Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.
SERIES MASTER LIST
(Once Bitten) Twice Shy
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.
SERIES MASTERLIST
Love, Sick Love
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well
Chapter List :
SERIES MASTERLIST
The Red Ribbon
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it...
Chapter List :
SERIES MASTERLIST
(It Is) What It Is
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.
SERIES MASTERLIST
Staking A Claim
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : Your life isn't going great; you're having doubts about law school, your job sucks, and you've finally just broken up with your cheating boyfriend. So, the last thing you need is to wake up in bed with an attractive, older alpha with no memory of the night before and a sinking suspicion that your whole life is about to change...
SERIES MASTERLIST
Need vs Want
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : Billy Russo is tired of playing the dating game, so he decides to try and find his perfect match online with a very specific ad. When you respond, it quickly becomes clear that you're everything he wants, but is he what you need?
SERIES MASTERLIST
500 Follower Celebration Masterlist
2025 Smutober Masterlist
BUCKY BARNES FICS
Devotion & Desire
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?
SERIES MASTERLIST
Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.8k
A/N : A full explanation of expected themes and TWs for this fic can be found here if you are uncomfortable with dark romance/toxic romance then this fic might not be for you.
Master List
Chapter One
“So, how was your date?”
You were barely through the door when the question was mercilessly thrown your way, the few patrons drinking the afternoon away in Sam’s lifting their heads to glance your way before quickly losing interest. Thankfully, they didn’t care how your date had gone the night before nearly as much as your co-worked Jenna did.
Sam’s wasn’t exactly the sort of place where people cared to get to know each other. The bar had a reputation, the kind of reputation that regularly had cops posted outside the door, waiting to scoop up patrons at closing time, though they rarely dared set foot through the door. And that was why it suited you just fine. Aside from the occasional drunk thinking he might be lucky enough to get in your pants, people didn’t care who you were or where you were from, a courtesy you were more than happy to return.
So, while there was a snicker or two around the bar, no one but Jenna was interested in your love life.
Or, lack thereof.
You shrugged off your jacket as you made your way around the bar, hanging it along with your purse in the small staff room before heading out to start your shift.
“So, it didn’t go well then,” Jenna stated, eyeing you up and down as you stepped out of the back.
“Hi Jenna.” You said in an overly forced, perky tone, clearly avoiding the question. “How are you, Jenna?”
“Wow, that bad?”
You’d often thought to yourself that Jenna would be better suited working for the FBI instead of tending bar; she knew how to get people to talk and she had a dogged tenacity when it came to things she wanted to know. But, fortunately for the criminal element, Jenna was only interested in gossip, bitching, and information that could be used to her advantage. She was your closest friend and a constant pain in your ass for all of the above reasons.
“Is it that obvious?” You finally relented, giving her a slither of what she craved.
The look she fixed you with was more than enough to answer the question.
“You’re wearing your fuck-me boots and that’s never a good sign,” she said with a knowing grin, obviously impressed with herself. “Wasn’t it the third date? Don’t tell me he left you high and dry...”
All it took was a slight look of disappointment on your face for less than a second for her to have the whole story.
“Oh - oh, okay,” she said and for a single, solitary second, you hoped that she’d drop it. But, of course, she didn’t. “So, how bad are we talking?”
“It wasn’t bad,” you answered, turning away from her, acting like you were checking stock, “just... disappointing.”
“He didn’t make you come?” She asked, loud enough that anyone close enough could hear. Fortunately you weren’t easily embarrassed. “I thought you said he was a doctor? Isn't he supposed to have a good grasp of… anatomy?”
Your eyes rolled as you threw her a glance over your shoulder.
“He’s a physiotherapist, not a gynaecologist.”
Not that that distinction made it any better. Disappointing sex was disappointing sex at the end of the day.
“Are you gonna see him again?” Jenna asked, biting back a laugh.
“And waste another evening on unappealing sex? No thanks. I think I’m just gonna swear off men,” you sighed dramatically, barely holding back a smirk.
“Or,” Jenna started, really drawing out that one little syllable, “maybe you need to stop only going for the safe guys and expecting Captain America to give you what you need.”
Your cheeks heated a fraction as you burst into laughter. It was a good thing that no one who could overhear understood that Captain America was what Jenna liked to call the dildo she’d bought you as a prank secret Santa gift last Christmas on account of it being a red, white and blue, unlicensed Captain America sex toy that claimed on the box to be an exact replica of Steve Roger’s dick.
It had become a private joke between the pair of you, though you’d never dare admit to her just how much mileage you’d actually gotten from the toy.
“Seriously, you need to lower your standards and find a guy who’s willing to just fuck your brains out,” Jenna continued, still utterly oblivious (or perhaps just indifferent) to the half dozen men trying to enjoy their drinks within earshot. “We could go to that biker bar just off the highway again and -”
“Aren’t we barred?” You asked. “Or, more to the point, aren’t you barred?”
“That’s what makes it more fun.”
Again, you rolled your eyes and, finally, you had a look around the bar. It was still quiet, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. As soon as it started getting dark out, the place would be packed, wall to wall.
That was when you noticed him, sat at the end of the bar, slightly hunched over and with no drink in front of him. You looked to Jenna and gave a nod in his direction, and she shrugged in response, leaving you to deal with him. If he’d overheard any of your conversation with Jenna, he didn’t seem interested. For a moment, you hung back, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on in his head but, finally, you forced your customer service smile to your lips and made your approach.
“Hey, what can I get you?” You asked.
When he looked up, your heart stuttered. His face was littered with scars, but they weren’t the cause of the violent pounding in your chest, in fact, after first glance you barely noticed them. No, it was his dark eyes and the way he looked at you, the way he looked through you. For a few seconds you dared to believe you might drown in his gaze (and that maybe you’d enjoy it).
The moment felt like it lasted a lifetime, his gaze fixed on yours, his dark eyes filled with unspoken threats. And promises.
“Whiskey,” he said, a scratchy quality to his voice, as if his throat was raw from screaming.
“You want the good stuff or the cheap stuff?” You asked, blinking and finally managing to break his hold over you.
Instead of answering, he patted his jacket pockets before fishing out a wallet, eyeing it as if he’d never seen it before. As he opened it and checked its contents, you tried to feign indifference, but you couldn’t help but notice the stack of bills, and how he seemed just as surprised by them as you were.
“The good stuff,” he finally answered, his eyes finding yours again.
“Excellent choice,” you answered.
After grabbing a glass and placing it on the bar in front of him, you turned to grab a bottle from the top shelf, stretching as you reached for it.
Jenna jokingly called it Tip-teasing and had been the one to teach you it when you first took the job. It was simple really; tending bar was a performance, like a striptease but you got to keep your clothes on. You’d bend and stretch in ways that showed off your figure and a little bit of skin, and the customers would suddenly feel more inclined to leave you a tip. The trick was to be flirty enough to make them want you, but not so much so that they thought they had a shot.
It wasn’t how you’d envisioned earning a living, but your hourly wage at Sam's wasn’t enough to live on and, honestly, with the way some patrons behaved you felt entitled to take them for every penny they were dumb enough to part with.
You hadn’t decided if you wanted to help empty this guy’s wallet, but you still put on a show for him as you stretched to grab the bottle from the top shelf, your skirt and blouse both shifting and revealing a little more skin. You didn’t even have to check the mirrored wall behind the bar to know he was watching your every move. It felt like his gaze was burning into your back, like he was trying to devour you whole with just his eyes.
And when you turned back he was still looking at you just as intensely, like you were the first woman he’d seen in months. His gaze flickered downwards to the low neckline of your blouse for the briefest of seconds, and you knew you had him on the hook.
“Not seen you in here before,” you said, filling his glass. “You from around here?”
“Yeah but I’ve been... away...” he answered.
Away in a place like Sam’s meant one of two things; either he was ex-military or he’d been doing time. Normally you could tell which just from the look of a guy, but not him. His clothes were a poor fit and didn’t suit him, and, honestly, the jacket he was wearing made him look like a dealer who sold drugs to teens at raves, but you didn’t get that vibe from him. And the scars on his face were like nothing you’d ever seen before.
But you didn’t push, didn’t pry. You knew better than anyone not to ask questions.
“Well, welcome to Sam’s,” you said with a smile as he placed down a twenty and told you to keep the change. “Gimme a shout if you need anything else.”
Jenna’s eyes met yours the moment you turned away from him, obviously interested in the new customer but, more importantly, interested in how well he had tipped. Her eyes lit up when you flashed the twenty on the way to the cash register.
While it wasn’t policy or any sort of rule, you and Jenna always split tips when you were on shift together, teaming up and taking the patrons of Sam’s bar for everything you could. The hourly was shit and you both needed to make ends meet. And, you made a great team; Jenna’s shamelessness appealed to some customers, while your subtleness appealed to others. Between the pair of you, you emptied a lot of wallets.
“Looks like someone’s thirsty for more than whiskey,” Jenna joked under her breath. “He’s practically fucking you with his eyes.”
You nudged past her, opening the register and depositing the bill. You gave a sly glance in the mirror, confirming that he was watching you, but you didn’t think much of it. “He can look at me any way he wants if he’s gonna keep dropping twenties.”
Over the next hour or so there was a noticeable change in the man, he seemed to relax a little, though not in the way that suggested he was on his way to being drunk. It was the kind of relaxed that came from comfort and safety. You wondered if he was hiding out, if the cops were going to be waiting for him at the end of the night, but you doubted it.
You’d seen enough guys come through after pulling jobs, high on adrenaline, but this guy - ugh it annoyed you how difficult he was to read, so much so that he became your focus and you watched every little shift and move he made. It reached a point where you were staring at him almost as much as he was staring at you.
“Just fuck him and get it over with,” Jenna muttered, watching you after your eyes followed him towards the mens bathroom and had been staring at the closed door for at least a couple of minutes.
“Oh, yeah, I’ll just follow him into the bathroom and let him bend me over in one of the stalls,” you answered sarcastically, turning back to look at her.
“I know you’re joking, but I think that’s exactly what you need.” She grinned at you, ducking out of the way as you threw an ice cube at her. “C’mon, you’ve gotta admit, even with the scars, he’s very...”
She trailed off and you didn’t think twice before finishing her thought; “fuckable?”
“Glad you think so.”
Your heart stopped and your cheeks immediately started to warm. Jenna bit her lip, desperately trying to hold back a laugh, her face reddening with the effort. Wincing, you turned, finding him sitting at the bar again, an amused smile on his lips. And there was just something about that smile, something that felt right, that made you think it was him far more than the grim expression he’d been sporting since you’d arrived and found him at the bar.
“We were just -” you tried to explain.
“Oh, I got the gist of it, don’t worry,” he said.
Luckily he seemed more amused than anything, his eyes only leaving yours for a second to watch as Jenna headed towards the door, muttering something about a smoke break as she abandoned you.
You turned from him and took a breath, grabbing the whiskey bottle from the back before looking at him again. Without a word, you refilled his glass. When he started to reach for his wallet, you gave a wave of your hand.
“It’s on the house.”
“Is that because I’m fuckable or because you’re embarrassed?” He asked, still smiling at you.
“I’m not embarrassed,” you answered automatically, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, but then you realised the implications.
“Good to know,” he said. Then he drained his glass, keeping you there a little while longer. As you filled it again, he decided to introduce himself. “I’m Billy, by the way.”
You offered your name in return, before trying to apologise; “look, I’m sorry about Jenna, she just gets a little -” you paused, trying to think of a way to describe it, “- openly horny.”
Billy laughed and, for reasons you didn’t understand, it almost sounded alien, like he’d never laughed before - or like it had been a really long time since he had. “And you don’t?”
The question caught you off guard and had an eyebrow rising.
“I try not to.”
“Then I guess I should be honoured that you find me fuckable,” he teased.
Your eyes rolled and you were about to come up with a devastatingly witty retort when the door opened and a group of guys entered. You managed to bite back a sigh of relief at the distraction, glad that you had a reason to step away from Billy for a moment.
While most of the group that had entered made for one of the tables at the back, a familiar face headed towards the bar, grinning from ear to ear at you.
“Hi, Jake,” you greeted, leaning on the bar a little, letting him get a good look at you, “you guys want the usual?”
He nodded and watched as you set about pulling pints for him and his buddies.
“So,” he said, “you decided when you’re gonna let me take you out yet?”
A slight, teasing laugh slipped from your lips and you shook your head.
“You know my rule, Jake,” you responded, like you always did, keeping a smile on your lips despite your disinterest. “I don’t date customers.”
“Can’t you make an exception just this once? I’d show you a real good time,” he countered.
“If I make an exception for you, then I’d have to make an exception for every other guy who comes through here,” you answered, laughing. “I’d be on dates every night, then when would I find time to watch Grey’s Anatomy?”
Billy let out a laugh and both you and Jake looked his way. For a moment you thought there was going to be trouble.
“Don’t worry, she just shot me down too,” Billy shrugged before taking a good look at Jake, his attention fixing on Jake's army jacket. “You earn that jacket, or did you buy it?”
“I earned it,” Jake answered, bristling. You watched the two men, ready to intervene if needed. “You earn those scars on your face?”
You didn’t expect Billy to laugh, but you found yourself relieved.
“Yeah, I guess I must’ve,” was all Billy offered in answer and a part of you was disappointed that he didn’t give more than that. He reached into his pocket, pulling three twenties from his wallet, putting them down, still looking at Jake. “They’re on me.”
That settled, you finished pouring the drinks. Jake invited Billy to join his friends and he did, leaving you at the bar, though you weren’t alone for long. Jenna decided to slink back in, still looking like she was about to burst into hysterical laughter.
“You’re not funny,” you told her, swiping at her, clipping her arm with the back of your hand.
“Please, you should have seen your face,” she said with a smirk, though she was soon frowning when she realised Billy had disappeared. “Did you scare him off?”
“He’s made some new friends,” you told her, nodding towards Jake and his crew.
And that was where he stayed for the rest of the night, save for when it was his turn to get a round and, then, he’d linger at the bar chatting to either you or Jenna, though it soon became clear he was more interested in speaking to you. For the most part you indulged him, playing along with his teasing comments and reaping the rewards every time another round of drinks was ordered.
“So, this rule of yours...” he said.
“What about it?”
“Does it apply to fuckable customers?” He asked, smirking as you rolled your eyes.
“Especially the fuckable ones,” you retorted.
“What if I never came back?”
“Sorry, there are no loopholes.” You shrugged as you placed the last full glass in front of him.
“The funny thing about rules is that they wouldn’t be rules if they couldn’t be broken,” he answered back, grabbing the glasses and heading back to his new friends before you could respond.
The night drew on and, by last call, you and Jenna had made more in tips than you had in weeks, and both of you knew it was thanks to Billy. It took some cajoling to get the group to leave, but once they were gone, you set about closing the bar.
“I feel kinda dirty,” you joked to Jenna as you counted up and divided the tips.
“Why? Because you let him spend the night eye-fucking you?” Jenna laughed. “If he comes back, you better keep putting on a show. With tips like these I might actually finally be able to afford a better apartment.”
“In that case, I’ll wear my shortest skirt,” you said with a roll of your eyes.
“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the attention.”
She knew you too well, and she was right even if you didn’t want to admit it. It had felt nice to have someone who wasn’t blind drunk or just looking to pester you for a quick fuck to notice you like that. But, rules were rules, and you weren’t going to be convinced to change your mind so easily.
“It’s a shame I can’t find a man who doesn’t drink here who looks at me like that,” was all you gave her.
“I told you, you need to stop looking for the safe guys and just have some fun... and Billy looks like he’d be a lot of fun...”
“Uh-huh, I’ll get right on that,” you retorted, “I’ll let him fuck me on the bar tomorrow night as long as he promises to keep tipping.”
The joking continued until you were both ready to leave, locking up and going your separate ways. You’d been living in Brooklyn long enough to feel reasonably safe on the streets, even late at night. So the four block walk home didn’t usually bother you, but that night something felt different.
You told yourself it was because you couldn’t stop thinking about him, Billy, and the way he’d been watching you all night, but you felt like you were being followed. Glancing over your shoulder, you checked behind you, almost expecting to find him there, but the streets were empty and, a moment later, you felt ridiculous for having the thought in the first place.
What was it about him? Why was he suddenly so stuck in your head?
(You knew the answer - of course you knew the answer - you just felt shitty admitting it, even to yourself. It was the scars and the dark eyes that went with them. He was a man with a story, trauma. There was something dark and dangerous about him, something mysterious and interesting.)
When you arrived at the bar the following evening, he was there again, sitting at the bar. His eyes found you the moment you stepped through the door the corner of his lips twitched upwards for a second.
“Back again?” You asked, smiling as you shrugged off your coat.
“I like the atmosphere in here,” he answered, his shoulder ticking upwards in a half-shrug.
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” Jenna remarked, barely holding back a laugh as walked to a table behind him to collect empty glasses.
You had to look away, biting back a laugh of your own, hanging your coat up in the back before moving behind the bar.
“Ignore her, she’s -”
“Fabulous?” Jenna interjected.
“A pain in the ass,” you said.
A smile appeared on Billy’s lips and you felt the full weight of his attention on you while you placed a glass in front of him and turned to grab the whiskey. You filled his glass and, as you pushed it towards him, he reached for it, his fingers brushing against yours. It felt deliberate but you didn’t say anything.
When he opened his wallet again, you noticed that it was full again, and you found yourself wondering just where he’d gone after he’d left the bar last night. If Billy noticed you staring at his wallet, he didn’t seem to care.
“So,” he started, “been working here long?”
