries you into a magnificent bathroom. His entire home was more life a palace than a house. Somehow, he manages to flick on the light while keeping you in his arms. The sudden brightness makes you grimace, eyes closing as the light sends spearing pain throughout your skull. “Sorry, pet. I’ll keep it off.”

You hear the light switch click and tentatively open your eyes. Billy sets you on the edge of the tub, starts the hot water running, and strides over to the cabinet, pulling out a first aid kit.

“I think you have a concussion. We’ll get you all healed up as soon as you’re clean.”

You aren’t sure what he means and you don’t ask, opting to watch him silently instead. It’s hard to read his expression in the dark, not much light has entered the room from the doorway and his face is in the shadows. He kneels in front of you with the kit and grabs one of your feet. You flinch at the contact and he gives you a stern look.

“Sit still,” he orders. Billy peels off the torn sock, stained with dirt and blood, tossing it effortlessly into the trash without looking. Using a pair of tweezers, he efficiently removes the various debris from your cuts before moving to the next foot. Once your feet are taken care of, he examines your palms and temple. Thankfully, there isn’t much to dig out of the egg sized bump on your scalp, just a splinter. The tub is full at this point, tendrils of steam rising off it, visible even in the dim light.

“Strip and get in,” he says as he washes his hands and puts away the kit.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Your clothes are filthy and you are covered in mud.”

“Turn around,” you insist.

“No.” He leans back against the counter, arms folded. You hesitate. “Now or I’ll just compel you. The choice is yours.”

With shaky hands, you begin to remove your clothing. Once he sees that you are complying, he surprises you by looking away and busying himself with pulling several fluffy white towels out of the cabinet and setting them by the tub.

You step into the tub on limbs rubbery with exhaustion and hold back a groan at how good the heat feels on your sore muscles. The tub is so large that even with several inches between the water level and the rim, you are already chest deep in water. Bringing your knees up to your chest, you wrap your arms around your legs in an attempt to preserve your modesty.

Billy startles you once again by seemingly appearing out of thin air right next to the tub. Maybe your observational skills have declined because of the sheer stress of being kidnapped and chased. In his hand is a white washcloth. You tense as he makes slow, obvious motions. Dipping the cloth into the water and carefully pressing it against the skin of your shoulder. 

He’s surprisingly almost clinical about it, not necessarily because it seems unfeeling, but more because it’s thorough and not sexual in the slightest. Billy wipes the dirt from your shoulders, back, arms, calves and feet, leaving the rest of your body to you. He takes special care as he grabs a fresh washcloth and cleans your face. You can feel the sensation of drying blood on your scalp and your fingers itch to reach up and start scratching your scalp until the blood and mud are gone. It’s an irrational urge, one you are all too familiar with, and you breathe a sigh of relief when Billy instructs you to tilt your head back.

With one hand against your forehead to protect your eyes, he pours warm water over your hair until it’s thoroughly wetted. Then he douses it in shampoo and rubs his fingers into your scalp. You can’t remember the last time someone washed your hair for you. You'd almost forgotten how good it felt.

Billy seems pleased with your reaction as you allow yourself to relax into his touch. He rinses the soap from your hair and conditions it, before repeating the process. You finally feel clean. Something that shouldn’t be so important to you in this situation, but is.

“Up,” Billy instructs, holding out a large towel. You cautiously allow him to wrap you in it and towel off your hair with a second, smaller towel.

“Good pet, you behaved so well for me. Now we can talk.” Billy grins widely, elongated canines fully on display. The look of a predator.

*******

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[hiraeth-witch-11]

The Greed of Men Part 5

Warnings: canon typical shit, Katya being a feisty little shit

Word count: 1600ish

The next morning you are shown to your rooms. They aren’t as opulent as Alina’s, but you prefer them this way. The bed is still too soft, the sheets too smooth, the pillows too plump, but you force yourself to use them anyway. The wardrobe is stocked with functional clothing and 2 black coats that feel suspiciously like corecloth. You’d like to complain about the color, or at least about the assumption in making most of your clothing black, but it really does suit you, so you hold your tongue.

