Plot Summary : You were warned about Billy Russo but no one told you how one night with him would turn your entire world upside down...
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Just smut in this one. All chapters will contain mentions of babies/pregnancy. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 4.2k
A/N : this is the last part of this one, hope you like it!
Chapter List : Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four
Chapter Five
You smiled coyly over your soup, looking at him like this really was just some first date and you were seeing how things would play out. You asked him to check in with Shannon a couple of times, but other than that, you'd hardly spoken.
He smiled back as if he hadn't been inside you only twenty minutes before. He could still taste you on his lips, still smell your perfume clinging to his clothes — it all just made him want you more. Again. Over and over. Right there in the restaurant. Over the table if he could.
He'd always enjoyed sex, always been ready and willing to get his dick wet whenever the opportunity presented itself, but this wasn't that. You weren't just a fuck to him. Even during that first night together, you'd felt like more. A need instead of a want. A desperate clawing beneath his skin whenever he couldn't touch you.
And when he noticed other men were looking your way?
Billy had always been a selfish and jealous man, fiercely protective of anything he considered his. And you were his. Not just because you were the mother of his children, but because it was what he wanted. He had chosen to keep you, to possess you.
You bit your lip as he reached across the table and took your hand in his, a clear declaration to anyone looking your way that you were taken. His thumb brushed over your knuckles and the gesture was enough to finally spark conversation after a protracted silence.
"I don't usually do this," you said.
"Which part?" He asked. "The dinner or what just happened in the parking lot?"
You squirmed and, for a second, Billy dared to hope you were remembering how it had felt. He wanted to be under your skin and wanted you to replay every intimate encounter with him, just as he did with you. Truth be told, after your night together in the Hamptons, it had taken Billy weeks to get you out of his head, and almost a month before he could fuck anyone else without picturing your face and the way your mouth went slack as you came. So, now that he had you again, he was determined to never let you go.
"Both," you answered shyly.
"Why not?"
You shrugged and let out a slow breath. "I don't know... I'm usually too busy for dating. And, normally, I prefer to have sex in a bed."
"You told me you don't do one night stands," he said, not caring how it seemed that he'd remembered some throw away comment you'd made to him over ten months ago.
"That might have been a little white lie..." you said. Billy remained silent, waiting for you to explain. "We were warned about you and I didn't want to seem like a target..."
"Target?" It was hard not to be a little offended at that.
"No — no, not a target, but just..." you let out a huff, struggling to find the words. "I was worried that you'd just see me as something to use and throw away."
His eyebrow raised.
"Can we just... I don't know, start from the start?" You asked. "Do things properly? Y'know, get to know each other. Like you suggested..."
He let out a slow, measured breath, but didn't allow his expression to chance. It had been his suggestion but, now faced with actually doing it, he wasn't sure where to start. Some part of him had hoped he could just keep distracting you with sex until everything worked itself out.
"Okay," he said, "what do you want to know?"
"I... I don't know," you said, biting your lip in a way that had Billy wanting to drag you back out to the car. "Did you grow up in New York? Do you have family here?"
Of course that was where you wanted to start.
"I did grow up here, but I don't have any family."
"Did they leave, or —"
He decided to save you the embarrassment of continuing. "My mom safe haven'd me at a fire station in Albany a couple of hours after I was born. Never knew my old man."
Billy kept his eyes on you, a gentle smile on his face, hoping to reassure you that it wasn't important, that he didn't care. His thumb ran across your knuckles as a frown creased your brow.
"Hey, it's fine," he said a beat later. "As far as I'm concerned, she did me a favour."
"You never knew her?"
"I know enough about who she was to know life on the streets with a junkie was no life for a kid," he said.
Your frown only deepened. "So what happened to you?"
"Foster care," he shrugged, hating that your eyebrows stayed pinched together. "Don't feel bad — look at everything I've got now. I'd say everything turned out pretty well."
"I just..." you started and stopped, blowing out your cheeks.
"What?"
"When things got bad with my parents, I used to wish someone would take me away," you said, voice turning quiet. "It feels really selfish now..."
"It must've been bad to make you want to leave," he prompted gently.
"It wasn't always terrible, but after my dad got hurt on a job and couldn't work anymore, things got... difficult." You reached for your wine and took a long drink, like you were trying to wash a bad taste from your mouth.
But Billy wanted to know. He didn't want you to hide any part of yourself from him. "Difficult how?"
"Drinking, fighting with my mom... telling me he'd walk out if he didn't think my mom would go after him for child support," you said before taking another drink. "Not that she was any better. Any time he did try to leave, she'd beg him to stay 'cause she didn't want to raise a kid alone..."
He was silent for a moment, letting it all sink in. It was starting to become clear why you were reluctant about him and about the future he wanted for you. His thumb continued to brush across your knuckles as he chose his next words.