“About a year,” you shrugged, not really interested in talking about yourself.
“You from around here?”
“Not originally.”
“No?” He continued. “Been in New York long?”
“Just over a year.”
He let out a laugh. “You don’t give much away, do you?”
“Not if I can help it,” you answered back, flashing him a playful smile.
Despite your evasiveness and your obvious attempts at keeping him from getting to know you, Billy just smiled, seeming amused by it all.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you can’t help it.”
“Oh really?” You asked, almost enjoying his persistence.
He seemed a lot more sure of himself than he had yesterday, a lot more comfortable in the bar and around you. You weren’t sure what had inspired the change, but he hadn’t given you any reason for concern, so you were happy to play along with him.
“I have ways of getting pretty girls to open up to me,” he told you.
You hated the way your thighs squeezed together and you were glad of the bar between you, concealing your visceral reaction to his words, and to him. Part of you was almost ready to give in, to throw caution to the wind and let him try to open you up, both literally and figuratively.
“Aww you think I’m pretty?” You teased playfully, batting your eyelashes at him, leaning on the bar a little more.
“You’re more than that and you know it,” he answered, his gaze dropping to the low neckline of the tank top you’d opted to wear tonight for a second. “You’re trouble.”
Before you could even think to ask him what he meant, the door opened and in walked Jake and his crew. He called out to Billy, catching his attention and motioning towards the table they’d been at last night.
“To be continued,” he said, sliding off the stool.
“Can’t wait,” you replied teasingly.
As the bar got busier, you lost track of Billy and what he was doing whenever he wasn’t directly in front of you at the bar. It was a busy night, busier than it had been in a while and it was made so much worse when Jenna grabbed you to tell you that she needed to leave early an hour before closing.
“Are you fucking kidding?” You asked.
“I’m sorry,” she told you, “my idiot brother got himself in an accident and now I have to go get him from the hospital. My mom’s freaking out - you know how she gets.” Unfortunately, you did know how she got, and since you’d arrived in New York Jenna’s mom had been more of a mother to you than your own ever had. “I can call Sam, ask him to get off his ass and actually do some work?”
You practically winced; Sam’s favourite part of owning a bar was not having to work in the bar and still make money from it. He mostly did a few hours during the day when the place was empty, and spent his evenings doing god only knew what. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, but working with him was always uncomfortable - like anyone in a management position, he was happy to criticise but less happy to actually help.
“No, it’s -” you sighed, “- it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” she told you, throwing her arms around you and hugging you for a second before heading out, stopping only briefly to say something to Jake and Billy.
It wasn’t so much the last hour that was the issue, you hated manning the bar on your own because all the drunks liked to drag their feet at the end of the night, and having to deal with cashing up on your own always made you a little uncomfortable.
But, tonight, everything seemed to be going well.
Seemed being the operative word.
Someone stepped in just as the last customer had left and, from the looks of him, he was already wasted from wherever he’d been drinking already. He’d probably been kicked out of somewhere and wanted to try his luck at Sam’s.
“We’re closed,” you told him.
“I just want one more drink,” he said.
“Yeah and I wanna go home.” You stepped out from behind the bar, ready to shoo him towards the door. “The Styx two blocks over is still open -”
“That’s where I just came from.”
Great, so he’d been kicked out of the only bar in the neighbourhood that had a worse reputation than Sam’s.
“Then I don’t know what to tell you,” you shrugged, “‘cause we’re closed and you’re not getting a drink here.”
If you’d been thinking straight, if you hadn’t been so damned tired, so fucking cocky, you never would have stepped as close as you did. Before you could even think to step back, his hand was on your shoulder. Your instant instinct was to swing your arm, catching him across the face with an open palm, but that just made things worse.
His other hand grabbed your arm and he pushed you backwards against the bar, with enough force to wind you.
“I said I want a drink, bitch,” he snarled.
“She said the bar’s closed.”
Shock jolted through you the second the drunk was pulled away from you and his head was slammed against the bar. A sickening thump turned your stomach and you watched, frozen, as his arm was awkwardly twisted behind his back and his face was dragged along the length of the bartop. At the end of the bar he was thrown to the ground.
Billy.
It took a moment for it to register that it was Billy who’d come to your defence, kicking the drunk in the stomach, over and over, as he tried to curl up on the floor and protect himself. You were shaking, stuck between thoughts of wanting to see the drunk get what he deserved and knowing that it would only cause more trouble if he ended up dead.
The change in Billy was so sudden, so severe and jarring, that for a moment you dared to think that surely this couldn’t be the same man who’d been joking and laughing with you over the last couple of nights. Now you were seeing a new side to him, something dangerous, violent, vicious.
He didn’t look like he was going to stop. It looked like he wanted the drunk hurt, dead even. For a few moments he seemed utterly out of control.
“Billy, stop,” you protested weakly, your voice coming out too quiet.
It was lucky that Jake was still around. He grappled with Billy, struggling but managing to pull him back. And, after a very brief conversation between the two, Jake pulled the drunk off the floor and led him outside to god only knew where.
When Billy turned back, you found yourself forcing a breath, trying not to look as upset or shaken as you felt.
“Are you -”
“I’m fine,” you snapped, heading around the bar, not wanting to show any weakness.
Your back hurt and you still felt winded, but what got to you most was the way your hands shook as you reached for a glass and a vodka bottle.
“You don’t have to put on a brave face,” he told you, following after you. “Did he hurt you?”
“I said I’m fine, so can you just drop it?”
You knew better than most where weakness got you and, in a place like Sam’s, you couldn’t afford to be weak. You did have to put on a brave face because that was all part of the job; you needed to be tough, you needed to be able to put up with this kind of shit happening. But try as you might, it wasn’t you. For all your bravado, it had scared you.
Billy watched as you poured a drink and knocked it back, not saying a word as you tried to still your trembling hands. After a pause, you reached for a second glass and placed it on the bar for him, pouring him a healthy measure of vodka while you refilled your own glass.
Neither of you spoke for a couple of minutes, both content to have a couple of silent drinks; you didn’t know what to say and he clearly didn’t want to get his head bitten off again. But it soon became awkward and uncomfortable.
“You didn’t have to -” you started, your voice threatening to break despite your best efforts to sound cool and detached.
“Yeah, I did,” he said, his voice firm and unwilling to consider anything to the contrary.
You didn’t dare ask why he felt like he had to intervene. You didn’t even want to ask why he and Jake had still been there. In fact, you decided that you didn’t want to think about it anymore. All you wanted was to forget it ever happened.
After a couple more drinks, you put the bottle away. The buzz you felt was more than enough, and you just wanted to go home.
Billy stayed while you locked up, waiting out on the sidewalk, watching your every move. Once you were done, you turned to him, expecting him to leave but, instead, he just looked at you.
“Don’t you have a home to go to?” You asked.
“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re home safe.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need an escort, Billy,” you sighed, just wanting the night to be over.
“Who said I was offering?”
Common sense told you to argue, but you got the feeling that there was nothing you could say to stop him. And, honestly, some part of you felt glad of the company, even if you couldn’t admit it. But something had dramatically shifted; he’d seen you weak and vulnerable and you’d seen him - well, whatever that had been.
With a resigned sigh, you started to walk, a slight sway in your step from the vodka you’d been necking on an empty stomach. Billy fell into step beside you, his hands in his pockets, not saying another word until you huffed another sigh.
“Have I done something wrong? ‘cause you’re treating me like I’m the one who had my hands on you,” he asked, a hint of something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place. Anger? No, irritation.
The thought caused you to falter. For all his talk, it was the most forward he’d ever been with you, like the game he’d been playing had ended and something else had taken its place. And, in a way, you felt bad. He was right, he hadn’t done anything but you were still taking your shitty mood out on him.
“Sorry,” you finally answered. “I’m just used to taking care of myself and that...”
“I get it. When something like that happens, it makes you doubt yourself.”
You glanced at him, catching the way his shoulder awkwardly hitched, almost like he was in pain, like he’d pulled something saving you. But, of course, you didn’t ask. You didn’t ask anything. The lines had already become far too blurred for your liking; who you were in the bar and who you were out in the real world were two very different things.
You didn’t speak again until you were outside your apartment building, a creeping feeling of embarrassment and dread filling you. Putting it nicely, it was a shithole. Despite the hour, there was music blaring from the ground floor and a group of kids were hanging out on the steps, drinking, smoking and getting high. It wasn’t a great place to live, but it was all you could afford.
“I’ll walk you in,” he said before you could say anything.
You opened your mouth to protest but just one look from him told you that it was pointless and you were too tired to argue with him.
The elevator was out of order but he didn’t comment or complain on the slow walk up four flights of stairs. You did. Under your breath you complained a lot. And, by the time you reached your apartment, you felt like you had to invite him in for just one more drink, to thank him for everything he’d done for you. And you hated it, hated letting this man that you hardly knew into your apartment, letting him see a side of you that you kept hidden.
(Worst still, you hated thinking how this would change things, how he probably wouldn’t look at you the same way tomorrow. He’d seen that you were more fragile than you let on, and you were certain that whatever interest he’d had in you was well and truly over.)
He gave you a look before accepting your invitation, an indecipherable smile on his lips, before stepping into your apartment and setting in motion a chain of events that was going to change your whole life.
End Note : Again, if you didn't see the explanation of what themes and TWs this fic will have, you can find a full list here. This chapter is pretty much set up, but things will start getting dark and smutty from next chapter onwards. As with my other Billy fics, I'm hoping to be able to post this weekly on Fridays.
As always you comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always appreciated. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter and I hope you all have an amazing weekend!
Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.
Tag List : @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @sweetserendipity65 @dreadfulxives18 @snowkestrel @ladyblacky
Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Explicit, rough and dirty smut. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.2k
A/N : This one goes from 1 to 100 very quickly 😅 .
CHAPTER ONE
Master List
Chapter Two
He followed you into your apartment without comment or question. His eyes stayed fixed on you, either because of disinterest in his surroundings or because he was too focused on you to care. Billy watched as you shrugged off your jacket and threw it onto the sofa and proceeded to kick off your boots.
Modest was a nice word for your apartment, empty was another. Aside from basic furnishings, there wasn’t much there. You didn’t even own a TV. From the look of the place anyone would have been forgiven for assuming you had just moved in or you were getting ready to move out. The sad truth of the matter was that it was neither.
But Billy didn’t seem to care.
You led him into the kitchen, trying not to look at him, trying not to think too much about how you’d let a man you didn’t know the first thing about into your home. Without a word, you grabbed a couple of clean glasses (the only two you owned) but, as you leaned down to get the vodka bottle from one of the lower cupboards, your back ached and you let out a hiss of pain.
“You okay?” He asked, stepping closer as you stood back up.
“Fine,” you answered automatically.
“You're so full of shit,” he said, a hint of annoyance slipping into his tone. “Lemme see.”
It wasn't a question and Billy didn't wait for an answer before pulling at the back of your top, revealing tender, bruised skin. You pulled away from him almost instantly, knocking his hand away.
“I said it's fine.”
“I'm just trying to help,” he told you, barely holding back his irritation.
“It's not your problem.”
He looked ready to say something, like he was ready to argue with you, but he seemed to think better of it and, instead, just offered a shrug. You kept your eyes on him for a second more before returning your attention to pouring drinks for the both of you.
His fingers met yours as you handed him the glass and he held you there for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours, filled with a wanting that stoked a heat in your stomach. Once he released your hand, you knocked back your drink, hoping to quell the feeling but it only seemed to get worse.
Billy sipped his drink slowly, his eyes not leaving you.
“What?” You finally asked.
“What?”
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” You asked, pouring yourself another drink.
“You know why,” Billy answered without hesitation, completely unashamed and unembarrassed.
And you did know. At least, you knew enough; he wanted you. You just weren't sure why.
“You don't even know me.”
You didn't expect that to get a laugh from him.
“Well, at the moment I don’t even exactly know myself,” he said with another one of those awkward one-sided shrugs. “At least... not the last few years.”
Your expression softened and you gave him a confused look.
“What do you mean?” You asked, even though you had an inkling. “What happened?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Somehow, he seemed almost amused by it, but there was a discomfort in his smile that said more than his words ever could.
“You don’t remember anything?”
His head shook. “No, but I figure that’s probably for the best.”
“How?” You asked, struggling to follow his chain of logic (if, indeed, any logic at all was involved in his thought process).
“Look at me,” he said, and you did, only not at his scars. You got lost in his eyes again. “Whatever did this to me probably wasn’t good, so I don’t know if it’s something I want to remember.” He was silent for a moment, then; “makes us kinda perfect for each other though, doesn’t it?”
“How?”
“You don’t want anyone to know you, and I can’t remember who I really am...”
“I don’t -” you started to defend yourself, hating that he’d managed to read you so easily.
He took a step towards you, halting the moment he noticed you tense. You weren’t sure why you did, you didn’t think he was a threat or that he’d hurt you, but something about him made you nervous. You didn’t trust yourself with him. That was the problem. Every time he looked at you, every time your eyes met his, you felt butterflies in your stomach.
“I’m sorry if I scared you earlier,” he offered softly, though it didn’t sound like he was sorry for his actions, just the fact that you’d been around to witness it.
And you weren’t sure if that made it better or worse.
“I’m not afraid of you,” you told him, defiant.
Lifting your glass, you took a slow drink, not wanting to give away the effect that he had on you. The cheap vodka burned its way down the back of your throat, stoking the warmth in your belly, a warmth that only seemed to burn hotter when he looked at you. And it wasn’t long before the heat was spreading down to your core.
“You should be,” he said, quietly, darkly.
“Why?” You asked, refusing to show anymore weakness in front of him. “Are you dangerous?”
“Oh, kitten, you’ve got no idea...” he answered, the grin on his lips causing your breath to catch.
“Kitten?” You repeated, unimpressed.
“You’ve got sharp claws and no sense of danger, but you’re so soft and fragile...”
It should have been your cue to say goodnight, to thank him for helping you and walking you home, and show him to the door. But it felt like things between you had shifted again and part of you wanted to see where it would lead.
You finished your drink and he did the same, his every reason for being there disappearing with that last mouthful, but he didn’t move or offer to leave. And you didn’t ask. You didn’t want him to go. At least, not yet.
“But I think you like the danger,” he offered, his voice quiet but certain. The grin on his lips grew and your thighs clenched. “I think it turns you on.”
Silence fell. You couldn’t bring yourself to deny it, not when his gaze dropped to your cleavage, watching the awkward rise and fall of your breasts beneath your tank top, pebbled nipples pressing through the fabric.
“Oh, really?” You rolled your eyes and stood a little straighter. “And what makes you think that?”
“‘cause you invited me in,” he started, “‘cause you haven’t asked me to leave yet, even though you’ve seen what I’m capable of.”
“You haven’t seen what I’m capable of,” you countered, not sure why you were indulging him.
“You shouldn’t tempt me, kitten. You might not be able to handle what you get...” Billy warned, smirking as his eyes moved to your chest again as you drew a deep breath.
There was something in the way he looked at you, something that felt almost predatory but found that you didn’t mind it. It was nice to have someone look at you that way, like his world would end if he couldn’t have you. You wondered when he was last touched, when he last remembered being touched. The scars on his face still seemed fresh and, even though he did a good job of hiding it, the trauma he’d been through seemed fresher still even if he couldn't remember it.
As he held your gaze, Billy dared to step closer, watching every flicker of emotion to cross your face. Trepidation, curiosity, arousal, and fear. You felt at war with yourself, the heat in your stomach and a throbbing between your thighs wanted one thing, while your brain and common sense wanted something else entirely. You barely knew him and had no idea what he was capable of, or what he was involved with.
His tongue slipped across his lip and your heart lurched in your chest. Neither of you had spoken in going on a minute, both of you were just staring, waiting to see if the other would make the first move.
Billy cracked first, taking that final step, his body pressing you back against the counter while his hand slipped around the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his. It was everything you expected from him; a domineering kiss that took far more than it gave, his tongue unceremoniously pushing its way into your mouth when your lips parted to let out a whimper of pain at the way your back was forced against the counter.
But any discomfort you felt was quickly forgotten and you lost yourself to the kiss, indulging in whatever this was, losing yourself in the sort of kiss you’d never experienced before. The men you saw were normally so gentle with you, and you’d always told yourself that that was what you wanted but Billy was already making you question everything.
He shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. The kiss continued until your hand moved to his face, your fingertips grazing one of the more prominent scars. He inhaled awkwardly and let out a low, animalist rumble from the back of his throat.
His fingers gripped your wrist, wrenching your hand away from his face and he pulled back a fraction to stare at you. Anger and anguish warred for place in his expression, his hold on your wrist so tight that it was almost painful. It should have scared you but, somehow, it didn’t. In fact, it sent a thrill through you.
“Do they hurt?” You dared to ask.
He didn’t say anything. It didn’t seem like he could. It was as if he was caught in the grip of something he didn’t know how to escape, something he couldn’t verbalise or come to terms with. Trauma that he didn’t know how to handle. As he looked at you, you looked right back, finally letting yourself look at his scars.
Even with his face marked and marred, there was more than a hint of handsomeness. It hadn’t been a lie when you’d said he was fuckable, but now you were really looking at him, you could tell that he’d been beautiful before whatever had happened to him. And, maybe that just made it worse for him.
“They don’t bother me,” you told him, trying to wrestle him from whatever thought had him in its grips.
When he didn’t respond, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his scarred cheek, trailing kisses along the raised mark. His chest shuddered against yours and he let out a ragged exhale. You took that as a sign to continue kissing his scars. When he seemed settled, you dared run your tongue over one of them, and Billy came to life again.