The next few days are relatively monotonous. Alina trains and you follow her around as often as you can. Usually watching from a distance so she doesn’t feel you hovering. She knows you’re there, though, and will wave when she catches your eye. The change in her hasn’t ceased to amaze you. It’s been so long since she seemed truly healthy and now, all of the sudden, she’s grown and strong and powerful in ways you had only ever been able to dream of for her.

Alina’s confidence is yet another thing you are happy to see improve. She is more sure of herself, of her place in the world, more comfortable in her own skin. You’ll never admit it, but you are grateful to the Darkling for keeping her safe and helping her grow. Arguably much of that change has come from Botkin and Baghra, but you catch the General checking in on her every now and then. Offering words of support, constructive criticism, and even praise. 

You still think he should at the very least be stabbed for this flirtation he has with your sister. She’s far too young for him. For now, you have decided to let the fragile peace remain between the 3 of you. You’ll save the stabbing for another day. So long as he keeps his hands to himself, you will allow him to keep his hands.

Today, you are observing Alina spar with a particularly skilled squaller, one you’ve noticed scowling in Alina’s direction frequently. You’re nearby this time, making small conversation with Botkin.

“Do you fight?”

“Often,” you reply with a grin. He gestures to the training field and you shake your head. “I couldn’t impose on you like that.”

“You are afraid.” Botkin states and you have the feeling he’s mocking you.

“It wouldn’t be fair for your students.”

“You would deny them the chance to learn?”

You watch the squaller knock your sister on her ass for the 3rd time today and shrug. “When you put it that way, I guess I have to do it now.”

“Who do you choose?”

“Who’s your best?”

“Zoya.” The squaller sparring with Alina looks up at his words.

“Perfect,” you say sincerely.

The two of you enter the circle drawn in the dirt.

“Kick her ass, Kat,” Alina says in your ear as you pass her. You smirk. This should be fun. Saints know you need some stress relief.

“I do have a few years on you, squaller. I’ll go easy on you.” You can’t resist the urge to taunt Zoya.

“From what I’ve heard, you’re a no-name street rat. I don’t expect it to be much of a fight.” 

You smile thinly, but you aren’t bothered by her words, and strike first. It’s more of a warning shot than anything, you are unsurprised when she dodges it. Zoya swings a fist towards your jaw and you block it with your left forearm, throwing a punch with your right fist. This one lands and she grimaces, recovering quickly, stepping closer to you and hooking a leg around your own in an attempt to throw you. You let her, but use the momentum of the move to continue rolling the two of you until you land atop her, hand resting on her throat.

“Good match,” you offer your hand out once the two of you are standing.

Zoya ignores it and hisses,” Beginner’s luck.”

“If you wanted a rematch, you only had to ask,” you quip with a shrug.

“Ms. Starkov,” The General calls from Botkin’s side. You and Alina both look towards him. “The elder Ms. Starkov.”

“Saved by your General, princess. Next time I won’t go so easy on you.” The look Zoya gives you might be strong enough to kill a lesser woman. 

You join the General and ask, “What do you need? Sir.” You add the ‘sir’ for the sake of appearances and because you know the Darkling will hear its sarcasm.

“Come take a walk with me, Ms. Starkov.”

You wait until the 2 of you are a safe distance away to begin your usual banter. “Are we going to have another one of our ‘chats’ where you ‘don’t’ try to kill me?”

“Baghra is aware of your ability,” the Darkling said, ignoring you.

“You mean you told her,” you say pointedly.

“Yes. She would like to meet you.”

“Oh, excellent,” you say with glee.

The Darkling turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “That is not the reaction I was expecting.”

“I heard she hits students with her cane, swarms them with bees, and other various tortures. I can’t wait to see what she tries with me.” There’s a skip in your step as you turn yourself around so you walk backwards as you speak with the General. “When does she want to meet me?”

“Now,” the Darkling says.

“Today is turning out great!” You exclaim, clapping your hands. “Oh come on, why are you looking at me like that? I like fucking with bullies. It’s one of my favorite, mostly legal, pastimes.”

“I look forward to hearing how it goes, Ms. Starkov,” he says and you swear he’s trying not to smile.

“You aren’t coming with?” You ask as you arrive by Baghra’s hut.

“Your… conversation with Baghra will likely be more productive without my presence. She and I do not see eye to eye on most things.”