"That won't be us," he told her softly, but in a way that left no room for argument. "Whatever happens, we'll put the kids first." Your lips parted, but he didn't let you speak. "I don't have any intention of being like my parents, and I'm sure you don't want that either."
Your expression softened and you gave a nod. "No, I don't want that."
Billy smiled and gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze. He was about to say something when the waiter appeared to clear away your soup bowls and bring out your main courses. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from yours so he could focus on his steak.
"So," you said, trying to restart the conversation, "how did you get into private security?"
He hitched up his shoulder in an awkward shrug. "I kind of fell into it? I was a Marine and, after I got my discharge, I needed something to do. And I never had much in the way of fancy credentials."
You gave a nod, and he found himself thankful that you probably already knew about his time as a Marine thanks to whatever warning you'd been given all those months ago. Your friend had married one of the guys from his unit, after all — and no one knew the sordid details of Billy's life like his Marine brothers.
... well, most of the sordid details.
"You built a whole company on your own?"
"I have a couple of silent partners but, yeah, mostly."
There was a flicker of something on your face, the sort of admiration that caused his stomach to twist and roil, but he pushed thoughts of his business partners and his lies of omission from his mind. If he was good at one thing, it was compartmentalisation. You didn't need to worry about Rawlings or how Billy had gotten the money to start Anvil.
You didn't need to worry about anything anymore.
"But you know how it is, right?" Billy said with a fond smile. "You run your own business."
"Yeah but not like that..."
Your attention returned to your food and, for a few minutes, he was content to let the silence linger. It wasn't uncomfortable, you were just enjoying your food. And, honestly? Billy was glad to see you eating properly. Something told him that it had been a long time since you'd last been able to sit down and have a nice meal.
That was going to change. He was going to see to it that this became your new normal.
"So, why photography?" He finally asked once your plate neared empty.
"My upstairs neighbour passed away when I was seven — he was always nice to me and the other kids in the building — when his son came to clear out his apartment, he let some of the kids rummage through his stuff," you explained with a shrug. "I found an old Minolta 35mm film camera that was at least fifteen years older than me. I'd save my allowance and do odd jobs just to afford film for it.
"When I got to high school, I worked on the school paper and the year book just so I could use the dark room," you flashed a fond smile for a second, but it quickly lost all warmth. "Though I guess some of it was so I had an excuse not to go home."
Billy gave a hum of acknowledgement as he stared across the table at you, trying to picture it, trying to imagine what you'd been like.
"What?" You asked when you noticed his smile.
"I just never thought you'd be the... nerdy type in school," he joked.
"And I suppose you were a jock?" You answered back, desperately fighting back a smirk. "I bet all the girls wanted a piece of you."
His chest puffed out and he sat a little straighter. "I can't help it if I've always been gifted with a face like this."
You rolled your eyes. "What was it, then? Football?"
Your eyes roved over him like you were trying to figure it out, trying to decide what sport and position best suited his build.
"Baseball," he said, deciding to put you out of your misery. "Only played freshman year though."
It was an effort to keep his tone neutral but it was pointless. Just one look at him told you that there was more to the story.
"How come?" You asked.
"I, uh... I hurt my shoulder when I was a kid. Tore my rotator cuff," Billy said, shrugging stiffly as if mentioning the old injury was enough to cause a dull ache. "Made it hard to play."
His eyes dropped to his plate and the few remaining vegetables. He wasn't really interested in eating them, he just didn't want to see the look on your face. Even though you'd been honest with him about your childhood, Billy didn't want to tell you about his, about Arthur, just yet.
"Why did you join the Marines?" You asked after a long minute of silence.
Billy gave another awkward shrug and smiled as he looked at you. "There wasn't really anything else I could do."
Both your plates were empty, so Billy took the opportunity to reach across the table and take your hand in his again.
"See, this isn't so bad, is it?" He asked.
"It's less awkward than I thought it was going to be," you admitted and shot him a coy smile. "Though, I guess it helps when we don't have to worry about the sex..."
"Why would we worry about the sex?" He said, smile widening to a smirk.
"Don't you ever get nervous?" You asked. Billy stared at you blankly. "Really? Never?"
"I've never had any complaints. And, from what I've experienced with you, I doubt you have either."
"I don't mean —" you huffed a laugh and shook your head. "I just mean the first time is always a little awkward."
"Our first time was a threesome in a hotel room, and 'awkward' is not the word I'd use to describe it. In fact —"
He stopped the second he noticed you tense, but it took him a moment more to realise why. The waiter appeared at your table to clear away the plates and leave you with dessert menus. You made a point of staring intently at the page.