His lips captured yours, reasserting his dominance over the moment and over you. If the way he kissed you hadn’t been enough to tell you that he wanted you, the way his body pressed against you certainly did. As he moved closer you felt his erection through his jeans, pressing against your hip.
But you didn’t have time to think about it, not when his free hand started to trail up your thigh, taking the fabric of your skirt with it. The more he kissed you, touched you, the harder it became to hear the little voice of reason in your head. He was dangerous. Violent. You didn’t know the first thing about him. His other hand was still gripping your wrist, holding you in place. There were so many obvious red flags, so many reasons not to do this, but none of those reasons were enough to stop the way you trembled under his touch.
He parted your legs with his knee, and you let him. You let his hand slip higher and higher beneath your skirt and between your legs, despite knowing what he’d find. Another dark and possessive sound rumbled in through his chest as his fingers grazed the lace of your thong and he cupped you through the increasingly wet scrap of fabric.
“If I’d known this was all you were wearing under your skirt, I would’ve saved us both some time and bent you over the bar,” he muttered against your lips, as if he was angry that he waited so long to have you. The combination of his words and the press of his fingers pulled an eager gasp from you. “You like that? You like the thought of me bending you over the bar and fuckin’ you hard?”
“Yes,” you whined without thought or hesitation.
As if rewarding your honesty, Billy slipped his fingers beneath the fabric and finally touched you, his long fingers trailing through your arousal. His teeth nipped at your lip and the sudden pain caused you to let out another gasp, a gasp that became a moan as his finger slid between your walls.
“Already so wet for me,” he said in a low voice, his lips lingering close to yours but pulling back every time you tried to reignite the kiss. “Knew this was turning you on.”
You reached for the bulge in his pants, palming his cock through denim.
“I’m not the only one,” you muttered, sounding a little out of breath.
As he grinned, you took the opportunity to kiss him, shutting him up before he could say anything else. Already you could tell that his dirty mouth was going to be your undoing, and you wanted this to last. Your legs trembled beneath you like they might buckle at any moment, but you didn’t care. His fingers finally released your wrist and you were able to grip his sweater at his waist.
A second finger slipped inside you and your head fell back, a needy moan erupting from you.
“Mmm purr for me, kitten,” he groaned.
At any other time you would have rolled your eyes, but the way he was touching you, the way he was making you feel. It was as if he’d already made himself intimately familiar with your body, as if he knew exactly how to draw pleasure from you. His fingers bent and scissored inside you and you cried out again, already feeling an orgasm starting to build, the wet heat of your body clenching around him in anticipation.
You didn’t notice the knife until you heard it ripping through the fabric of your tank top from bottom to top and, by the time you realised it was happening, it was too late to stop it. The fabric parted, exposing you, but before you could think to protest, his head bowed and his lips started to press kisses along your breasts.
Arching your back, you leaned into his touch, completely giving yourself over to him. His lips closed over your nipple, sucking and nipping at the hardened peak, while the hand between your legs continued to move, fucking you with his fingers.
Every touch was rough, assertive, dominant. Taking, not giving, making demands of your body. Everything you thought you hated, everything you thought you never wanted But, now that you had it, it felt so good that you could only want more. It was like he was awakening a side of you that you hadn’t realised existed, a side that craved a man like Billy; a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
By the end of the night, you knew you were going to be covered in the marks of his affections; bruises where he’d gripped too tight, hickies and bite marks where he’d gotten too excited. But you didn’t care. You actually wanted him to keep going, to be rough, to take what he wanted from you.
“Your tits have been driving me crazy all fuckin’ night,” he groaned, running his tongue around your nipple in a way that had you clenching around his fingers, and then -
You saw stars, coming harder than you had in a long time, and the fact that it was on his fingers had you wondering just how explosive the main event was going to be. Your whole body shook and, if he hadn’t wrapped an arm around you, you were certain you would have crumpled to the floor, a trembling wreck.
Rendered speechless by the pleasure he’d forced your body through, you could only watch as his hand lifted from between your legs and his fingers slipped into his mouth. His eyes closed and he groaned as he sucked his fingers clean.
Just the sight of it had your cheeks warming. Maybe Jenna had been right, maybe this was what you’d been missing out on.
“I need a proper taste,” he groaned before lifting you onto the counter.
Without prompting, you parted your legs and pulled up your skirt, hoping to save it from the same fate as your top as the knife appeared in his hand again. You felt the cold blade against your thigh for the briefest of seconds as he cut away your thong. It shouldn’t have turned you on - none of this should have turned you on - but you felt yourself tremble and clench in anticipation.
“Look at that,” he groaned, brushing his thumb over your still-sensitive folds before parting them with his fingers. “Prettiest little cunt I’ve ever seen.”
He continued to tease you for at least another minute, paying more attention to your pussy than any man had in years. Your cheeks continued to warm and you felt like you should be ashamed, but there was no denying your arousal and the way his attention had you desperate for him.
“You’re practically dripping for me,” he groaned, his slight and teasing touches becoming too much for you to bear.
“Then do something about it,” you answered back.
Your words seemed to break whatever spell he was under, and he looked back up to meet your eyes, the grin on his lips almost turning sinister. He leaned down, the wet heat of his mouth finding the wet heat of your body. There was no teasing, no slow build up. His tongue slid through your arousal in quick, greedy swipes, like he was trying to devour you, like he was trying to make you lose your mind.
And it was working.
“Please,” you begged, leaning back against the wall and pressing yourself against his eager mouth as his tongue circled your clit. “Oh, fuck, Billy...”
The scratch of his facial hair against your thighs added to the roughness of the moment, and your pleasure. You’d only just come for him but you already felt another orgasm starting to build inside you. It shouldn’t have been so shocking but you couldn’t remember the last time a man had made you come more than once in a night (if they even managed to make you come at all).
He pulled your legs over his shoulders, almost causing you to slide off the counter, pulling you against his hungry mouth in a way you couldn’t escape - not that escape had even crossed your mind.
Your body was thrumming with pleasure, every stroke of his tongue causing you to tremble and moan. Your hands gripped the sides of his head, his hair buzzed too short for you to pull on, keeping him held against you as you came. Though it quickly became clear that Billy didn’t need holding in place, he had no intention of pulling away, his tongue continuing to lap against you until you had to beg him to stop.
He didn’t even give you a chance to come down from your high before scooping you off the counter. Your arms and legs wrapped around him, clinging to him as he navigated your apartment with ease, finding your bedroom without help while you tugged off his sweater.
Billy dropped you onto the bed and, this time, you saw him pull out the knife, the blade appearing from the handle. But before you could say anything, it was tearing through your skirt.
“Hey -” you started but stopped as he looked at you, folding the blade and dropping it back into his pocket.
“You know how many guys wanted to fuck you in the little skirt tonight?” He asked, though you were certain he didn’t want an answer.
Was he jealous? Is that what had caused all of this? Just some petty jealousy?
“Apparently I have that effect on men,” you answered back.
Rather than responding, he started to undo his belt, then his jeans. You took in the sight of him in the dim light, your eyes dropping as his pants and boxers did. You got your first glimpse of his cock, hard and standing to attention, but he didn’t give you time to appreciate it before crawling onto the bed on top of you.
Your heels pressed into the mattress as his hips lowered to meet yours, grinding the length of his cock against you. A desperate moan tore from your lips, needy and eager for more.
“Top drawer,” you managed to gasp with the last shred of your sanity. “Condoms.”
Billy made that sound again, that rumbling in the back of his throat, an animalistic sound that sent sparks of desire through you. It was almost enough to change your mind and let him fuck you bare like he obviously wanted, but you weren’t that stupid. You’d known him for less that forty-eight hours and what you were doing was already risky enough.
His eyes left you long enough to reach into the drawer and retrieve a condom, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth and quickly setting about rolling it down his length. You couldn’t help but glance down, between your bodies, to look at him, biting your lip in anticipation. When he was ready, he tapped his cock against your swollen and sensitive clit, causing your breath to catch.
Your lungs burned as you held onto that breath, biting down on your lip even harder as you felt his sheathed tip starting to stretch your dripping slit as he slid inside you. You finally exhaled sharply once he’d pushed past that first inch of resistance and started to fill you at a leisurely pace you were certain wouldn’t last.
“Fuck. I knew you’d be tight,” he muttered, grinning down at you. “I knew this sweet little cunt wasn’t getting used enough. Don’t worry, that’s gonna change.”
He looked down at you, expecting a response but you simply returned to biting your lip, overwhelmed by the promise in his words and the feel of his cock filling you.
“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Don’t tell me I’ve already fucked the attitude out of you,” he joked, “I’m just getting started.”
“Fuck you,” you managed to groan between panted breathes.
Billy laughed. “You first, kitten.”
As you opened your mouth to respond, his hips jerked forwards, driving the last couple of inches of his cock into you in a way that had your eyes almost rolling back.
“Fuck,” you whined as he stilled, every hard inch of himself buried between your trembling walls. Your back arched, head pressed back against the pillow, and your hips desperately shifted trying to adjust to the size of him.
“Next time, I’m fucking you bare,” he muttered in your ear, and you couldn’t tell if it was a promise or a threat, but the rough, dark tone of his voice was enough to make your walls flutter and clench around him. “Gonna make you feel the cock you’re gripping so tight, kitten.”
His hips drew back before you could even think to respond, almost pulling out completely before slamming back inside you, tearing a desperate cry from your lips. Then he started to fuck you, rough and hard, setting a pace that he wanted and not stopping to check if it was okay with you.
(Fortunately, it was more than okay with you.)
“You like that, don’t you?” He asked, knowing you couldn’t answer between the moans and ragged breaths he was already drawing from you. “You like being fucked hard. You’re gonna be able to feel me inside you for the rest of the week...”
Wrapping your arms around him, you tried to hold on as he took complete control. Your nails tore into his back but Billy didn’t seem to care about or even notice any pain you were causing. In fact the way you were holding him only seemed to spur him on, and he soon lost himself in the roughness of the moment.
Your hands shifted, one of them pressing to his shoulder, fingernails biting into skin, and Billy tensed. It wouldn’t occur to you until later that it was the shoulder that had been seemingly causing him discomfort earlier - you were too out of your mind to even think about that.
Suddenly his fingers were on your wrist, taking hold of one hand, then the other, pulling both of them up until they were pressed into the pillow above your head. One hand was all it took to hold your slender wrists in place, effectively pinning you beneath him. He barely even slowed as he restrained you and, once he had you pinned, his thrusts became harder, the sound of his body meeting yours filling the room.
You’d never experienced anything like it before. You’d never wanted anything like it before. Never once in your life had you thought you were the sort of person who’d enjoy being completely at the mercy of some man you barely knew, letting him fuck you however he wanted, but you were enjoying it. You were loving it.
Your mouth fell slack and you gave up on trying to hold back the sounds that were desperate to escape you; his name, guttural moans, and pleas for more, for him not to stop.
Pulling, you tested his grip on you, causing his hand to tighten on your wrists. You gave another tug, wanting to push your luck just to see what he’d do.
“Don’t make me tie you down, kitten,” he groaned, starting to get breathless. “Be a good girl for me.”
He kept you pinned, kept taking everything that he wanted from you, pushing you higher and higher. You almost wanted to struggle against him again, just to see if he really would tie you down but, even in your fucked-out state, you weren’t willing to trust him that much.
You cried out his name as you suddenly came again, your body shivering and shaking, completely overwhelmed by him.
Bill pulled out, leaving your body trembling and clenching around nothing. For a moment you thought that he was done, that it was over - and, honestly, you would have been more than satisfied if it was.
Instead you found yourself rolled onto your stomach before he pulled you up on all fours. A mindless cry tore from you as his cock filled you again and he started to fuck you from behind. Try as you might to lift your head, you felt boneless and exhausted, completely undone by Billy. But then you felt his fingers in your hair, pulling, tugging, forcing you to turn and look at him. He wanted you to see him.
“That’s it, kitten, let me watch you lose your mind,” he groaned as your eyes struggled to focus on him.
Every rough thrust forced a moan from you, each louder than the last. His free arm slipped around your waist, holding you tight, making sure you stayed exactly where he wanted you.
Your own arms shook and trembled as you tried to support yourself, and your back arched more and more with every drive of his hips, wanting to feel him as deep as he could get. You felt drunk, and not from the vodka you’d necked. You were drunk on the moment, on him, on his cock, and on every filthy word that left his lips. You’d never been with a man who’d treated you in such a raw and carnal way.
“You’ve creamed all over my cock, kitten,” he grunted, his hips slamming forward in a way that made your eyes roll back.
It didn’t make sense, you couldn’t understand how he’d managed to stoke a fire inside you that burned brighter and hotter with every passing second. Is this what you’d been missing out on by only picking safe guys?
“B-Billy,” you gasped.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, breathless and grinning, not slowing for a second. “Gonna come for me again?”
You couldn’t answer, whatever you’d wanted to say to him had left your head just as quickly as it had entered. All you could do was moan in response, your body quickly giving in to him again.
He let go of you as he came, letting you fall forwards onto the mattress, continuing to fuck you. His thrusts turned frenzied, fucking you into the bed as he chased his own orgasm.
Your body was trembling so much when another orgasm hit, that it barely even registered that he pulled out and rolled you onto your back again. Hazy, half-shut eyes looked up at him as he knelt over you, pulling the condom off and quickly starting to jerk his hand along his cock, finishing himself off.
A low grunt spilled from him as he started to come, and you felt it sputter onto your stomach and chest, and up your neck. Your eyes met his when you felt his thumb on your chin, urging your mouth open, and you let him slip the tip of his cock between your lips to swallow the last few spurts of cum.
Your tongue ran over his tip a couple of times, earning another low groan from Billy and one last little trickle of cum. His chest was heaving as he looked down at you, seeming like he was lost for words for the first time in his life. All he could do was let out a breathless laugh as he collapsed beside you.
It felt like you couldn't have moved even if you’d wanted to. You felt humiliated, dirty and degraded, overwhelmed and - and you’d enjoyed it. You'd loved it. It was the best sex you’d ever had. Your body was still thrumming with pleasure, trembling from his rough treatment, and it didn’t feel like it would ever stop. You’d never experience anything like it before. You’d never felt so good, so alive. Suddenly, you understood what you’d been missing out on.
“Jenna wasn’t kidding, you really did need someone to fuck your brains out,” Billy said with a contented sigh.
You barely had the strength to swat him with your hand. All you could do was take a series of slow breaths as your body slowly came down from the heights he’d pushed it to.
Your eyes closed but, before you could fall asleep, you felt him wipe you clean with the tattered remains of your skirt. Then he pulled you towards him, holding you tightly, possessively, in a way that you hadn’t expected. In fact, you’d expected him to leave once he’d gotten what he wanted from you. Instead, you fell asleep in his arms, held against his chest like this was anything more than a meaningless one night stand.
The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was the press of his lips against your forehead.
End Note : I shocked myself and let Billy go feral in chapter two this time 😅 From here on out things are going to start getting darker.
Thank you so much for the positive response to chapter one, I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much! As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!
Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).
Tag List : @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @sweetserendipity65 @dreadfulxives18 @snowkestrel @ladyblacky
Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Stalker behaviour. Also spider/spider bite mentions. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 6.1k
A/N : Things start to get dark from this chapter onwards.
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO
Master List
Chapter Three
You were aching when you woke, muscles stiff and skin left littered with the marks of his affections, and, true to his word, you could still feel him. Intimately. He’d left you feeling sore and used and, in the cold light of day, it was easy to regret it.
As much as you’d enjoyed it, as much as you’d wanted it at the time, the morning after offered you a certain level of clarity and it was easy to see all the ways that it had been a mistake.
Beside you, he was sprawled out, deep in sleep and looking so relaxed and vulnerable that you couldn’t help but wonder when he’d last slept so soundly. Despite your regret, you didn’t want to wake him and ruin what seemed like the first truly peaceful moment that he’d had in ages.
In the morning light you could see that it wasn’t just his face that bore scars. His whole body was a tapestry of marks and imperfections (though to think of anything on him as imperfect felt so wrong because, even marked as he was, he was still attractive). One scar in particular drew your attention. Across his shoulder, a thick pinky-white scar, faded with age but still very much noticeable. There was a pang of remorse in your stomach, daring to wonder if you’d hurt him when you’d grabbed his shoulder last night.
For a few sweet moments, you couldn’t help but lay there, watching him sleeping and thinking about how things could be if your circumstances were just a little different.
Your night together had been unexpected. Billy had given you something that you hadn’t even realised that you wanted or needed, and he’d shown you what it felt like to have someone want you so much that they lost all composure and control. It was thrilling and alluring. And terrifying.
But, you could tell that he was trouble - or that he was in trouble - and you couldn’t get caught up in anyone else’s shit. You couldn't risk letting a man like Billy get close to you, no matter how he'd made you feel.
Still, there was something about him, something that made you wonder what-if.
It would have been so easy to curl up beside him, to let your hands wander over his body until he woke up and gave you a repeat performance of last night. Your thighs clenched at the thought and, despite how thoroughly you'd been fucked only hours before, you felt that familiar heat spark to life inside you.
Looking down, you realised that the sheet around his waist was tented and without thought, you reached down to slowly uncover him. You moved with all the skill and caution of a cat burglar, peeling back the sheet to reveal -
Fuck.
He hadn't given you the chance to appreciate it last night; long and thick, with the slightest curve. You bit your lip staring down at his cock, now understanding why you ached. It was inch after inch of perfection - though that thought alone left you feeling completely ridiculous. The heat inside you burned hotter, a desperate feeling of arousal taking hold.