“Really? You don’t get along with someone? That’s super surprising.”

“Very amusing, Ms. Starkov,” the General says dryly.

“I try,” you grin and give him a wink before stepping into the hut and closing the door behind you.

The woman in front of you is both ancient and ageless. Her skin is mostly smooth, but her hair is graying, and her eyes have a depth to them that only time can give.

“Have a seat, girl.”

“You wanted to talk with me,” you prompt as you sit across from her.

“Have some tea,” Baghra orders more than offers.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Hm. So you are the woman who claims to be the Sun Summoner’s sister. I must admit, I fail to see the resemblance.”

“We aren’t related by blood, but we are family.”

“I see. You’ve known her for 10 or so years now, and you’ve never told her about your summoning. It sounds like you don’t trust her very much, for family.”

“So this is your angle then?” You roll your eyes. “Trying to drive a wedge between me and Alina, getting into my head. Very original. Do you have any family, Baghra?”

“This conversation is not about me, girl.”

“My name is Katarina, not girl, and this conversation is very much about you. What is it about you that is so broken you want to break everyone else?”

“How dare you?” Baghra spits out sternly.

“Quite easily. If this little chat doesn’t have a real purpose, then I am going to leave.”

Baghra’s posture relaxes slightly. “You aren’t what I expected.”

“Good.”

“The General tells me you are an adequate shadow summoner.”

“Does he really? High praise coming from him.”

“He also tells me you claim to be self taught.”

“I am self taught, unless you know any other shadow summoners besides the Darkling running around Ravka, I didn’t really have any other option.”

“You taught yourself the Cut.”

“Yes.”

“Shadow-walking?”

“Yes.”

“Simultaneous, multi-limbed movement?”

“Yes.”

“Shields, walls, and barriers?”

“I’m still working on those,” you admit.

“Intriguing. I will teach you from now on.”

“No you won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like you and I think you are a duplicitous snake,” you respond cheerfully. While Alina may not have picked up on the depths of Baghra’s manipulative nature, you can tell this woman has about a thousand personal agendas just by looking at her. Much like the General, though you find Baghra to be more off putting. 

“You don’t know me, girl.”

“I trust my instincts.”

“Do you truly believe the Darkling to be a superior instructor? That he does not have any ulterior motives for everything he says and does?”

“Oh I’m certain he does.”

“Very well. I will not force you to stay.”

“Good, I don’t do very well with being forced into things.” With that, you get up and leave. You’re surprised to see the General still waiting for you on the other side of the door.

“You’re still here.”

“That was quicker than I expected.”

“Were you expecting me to drink the drugged tea?” 

The Darkling looks surprised. “I was not aware you knew about her tea drugging habits.”

“Alina told me. Don’t you think allowing her to beat, terrorize, and drug your soldiers is a bit much?”

“I admit some of her methods may be extreme at times, but they are effective.”

“If you have to harm a child to teach them, then maybe you aren’t a good teacher.”

“The world my Grisha grow up in is not good or fair, Ms. Starkov. They are in danger from the moment their abilities manifest. Sometimes cruel and extreme measures are needed to prepare them for that reality.”

“It shouldn’t be that way. Grishenka are training to be soldiers from the moment they arrive. No one should have to be concerned about war that young.”

“No, they shouldn’t,” the Darkling agrees, solemnly. “One day, Grisha will no longer need to fear the world around them. They will no longer live to be soldiers.”

“I hope I live to see that day,” you say earnestly.

“You will, Ms. Starkov.”

**********

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[hiraeth-witch-11]

Into the Unknown Part 3

Warnings: gun, Billy Russo, violent thoughts

Word Count: 700ish

“Get up,” Billy orders, startling you out of your thoughts. “We’re goin’ for a drive.”

“A ‘kill me and hide the body’ drive?” You ask warily as you comply.

“I haven’t decided yet. Give me your phone.”

You hand it to him without hesitation and he sticks it in the inside of his coat pocket.

“Do you have any other devices on you?”

“No, just the phone.”

Billy leads you out of his office and to his car in the mostly empty parking garage. You try not to be visibly excited by the Wraith.

“Um should I get in the trunk?” You check.

Billy snorts out a laugh and shakes his head. “Passenger seat. Unless you’d prefer the trunk?”