"So you weren't even a little bit nervous?" You asked quietly. "When you showed up at my door with Meg — you weren't worried that I'd say no?"
There was a shyness to the question that he didn't quite expect, and he wasn't sure what you expected to hear, so Billy took a beat before responding.
"Not worried, no, but I hoped you wouldn't turn us away. I wanted you — I wanted to fuck you — but after that moment in the supply closet..."
"What?" You asked, daring to look up again.
"I meant what I told you; you deserve to be worshipped, and that's all I've wanted to do ever since," he said with a slow exhale. "I know you think it's a line, given my... reputation, but I'm willing to prove to you that I mean it. Whatever it takes."
"And if I said no more sex until I'm sure?"
It was a monumental effort to hold in his immediate reaction.
"Then I'd get very used to using my hand," he answered.
"Just like that?"
"Is it so hard to believe that I can survive without sex for a few weeks?" Again, he wasn't sure whether or not he was offended. Regardless of what you'd been told about him, he wasn't some out of control sex-pest and, as much as he was still thinking about fucking you again, if you asked him to wait he would. When you didn't answer, he asked; "is that what you want? No more sex?"
You didn't miss the seriousness of his tone.
"I... I don't know. I'm not sure what I want."
He let a few seconds pass in silence before giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "Stop it. Stop overthinking and looking for problems that haven't happened yet. If you don't want to fuck, that's fine, but it's not going to keep me away from you — or the kids."
You nodded and dropped your eyes again. "I want the cheese cake."
He was content to let it go. Both of you ordered the cheese cake and finished your wine and, by the time the bill was paid, the awkwardness had dissipated.
You let him take your hand and lead you outside, leaning into his side, bracing yourself against the cold. The pace slowed as you neared the car and, before he could reach to open the passenger side door for you, you turned towards him. Your hand slipped beneath his coat and snaked around his waist, and you stared up at him.
He cupped your cheek with his free hand as you lifted your face and ghosted your lips against his.
"Thank you."
"What for?" He asked.
"For listening. For... not getting frustrated with me..." he gave you a questioning look, so you clarified; "I know this isn't easy for you and me not knowing what I want probably isn't helping."
You kissed him sweetly, and it was so at odds with everything he wanted to do to you in that moment, that Billy almost faltered.
"You don't have to thank me for that," he muttered against your lips, not letting you slip away from him. "I meant what I said; I'm prepared to wait as long as I have to."
He would have kept you in that embrace all night if he could, but the chill wind had you shivering in his arms and there were snowflakes in their air again. So, he played the part of the perfect gentleman and helped you into the car before driving you back to his building. The whole time he was acutely aware of every little movement, catching every little glance you shot him from the corner of his eye.
If he was a wagering man, he'd put money on you replaying what had happened in the car earlier that night. He was thinking about it too. Or still, really. It was a difficult picture to get out of his head. That was the thing when it came to you, not to mention part of the reason he was fighting so hard to keep you; no matter how many times he had you, the feeling of wanting never went away.
When you reached the penthouse, you let out a soft sigh of relief — you'd dealt with being away from the twins for a couple of hours better than he'd expected, but he'd seen the worry on your face whenever his phone buzzed.
Shannon was pacing back and forth, softly bouncing Chloe in her arms, but you were quick to reclaim your little girl.
"How were they?" You asked, pressing a soft kiss to Chloe's forehead.
"Connor fussed for a little while after you left, then he was out like a light," Shannon said. "Chloe was sleeping until she needed changing."
The conversation continued but Billy mostly drowned it out, too caught up in you, watching as you cradled his little girl and thanked Shannon. As Billy showed Shannon to the door, you went to check on Connor in the bedroom.
"I never thought I'd see the day that you were ready to settle down," she remarked, pulling on her coat.
"Me neither."
"Kids are a lot of work, you better be sure this is what you really want."
"I am," Billy said as he pressed the call button for the elevator. "Thank you for doing this."
She shrugged it off, telling him that it had been no bother and that the twins were little angels. And, unexpectedly, Billy felt something like pride fill his chest — his kids were little angels.
Shannon said her goodbyes and Billy lingered by the elevator for a few moments after the doors had slid shut behind her. Was this what fatherhood was like? Was tonight how the rest of his life was going to be? If so, he had no complaints.
You were sitting on the edge of the bed when Billy went to find you, Chloe clutched to your breast, feeding.
"Sorry, I can —" Billy started to apologise the second he noticed your embarrassment, " — I can come back when you're done."
You thought about it but quickly shook your head. "It's fine. Can you check on Connor?"
His heart gave an uncharacteristic squeeze at your request, at the idea you were letting him in and trusting him. In no time at all, he had the little boy in his arms and had taken a seat on the bed beside you.