Suddenly you reached a decision; fucking him just one more time wouldn't change anything. You'd wake him with your lips - you weren't usually a fan of blowjobs but the sight of his cock and the way that the tip had started to leak had your mouth watering. You’d wake him up, rile him up, then lay back and let him take control.
You hated how right Jenna had turned out to be, but you hated even more just how eager you felt for more. Dick-matised. That’s what you were, even if you knew it could only last while he was still there in your bed.
Cautiously, you moved, reaching down towards him, ready to take him in your hand, then your mouth. But before your fingers could reach him, Billy took a gasped breath and his whole body tensed. You pulled away, getting out of bed and taking a step back, cheeks heating, feeling like you’d just been caught doing something wrong. Whatever spell you’d been under was well and truly broken as you looked at him, realising that he was still sleeping, that he hadn’t caught you out.
He rolled onto his side and let out a pained sound, his breathing laboured.
A nightmare.
He was having a nightmare.
You took another step back, and were quickly brought back to the extremely messy reality of your situation when you stood on the condom he’d dumped on the floor the night before.
All you could think was how he wouldn’t want you to see him like that, and how seeing him in that position changed things, messed them up even more. It gave you the certainty that you’d been searching for only minutes before; this had all been a mistake. You couldn’t deal with whatever this was anymore than you couldn’t deal with whatever trouble he was bound to cause in your life.
Instead of doing the decent thing and waking him up, you turned and quickly left the bedroom, pausing only to grab your robe from the back of the door, leaving him to his nightmare and letting him preserve his dignity. In the kitchen you filled the coffee pot and fished a couple of mugs from the cupboard, trying to ignore the sounds of gasps and thrashing in the next room.
By the time the pot had brewed and you had two steaming mugs of coffee, the noises had stopped. And, when you returned to the bedroom, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He didn’t notice you moving across the room until you placed a mug on the nightstand for him. Then, when his wide eyes met yours, you caught a flicker of something new; uncertainty.
Billy didn’t say anything and the way he stared quickly made you feel uncomfortable.
“I didn’t know how you took it, so -”
“Black’s fine,” he answered, a noticeable tremor in his voice.
Whatever he’d been dreaming about, it had taken an obvious toll on him, but as bad as you felt for the poor guy, you decided not to mention it.
“I didn’t hear you get up,” he said, shifting a little, glancing around the room like he was worried that some element of his nightmare might be lurking in the dark corners, laying in wait for him.
“I don’t need a lot of sleep,” you shrugged.
Before you could stop him, Billy reached for you, his arm winding around your waist, pulling you towards him. You moved closer without resisting, letting him rest his head on your chest. Without thinking, you started to stroke the back of his head, idly wondering to yourself what he might look like if he let his hair grow out a little. But, then, when you felt scars beneath his hair, you wondered if maybe his hair had been buzzed so he could be treated.
Minutes ticked by and you knew it was wrong to indulge him, to give him any sense that this was anything more than what it had been; a one night stand that you had no intention of repeating. Still, you didn’t move, sensing that he needed a little moment, some slight comfort in order to recover from whatever he’d just been through.
But, when you felt his arm tighten and his fingers pressing into your hip through your robe, you finally took a step back.
“You should drink that before it gets cold,” you nodded at his coffee before lifting your mug to your lips. “I need to grab a shower and get some things done before my shift tonight, are you okay seeing yourself out?”
For a moment you held your breath, eyes fixed on him, trying desperately to conceal the sudden nervousness twisting in your stomach at not knowing how he was going to react. After speaking, you thought that you caught a flash of discomfort and annoyance on his face, but his lips quickly forced a smile.
“Are you sure you don’t need me to get your back?” He asked as he reached for his mug.
“I think you got enough last night,” you retorted, hoping that you could both just laugh and joke about it, rather than it becoming a serious conversation.
“I didn’t hear you complaining.”
“I wasn’t. But that was last night and today is a brand new day.”
“Sounds like something off one of those inspirational posters,” he said, letting out a huff of laughter.
“It is,” you answered, managing to hold back a laugh of your own. “I was thinking about getting one but I couldn’t decide between that one and the ‘I hate mondays’ one.”
The smile on Billy’s lips turned softer, taking on a more wistful quality as he lifted his mug and took another slow drink.
“I, uh - I used to have one those - y’know the one with the kitten on the branch? Said ‘hang in there’.” He took another drink, almost like the thought of it now left a bad taste in his mouth. “Think I got it for Christmas one year at the group home...”
“You were in foster care?” You asked, momentarily forgetting that you were supposed to be getting rid of him and drawing a line under what you’d allowed to happen the night before.
His smile instantly became more guarded, no longer reaching his eyes. Then came an empty sort of laugh. “You look surprised.”
Immediately you felt bad and schooled your expression into something a little more neutral.
“It’s not that,” you started and stopped abruptly, taking a second to decide what you wanted to say, what you were willing to share. “I mean, I guess I’m a little surprised but it’s not like - I’m not judging you. I spent time in the system too.”
His eyebrows rose almost immediately.
“Now who looks surprised?” You joked, lifting your mug and taking a slow sip.
“You were in the system?”
You shrugged, holding the mug at your lips and continuing to drink just to postpone answering the question for a few seconds.
“A few times, on and off. My mom didn’t exactly have her shit together, and she didn’t always have the best taste in men...” you explained before taking one last drink and draining your mug, putting an end to whatever this was. “Look, I don’t want to be a bitch, but I really do have things to get done today...”
“Okay, kitten,” he relented far more easily than you expected. Lifting his mug, he drained the last of his coffee and got to his feet, seeming indifferent to the fact that he was still completely naked. “I just need to use the bathroom, then I’ll get outta your way.”
He didn’t wait for an answer or directions, he strode across the room and slipped into your bathroom, seeming to instinctively know that the door on the left was a closet and not the door he needed unlike most of the men who found themselves stumbling around your apartment the morning after.
You watched him go, noticing the scratch marks that you’d left across his back and the indentations on his ass cheeks from where you’d gripped him too tight. It was impossible to tell if he was deliberately trying to make you regret kicking him out, but it certainly felt that way. Billy didn’t even bother closing the bathroom door, giving you a full view of him as he peed, though you quickly turned your attention to taking the empty mugs to the kitchen, getting out of his way so he could get dressed.
“Last chance to change your mind,” he offered, emerging from the bedroom, fully dressed.
You scooped his jacket off the floor where he’d abandoned it the night before and offered it to him. “Guess I’ll see you around?”
“Count on it, kitten,” he said, pulling on his jacket, “and don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
He didn’t give you a chance to ask what he meant before leaving and you didn’t linger on the thought. Ultimately, you were just glad that he’d left without a fuss and hadn’t tried to talk you into anything else.
You waited a beat after the door had closed behind him before locking it and sliding the bolt into place.
Your first stop was the shower, scrubbing your hair and skin clean, before relaxing beneath the hot water. Closing your eyes, you found yourself remembering everything that had happened between you and Billy, and how it had made you feel. Even after your hot shower, you still ached in that wonderful way.
And, despite what you’d told Billy, once you were clean, you returned to bed, curling up and drifting off to thoughts of him. You slept off the night before like it was a hangover you were suffering from and not a state of confusion that you just couldn’t shake.
Though that confusion was tainted with a vague hint of irritation when you realised just how many visible marks Billy had left on you. It meant having to wear jeans and a blouse for work, which would inevitably lead to fewer tips.
When you arrived at the bar, you were surprised to find Sam working, shooting the shit with Jake and Billy. He was telling them some bullshit story as you walked past to throw your jacket in the back - because that was what Sam liked to do, he liked to bullshit. You’d gotten used to it pretty quickly. In fact, you were sure you’d heard the story he was telling before, about how he’d almost been caught screwing some Russian mobsters wife and he’d had to climb out the window, and she was apparently so distraught at him leaving, she tried to follow after, chasing him down the street stark naked.
He was the kind of guy who thought he was god’s gift to women when, really, he was just average with a personality that was only bearable in small doses. But he was mostly harmless.
Mostly.
“Got your wages over there,” he said, giving a vague gesture to the back of the bar. “Still dunno why you insist on cash, thought you were all into paying for things on your phone these days.”
“My landlord’s a dick and only takes cash,” you answered, shrugging and stepping behind the bar, only allowing yourself a momentary glance towards Jake and Billy.
“Hear you had some trouble here last night,” Sam continued.
That made you look at Billy. It made you glare.
“No, it was fine. Just some drunk that’d been kicked out of The Styx,” you explained, still glaring at Billy, pissed that he’d made you look unable to do your job to your boss.
“Good, ‘cause I don’t wanna have to waste money on security just ‘cause you girls can't handle yourselves,” Sam said.
You didn’t answer, instead you turned away and headed for the brown envelope containing your wages, which was sitting on the back of the bar, beneath an upturned glass.
Once you realised what was in the glass, there was nothing that could have stopped the terrified noise that escaped you. You stumbled backwards, hitting the bar and wincing in pain. But the pain barely registered over the ringing in your ears and the feeling of panic clutching at your chest. You struggled to draw breath and found yourself unable to tear your eyes from the glass and the spider within.
Thick black legs knocked at the glass, trying to get out, trying to get to you.
A few seconds passed but the sound of laughter pulled you back to the moment.
“See? Told ya,” Sam was grinning, obviously impressed by his little prank. His attention turned from the men at the bar to you. “The look on your face... fuckin’ priceless.”
Your hand clenched to a fist at your side and you were about to ruin your life and swing for him but, before you could, the door opened and in walked Jenna.
“‘bout time you showed up,” Sam said. “You just missed all the fun.”
Unclenching your fist, you barged past Sam, muttering something about the empties and the back alley, knowing that he’d disappear soon enough.
You made your way outside, bracing yourself against the brickwork and closing your eyes, trying to get the thought of the spider out of your head. Forcing slow, deep breaths, you slowly overcame your panic but it was almost all completely undone when you suddenly felt a hand on your back.
Turning, you found Billy standing there, and that just made everything worse.
“Have a good laugh?” You asked sharply.
“Look, I - I didn’t know that was how you were gonna react,” he said, as if that excused anything. “If I’d known I -”
“What, Billy? Huh? What would you’ve done?” You asked, though it was very clear that you didn’t want or need an answer. “Make me look worse in front of everyone in there? Make it look like I can’t handle it? Like I need protecting?”
The sudden outburst caught him off guard and he took a step back, but his retreat was only tactical. “You think you don’t need protecting?”
“Who’s gonna protect me, Billy? You?” You almost laughed at the thought.
“You’re damned right I will.”
“I don’t want your protection. I don’t need it.”
You tried to step past him, only to find his hand on your wrist, pulling you back to face him. Billy didn’t say anything, it was like he was struggling to find the words, like he didn’t trust himself not to say something that would make all of this worse. His jaw clenched and his eyes stayed fixed on yours, gaze unwavering, unblinking.
Pulling, you tried to free yourself from his grip, but Billy held on.
“Let me go,” you told him.
The demand seemed to shake something loose in Billy, and he released you, awkwardly shaking his head, like he was trying to clear whatever thought he’d just been caught up in.
Not willing to wait to see what he might say or do next, you headed back inside. You could tell he was following only a step behind, but he remained silent, letting you walk away from him.
“Jake just told me what happened,” Jenna started before you could even take a breath.
Why was everything suddenly going wrong? It was as if you’d had too much of a good thing last night, and all of this bullshit was the universe trying to course-correct.
“It was just Sam being an asshole,” you shrugged, though your eyes immediately moved to the back of the bar to make sure the spider was gone. Thankfully, it was (the one good thing to happen to you today).
“I’m not talking about Sam, I’m talking about last night.”
There was no holding back the sigh or the way your head dropped. All you wanted to do was grab your things and head home. You wanted to go to bed and start all over again tomorrow, with no Billy, no Sam being an asshole, and no Jenna looking at you like she thought you couldn’t handle yourself.
“It’s a good thing I asked Billy and Jake to keep an eye on things, they -”
“What?” You asked, brought back to the moment by that new piece of information. “You asked a couple of drunks to babysit me?”
There was a grumble from Jake at the bar, but he seemed to know better than to inject himself into a conversation that was quickly becoming an argument. Billy, on the other hand, remained completely silent, watching it all play out.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Jenna answered, “you get attacked but I’m the bad guy for making sure that there was someone around to help?”
“Right, because I’m so fucking useless that I can’t even take care of myself?” You snapped back.
Realistically, you knew that she was right and that, without Billy’s intervention, things could have gone a lot worse than they did. And, honestly, you weren’t even sure why you were so upset about it - because she hadn’t told you? Because Billy hadn’t thought to mention it? Or, maybe it was because you hadn’t even thought to ask him why he was still there. But it made what he’d said to you outside seem a hundred times worse.
They all thought you were weak. That you were some helpless little thing.
Of course, it would blow over; arguments with Jenna always did. You weren’t sure what it was, but you could never stay mad at her. Still, for the next few hours, you kept to yourself, clearing glasses, serving anyone that wasn’t Billy. And it was more than obvious to everyone around that you were ignoring him, ignoring the way his eyes followed you around as you worked.
But Jake - he found himself stuck in the middle, receiving all of your usual charm and attention just to prove a petty point to Billy. He was a customer, just like Jake, nothing more.
“What is it about you and spiders, anyways?” Jake dared to ask after he’d had enough to drink to loosen his tongue.
Tension ran up your spine and it took a second before you could think of an answer.
“Friend of mine died from a Black Widow bite when I was a kid,” you said, refilling his glass.
“Shit,” he offered sympathetically, blowing out his cheeks.
“It was my fault,” you continued, “we’d been playing by an old log pile and I dropped this stupid ring that I used to wear. It disturbed a nest and a couple of these big spiders came crawling out, so we ran. But Thomas - he went back later to find my ring and got bitten. Poor kid had a real bad allergic reaction, he didn’t stand a chance...”
“Shit,” he muttered again, his head shaking, eyes dropping, ashamed. “Look, I’m sorry ‘bout earlier - laughing at you. If I’d known...”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you told him.
From the corner of your eye you could see Billy staring, and you knew he’d heard the whole tale, and when you finally dared to look at him you caught an unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t say anything. You didn’t give him the chance to.
By the end of the night, the rest of Jake’s friends had turned up and the whole group had vanished about twenty minutes before closing.
And, as you and Jenna locked up for the night, it was more than enough time to settle your differences. You explained to her that you’d snapped because of Sam’s prank and because you didn’t like being made to feel useless. Jenna listened and nodded along before telling you that she’d only asked Jake and Billy to keep an eye on things because didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.
In the end you hugged it out and Jenna invited you back to her place to eat leftovers that her mom had made and - well, you’d never been able to say no to Jenna’s moms cooking.
You decided against telling her about Billy or what had happened after he’d ‘saved’ you and, instead the two of you spent the night drinking wine and watching crappy reality shows until you finally crashed on her sofa.
The next morning you briefly headed home to shower and change before heading into the city, a little day off ritual you’d developed over the last year.
The subway was packed and you quickly put on your headphones, drowning out all the noises and people around you. You didn’t look up until you felt a prickling sensation on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. You looked around, silently telling yourself that you were being paranoid, but, as you looked forward again, you saw him.
Your heart skipped a beat, breath catching, but by the time you looked again, he was gone. It was just your imagination - though why you were imagining Billy following you, was something you really didn’t want to think about. But, once the thought was in your head, it was hard to shake and, for the rest of the day, you found yourself looking over your shoulder.
Every time you caught a glimpse of short dark hair, or a jacket like his, you found yourself wondering if it was him.
You even approached one guy as you left your favourite coffee shop in the village, about to throw your steaming hot latte in his face when you realised that it wasn’t Billy when he turned and looked your way.
Feeling ridiculous, you decided that you were going to put him out of your mind. You weren’t going to think about him any more, you were just going to think of him as a one night stand whose name you couldn’t remember. Outside of the bar, Billy no longer existed.
By the time you got back to your apartment, you were exhausted and most of your pay was already gone, except a little kept aside for bills and food. You’d replaced the clothes that Billy had destroyed, buying yourself a pleated plaid skirt that you were sure would earn you more than a few extra tips.
But even in the safety of your apartment, something felt off.
You couldn’t put your finger on it and, again, you felt ridiculous.
The draw on your nightstand was slightly open and, for the life of you, you couldn’t remember if it had been closed or not. It bothered you far more than it should - you had a habit of leaving drawers and cupboards open when you were in a rush, and you didn’t think Billy had bothered to shut it after he’d taken out a condom when he’d been with you.
That was probably it.
What other reason could there be for that drawer being open? It wasn’t like anyone was going to break in to steal a condom or the dildo you kept in there. Pushing the drawer shut, you collapsed onto the bed, deciding that you’d have an early night, that all your paranoia was due to two late nights of drinking.
And, it helped. You felt a lot better the next morning, rested, calmer. Which was a good thing because it was finally Friday, and that meant that the bar was going to be slammed. So, you decided to wear your new skirt and spent way longer than usual on your make-up and hair, needing to up on the tips you’d missed out on the other night because of your bad mood.
An audible sigh of relief left you when you reached Sam’s and you realised that Billy didn’t seem to be there. As you walked through the bar, you let your gaze wander, checking the tables at the back, looking for any sign of him.
“Lover boy’s not here,” Jenna told you. “Wasn’t here last night either. I think you must’ve upset him the other night.”
“Oh well,” you said, grinning, “guess we’ll have to go back to making tips the old fashioned way.”