“Nope, the passenger seat is fine by me,” you respond quickly, sliding in and buckling your seatbelt. Billy is silent for the drive and you quickly give up trying to read his expression, instead you enjoy the drive through a city you’ve never seen before. He pulls into a familiar and empty spot on the waterfront. Billy parks, unclips his seatbelt, and leans across you, opening the glovebox to reveal a gun. He pulls out the gun and sets it on the dashboard.

“Where is Frankie right now, sweetheart?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Why not?” Brows furrowed slightly, his small malicious smile still firmly in place.

“Well it’s not like they timestamped every scene. If I had to guess, he’s doing construction somewhere in the city. At some point, if he hasn’t already, he’s going to kill a bunch of people, I think their name is Gnucci or something.”

“Why’d you come to me and no one else? ‘Specially if I’m not the hero?”

“I told you already. I don’t really care about the whole hero/villain thing. It’s all just perspective, who’s telling the story. I hated your ending. Now that I have the chance to do something about it, I’m all in.”

“All in, huh?” Billy eyes you with a degree of suspicion. “How far are you willing to go?”

“I dunno, pretty far. I mean if you ask me to kill a kid or someone completely innocent just for the hell of it, I might draw the line. But in general… let’s just say pretty far.”

“Get outta the car,” Billy orders, surprising you. You follow his instructions, watching him curiously as he grabs the gun and gets out with you. He holds out the gun, offering it to you and you take it, carefully keeping it pointed at the ground away from Billy.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Shoot yourself, in the leg or arm. I’m not picky. Safety’s off, all you gotta do is aim and pull the trigger.”

You hesitate, unsure what he’s playing at.

“‘Course, if you don’t want to do that, you can always shoot me instead.”

You flinch at the thought of hurting Billy. You weigh your options, maybe this would be a chance to wake yourself up, if this really is a dream and, if you don’t wake up, well maybe this all is real. Either way, it’s a dream without consequences or a world where you don’t really exist. It’s a blank page for you to act however you like, reason and morals be damned. Just what you’ve always wanted.

You aren’t a bad person, at least you don’t think you are. You’ve never hurt someone without a good reason, but in the back of your head, in the deepest, darkest, most impulsive thoughts, you’ve craved it. You’ve always wanted the permission to let loose and stop caring about being polite and nice. Maybe you can relate to Billy in the way that you often hate being called pretty. It’s a word that strangers use when they try to take up your time and your space. Or what colleagues use when they want to demean your skills and intelligence. 

“How far are you willin’ to go?” He repeats with a smirk.

“Can I borrow your belt?” You ask, mind made up.

Billy raises an eyebrow in confusion.

“I’m not wearing one and I’d like to have the tourniquet in place before I shoot.”

“Not givin’ you my belt, sweetheart.”

“Fine.” With that, you turn the gun, aiming towards the lower outside of your thigh, and pull the trigger. Consequences be damned.

**********

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[hiraeth-witch-11]

Magnolia Jasmine Series

What should Magnolia Jasmine's super hero name be?

Briar

Meadow

Queen Bee

Flower-Girl

Other- put in comments

Voting ended onMay 28, 2023

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Magnolia Jasmine Part 2

Part 2: His Very Own MJ

Warnings: canon typical stuff, nothing really

Word Count: 1300ish

In the days that followed the wasp men’s attack, the media has gone crazy over the appearance of a new vigilante. Not that you have any intention of returning back to the hero scene, no this had been a one off. No one else knew that, though. They all assumed you’d be back after your heroic debut. Names were being flung around as different outlets scrambled to be the one who coined your official name. Some of them were quite silly like ‘The Wasp Whisperer’ and ‘Mother Earth’. Others you could admit had a nice ring to them. ‘Briar’ was fun, even if it was a bit of an insult in some places. ‘Queen Bee’ was cute. ‘Meadow’ was one of your favorites. You diligently avoid anything comparing you to your mother’s alter ego. The media is clueless to your heritage, but it’s an obvious connection to draw between 2 plant controlling women.

Business booms as children request flowers to be put in their hair, couples are reminded that it’s been a while since they got their S/O a bouquet, and displays are made by businesses to take advantage of the flower hero and their 15 minutes of fame. You exercise caution with your powers over the next week or two, aware of the potential for scrutiny.