"Thank you for tonight. You were right; I needed a few hours away from them," you said before letting out a soft laugh. "I spend so much time dealing with them fussing and crying that it's easy to forget how sweet they are when they're like this."
"They're both perfect." He barely realised that the words had come from him, and he was too busy staring down at little Connor to really think about it.
You sighed and rested your head on his shoulder, and the pair of you were content to stay like that until the twins finally fell asleep again. You sneaked out of the room behind Billy and followed him into the kitchen, where he put on a mug of coffee.
What followed was a quiet evening in front of the TV — he wasn't sure which of you had suggested it, but once you were pressed against his side, half asleep, he didn't even think about moving. You watched whatever crap was on, and you gave funny commentary about a cooking show, criticising the obvious (and sometimes outright disgusting) errors. On more than one occasion Billy dared to press his lips to the top of your head.
The babies fussed a little more, but nothing a change or a quick cuddle didn't settle.
"It's getting late," he said reluctantly. It wasn't quite midnight, but he wanted you to get some sleep.
"Right, I should..." you trailed off.
"I'll leave my door open." He flashed you a playful grin, letting you make of the invitation what you will. "Even if you just want someone to sleep next to."
You said your goodnights and allowed him to see the twins again before he headed to his own room.
Billy showered and climbed into bed, but he didn't sleep. Instead he listened intently to any noise out in the penthouse, any sound that might indicate that you were out there. He thumbed through an old copy of Dorian Gray, half-distracting himself with reading while he slowly gave up on the idea that you'd make an appearance.
He'd almost given up hope but, around 1am, the door opened and you slipped into his room. Billy immediately lifted the covers and made space for you beside him and you wasted no time in slipping into his bed. But, instead of settling beside him, you straddled him, climbing atop his naked body. Your nightgown rode up your thighs as you did and Billy had to fight to stay in control of himself.
"Not that I'm complaining, but what inspired this?" He asked, shuddering as you ran your hand over a ticklish spot on his chest.
"I want you to make me a promise," you said.
"Anything."
"Promise me that, if we do this, it'll be like this — you, me, and the kids. Together."
He stared up at you through the gloom, letting his hands slowly slide up your thighs. "That's all I want. I promise we can have this."
"You won't abandon us if things get too hard?"
"Never," he answered, lifting himself so he could claim your lips.
The kiss took you by surprise, but you let him drag you down, let him pull your body closer as if he never wanted to let you go. Billy was content to just kiss you and hold you — if that was all you wanted from him, then he was happy to oblige — but it wasn't long before you started to rock your hips. You moaned softly against his lips, and it took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to roll you over.
As he had in the car, he let you set the pace and control the situation (though he did help things along a little by continuing to push your slip upwards until you got the hint and pulled it off).
His hands trailed up and down your body, over every inch of exposed flesh he could find. You arched and moaned as his fingers grazed your nipples and shuddered as they ran over your stomach.
And, of course, he'd been hard since the moment you'd settled on top of him. As you ground against him, he felt you growing warm and wet for him, your body as desperate for him as he was for you.
When you finally gripped his cock and guided yourself down it, he didn't know whether to groan or let out a sigh of relief. He stared up at you, his hands still roving, still worshipping you, as you started to move. His hips flexed beneath you and you moaned all the louder for it.
Already this was becoming like a dance; you both knew the steps and the way the other moved, and you fell into an easy rhythm. He pulled you down for another kiss and found himself muttering against your lips; "mine. You're mine."
You breathed a yes, and Billy felt like something inside of him had fractured, the wall that he'd kept built around himself crumbling at that one little word.
He didn't know what this was, whether the feelings inside of him were love, but he wanted to find out — he wanted to find out what a life with you would be like.
Your hips started to stutter and you moaned his name as you started to come, and Billy took the opportunity to finally roll you onto your back. His arms hooked behind your legs, almost bending you in half beneath him as he drew out your pleasure, swallowing down your cries with his lips.
It wasn't long before you fell apart again and Billy quickly joined after, the pair of you left trembling and boneless, still desperately clinging to each other. He remained inside you long after it was over, tenderly brushing his finger over your cheek and getting lost in your gaze.
He would have stayed like that all night if he could, completely yours, but a cry echoed through the penthouse. Despite the interruption, he smiled and barely held back a laugh.
You let out a long sigh and offered up a smile of your own. "I better go see what they need."
Billy shook his head as he finally pulled away from you. "We can go see what they need.
"You don't have to do that."
"I don't have to, but I want to," he said, climbing out of bed and offering you his hand. "We're in this together now."
A/N : I wanted to give this one an open ending so I can come back to it if I want to, but a sweet enough ending that you can probably imagine making it work. Like I said at the start, this was only meant to be a silly little thing because I had a random idea.