Shrugging off your coat, you strut past her into the back, letting her see your new clothes.
Jenna laughed at your little display and called after you; “good thing Paul’s helping out tonight, with you dressed like that we might need to hose some of the regulars down.”
You laughed at the thought, but you were glad to know that you and Jenna would have help. Paul was an old friend of Sam’s, semi-retired, but he liked to come in and help out whenever he needed some extra cash. And, fortunately for you and Jenna, everyone knew not to fuck around with Paul.
Rumour had it that he used to run with some biker gang, though others would say he was an ex-hit man for the mafia. It was all bullshit, but Paul liked to indulge it so no one tried to mess with him.
It got busy fast, Jenna cranked up the music and you both got to work. It felt good, it was fun. People were drinking and the tips were coming your way. Everything was going great.
And then you saw him at the bar.
You hadn’t noticed them slip in, the whole crew, all looking amped up already. It made you wonder where they’d been and what they’d been doing, but you didn’t want to ask.
Taking a breath, you forced yourself to move towards Billy. You were going to do your job and try to put everything else behind you.
“The usual?” You said, not quite able to force a happy and bubbly tone.
“So you’re talking to me tonight?”
“Do you want a drink or not, Billy?”
“Whiskey.”
As you moved to grab the bottle, you felt his eyes on you, something that he didn’t bother to try and hide when you turned back towards him.
“New outfit?” He asked, eyes drinking in the sight of you.
The way he was looking at you made your cheeks warm and, even though it was the last thing you wanted to think about, suddenly all you could think about was the memory of his head between your thighs and the way his greedy tongue had felt against you.
“Yeah, my favourite skirt got ruined, so I needed a new one,” you told him, pouring his drink.
“You should be careful,” he warned, “I have a feeling that one’s gonna end up getting ruined too...”
“I doubt it,” you retorted flatly, somehow resisting the urge to press your thighs together.
Turning and walking away, you spent the rest of the night so run off your feet that you didn’t even have to try to avoid him, it just seemed to work out that whenever he approached the bar Jenna or Paul served him. It was so busy that you didn’t even have time to think about him or the way you could feel his gaze on you.
When things started to die down, Paul left you and Jenna to finish up, but there were still plenty of people drinking, so Jenna left the music blaring and the pair of you kept working for your tips.
Soon, it was quiet enough for you to head into the cellar to grab some fresh bottles. It was a relief to be away from the noise upstairs and you decided to take your time, knowing Jenna could handle things fine on her own.
“I’ve gotta be honest, I’m starting to take this whole playing hard to get thing personally, kitten.”
His voice suddenly sounded through the darkness was enough to startle you, shock almost causing you to trip over your own feet as you turned to face him.
“You can’t be down here, Billy,” you warned, not wanting to get pulled into his games.
“Can’t I?” The smirk on his lip tinged his words with a dark sort of amusement that sent a shiver down your spine.
“No, you can’t,” you said, “so...”
You let it hang in the air, hoping that he’d take the hint and that he wouldn’t make things any weirder than they already were, but Billy didn’t move.
“So you are playing hard to get,” he said, taking a step towards you. “Lucky for you, I like games.”
“I’m not playing games,” you answered back, holding your ground despite every fibre of your being telling you that you should move, leave. “You need to go.”
“I’m not going anywhere without what’s mine,” he told you, taking another step, then another.
“There’s nothing of yours down here.”
“We both know that’s not true,” he stopped in front of you, his fingers ghosting over your cheek causing you to recoil and finally take a step back, only to find the kegs at your back.
If he cared about your discomfort, he didn’t let it show. He stepped closer, reaching for you again. Part of you knew that you could scream, but you knew no one would hear you over the music and the noise of the bar. And, besides, it wasn’t like Jenna would be able to do anything, any more than you could.
“So the other night was just an act then?” You asked. Billy looked confused, so you continued. “You beat the shit out of that guy for putting his hands on me, but you’re doing the same thing right now.”
“It’s not the same,” the playfulness dropping from his voice, replaced by something far darker. “I’d never hurt you.”
You bristled as his hand cupped your cheek and his thumb ran over your lips. You glared, pulling away from his touch once more, defiant despite the knot of fear that was tightening in your stomach. Unperturbed by your resistance, he reached for you again, this time grabbing your chin and unceremoniously pressing his lips to yours.
A shocked gasp escaped you, parting your lips and allowing his tongue entrance. For a moment, you were frozen, letting him take what he wanted. As he kissed you, he pressed closer, pinning you against the kegs, a telltale bulge pressing against your stomach through his jeans.
It took a few seconds to overcome the shock and push him away, swinging your hand and revelling in the satisfying crack of your palm striking his cheek. You managed to create some space, but not enough and not for long. He grabbed you by the wrist and pushed you back again.
“I like it when you’re feisty, kitten,” he said, that playful tone in his voice again, like this was all just a game to him.
“I’m not scared of you,” you spat, trying to pull away from him.
“Where are you tryin’ to go, kitten? I’m not done with you yet.”
“What do you want, Billy?” Your voice threatening to break.
“I told you. I want what’s mine.”
“I’m not yours,” you answered back, trying to shove him again, but this time he didn’t budge an inch.
“Deny it all you want,” he replied, while the fingers of his free hand ghosted over your cheek. “I saw how much you wanted me the other night, how much you needed me. You’re gonna realise real soon that you don’t have a choice.”
Your blood ran cold at the implication in his words, body tensing. Again you thought about screaming but - well, what if you screamed and no one came? Your heart ached at the prospect.
“What are you gonna do?” You finally dared to ask, hating that your voice came out so small and afraid.
“Nothing.”
The word didn’t register. It didn’t make sense. There had to be something he wanted, some reason he was doing this.
“I’m not gonna force myself on you,” he continued, his fingers still tenderly brushing against your cheek. “I’d never do that. I don’t have to. Eventually, you’re gonna realise that you want to be mine.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“It will. I’ll make sure of it,” he told you. “If I have to, I’ll take away everything you have until I’m all that’s left, until you’re begging to be mine.”
“I’ll never beg for you,” you answered back.
“You already have,” he said, barely holding back a laugh.
He was right. You hated how right he was. You’d begged for him that night in your bed, over and over again. You’d begged and pleaded as he’d made you feel things you’d never felt before. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down your spine and stoked that shameful heat between your thighs.
(What was wrong with you that this was turning you on?)
“I’m a patient man, but I’m not gonna wait forever,” he told you, leaning close, lips brushing your ear. “One way or another, you’re gonna be mine, kitten.”
Before you could answer, he was kissing you again, groaning against your lips, fingertips pressed into your cheek. Then he pulled away and turned, leaving you there, uncertain at what the fuck had just happened and how you felt about it.
But, for a second, at the bottom of the stairs, he hesitated and spoke; “it was bees.”
“What?” You asked in a confused whisper.
“The story you told Jake, about spiders - you got that from a dumb kids movie, but it was bees not spiders that killed the kid.”
You didn’t say anything.
What could you even say, knowing that he’d caught you in a lie? But Billy didn’t seem to expect anything from you. You watched him disappear up the stairs, leaving you completely alone and, by the time you returned to the bar, Jenna was locking up behind the last customer and Billy was nowhere to be seen.
End Note : For anyone old enough to get the My Girl reference, I'm sorry. I recently remembered how traumatic that was for a kids movie and decided if I had to suffer, everyone else did too 😂 (Also the thought of little Billy Russo sitting and watching My Girl is hilarious for some reason???) From this point on the story will be taking a much darker turn (I know I keep warning about that, but this is really the last time I'm going to explicitly mention it).
ALSO I managed to break a key off my laptop keyboard and am having to use a crappy bluetooth keyboard that can be kind of laggy. I think I've caught most of the random typos that slipped through, but if I haven't I'm sorry. I might have to buy a whole replacement laptop keyboard which is money I don't want to spend right now (honestly fuck Dell so much) so just as a warning going forward there might be some dumb typos slipping through.
As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!
Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).
Tag List : @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @sweetserendipity65 @dreadfulxives18 @snowkestrel @ladyblacky
Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.5k
A/N : 😅
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT
Master List
Chapter Nine
Following your eventful night out, you decided to call in sick not long after Billy had slipped out of your apartment. Sam wasn’t happy at the short notice, but when you told him it was a night off sick or risking puking on his customers he, thankfully, saw the light.
You spent most of the day in bed after eating the breakfast that Billy had made you but, eventually, managed to force yourself to shower and brush your teeth.
The whole ordeal had left you shaken up and the more time you had to think about it, the worse you felt.
Throughout the day, you had moments, flashes, where you almost felt like you could remember pieces of the night before; Billy smiling softly, holding you, stroking your hair, kissing the tip of your nose. Or maybe it had all just been part of some strange dream. Regardless, every time you thought that you half-remembered something, you felt a warmth bloom in your stomach.
Billy had been so kind, so sweet, and it made you think of the tender way he’d kissed you, the way he’d told you that he could be gentle if that was what you wanted. Honestly, after everything that had happened, you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore.
Around midnight, you got a text from Jenna telling you that she was going to be stopping round to see you once she finished her shift. Not asking if she could, telling you that she was. You replied and told her that you were fine, that she didn’t have to, but Jenna didn’t reply.
And when Jenna didn’t reply to a text that always meant she was annoyed about something.
She arrived around two-thirty in the morning, knocking lightly on the door. You opened it for her and stepped aside to let Jenna into your apartment, eyeing the pizza box in her hand.
“You look like shit,” she said as you closed the door behind her.
“I’m fine. I think it’s just food poisoning.”
“Food poisoning? Seriously?” Jenna asked, sounding like she knew it was bullshit. She barely even looked at you as she headed for the kitchen to put the pizza box down. “Are you really gonna stand there and lie to my face like that?”
Your heart skipped several beats, not knowing what Jenna knew or how angry she was at you.
“I don’t -”
“Billy told me what happened.”
“He what?” It was your turn to sound annoyed. “He had no right to -”
“What? Tell me that my best friend was drugged and almost assaulted by some creep?” Jenna snapped. “What the fuck is wrong with you? In what world do I not need to know about something like that?”
“Almost,” you said as if the distinction really meant anything. “It almost happened but it didn’t, so I didn’t think it was worth worrying you.”
“You didn’t think -” Jenna cut herself off with a frustrated sigh. “Have you got any idea how bad it could have been if Billy hadn’t gotten to you in time?”
You fixed her with a stare, your mouth moving before your brain had a chance to catch up. “Yes, Jenna, I know exactly how bad it could have gotten.”
Then came the awful and awkward silence, the unspoken revelation hanging in the air between you. Jenna didn’t say anything which, at any other time, you might have considered a minor miracle but, at that exact moment, her silence made you feel sick.
You turned away from her, shuffling towards the kitchen to put some coffee on. And, fortunately, Jenna didn’t dare ask the obvious question.
“Since when are you and Billy so close, anyway?” You asked, barely containing your anger.
“Why? Jealous?”
The comment was a return to form, a playful bit of banter meant to diffuse the sudden tension. You knew what it was, but you chose to ignore it. You were angry, you felt betrayed by Billy and you hated being put in a position where you had to keep lying to your closest friend.
“Hardly,” you said flatly, keeping your back to her. “You can have him if you want him.”
“I’ll never understand you.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You asked, finally turning back to face her.
“He saved you from being assaulted at Sam’s, he rescued you after some prick spiked your drink and then he spent all night with you making sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit, and all you do is treat him like shit,” Jenna answered.
“I’m not interested in someone who helps me because he wants to get into my pants. What - am I supposed to treat it like a transaction? He saves me so I at least owe him a blowjob?”
“If you think it’s transactional for Billy, then you need to pay more attention,” she answered back, never being the sort to let you have the last word. “I don’t know what happened between you, but it clearly meant something to him.”
You set your jaw, some part of you desperate to tell her the truth about Billy and about what he’d put you through but you found that you couldn’t. Telling her now would only make things worse. For you and for Billy. And, despite what you’d just told her about only seeing any of Billy’s gestures as transactional, you felt he deserved a little consideration.
Besides that, from what little you could remember, you were sure that you’d seen yet another side to him last night and that morning, and part of you was still so curious about the mysterious man.
Jenna let out a sigh.
“Why did you call him?” She asked.
“What?” It took you a moment to realise that she meant Billy last night. “I - I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
Of course, you could hazard a guess. Thinking back to that night at Sam’s all those weeks ago, to the way Billy had dealt with the drunk who’d grabbed you - yeah, you could imagine wanting him to do that to the prick who spiked your drink.
“Does it really matter?” You asked a few seconds later.
“I don’t know, you tell me,” Jenna shrugged. “You’re telling me you don’t care about him, but you called him instead of your best friend when you needed help. I just want to know what you were thinking.”
“I was probably thinking wow this situation is dangerous, I don’t want to drag my best friend into it.”
“You think that would have stopped me?” She sounded genuinely hurt.
“No, Jenna, I know it wouldn’t have, but I don’t ever want you getting hurt because of me.”
“That’s not your choice to make.”
“Fine,” you answered back, exasperated. “Next time someone spikes my drink, I’ll call you. Happy?”
There was a moment of silence then a snort of laughter erupted from Jenna. The sound and the sheer stupidity for what you just said soon had you laughing too.
“That’s terrible,” Jenna said through her laughter. “Don’t say things like that.”
The pair of you continued to laugh for a moment before your attention returned to the pizza box, the smell of hot cheese permeating your small apartment.
“Are you done being angry with me? Can we eat the pizza now?” You asked.
“We can eat the pizza but I haven’t decided if I’m done being angry with you.”
The pair of you sat at the small table in your kitchen, eating pizza and drinking coffee, while Jenna filled you in on what you’d missed at the bar that night - which, as it turned out, was not an awful lot. She brought Billy up a couple more times, telling you how his crew had been in but, again, Jake was noticeably absent.
An hour and one pizza later, you offered to let Jenna stay the night and both ended up crowded into your bed like you had done countless times before.
Jenna let out a sigh, relaxing and closing her eyes.
“Why does your bed smell like man?” She grumbled.
“Billy,” you muttered, too tired to give her anything more than that.
“He smells nice.”
“Yeah, he does...”
You both ended up giggling again before falling silent.
“I’m sorry I was angry at you,” Jenna said softly. “I just worry about you. You always keep so much to yourself all the time. That’s why I hoped that something was going on with you and Billy, so you could finally have someone you could be completely open with.”
Your heart ached at your friend's words. Over the last year you’d lied, told half-truths and flat out dodged so many questions, but you’d always assumed that you were getting away with it because she never called you out on it. All this time, she’d just been letting you hide behind your bullshit.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you -” you tried to explain.
“It’s fine, I get it,” said before trailing off into a yawn. “All I’m saying is that you’ve got people who want to care about you if you ever decide to let us in.”
You didn’t respond. Instead you shut your eyes tight and feigned sleep.
The next morning you woke up feeling much better and you were glad Jenna didn’t seem interested in carrying on the conversation from the night before. Clearly she’d said all she wanted to say and was leaving it up to you to decide whether or not you wanted to actually listen.
Jenna stayed for a coffee before leaving and seemed glad to hear that you’d be returning to work that night, even though both of you knew that you didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter; while Sam had been nice enough to give you one night off, you were pretty sure he wouldn’t have been happy with two in a row.
As you moved about your apartment, deciding to change your bedding and bundle it up ready to take to the laundromat the next time you went, you had that odd feeling like you were being watched and found yourself looking out of your window, wondering if Billy was out there. You couldn’t see him anywhere but you spent a few minutes staring out, searching for him.
The thought of him watching you should have creeped you out but, instead, you found yourself thinking about how alone you’d feel if you ever stopped feeling like he was out there.
(Maybe Jenna was right, maybe you did need someone else in your life, if only so you weren’t longing staring out the window, wondering if your stalker was watching.)
But, as it turned out, those kinds of thoughts only applied when Billy wasn’t directly in front of you.
He was there, sitting at the bar when you arrived at Sam’s that evening. Before you’d walked in, you’d told yourself that you’d be able to handle it if he happened to turn up, but you weren’t expecting to see him already sitting there, a drink in front of him as he spoke to Jenna.
She smiled at you but the moment his head lifted and he turned your way, you felt nothing but irritation.
What had he been talking to Jenna about? You? What else had he told her that you didn’t want her to know?
While you’d sorted things out with Jenna, you were still upset that Billy had told her; he’d almost managed to win your trust that night, only to then piss it away the next. You weren’t even sure why it annoyed you so much, but it did.
You greeted Jenna on your way to get rid of your coat and purse, but completely ignored Billy until you reemerged from the back room and he dared to speak to you.
“So we’re back to the silent treatment again?” He asked, not seeming to care that Jenna was right beside you.
“Yeah, we are,” you answered back before turning your attention to Jenna. “I’ll sort the bottles for recycling.”
She wasn’t given time to so much as nod before you headed out to the back alley, needing to put some space between you and Billy before you said or did something stupid. But Billy didn’t want to give you space, he didn’t want to be ignored. And, before the back door could fall shut behind you, he was there.
“Are you gonna at least tell me what I did this time?” He asked.
You ignored him, focusing on the crates of empty bottles and starting to sort them into groups. You didn’t even look at him until you felt a hand on your wrist. Then you turned to face him, forcing out a heavy sigh, as you pulled away from his grasp.
“Fine. You want to know why I’m pissed at you, Billy? You told my best friend that I was almost assaulted and that I called you for help instead of her,” you snapped. “You made Jenna worry and you made me look like I can’t even look after myself. All you do - all you’ve done since you first showed up - is make my life harder and I’m sick of it.”