You are closing up one evening as the rain is finally starting to let up, when a boyishly handsome man with a mop of brown hair comes jogging up to your door, just as you are about to turn the sign. 

“Sorry, I know you’re ‘bout to close. Do you think I could grab a bouquet real quick before you close? I promised my aunt I would bring her some flowers for dinner tonight, but then I got caught up in the rain and I’m already running super late,” he pleads.

You smile as he rambles, it’s not like you have anything better to do with your evening. A few extra minutes don’t bother you.. “Sure, come on in.” You hold the door open for him and watch him track wet, dirty footprints through the front of the store.

I really need a better door mat, you think to yourself.

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver. I’m Peter, by the way,” he says as he grabs a small bouquet from the shelf and takes it to the register.

“I’m Maggy,” you offer though it may be obvious with the sign out front. You ring him up, carefully wrapping up the flowers and putting a loose bag over the tops in case it starts raining again.

“Well, Maggy. It was great to meet you. I totally owe you one.” Peter sticks some change in your tip jar and makes his way back to the door, noticing the footprints he tracked in.

“Oh jeez, I am so sorry. Let me clean this up.”

“It’s okay, you’re late to dinner. Go, I don’t mind,” you say honestly.

“If I wasn’t running so late I would stay and clean it. I’m so sorry, my aunt raised me better than this. You sure you don’t mind?”

“I really don’t. Go, enjoy the flowers.” You smile reassuringly as he gives you an apologetic look, dashing out the door and down the street.

You grab the mop and laugh a little. You try not to hope that you’ll see him again. It was a big city, you could go the rest of your lives without your paths ever crossing again. But you know what they say: it might be a big city, but it’s a small world.

*********

A week or so passes before you see Peter again. It’s sometime in the afternoon and you’re doodling little flowers on receipt paper as you wait for another customer. It’s warm today, even in the shop and your red hair is pulled up off your neck with a claw clip. Your legs swing freely as you perch on the stool behind your counter. 

His hair is dry this time, though a bit messy, and in the sunlight, you can see how beautiful his chocolate brown eyes are. You can also see the gnarly shiner he has on his left eye. At the sight of him, you almost fall off your stool.

“Peter, what happened?” You blurt out in concern before you realize it would probably be more polite to ignore it.

“Oh, it’s fine, I just got mugged.” He says this all with a smile on his face, speeding past the whole ‘ and adding, “Anyways, I felt really bad about the other night and I wanted to come and apologize. I also feel like an idiot ‘cause I didn’t make the connection of your name and the shop.”

“It really is okay, Peter. I didn’t have anywhere else to be, I really didn’t mind. And yeah, Magnolia is a mouthful, it’s cool for a flower shop name, but I prefer Maggy or MJ.”

Peter looks at you with a mixture of surprise and awe. “MJ?”

“Yeah, my parents named me Magnolia Jasmine. You can’t even imagine how hard that is to get little kids to say. I went by MJ ‘til college.”

“Do you wanna get some coffee with me? I mean, obviously not now, I can see you’re busy, but some other time?” He’s all giddy energy, rocking back and forth on his heels, looking at you like you’re the moon and the stars. 

“I don’t even know you, Peter…?”

“Parker, Peter Parker. And isn’t that the point of a date, to get to know each other better?” He asks with a grin.

You aren’t necessarily opposed to it, you can’t deny the connection you feel, but you aren’t going to be stupid. Safe dating practices was something your dad has hammered into your brain since you were 13.

“Tell you what, I’ll think about it, and in the meantime,” you scribble your name and number on the receipt paper that is covered in various drawings of flowers, “here’s my number, Peter Parker.”

Peter takes the paper with a grin, glancing at it before pulling out his phone, an older model with an extremely cracked screen, and adding you to his contacts. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket and you check it in time to see a message from a new number that says ‘it’s peter parker :)’. 

“I gotta go to work, but I’ll text you later.” Peter ducks out the door. “Bye, MJ!”

*******

Peter hasn’t been able to get you off his mind since that first night when he tracked dirt through your store. You were absolutely beautiful with your red hair hanging loosely and your bright, hazel eyes. You had been wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt with some floral pun on it and he swore you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, dirt smudge on your cheek and all. He had made a note to visit you again as soon as he could.