Tomorrow I'm going to put up a poll for my next full-length fic, but it'll probably be a week or two before I start posting just to give me time to get plots/scenes planned out a little better than I did for this one. The choices will be a werewolf fic, a regency era fic, or another jigsaw Billy fic. Anyway, thanks so much for bearing with me through this one, it's been an insane couple of months for me.
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!
If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will hopefully be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.
Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18
Plot Summary : It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man of dwindling fortune, will do whatever it takes to replenish his coffers. Even if that means seeking a suitable marriage match for his sister against her wishes. After arranging for you to spend the season with affluent Mr Castle of Netherton Park, your world is turned upside down. Not by Mr Castle as your brother intended, but by his roguish adopted brother Captain Russo.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing of note. All chapters will contain some mention of arranged marriages, age gap, and the gender imbalances/misogyny of the Regency Era. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 3.4k
A/N : this is a little shorter than usual but I wanted to post something because it's bee a really long time. Work and this heatwave have made it really difficult to get anything done lately.
Chapter List : Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three
Chapter Four
"This one," Miss Page said, holding up yet another ribbon to contrast the colour with your hair. "This one is perfect."
You'd been distracted all morning — but how could you not be after what had happened last night?
Your mind was torn between the memory of his face, the way he'd kissed you, and the strange pleasure that he'd brought you to, and the way you'd felt when he'd left you all alone.
You were more aware than ever of the sensitive flesh between your thighs. Captain Russo had sparked something inside of you and, even now, hours later, the embers were still burning. That heat was a stark contrast to the empty, icy feeling in your chest.
He'd kissed you, unravelled the part of you that dared to hope for love and romance, and then he'd just left you. The Captain had walked away, leaving you confused and feeling such acute abandonment that it had become a physical ache in your heart. It was enough to make you wonder if he was every bit the scoundrel that your brother and Mr Castle had painted him as.
"She's right, that's a fine colour," Mr Castle stated.
You were on his arm while Miss Page walked freely and unchaperoned as, you had gathered, was the American way. (Oh to be so free.) Miss Page had done most of the talking from the carriage ride to the streets of the city as you shopped. She didn't seem to notice or care that you never had much to say in response.
Mr Castle was putting up a valiant effort to not look bored out of his wits, and tried to involve himself in conversation, though you could tell he thought picking out ribbons was a silly and trivial matter. Still, he made an effort and you wondered if this was supposed to mark the beginning of your arranged courtship.
You didn't ask, of course. It would be mortifying to be told yes just as much as it would if he said no.
"You're right," you said, trying to keep your thoughts confined to the moment. "It's a very fine colour, though... I have nothing to match it.
It was the most you'd said in at least five minutes and Miss Page looked ready to deflate and give up entirely.
"Then perhaps Miss Page and I can help you find something to match?" Mr Castle offered.
Whether it was for your benefit or Miss Page's didn't really matter.
"I'm not sure my brother —"
"I'm certain Ethan would want his sister looking her best, especially for tomorrow night's ball," Miss Page said.
"Tomorrow night —"
"Karen," Mr Castle said in a warning tone, "you know he hasn't agreed to that."
"He hasn't agreed to that yet," Miss Page said before turning her full attention back to you.
After a little more persuasion, you decided to purchase the ribbon and Miss Page promised she wouldn't rest until you had the perfect dress to go with it. Mr Castle was less enthusiastic to be led between dress fitters but it quickly became apparent that there was nothing he would deny Miss Page when she asked nicely enough.
Uncomfortable thoughts from the night before started to resurface as you listened to them talk and laugh with each other. Despite the fact that you were on Mr Castle's arm, it was the American who held his attention, and no amount of feigned interest in your choice of ribbons or dresses would change that.
At least, you supposed, if you did marry Mr Castle, you would only have to put up with feeling like his second choice once a year — or however many times Miss Page chose to visit.
Once you had found your dress, it was Miss Page's turn. And, as it happened, she was far more discerning than you when it came to things like style, colour and cut.
Of course, Mr Castle was more than happy to wait while she tried on dress after dress, and you felt politely obliged not to point out that you hadn't wanted to spend your day in the city stuck indoors.
The shopkeeper offered you chairs while you waited and, for a time, you were content to sit and wait. But the minutes ticked by, and the world outside kept moving. Morning turned to noon and you found yourself looking for a reason to move. There was only so long you could sit and act demure, smiling and nodding every time Mr Castle deigned to make some passing comment to you, no doubt due to his own boredom.
Finally, you struck upon an idea, though it took you a few minutes to act on it.
You stood slowly and glanced out the shop window.
"I noticed there's a bakery across the way," you said as casually as you could. "I was thinking I might go and get a sweet bun while Miss Page finishes her fitting."