Turning, you got back to work, separating the bottles and throwing them into the correct bins.
You expected Billy to either make some blase response or slink back inside to try again later, but he did neither. He just stood there, seemingly dumbfounded for almost a minute.
“I was worried about you,” he finally said, his voice soft and full of something you didn’t want to put a name to.
You didn’t respond straight away, waiting to see if he’d explain himself, but he didn’t.
“What?” You finally prompted, turning back to him again.
“I was worried,” he repeated, sounding almost irritated at the fact. “I know that doesn’t mean anything to you but - but when I think about what could have happened to you...” there was no missing the visceral flicker of discomfort on his face. “When I think about it, I can’t breathe. I might not mean anything to you, but I think I’ve made it clear enough that you mean something to me.”
As he spoke, you could feel your heart hammering away in your chest. There was anger on his face and in his voice and part of you felt like you deserved it.
“I told Jenna because I didn’t want you to be on your own,” he continued. “I didn’t want to tell her, but I knew you’d be just as pissed if I turned up at your door. I thought you’d at least let Jenna in.”
His words and the thought behind them hit you like a ton of bricks; he’d sent Jenna because he didn’t want you to be alone, he’d been trying to look out for you.
“I don’t want you to worry about me, Billy. I don’t need you to,” you answered back.
“You think I want to? You think I want to feel like this? For things to be like this between us?” He asked, his tone turning sharper still. “I know I’ve fucked up, but you - all you’ve done is treat me like a mistake you want to forget. Worse than that, you act like I don’t even exist, that what I feel isn’t real.”
It was surprising how much his words hurt, how they managed to cut you right down to the bone because, in a way, he was right. He’d done some shitty things, concerning things, but you had basically kicked him out of your bed and started giving him the cold shoulder long before any of that. Instead of just talking to him, telling him that it had been a one night thing, you had tried to avoid him, ignore him.
And he hadn’t deserved it.
At least, not then.
What he deserved now was entirely up for debate, but you had to wonder how much of this would have happened if you’d just taken a minute to actually talk to him and tell him that it couldn’t be more than just one night. And, now, for reasons you didn’t understand, it seemed like you’d genuinely managed to hurt him.
You stayed silent, not sure what to make of any of it.
“Seriously?” He huffed after a minute of staring at you, waiting for you to say something. “You’re just gonna ignore me?”
“That’s not -” you paused, biting back the urge to snap at him, “- I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“How about the truth?”
Your gaze dropped and you let out a sigh.
“No, that’s right, you don’t like being honest, do you?”
“No, Billy, I don’t,” you admitted. “Look, I - I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you were worried, and I’m sorry I called you the other night when -”
“Don’t,” he interrupted. “Don’t you dare apologise for calling me when you needed help.”
“Fine. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t give you what you want.”
“You think that’s why I did it? You think I came to rescue you because I thought I’d get something from it?”
You couldn’t tell if he was concerned, irritated, confused, or just disappointed.
“Then why did you?” You dared to ask.
“Because I wouldn’t let... that happen to anyone. But the thought of someone doing that to you, it...” he took a ragged breath. “I know what it’s like to have someone try to take away your control like that.”
Then he gave one of those awkward and uncomfortable shrugs, rolling his shoulder, reminding you of the scar you’d seen there weeks ago. Suddenly the implication of his words left you feeling sick.
“Someone... hurt you...” you spoke the thought aloud, your voice softening.
It didn’t change anything that he’d done to you, just like finding out about his injuries hadn’t excused his behaviour, but it did offer reasons. And, as someone who’d been hurt before, you felt nothing but a welling up of sympathy for him.
Billy shook his head as you looked at him.
“I don’t need your pity,” he said softly.
“It’s not pity, it’s just... I’m sorry.”
He dared to take a step forward, his hand cautiously reaching for your cheek. You didn’t shy away.
“You shouldn’t be sorry. I’m sorry, I keep trying to show you how I feel, and I keep fucking it up.”
You let out a sigh and dared to lean into his touch, again half-remembering tender moments that you weren’t even sure really happened, along with the tender moments that had happened. And, again, you found yourself caught up wondering what your life would be like if he suddenly wasn’t in it anymore.
“I - I wish it was as easy as just giving in to you,” you confessed, your voice betraying your exhaustion.
“Why isn’t it?” He asked and you didn’t respond. “Whatever it is you’re running from, whatever hurt you in your past, it won’t change how I feel about you.”
Your head shook. “It’s just easier like this.”
“I don’t want easy, I want you,” Billy told you.
Your heart ached at his words.
The next thing you knew, he was closing the distance between you, framing your face with his hands, about to kiss you when you felt the rough scrape of bandaging against your cheek.
You pulled back, looking at his hand. Or, rather, the filthy scrap of fabric that was serving as a bandage. It was awkwardly wrapped around his hand and, from looking at it, you couldn’t tell if it had even been clean before he’d put it on. Gripping his wrist, you turned his hand over and felt a strange sense of irritation fill you when you noticed there was blood soaking through.
“What is this?” You asked, hating that you were suddenly concerned.
How did he always manage to do that to you; have you feeling so many different emotions in quick succession? In the space of a five minute conversation you’d gone from anger to shame to sympathy to - whatever it was you’d been feeling only seconds ago. And, then, you went straight back to anger.
This was why you couldn’t be with a guy like Billy. This was why you didn’t date the customers. Whatever he was into, it was dangerous and it was liable to get him killed. And, for all his many faults, you didn’t want anything to happen to him. You didn’t want to open yourself to the thought of actually caring about him, only to lose him.
“It’s nothing,” he told you, leaning in again, wanting the kiss that you’d denied him.
“It’s not nothing,” you said, frustrated by his indifference. “Do you really expect me to just stand here while you paw at me with a bloody hand?”
“I wasn’t -”
You pulled away from him and started to move towards the door.
“Come with me.”
“Why, kitten, are -”
“Now, Billy.”
All you had to do was turn and glare to get him to follow you as you headed back inside. Rather than leading Billy back out towards the bar you showed him into the back room, instructing him to sit at the table while you went to find the first aid kit. He sat in silence, looking like a frightened school boy about to get detention.
It was a small room with a little more than a table, a couple of chairs and a small kitchenette, with nothing of any importance save for the industrial dishwasher for all the bar’s glasses and, for the most part, it was just used as a break room and a place to leave coats.
Moments later you sat opposite him, holding out your hand expectantly until he let you look at his injuries. Slowly, tenderly, you unwrapped his hand, and inhaled sharply at the mess of bloody and broken skin. It looked as if he’d tried to break down a brick wall with his bare hand.
“Jesus, Billy.”
“You should see the other guy,” he offered with a weak smile.
“Did you even clean this?” You asked, ignoring his comment, not wanting to think about what he must have been doing to cause so much damage to his hand. When he didn’t answer, you sighed. “You realise this could get infected, right?”
“I’ve survived worse.”
“Really?” You snapped, unamused. “I’ve seen your scars, Billy. I’m pretty sure none of those injuries were left to fester.”
“It’s not - fuck!”
You cut him off by pressing an alcohol wipe to his split and bleeding knuckles, and set him with an unamused look as he winced and tried to pull his hand from your grasp.
“You were saying?” You joked. His silence would have filled you with a smug satisfaction if it hadn’t been for the way his face seemed to suddenly pale. “Why did you leave it like this?”
“I don’t -” he sighed, flinching again as you dabbed his split skin with the wipe. “- I don’t know. I guess I’m mostly used to pain now and it was easier to just wrap it up and not think about it.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“I don’t think that’s news to either of us, kitten” he said.
It was a joke, but there was something delicate in his tone, something you didn’t want to risk breaking with a laugh. Instead, you focused on his hand, going through five alcohol wipes before you were happy that his wounds were finally clean. You lightly pressed some gauze over his knuckles before bandaging his hand. And, once it was wrapped, you found yourself holding onto him, looking him in the eye for a moment before slowly pulling away.
You got to your feet and Billy did the same.
“Now, can we finish what we started outside?” He asked, his voice soft but still somehow managing to shatter the air of calm you’d managed to cultivate around yourself.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, packing away the first aid kit.
He reached out as he closed the distance between you, his good hand finding your shoulder and turning you to face him. Before you could stop to think about what was happening, his lips were on yours and his tongue was licking into your mouth. Your hands rose to find his chest but, instead of pushing him away you found yourself gripping the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer.
For a few wonderful minutes you managed to lose yourself to him, forgetting your irritation and all the reasons you knew that you couldn’t lead him on. But, when a particularly loud laugh filtered in from the bar, you finally managed to draw back
“Billy -”
“Don’t,” he said softly, practically pleading, not drawing back or giving you any space.
You turned away from him, but Billy refused to take the hint, stepping closer still, until you found yourself braced against the table. One hand gripped your hip while his bandaged hand pressed against your stomach, pulling you back so you could feel the way his cock was already straining in his pants. Your breath caught as he pressed his lips to your neck, trailing warm, wet kisses over your skin.
“I’m not gonna fuck you,” you told him, trying desperately to keep your voice from hitching.
Billy didn’t answer, save for a grumble in the back of his throat.
The hand on your hip moved and you weren’t sure what he was doing until you felt him lift your skirt up at the back. Before you could object, he pressed closer to you, forcing you to bend over the table.
You knew that you could pull away any time you wanted to, but you didn’t. You didn’t move, didn’t try to stop him. Not even when you heard him unzip his pants and felt him guide his cock into your panties, the length of him trailing through your arousal. All you did was squeeze your thighs together when you felt the tip of his cock nudge your entrance.
“I told you -”
“Fine. I won’t fuck you,” he told you.
Biting down on your lip, you barely held back a moan as he moved again, grinding the length of his cock through your folds. Every time he moved, you felt the ridge of his cock rub up against your clit, and your cheeks started to heat as you felt your body start to react to him, your core growing hot and wet for him.
“You’re getting awfully wet for someone who doesn’t want to fuck, kitten,” he muttered, leaning over you so his lips were against your ear.
“Shut up,” you groaned, your back pressing against his chest.
“Is that shut up and stop, or…” he said, stilling for a second.
“It’s just shut up.”
Your fingers splayed as your hands pressed against the table, bracing yourself against his movements as they started up again. After a few moments, his bandaged hand moved up your body, stopping briefly to palm your breast through your tank top before ending up on your throat.
He didn’t squeeze - he didn’t have to, his bandaged hand on your throat was enough to signal that he was in control.
Your thighs squeezed tighter around his cock and you leaned a little more so the length of his cock rubbed against your clit with every move of his hips. It wasn’t long before you were moving with him, pressing back against him, seeking more friction. It felt like your clit was throbbing, desperate for more, for anything and everything he wanted to give you.
You bit down harder on your lip. Trying to hold back the sounds that wanted to escape you, not wanting a whole bar full of people to overhear you. After a few moments, his bandaged hand gave a testing squeeze against your throat, and his hips started to pick up the pace.
His good hand slipped beneath your top, gripping your breast and tugging your stiff nipple between his fingers, while his lips latched to your shoulder, kissing and sucking marks into your skin, branding you, claiming you. And you were letting him. Despite everything telling you that this was a stupid idea, it felt too good to stop.
The hand on your throat squeezed tighter, not enough to choke but enough to make you feel as though you were completely at his mercy, letting out little gasps every time you drew breath. You knew that you shouldn’t be letting it happen, that you shouldn’t want it, but you did
You came moments before he did, trembling so much that you didn’t notice that he was coming in your panties until you heard him let out a grunt. You cringed as he pulled back and you felt wet fabric cling to your skin and cum run down your thighs.
His hand dipped under your skirt, pressing the wet lace against your trembling skin, rubbing his cum into your folds through the soaked fabric.
“You’re disgusting,” you groaned, knocking away his hand and turning back towards him as he finally pulled away.
“You enjoyed it, so what does that make you, kitten?” He asked with that smug grin on his face as he tucked his cock back into his pants.
“Are you gonna enjoy knowing that I’m spending the rest of my shift without panties?” You asked and watched his gaze darken instantly.
“You’re keeping those panties on,” he told you in a certain tone, not finding any humour in your comment.
“Or what?”
“Or at closing time I’m gonna bend you over the bar and spank you so hard you won’t be able to walk home,” he threatened, the controlling and dominant side of Billy quickly taking over. “I’ll be checking at the end of your shift.”
The sudden shift in him had you squirming and taking a step back. And Billy noticed. You watched as he shook his head, trying to force away the part of himself that unsettled you, that scared you.
“Just... just don’t take them off, okay?” He finally said. The words came out awkward and stilted, like the very idea of you removing your panties and going back to work rattled something deep inside of him.
“I can’t just -”
“Okay, listen I don’t want to break up whatever you two are doing but -” Jenna said, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as she pushed open the door as if she didn’t want to see anything she might regret, “- it’s getting real fucking busy out there and I need some help.”
An awkward laugh spilled out of you at the utter ridiculousness of everything that was happening and how, if she’d come looking for you only a minute earlier, she would have caught you in a very compromising position.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you said, “I was just bandaging Billy’s hand for him.”
“She’s a pretty decent nurse,” Billy confirmed.
“Well, I don’t need a nurse, I need a bartender,” Jenna said.
That got you moving, ignoring the look that Jenna shot you as Billy left and headed back out to the bar.
“Just bandaging his hand?” She muttered with a sly smile.
You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your wet panties stuck to you as you walked past her. Jenna struggled to bite back a laugh and you felt your cheeks heat.
The bar was getting busy and it was almost enough to take your mind off of everything that had happened. Almost. But, with Billy there, it was impossible.
You caught the smirk on his lips as you walked by, unable to hide your discomfort as the wet fabric clung to you. But with the shame and discomfort came something else, another feeling, something you didn’t want to admit to. Arousal. And, just like that, Billy had you feeling conflicted again, knowing you should be disgusted but finding that you couldn’t.
About forty minutes before last call, Billy’s whole crew started heading for the door, like they suddenly had somewhere to bed despite it being the middle of the night. Before Billy left, he caught you by the arm and turned you towards him.
“Call me when you get home,” he told you. An instruction, not a question.
“Uh-huh, yeah, I’ll be sure to do that,” you answered sarcastically, as you tried to pull away from him.
Billy’s grip tightened, not letting you walk away.
“I mean it,” he said, watching you rolling your eyes. “You can either call me or I can stop by your apartment again.”
The threat was allowed to hang in the air between you. Part of you wanted to act defiant, to tell him no, but you knew well enough that he wasn’t joking and, after everything that had happened, you didn’t want him showing up at your apartment.
“Fine,” you relented.
“And I want proof that you still have those panties on at the end of your shift,” he said, keeping his voice low but firm, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Fine,” you repeated, just wanting him to walk away.
Without warning, he leaned in, pressing his lips to your cheek. Then he was gone.
End Note : I think this chapter speaks for itself 😅. Place your bets on how Billy hurt his hand (as if we don't already know)
As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!
Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).
Tag List : @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @sweetserendipity65 @dreadfulxives18 @snowkestrel @ladyblacky
Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. Pregnancy mentions. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.1k
A/N : Don't scream too much. I'm sorry, okay?
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Master List
Epilogue
ONE MONTH LATER
“Do you regret it?”
The question broke through the silence and caused you to stir, opening your eyes so you could look up at him.
It was out of nowhere and, for a few seconds you almost allowed yourself to believe that you’d imagined it.
Billy still seemed to be reading - he’d been reading for at least an hour, sitting with you on the sofa in front of the crackling fireplace, a blanket covering your laps as you dozed against his side. It was the sort of afternoon you’d assumed only really existed in movies; quiet and still, just enjoying being close to each other without need for conversation or anything else.
But then came the question.
And, it was a strange thing to think about after everything that had happened, both in New York and, there, at the lake house. What was there to regret?
Sure, things had gotten off to a rocky start and, after getting to the lake, you’d spent the better part of a week worrying about him when he developed a fever, but you were together. It was just you and Billy, and that was all that really mattered.
“Regret what?” You finally asked, not really sure you wanted an answer.
Billy let out a slow breath, dog-earred the page he was on, and closed his book.
“All of this,” he answered, “leaving your life behind. Choosing me.”
You frowned and sat up a little straighter, pulling away from his side so you could look at him.
“Do you regret it?” You asked in return.
(Was that what he was trying to get at? Had he realised, after spending a month with you exclusively, that he didn’t want you anymore? Had the novelty finally worn off?)
“No - fuck, kitten, no,” he said emphatically. “I just - I don’t know. This last few weeks, getting to wake up next to you, spending whole days just holding you... I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop...”
“Why? I don’t understand, I thought... this is nice, isn’t it?”
Were these new thoughts or had it been stuck in his head since you’d first arrived?
A sense of panic slowly started to swell inside you, wondering if you’d thrown away what little life you’d had for nothing. Up until that moment, you’d been enjoying it, you’d grown to almost love the lake house; sitting in front of the fire with him, waking each other up with hands and lips, and drinking your morning coffee on the porch overlooking the water.
To you, it had felt like a little slice of heaven, like your life was finally getting better.
Billy’s hand found yours and he gave it a squeeze.
“This is nice. I’m just -” he sighed, “- it’s stupid.”
“What?” You prompted, needing to hear him give voice to whatever was troubling him so you could quiet your own panic.
“I’m not used to people staying,” he said softly, so quietly that you wouldn’t have heard it had you not been sitting right next to him. “It’s been five months and you’re still here.”
You were silent, not sure what to say and not possessing the words to explain the feeling you got in your stomach every time you looked at him, the swarm of butterflies that would take flight whenever he smiled at you, whenever he kissed you. Your lips parted but no sound came out as the seconds ticked by.