Today, he had rushed to your store on his break. You’d been focused on your doodling when you looked up. He completely forgot that he was still healing a black eye, he should’ve waited another day. 

Peter had been completely flabbergasted when you said your name was MJ. Ever since he got back from his multiversal adventure, he’s been keeping an eye out for his very own MJ. It’s not like he had been searching for you actively, there are far too many MJs in the world for that to make sense. But the moment you told him, he just knew that you were the MJ meant to be in his life.

Before meeting his pseudo-brothers, Peter would have struggled to come to terms with any sort of new relationship. The most he was comfortable with was casual flings and friends held at arm’s length. But when he caught Peter 1’s MJ, it was like he could finally forgive himself for what happened with Gwen. He’s been doing better, been lighter, something May had commented on. Peter is ready to at least get to know you. He’ll do better this time around. He will keep the lives of Peter Parker and Spider-Man separate. He’ll make sure you don’t get hurt. He can keep you safe if it comes to it. He’s certain of it.

*******

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[hiraeth-witch-11]

Into the Unknown Part 2

Something to tide everyone over while I figure out the *plot*.

Warnings: canon typical violence, Billy Russo

Word Count: 600ish

Billy wasn’t sure why he hadn’t killed you the second you started spouting off about Project Cerberus and Agent Orange. Even if everything you said is true, you’re a loose end. He probably should have and still has half a mind to. But what you had shown him had been convincing, at least enough for his curiosity to be peaked.

You had somehow charmed your way through security with a smile and a few coffees you insisted had been ordered by ‘Mr. Russo’. The new kid was on front desk duty and while he had remembered to check your ID, he hadn’t called Billy to confirm.

Billy had let you into his office because you were a nonthreatening, unassuming young woman who looked at him like you were seeing a ghost or maybe a god. He hadn’t expected you to begin rambling about him and where you were from, how you wanted to save him. He thought you were crazy and you certainly looked it with that gleam in your eye and your hands moving as you spoke. 

You calmed down a bit when he asked you to prove it, likely because of the sobering reality that Billy very well may have killed you for what you knew. Billy would have loved to… question you further, but he had a meeting he needed to get to and leaving you in his office gave him the perfect opportunity to watch you when you thought you were alone. Even if you were aware of the cameras in there, it at least gave him some time to think.

What to do with you?

Maybe you could be a welcome distraction from some of his daily stress. You were certainly cute enough, even if it was in an unusual, almost feral way. You weren’t necessarily his normal type, but you had an energy to you that was intriguing. Maybe he would keep you locked up somewhere, only let out when he had a use for you. 

You knew enough about him that he didn’t need to keep up his mask with you. It might be fun to toy with you for a bit. He might still end up killing you, but the chase was would be so entertaining.

******

You sit in Billy’s office, trying to stay still in your seat. While you aren’t certain if there are cameras in here, you should act as though there are. It’s not like you really wanted to snoop anyway. Not much, at least.

From your coffee receipt, you know it’s the end of October and theoretically things with Frank Castle should start picking up steam in November. You have time to plan. This also means there is more time before there is more real life proof of what you know. Billy might kill you before then. You’re surprised you’ve gotten this far, surprised they even let you up to his office. You really hadn’t thought that would work.

You need time to think. Billy is just as likely to kill you as he is to let you live. If your death benefits or protects him in any way, you are done for. You need to be useful. You need to figure out how you can benefit at least 1 of the 3 things he cares about. His money, his power, and himself.

Your knowledge alone wouldn’t be enough, that was stagnant and if he listened to you and acted differently, you would be in uncharted territory. Your ability to read people was an advantage, but that would only go so far with him. How far are you willing to go to survive? How far are you willing to go to make sure Billy survives?

Let me know if you want to be put on or taken off a taglist! Feedback is the spice of life, any and all thoughts are welcome.

Series Taglist: ramadiiiisme

Billy Russo Taglist: @happydeanpotter

Everything Taglist: @kayhi808

[rainbowgoblinfan]

Please put me on the tag list! This is going to be hell of a ride and i don't want to miss it.

[hiraeth-witch-11]

I've added you! :)