Though you were a full grown woman, you found yourself bracing for his refusal, demanding that you sit and stay. Instead he raised an eyebrow and followed your gaze towards the window. For a second you thought he might offer to escort you, then he shrugged.
"Don't wander too far," Mr Castle warned. "Your brother wouldn't be happy if I lost you."
You couldn't tell if he was joking but you still offered up a polite laugh and wasted no time in heading for the door.
Outside, you breathed a sigh of relief, glad to finally —
Any and all thought stopped dead the second you saw him standing across the street, looking at you, watching you. Captain Russo. His expression softened and he offered what you might think was a shy smile if you didn't know better. Then, with a nod of his head, he directed you towards a little side street before vanishing down it.
You considered for a moment, remembering the ache he'd left you with last night. Perhaps it would be best if you avoided him, only... how would he know that you were avoiding him if you didn't at least tell him as much? It seemed only right and proper to let him know and, hopefully, put an end to whatever madness had possessed the pair of you in the library.
Through the window, you could see that Mr Castle's attention was firmly with Miss Page, so you started across the street, giving only a brief cautious glance behind before slipping into the side street.
His hand was on your arm before you could so much as gasp, pulling you away from the hustle and bustle of the main street and away from prying eyes. You found yourself turned to face him, and you couldn't tell if the pounding in your chest was for him or because of the precarious situation he'd put you in.
If anyone was to catch the two of you together like this...
"I wanted to see you," he said, fingers still lingering on your arm.
"Your brother is just across the street." It wasn't what you wanted to say, but it seemed prudent to remind him.
"I know." His head hung forward. "You have no idea what it does to me to see you on his arm, paraded around as if he won you."
"He's just being a gentleman."
A bitter laugh tore from the Captain. "If he was being a gentleman he wouldn't have let you out of his sight. His attention would be entirely on you, instead he chose to stay with Karen."
"I don't need an escort to get sweet buns," you remarked indignantly, choosing to ignore the comment about Miss Page.
"No, because you're a free spirit like me," he said, smiling.
He cupped your cheek and, despite wanting nothing more than to lean into his touch, you shrank back. The Captain frowned and tried again. This time you took a step away.
"Have I done something to upset you? If I've offended you, you must know that it wasn't my intention," he said as he countered your step backwards with a step of his own.
Your cheeks burned with shame, unable to put into words what you had hoped he already understood. While you weren't entirely sure what had happened last night, you knew how it had felt when he'd left you alone and trembling with a bitter pleasure.
"I'm not a toy for your amusement, Captain," you said.
You took a step to the left, trying to move around him. He mirrored your movement and blocked your path. Then you stepped right and, still, he refused to let you pass.
"Is that what you think you are to me? A toy? An amusement?"
You shied away as he reached for you again, but his fingers still found your cheek and tenderly brushed a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. He held you in place with just his gaze, and your heart stuttered as you got lost in his dark eyes.
"You had your fun, then you left me," you confessed in a voice so small it hardly sounded like your own. "What happened last night could destroy my reputation — everything you've done so far could destroy my reputation — and you don't even seem to care."
He was silent for a beat, his throat working as he swallowed down the truth.
"I left to protect you.' He leaned closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours, words little more than a whisper.
"Protect me from what?" You asked, lowering your voice to match his as if the moment was too fragile for raised voices.
"From me."
It was infuriating how little the answer gave you. It felt like a baited trap, an attempt to use your curiosity to snare you.
"If you wish to protect me from your... urges, then perhaps you should keep your distance, Captain." you said, finally remembering why you'd followed him in the first place. "It seems all we're capable of doing is causing each other distress. So, I suggest we stay away from each other from now on."
You had wanted to sound more resolute, more certain, but how could you when he was looking at you like his world began and ended with you?
You barely knew him. Even if your afternoon wandering the grounds of Netherton was the longest you'd ever spent alone in the company of an eligible man, there were still so many things you didn't know, things that you wanted to know about him.
"I would if I could," he said, cupping your cheek again. This time you didn't pull away. "Compared to my brother, I have nothing to offer you — no fortune, no comfortable future, and your brother would oppose me courting you — but, still, I find myself drawn to you.
He leaned closer and you braced yourself for a kiss that never came. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes.
"I wish I could explain it," he said softly, "I wish there was a way to make you understand..."
"Understand, what?"
"The connection I feel to you, how you feel like a splash of colour in an otherwise grey world..."
The words made your heart flutter and your own eyes close. It was like something out of one of the romantic poems you so loved, and you wished that you could just accept it without reservation. But there were too many questions, too many doubts in your mind.
"We hardly know each other," you said.
"Courtships have started from less."
He was right, but you weren't courting the Captain. You couldn't. Not when you were all but promised to Mr Castle.