He’d been abandoned by his own mother, he couldn’t remember how he’d lost his closest friend - all Billy knew was being alone, being left behind. In a lot of ways, he was just like you, except your isolation had been mostly self-inflicted.
“Oh, Billy,” you finally muttered, speaking just as softly as he had.
You reached for him, delicately framing his face with your hands. He stared into your eyes, watching you as you looked at him, as you saw through it all to the tragic and delicate man beneath the scars, the man who just wanted to be loved. The man that you wanted to love, even if neither of you had been able to bring yourselves to say the words since leaving New York City.
A few tender moments passed without words before you closed the distance and pressed your lips to his, softly and gently, lovingly. Your thumbs caressed his scarred cheeks and Billy didn’t flinch, didn’t tense.
Every time you touched his face, you wanted to remind him that he was more than his scars, that he wasn’t the man who had been hurt, he wasn’t the man who deserved that pain. He was your Billy and he could leave all that darkness behind him in the past where it belonged, part of another life that no longer belonged to him.
His arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you back into his side, holding you tight, like he never wanted to let you go.
And he didn’t. He never wanted a day where you weren’t by his side.
When the kiss broke, you smiled at him.
“I won’t leave you, if you don’t leave me,” you said.
“Deal.”
He barely gave you time to think before his lips were on yours again, his kiss more insistent. You’d already fucked earlier that morning, but the moment he started to pull at your top, your hands found the hem of his sweater, not wanting to deny yourself another taste of him.
Somehow, as you pulled at each other's clothes, you ended up on the floor, on your back on the cream coloured shag-pile rug in front of the fireplace. When he’d first seen it, Billy had joked that it looked like something from a porno, as if he’d foreseen this moment.
You were breathless by the time he pulled his lips from yours and, once more, you found yourself getting lost in his dark eyes as he stared down at you, looking at you like he didn’t understand how you were even real.
“I love you,” he muttered tenderly, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, finally saying the words again. “I’m glad you’re mine.”
There was no surprise when he started to slowly trail kisses down your neck and body, only anticipation. Billy was insatiable when it came to eating you out, and he seemed to enjoy it almost as much as the sex itself. And you certainly weren’t going to complain about it.
“Twice in one day?” You joked as he settled between your thighs, your hand reaching down to run fingers through his hair.
“What can I say? I’m obsessed with your pussy,” Billy answered back with a smirk, running his fingers through your folds and causing your back to arch off the rug. “How can I resist when you’re already so wet for me?”
You bit your lip as he made a show of licking his fingers.
It had quickly become clear to you that you’d never really get over how much Billy seemed to want you, it would always leave you breathless and desperate, wanting more, wanting everything.
A loud moan torn from your lips as the heat of his mouth and tongue pressed against you. Billy groaned just as loudly, sounding like a starved man voraciously devouring his first meal in months.
Your fingers in his hair tightened their hold, pulling him closer, making it impossible for him to pull away (not that he had any intention of pulling away until he’d dragged at least one orgasm from you). All you could think about was his lips and tongue, the warmth of his mouth and the growing wetness between your legs. Every artful stroke and swipe caused you to writhe, working your hips against his face, grinding down against him.
How had you ever thought that you could live without this?
How had you ever thought you could live without him?
One of the best things about the lake house was the knowledge that you and Billy were the only people for miles, and there was no chance of anyone but him hearing the eager and needy sounds he managed to pull from you as his tongue flicked against your clit.
It wasn’t long before you fell apart for him, your back bowing and your thighs trembling as you came. His name fell from your lips over and over as both a prayer and plea. And Billy didn’t stop. You’d come to learn that Billy rarely liked to stop at just one orgasm. He wanted to make you come again and again, as if he was partaking in some contest that you didn’t understand.
“Fuck,” you groaned as two fingers easily slipped inside you.
He didn’t even let the first orgasm peter out before he started to push you towards the next. With his fingers inside you, bending as they fucked you, his tongue focused on your throbbing clit, easily working you into a frenzy again. Your whole body trembled and shook, completely overwhelmed by Billy.
Looking down only made things worse, your body clenching around his fingers at the sight of his dark eyes staring up at you, drinking in the look of ecstasy on your face. You felt his lips pull into a smirk against you, obviously proud of himself.
(Grudgingly, even you had to admit that he had reason to be proud of himself, the man went down on you like it was an olympic sport and he was the reigning champion.)
Your thighs clenched around his head as another orgasm quickly overtook you. Your body felt like jelly, all uncontrollable tremors and shakes. You whined his name, this time begging for mercy, too sensitive to take much more. He’d created a slick and sloppy mess between your legs and you felt your cheeks warm when you wondered about the state of the shag rug beneath you.
What you didn’t expect was for Billy to let out a laugh, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at you from between your thighs.
“Can’t stop if you don’t let me go,” he muttered.
Every word, every brush of his lips against you, sent fresh sparks of arousal through you - fuck, would you ever have enough of him?
A second later, you let out a laugh of your own, unclenching your thighs and releasing your grip on his hair, allowing Billy to move back up your body.
“You enjoy that far too much,” he said.
“And you don’t?”
“I enjoy it just the right amount.”
Billy gave an amused hum. “Well you’re definitely going to enjoy what comes next.”
A breathless moan stole its way from your lips the moment he pressed his hips to yours, grinding his hard cock through your wet folds. His lips swallowed down the sound, kissing you deeply as he continued to tease the main event.
But, when he pulled back, you surprised him with a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing until the pair of you were rolled and you were on top of him.
Never in your life had you thought you’d be the sort of person to leave condoms on the coffee table but, after sharing a living space with Billy for little over a week, you’d come to realise just how insatiable his appetites were. Yours too, if you were honest.
Billy pouted as he always did when you reached for a condom and sat back to roll it down his length but he’d long since given up on trying to convince you to change your mind.
Then it was your turn to smirk down at him, his cock in your hand as you hovered above him. His hands ran up your thighs to your hips and held on, making no attempt to get you to move. When you did start to lower yourself, you moved slowly, savouring the feel of his cock slowly filling you.
His eyes closed and his head fell back once you’d taken all of him, your hips rocking as you took a moment to get comfortable.
You didn’t fuck him. Despite that feeling inside of you that was desperate to lay claim to him, to make him tremble and writhe and moan for you, that part of you that wanted to bite and bruise to show that he was yours. Instead, you moved slowly, the rise and fall of your hips sensual rather than desperate.
You didn’t just want another orgasm. You wanted to make love to him. You wanted to make him fall apart for you in the rawest way.
One hand rested on his shoulder, while the other traversed his torso, mindful of wounds that had almost healed. So many marks and scars on one man, it didn’t seem far to you that he had had to endure so much pain and suffering, but it was that pain and suffering that had created the man beneath you.
Billy - your Billy - had been forged in pain and violence.
And, now, you wanted to give him a life that was anything but.
His grip on your hips tightened, but he let you set the place, he let you love him and show him how you felt. The words were always clumsy and difficult, but this - this was something you could do.
“Fuck, kitten, you feel so good,” he moaned.
You’d come to love seeing him in those moments, so completely lost to you, so yours.
Leaning down, you kissed him, hips moving a little faster as you swallowed down his groans.
“Love you,” you muttered softly against his lips.
“Say it again.”
His hands on your hips started to pull, not much, just enough to show you that he wanted you to move a little faster, and you were more than happy to oblige.
“Love you, Billy.”
“Keep saying it.”
There was something so soft in the request, something that felt almost broken, like he still didn’t expect or believe that he deserved your love. So, you said it over and over, as many times as he needed to hear it, until his breath started to hitch and every exhale was punctuated by a moan.
Suddenly his hips lifted, driving his cock into you and catching you off-guard. You could tell by the way he was gritting his teeth that he was trying to hold back his own orgasm, waiting for you, and you didn’t want to disappoint him. Without hesitation, you took his hand and led his fingers to your clit and, less than thirty seconds later, your head was falling back as you came undone.
Billy gave a grunt and thrust up into you one more time before his cock started to pulse.
You collapsed on top of him, pressing your face to his neck while you caught your breath. Eventually you carefully rolled off him to lay at his side, holding him as he held you, both of you kept warm by the crackling fire despite the light snow falling outside
“I don’t regret this,” you told him softly after a few minutes. “It’s been strange and I know that we can’t just stay like this forever, but I want whatever comes next.”
A sigh slipped from his lips, a noise that sounded a lot like relief.
“We can go anywhere,” he said, smiling tenderly as he brushed your sweat-damp hair away from your face. “We can do anything - anything you want.”
You smiled, not having a thought or answer for him at that moment. You were just happy to be in his arms, enjoying the heat from his body at your front and the heat from the fire on your back.
“Do you regret not going after Frank?”
It had been the elephant in the room since you’d first arrived at the lake and, every day, you’d carried around the worry that he would decide to go back to the city to try and finish things.
Billy didn’t answer straight away, and you didn't want him to. You wanted him to think about it, to know what he really wanted.
“I did, to begin with,” he finally answered, “but after being here with you, just us, with none of that other shit… it's just not worth it. Frank, everything that happened, that's my past. You're my future.”
Billy reached for you, cupping your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you, backing up his words with actions.
“When I'm with you like this, I feel like…” for a moment he seemed to struggle to find the words, “I feel like this is what I always wanted; someone I could love and who'd love me.”
“That's all I want too,” you told him, a tender smile growing on your lips.
It was a sweet and gentle moment that you wanted to bask in for as long as you could but, unfortunately, Billy wanted to be a pragmatist.
“We're gonna have to decide where we want to go from here. As much as I love it here, we're gonna burn through all the money if we stay.”
He was right, as nice as the lake house was, you were paying AirBnB prices and it would only get more expensive in the new year.
“We can figure it out over dinner,” you said.
“You gonna cook for me again?” He asked, sounding almost eager.
You'd both become oddly domestic in the weeks since arriving, taking it in turns to cook for each other. Billy was a surprisingly good cook, and he seemed to enjoy the meals that you managed to throw together for him. You'd developed a certain kind of harmony that you'd never expected to find with a man like Billy.
And it all just made you love him more.
“I'll need to head to the store and see what I can find,” you muttered but showed no sign of wanting to leave his embrace.
A minute or so later, the fire gave a loud crackle and Billy sighed.
“I'll chop some more wood while you're at the store.”
“Don't overdo it,” you warned. “I don't want you to hurt yourself playing sexy lumberjack.”
“Sexy lumberjack?” Billy repeated, laughing. “Is that why you like watching me chop wood?”
You shrugged and stifled a laugh. “I can't help it if men chopping wood turns me on.”
Both of you descended into fits of laughter. Billy pulled your body against his, pressing playful kisses all over your face.
“So we’ll need to find somewhere with a fireplace?” He asked. “So I can keep being your sexy lumberjack?”
“And somewhere in the middle of nowhere so no one can hear how loud you get during sex,” you added.
You both started laughing again.
It stayed like that for a few minutes, both of you laughing, wrapped up in each other's arms but, as the time ticked by, you knew you’d have to move.
You pulled your clothes back on and kissed him goodbye before heading to the nearest grocery store, a twenty minute drive from the lake. Since arriving, you’d been the one to do all of the shopping, not wanting Billy to overexert himself or for anyone to recognise him - though you were hoping the fanfare had died down since you’d left the city.
You took your time as you wheeled the cart around the store, stopping to check anything that caught your fancy. It was strange, knowing that you didn’t have to worry about money or keep a running tally in your head of how much everything would cost so you didn’t overspend. Thanks to Billy’s money and the money you’d managed to stash away over the last year or so, for the time being, you were comfortable.
Stopping in front of the butcher’s counter, you idly glanced over the selection before settling on a couple of steaks, knowing how much Billy liked it. Then you went off to find some carrots and baby potatoes.
It was strange, the sort of things that you’d come to learn about him while living with him, things you probably should have learned well before all of his darkest secrets, like his favourite food and the fact he loved to read. But, the order of events has worked for the both of you, in fact you were certain it was what had brought you both together in the first place.
There were still some doubts in your mind about what he’d done and the person that he used to be, but there was no question about who he was now. Your Billy. It didn’t matter so much to you what he had done but, rather, what he was going to do and who he was going to be with you. And, so far, he’d shown that he wanted to be nothing but attentive and loving.
In return, you wanted to be the same for him.
Both of you had spent your lives lost and searching, and now you had each other.
On the toiletries aisle you stopped, knowing that you needed condoms, and that you’d probably need some period products.
Only -
You started to do the maths in your head, trying to figure out when your last period had been.
Fuck.
In the insanity of the last few weeks, you hadn’t realised just how late you were. Over three weeks.
It hadn’t even crossed your mind; you’d never been all that regular and your periods had caused you problems in the past, but you’d never been three weeks late before.
Your stomach threatened to turn itself inside out as you thought back to that morning in your bed, the first and only time you’d let him fuck you without protection. You’d planned to get the morning after pill before heading to the bar that night but, instead... well, everything else had happened and it had slipped your mind entirely.
No… no, you couldn’t be pregnant.
Though, you had been feeling tired recently and perhaps a little more emotional than usual. But, surely that was just because of Billy and everything that you’d been through.
No. You forced a breath and decided not to worry about it. You were probably just panicking over nothing and there was no point losing your mind until you knew for sure. So, quickly, you grabbed a pregnancy test, a box of condoms and some tampons, covering all of your bases. Then you headed for the check out, only stopping once on the way to grab the biggest bar of chocolate you could find.
Billy was sitting on the porch reading and nursing a hot mug of coffee when you arrived back at the lake house, though he quickly got to his feet to help you unpack the groceries. It made you feel an awkward pang of longing, the thought of coming home to him, being welcomed back with open arms. You felt like a family already and you didn’t want anything to ruin it.
You made sure to grab the bag with the pregnancy test before Billy could, your cheeks warming just at the thought of him seeing it and jumping to the same conclusion that you had.
Racing upstairs, you hid it away in the bathroom for later that evening, too tense to even consider using the test then. Your excuse was that it was nearly dinner time and you’d promised Billy that you would cook.
He was waiting for you in the kitchen, diligently putting the groceries away but he stopped when he saw you, looking at you for a moment. Your heart almost stopped and you found yourself wondering if he could tell you were hiding something just from looking at you. His expression softened and he stepped forwards, gathering you up in his arms.
“You look tired,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “D’you want me to cook tonight?”
Your heart stuttered at the gesture, at how soft his voice was, the care in his tone. It was almost enough to make you blurt out what you suspected because the idea of hiding it from him just made you feel even worse.
“I’m fine, might get an early night after dinner though, ”you shrugged. “But, if you want to help, you can cut the veg while I cook the steaks?”
Of course, Billy agreed and the pair of you started to move around the kitchen like you had so many times before, seeming so in sync with each other.
“Do you want a glass of wine?” Billy asked and, again, your stomach tied itself in knots.
“No... not tonight.”
He didn’t question it but it felt like yet another layer to your potential deception, but you tried desperately to force the thought away. You didn’t know for sure, so it wasn’t as if you were deliberately lying to him. The chances were, you tried to reassure yourself, you were just worrying over nothing.
Once the steaks were in the pan, Billy came to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you, resting a hand on your stomach.
How many times had you stood together like that? How many times had his hands or lips ghosted over your stomach?
More thoughts you were eager to try and push away.
Finally, you sat down together at the little dining table, next to a window that overlooked the water. It looked so pretty at night, the water reflecting the stars, while the snow slowly started to blanket the ground.
You found yourself staring out, wishing that you could stay, wishing that nothing had to change.
But things did change, it was inevitable.
“Are you okay?” Billy asked, halfway through his meal. “You’ve been quiet since you got back.”
“I’m fine, really,” you told him. “I was just thinking about the future.”
“What about it?”
“About where we’ll end up and what our lives will look like,” you shrugged. “I dunno, I guess I never really thought about having anything like this. I always thought I’d spend the rest of my life moving from place to place, trying to escape from my past.”
He gave an understanding nod. He knew better than most what you meant and how you felt, he’d already told you as much.
“What do you want our lives to look like?” He asked, his attention leaving his dinner and focusing entirely on you.
You were silent for a few, long moments, trying to think of an answer that was honest and that made sense.
“I... I guess I want things to be like this, for us to be like we are here,” you said, not sure it even made sense. “Promise me that nothing will change that. Promise me that you’ll always want me the way you do now?”
There was a flicker of confusion on his face and, for a moment, you thought you might have given yourself away.
“Kitten, nothing is ever going to change the way I feel about you. I’ll always want you. I’ll always love you,” he told you. “For as long as you want me, I’ll love you.”
“I’ll always want you,” you said back to him instantly, not wanting him to question your feelings for even a moment. “Even if things... change, I’ll still always want you. I just... I don’t want you to think that I ever don’t -”
“Where is all this coming from?” He asked.
“I - I don’t know. I just -” you struggled to find the words to express what you were feeling, still not wanting to tell him what you were worried about, “- I feel like things are gonna change when we leave here. This has felt almost like a perfect vacation, but I don’t want us to stop feeling like this when we have to go back to living real lives, y’know?”
“I get it,” he said, reaching across and taking your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “but don’t worry, nothing's gonna change. We can have a life like this, just me and you.”
You returned to eating and, despite your earlier suggestion that you plan your next move over dinner, he didn’t bring up leaving the lake house. It was as if he could sense you were struggling with the idea of change and he didn’t want to bring it up and make you more uncomfortable.