"He doesn't see you," the Captain continued. "He only sees your brother's burden, he —"
"Burden?"
Is that how he saw you? Was that how they all saw you? Ethan's burdensome sister, so close to becoming a spinster, so unwanted.
You tried to shove him away, but he barely moved. When you slammed your hands against his chest a second time, he caught you by the wrists and pinned your arms against the wall on either side of your head. You twisted in his grasp, trying to escape but not once considering screaming. You wanted to get away from him, but you didn't want to get him into any kind of trouble.
More than anything you wanted to get away from him because you hoped your walking away would pain him the way his words had pained you.
"Stop," he said. "Please — I didn't mean it like that."
"Then what did you mean, Captain? How could I possibly be expected to take your words any other way?" You tried to force a measured tone, but there was no hiding the hurt. "Do you think I don't know how my brother sees me? How men like you see me? An unmarried woman of my age?"
"No, that's not what I meant," he said in a voice as close to pleading as he could muster.
"Do you think this is the life I wanted for myself? To be foisted onto my brother's oldest friend and —"
His lips slanted over yours, silencing you. Like every other kiss you'd shared, it was sudden enough to stun you, and once it started — once you felt the desperation behind it — you found it impossible to remember why you'd been angry with him in the first place.
He kept hold of your wrists, but all the fight drained from you in an instant.
As much as you hated it, you wanted to be wanted by him. You wanted to pretend that the things he'd told you could be real, if only for this snatched moment.
"You are not the burden," he muttered against your lips. "He is. He always has been."
You weren't given time to ask what Captain Russo meant. His lips crashed into yours again and you were left feeling like you might float away. The he was clearly Ethan, but what burdens did your brother have?
It was hard to care when the Captain was stealing the very breath from your lungs, kissing you like he may never get to again. And... there was a part of you that felt vindicated for all the thoughts you'd had about your brother and the way he lived. Finally, you'd found someone who saw Ethan as you did.
But time was not on your side and the Captain knew it.
The kiss broke and his head dropped to your shoulder.
"Captain..."
"William," he corrected.
"I... I can't," you said softly. "They'll be missing me."
"I'll miss you."
Your heart lurched at the rawness in his tone. It made no sense how he could unravel you with so few words, but it was almost enough to make you want to linger a little longer. But even he seemed to realise how that was a bad idea.
He released your wrists but you didn't put your hands down, instead you tenderly held his face and stared into his eyes, trying to make sense of him.
"I don't understand you," you said.
"I know, but I hope that one day you will." He gave you a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before taking a step back. "You should go. I'll see you tonight at dinner."
He took another step, and left you aching to reach for him and steal just one more moment, but you'd tarried long enough.
Though, as it happened, by the time you'd slipped from the side street and into the bakery to purchase a sweet bun, and then returned to the dress makers, you were barely noticed. And, for the next half hour, you sat in silence beside Mr Castle, staring longingly out of the window, hoping for one little glimpse of the Captain.
But, of course, you didn't.
Instead you had to make do with the promise that you'd see him at dinner. Giddy sort of thrill filled you as the hours ticked by, wanting to be near him again.
But he wasn't at dinner.
You arrived in the dining room first and took a seat, patiently waiting for everyone else. Mr Castle appeared first, then Miss Page, and finally Ethan. They sat and food was served.
"Is the Captain not dining with us tonight?" You dared to ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.
"My brother has business to attend to," Mr Castle answered between mouthfuls.
"Business?" Remarked Ethan with a snort. "Is that what he's calling his women these days?"
Mr Castle shot him a warning look and you did your best to ignore the sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.
"What? We all know the man has no morals — you should know that better than anyone, Frank," Ethan continues.
"There are ladies present," Mr Castle.
"You always think the worst of him," Miss Page said.
"Because he's only ever given us reason to think the worst."
"You're not still sore about him breaking your nose, are you?" Mr Castle asked. "It was over fifteen years ago, Ethan."
"You never did tell me why he broke your nose," Miss Page added.
You remembered Ethan coming home from school with a black eye and a healed nose at the end of term. You remembered your mother fussing and your father writing a letter to the school, demanding the boy responsible faced the harshest punishment. You also remembered hearing that the other boy was expelled, though it wasn't clear whether it had been over that incident.
You were silent as the conversation continued on; Ethan didn't offer up much of an explanation, just that he had called the Captain out for being a scoundrel and it had ended in a fight. Whenever they spoke of the Captain, it didn't sound like the man you knew — but, then, you had to concede that you really didn't know him. Not like they did.
After dinner, you excused yourself but, on the way to your room, you felt a strange pull towards the library, the faintest spark of hope still burning within you. If you could see him, you could ask him about what Ethan had revealed and try to find the truth of the matter.
Unfortunately, you found the library empty.
You lingered for almost an hour before giving up hope that he would magically appear and silence all the questions in your head. But, as you went to leave the library, you heard voices in the corridor.
"You've been at Netherton with him before," Miss Page said.
You peered through a crack in the doorway and caught sight of her red hair.
"That was without my sister." Ethan.
"What difference does that make?"
"I don't want him to ruin things for her — for me," your brother said. "He has form for seducing young women, especially young women who've been promised to someone else. And it wouldn't be the first time he's bedded a woman to hurt Frank."
"Is that what happened fifteen years ago? Is that why they don't speak?"
If Ethan gave an answer, you didn't hear it.
"I won't let him ruin my sister just to hurt me and Frank," Ethan said after a lengthy silence. "Frank says he's no doubt squandered his inheritance, and I don't want him seducing my sister for her money. Lord knows she’s silly enough to fall for it, what with all her notions of romance. She’d be an easy mark for a man like Russo..."
Their voices faded the further they got from the library and, while a part of you wanted to dismiss everything said as just Ethan being Ethan. He'd never had a kind word to say about anyone, always ready to judge and point out their worst traits while remaining oblivious to his own. But there was more going on than what you'd been able to discover, some deeper mystery that seemed to exist between Ethan, Mr Castle and the Captain.
If you were going to continue to find yourself in scandalous situations with the man, you were going to have to find out just how bad the truth was.
That is, if you even ever saw him again...
A/N : I'm toying with the idea of maybe doing shorter chapters like this for a while if it means I can start posting regularly again -- it's honestly driving my crazy not having a schedule at the moment but between work, the dog, and the fact that it hit 32 degrees c here this week, I'm on the struggle bus atm. Next week is stock take at work too, which is going to be an ordeal but, hopefully after that my hours will go back to normal. Anyway, hope you like this chapter and that if you're experiencing a heatwave where you are that you remember to stay hydrated!
New chapters will hopefully be posted weekly (I'm being kinder to myself an not imposing such a strict deadline with this one). Let me know if you want to be tagged.
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!
Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18
I’m currently in the unique position of being able to read a lot, but I still need more 😂 I feel like there’s a lot more art and artist out there that I don’t know about, so help me out!
Recommend me some writing for Peaky Blinders. Especially the lesser known ones that I may have missed. Recommend your own work (do not be ashamed to do so!), recommend your friends work, recommend me your favourite fics. I like fluff, I like any genre really, doesn’t matter 😂 I’ll read old fics, I read new ones; I do not care. Message me, reblog this to help me spread it around, tag me idc how, I just would like to know what else is out there 😊
@theshelbyclan Here's my Peaky Blinders Masterlist and I'll also rec the incredible writers I know in the fandom. I know you've been here longer and might already know the majority of them, but perhaps you'll find a a few new blogs. (Apologies to anyone I forgot, I'm impressed I remembered this many 😆)
Please spread this around. Don't let ANYONE lie and say my community is anything but ASTONISHINGLY UNITED in rejection of ICE's behavior. This crosses generations, race lines, party lines, class lines. THAT is how bad ICE is. THAT is how bad we want them gone.
THAT is how loudly we are DEMANDING they leave!
Do you understand what a crowd like this means in a small city like Minneapolis??? In weather that hurts to breathe???
For readers outside the US: Negative twenty in American degrees is -29 Celsius.
I grew up in Canada, and when it was -25 C or below, they wouldn’t let us go outside for recess at school.
Like, everyone had boots and ski mittens and snowpants and winter coats, but still - indoor recess on those days. Cause the risk of frostbite was bad enough to justify everyone spending their lunch break supervising a classroom full of rowdy children.
That kind of cold is viscerally hostile to the human body. Your instincts will scream at you to GO INSIDE. It’s an environment that’s fundamentally physiologically unsafe, and you can feel that.
In the context of that weather, this turnout is even more compelling.
Who wants a distraction from their current WIP? I know I do! That's why I'm proposing a fun side project for anyone who'd like to participate.
The rules are simple and few:
❧Send an ask and I will assign you a fairytale, legend, etc. to interpret using your fave characters or OCs. Upon request, I'll also send an image for inspo.
❧If you have a suggestion for me, pls send that too! I'll be writing my own fic from one of the ideas I receive.
❧ Your story can be can be angsty, dark, fluffy, smutty.... Just be sure to include all appropriate warnings.
❧There's no word limit or time constraint. I only ask that you tag me or use #zablife fairytale challenge when it's posted so I can enjoy your work!
Tagging a few moots who might be interested: @cillmequick, @peakyswritings, @littlepeakydevil, @brummiereader, @call-sign-shark
turnnoffyourmind
snowghoul
kianamaiart
pixelskylines
germansingergirl
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
izzy806
gummygunk