Together, you washed the dishes, the perfect picture of domestic bliss; him at the sink while you stood at his side drying. Really, you should have known that things couldn’t stay so saccharine and simple, but you’d allowed yourself to get swept up in Billy and the fairytale ending you’d tried to create with him.
“I’m gonna have a shower and get into bed,” you told him, lightly kissing him on the cheek..
“Want me to come get your back?” He asked, smirking that smirk that could only mean one thing.
You swatted his chest lightly before giving him a gentle push.
“You can snuggle me in bed when I’m done,” you told him, managing a smile despite your nerves. “I think I’ve had more than enough orgasms for one day.”
Billy looked genuinely offended and confused by the thought, but he let you slip away from him and up the stairs without further comment.
And, of course, you put off taking the test.
You took a long shower, washed your hair and shaved your legs, then afterwards you lathered yourself in moisturiser and put on a face mask. Anything to forestall the inevitable. The longer you left it, the easier it seemed to convince yourself that it wasn’t happening, that it couldn’t possibly happen.
But, finally, you knew you had to do it.
You peed on the stick and set the timer on your phone before shutting your eyes tight, trying to picture a future where you and Billy really were a family. You imagined holding a child in your arms, a perfect mix of you and Billy, and you tried to imagine Billy’s face at seeing his child for the first time. You’d both suffered through such terrible childhoods, you’d both been hurt so much - but surely that meant you could do things better, you could get it right?
If you were pregnant, you wouldn’t be like your mother, you wouldn’t put your needs and wants first. And, unlike Billy’s mother, you’d never give the child or Billy up.
You’d do better. And you were hopeful that he would too.
But, despite that glimmer of hope inside you, there was still a healthy dose of fear; you didn’t even know whether Billy wanted kids, or how you were going to tell him if the test turned out to be positive.
You grasped the test in your hand, eyes squeezed shut, until the timer on your phone started to beep.
Then, you looked down...
End Note : I know, I know... it was a mean place to end it but, even though this hasn't been the most popular of stories I do fully intend on writing a second part to this (I know I say that every time, but with this one I do have a fairly solid idea of what I'd like to happen in the next part). I've had a lot of fun writing this, I know it's been a bit different from my other fics and I know a lot of the romance aspects have fallen into something of a grey area, but I kind of like playing with the idea of reader knowing that Billy has done horrible things but not wanting to hold the man he is now responsible for things he can't even remember doing - honestly, in her position, I couldn't say I'd do the same, but it made writing the story fun for me.
Also sorry if the TWs at the start spoiled the twist, I never know what do put in TWs but I'd rather be safe than sorry on tumblr.
Anyway, thank you so much for the love and support you've shown this fic. It really always means so much to me when anyone takes a little bit of time out of their day to read something I've created. You've all been wonderful, and I look forward to sharing my next Billy fic with you soon.
On that note, as I've said a couple of times now, the rest of December is going to be a chill month for me. I do have a little mini-series I want to try and post, and maybe a couple of one-shots, but I don't know when any of that will happen. (Probably still on fridays, but maybe not, I don't know.) Later in the month I'm going to put up another poll for my next fic.
Anyway, I'll stop rambling now. Thanks for reading! Have a wonderful weekend.
Tag List : @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @sweetserendipity65 @dreadfulxives18 @snowkestrel @ladyblacky
Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Mentions of child abuse. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.9k
A/N : 😅😅😅
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE
Master List
Chapter Ten
You knew from the moment Billy left that there was nothing stopping you from going into the bathroom and removing your cum-stained panties. But you didn’t. In fact it only crossed your mind as a fleeting thought, not because you were scared Billy might find out and certainly not because you felt like you had to obey him, but for some other third, more nebulous reason.
As uncomfortable as you were, as much as you hated it, some part of you... enjoyed it.
It was that same strange and conflicting mix of emotions that you’d felt the morning after sleeping with him; that feeling that you weren’t supposed to enjoy rough sex as much as you had. Shame. That was it. You felt ashamed, but every time you thought about your panties, you remembered the way you’d felt, bent over the table and at his mercy. You remembered how good it had felt.
So, you didn’t remove your panties and you didn’t think twice about slipping into the bathroom after closing while Jenna emptied the cash register.
It took you a couple of minutes to work up the nerve to stand in front of the mirror and pull up your skirt to snap a picture, though it took you a lot less time to grip your phone in such a way that you could flip him off in the process. When it was done and sent, you deleted the photo from your phone and, once again, found yourself glad that you still had Billy’s number blocked.
That feeling of conflict, of knowing how you should feel versus how you did feel, followed you home and had your stomach tying itself in knots when you thought about his other demand.
At first you told yourself that you wouldn’t call him, slipping out of your clothes and straight under a hot shower, but the longer you were left to think about, the more your stomach seemed to coil itself in knots.
Did you want him to show up? Did you want to finish what you’d started with him earlier?
No.
Yes.
Fuck.
Finally, you settled on calling him - but you were only going to allow it to ring three times before you hung up. If Billy missed the call, that was his own fault.
Unfortunately, he answered on the second ring, as if he’d been sat there all night, just waiting for your call.
“Hey,” he said, and you could almost hear his smile in his voice, “you get home safe?”
“Yeah,” you answered, wanting to keep things short and sweet.
“You’re late.”
There wasn’t any accusation of malice to it, it was just a statement of fact; the bar had closed almost an hour ago and you only lived a few blocks away.
“I needed to take a shower.”
“Yeah, I guess you did,” Billy said.
You were grateful that he held back his laughter, but you didn’t know what to do with the silence that followed.
“How was your night?” He asked.
“Really? That’s really the game you want to play?” You said, unable to stop the irritation from filing your tone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“This - getting me to phone you, feeding your ego, thinking you can make me do whatever you want. I -”
“That’s not why I asked you to call.” He interrupted.
“You didn’t ask, Billy. You told me to. You threatened me.”
There was another few seconds of silence and then you heard a sigh from him.
“Fine, whatever, but that’s not why I wanted you to call me.”
“Then why?” You asked, barely biting back a sigh of your own.
“I wanted to know that you got home safe.”
Your heart stuttered in your chest, that strange feeling of butterflies taking flight in your stomach again, but you did your best to tamp it down. You were confused. More than that, you were still angry with him, even if you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reasons anymore.
Because he kept pushing, kept taking you by surprise.
Because one minute he was sweet and gentle, and the next minute he left you wanting to strangle him.
“Why?”
“I told you. Because I care about you.”
The comment caused the feeling in your stomach to get worse.
“How can you care about me? You hardly know me...”
In the moment of silence that followed, you steeled yourself for whatever argument he’d try to make, hoping that you could finally take some control of the situation.
“I’m trying to get to know you, kitten, but you’re not exactly making it easy,” he said. You remained silent, so Billy decided to push the matter. “Fine. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
You let out a forced and particularly loud sigh, sinking back on your bed and staring up at the ceiling, not sure what you could tell him or if you even wanted to tell him anything at all. He’d been right earlier when he’d said you didn’t like honesty - you didn’t like anything that let people get too close.
The longer the silence dragged on, you knew you had to say something.
Honestly, you weren’t sure if you felt the need to talk just to fill the silence and placate Billy, or if it was because you felt shitty for refusing to answer when he was making such an effort to get to know a little more about you.
You took a breath, not sure what you wanted to say until words started to pour from your mouth. And, by the time you realised what you were doing, it was too late to stop yourself.
“When I was twelve, my dad died. My mom had no money and there were debt collectors just waiting to take everything away, so she took my and my siblings back to her family home in Virginia.” You took a breath, stomach churning. “Her family was loaded but my mom had been cut off and taken out of the will for marrying my dad.”
Billy remained silent, as if he was hanging on your every word, so you continued.
“Our grandfather was a cruel old bastard - or so our mom told us. Her plan was to win him round, but she couldn’t do that with kids in tow. So, her and our grandmother hid us in the attic. It was only supposed to be for a couple of days while she fixed things with her father, but... we ended up stuck up there for three years, never allowed to leave the attic until we eventually managed to run away.”
You hated yourself as you finished speaking and, this time, allowed the silence to hang in the air. Billy let it linger for almost a minute before speaking again.
“Nice try, kitten, but that’s the plot to Flowers in the Attic.”
The worst part was that he didn’t even sound angry about catching you in another obvious lie. He just sounded resigned, almost hurt.
“You’ve read Flowers in the Attic?” You weren’t sure why that was the question you chose to ask.
The feeling in your stomach continued to get worse, as if some part of you felt bad about lying to him and pushing him away. The worst part was you weren’t even sure why you did it, why you couldn’t just offer him some watered down version of your past, something that was true but only to a comfortable extent.
“What can I say? I’m a man of hidden depths.”
“Yeah?” You asked, doubling down on your course of action. “They have a lot of VC Andrews in the prison library.
“No, I came across a copy on base in Afghanistan,” he answered, pausing for a beat before; “... have you just been assuming I was an ex-con all this time?”
“Wouldn’t exactly be the only one to drink at Sam’s,” you offered, feeling a little silly at your assumptions. Military made more sense, though you supposed you’d only given fleeting consideration to him being an ex-con as yet another reason not to get close to him.
Again there was a silence and, then, another soft sigh.
“Why do you do that?” He asked.
“Do what?”
“Lie like that?” When you didn’t answer he continued. “What is it about your past that has you so scared?”
“I’m not scared,” you said automatically, like a reflex kicking in. You weren’t weak. You weren’t going to let him think you were weak.
“Then why have the go-bag?”
You felt a chill run through your body when you thought about the backpack nestled in your wardrobe. You still hated that he’d seen it, that he understood what it was.
“It’s in case I need to get away from my stalker who spent weeks breaking into my apartment without my knowledge,” you answered coldly.
“Cute, but I know it’s been there longer than that.”
He didn’t elaborate and you didn’t ask him to explain, already knowing you wouldn’t like any answer that he had to give you.
“Nothing’s gonna hurt you,” he said softly after a few moments of quiet.
“I don’t need protecting, Billy. I can take care of myself.”
“Can you?” He asked and you were sure his lips were pulling into a smirk on the other end of the call.
“I could kill someone if I had to.”
“Really?” His tone shifted and that hint of playfulness that you were used to started to creep back in.
“I’ve killed before,” you said casually, leaving him to guess if it was just another one of your lies.
“Did he deserve it?” Billy asked, not seeming at all bothered that you might potentially be a murderer.
“Who said it was a he?”
“Educated guess. So, did he deserve it?”
“Yes.”
“Did he hurt you?”
You heard the sharpness slipping back into his voice as he asked the question.
“Yes.”
“Then I’m glad he’s dead. I’m just sorry I wasn’t the one to do it.”
Your mouth felt dry and you could feel your heart pounding harder in your chest, practically knocking against your ribs. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a response like that.
Again, there was a pregnant pause while you tried to think of what to say.
“Is it really that black and white for you?” You asked.
“No one who hurts you should ever get away with it,” he said, quickly adding; “but you don’t have to worry about that now. You’ve got me for that.
“Right...” you said, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. Honestly, you should have expected that answer from him.
“You never asked how I hurt my hand,” Billy said, seemingly changing the subject.
You didn’t say anything for a few seconds, taking the time to wonder if he was trying to set you up and walk you into a trap.
“How did you hurt your hand?” You finally, reluctantly, asked.
“I paid a visit to the guy that spiked your drink.”
It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room, and a part of you worried that Billy could hear the way your heart was racing through the phone. Even though it had only been two days since it had happened, you didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about what had almost happened.
And, now, you didn’t want to think about what Billy might have done to protect you.
“Is he -” you started to ask, words coming out as little more than a whisper.
You weren’t even entirely sure what you were asking and, worryingly, you weren’t sure what you wanted his answer to be. It was hard to care too much about the fate of someone who’d spiked your drink, someone who might have done it to other women before you and planned to do it to other women after you. He didn’t deserve any sympathy.
But that didn’t mean you wanted Billy to be hurting people in your name.
“He’s still alive,” Billy answered. “He might be eating through a tube for a while and, if he’s lucky, he might walk again, but I don’t think he’s ever going to think about messing with someone’s drink again.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice that sent a shiver down his spine and, when you didn’t respond immediately, Billy asked; “you okay, kitten?”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t have to,” he answered. “Besides, I couldn’t let him keep doing that to people. He needed to be stopped.”
There was that edge in his voice again, a pain that you were certain he didn’t realise gave so much away. Maybe it didn’t around other people, but to you it was a punch to your gut, a feeling of like recognising like.
“Someone hurt you,” you said softly. Again.
All Billy offered was a grunt.
Another lull in the conversation had you rolling onto your side and letting out a sigh, the phone still clutched tightly to your ear - though when you’d started holding the phone like that, you honestly couldn’t say. Despite how you’d felt when you’d dialled his number, there was no part of you that wanted to hang up now.
Later you might blame it on exhaustion or loneliness, but right then, all you wanted to do was keep talking.
But Billy wasn’t saying anything and that left it to you to fill the void.
“When I was nine my mom started dating her dealer,” you offered quietly. “She moved us into his place. He used almost as much as my mom did, and when he was wasted...”
You trailed off, the words sticking in your throat, forcing you to stop.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Billy finally said.
“You said you wanted to know me.”
“I do, but not if it hurts you.”
Again, the butterflies took flight in your stomach, and the feeling was enough to prompt you to continue, to finally share a piece of you that was real.
“He was violent. With my mom and with me,” you continued, hearing the way Billy’s breath caught through the phone. “Then, one day, my mom went out and didn’t come back. She just upped and left me with him. About a week later, he got wasted and I... I hid from him in the basement.”
Billy didn’t say a word, you couldn’t even hear him breathing, but you could picture the look on his face; that expression of barely contained rage.
“When I refused to come out, he locked the door from the outside, and left me down there.” At some point your voice had turned quiet, almost like you were whispering a secret to Billy, something that you needed him to guard with his life. And, somehow, you knew that he would. “I was trapped down there in the dark and cold... with the spiders...”
You heard a sharp inhale.
“There was this sweet old lady across the street... if she hadn’t called social services, they never would have found me...”
“How long?” Billy dared to ask, though you knew that wasn’t really the question that he wanted to ask you.
“Four days,” you answered. “Felt like longer.”
You expected more questions, pity - or one of those perfunctory I’m sorry’s that those kinds of events tended to garner. Instead you were met with nothing but another gentle sigh.
“Thank you,” he said softly, “for telling me. It means a lot to me.”
Despite being on the phone, your response was to nod, pressing your head further against your pillow.
“I should let you sleep,” Billy continued. “It’s getting late.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll sleep soon.” He said and you were almost disappointed that he didn’t offer to come see you (though that thought was definitely one you’d chalk up exhaustion). “Goodnight, kitten.”
“Goodnight, Billy.”
And, like that, the line went dead.
For the longest time after the end of the call you stared at your phone, some part of you expecting it to light up with a message or for him to call back, even though you knew you still had him blocked.
It was strange, you felt somehow lighter for having been honest with him, even if what you had told him had only been scratching the surface.
Falling asleep, you felt like things had finally reached a turning point.
But you had no idea just how right you’d turn out to be.
The next evening you arrived at the bar to find it mostly empty, save for a well dressed woman sitting at the bar, talking to Jenna. The suit she wore screamed law enforcement and the subtle look that Jenna flashed you confirmed it.
It wasn’t often that cops dared set foot in Sam’s, and it definitely explained why the place was so empty. But you and Jenna had dealt with this sort of situation before, and you knew exactly what to say. Or what no to say, as the case may be.
You took your time ditching your coat in the back before stepping out to start your shift and getting a proper look at her.
The moment her eyes lifted to meet yours and she cast you something of a forced smile, you changed your mind. Definitely not a cop. Her clothes alone looked like they were worth more than you made in a year. And she was - well, stunning was the first word to come to mind.
“Agent Madani, Homeland Security,” she said, flashing you her ID before placing it in her pocket again.
You offered your name. Just your first name.
“What can we help you with?” You dared to ask, ignoring the roiling sensation in your stomach.
“Yeah, no offence, but having a cop sat at the bar isn’t exactly good for business,” Jenna added.
“I’m looking for someone,” she said, lifting her phone from the bar and bringing up a photograph. “Have you seen this man? His name is Billy Russo. There have been reports placing him in the area.”
Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked at the photo; it was him, but it wasn’t. Those dark eyes were unmistakable but his hair... his face. The man in the photo was every bit as beautiful as you’d assumed Billy used to be when you’d first gotten a good look at him.
Without the scars he had been perfect but, somehow, you found you preferred your Billy more. There was something about the eyes; the man in the picture looked soulless, but your Billy... his eyes gave away so much.
Despite your shock, your face remained neutral.
You spared Jenna a glance and then shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve seen him in here, but we get a lot of people passing through.”
“Yeah,” Jenna agreed, taking a closer look at the phone. “Though I’d remember serving someone that hot. What did he do? Looks like one of those Wall Street guys...”
“He’s wanted in relation to several murders,” Madani stated, and you damn near threw up in your mouth.
“Several murders? Is he a serial killer or something?” Jenna asked, keeping Madani’s attention away from you while you regained your poker face.
“No, not as such...” she shook her head, dropping her phone back into her pocket and placing a business card on the bar. “But if he comes in -”
“Is he dangerous?” You asked before she could finish.
“Extremely.”
“If we see him, we’ll be sure to call,” Jenna was quick to answer.
There were more words exchanged and you simply nodded along, feeling like you were spiralling into some dark abyss that you might never escape from. The Homeland agent kept glancing between you and Jenna but, if she noticed you were freaking out, she didn’t say anything.
Once she was gone, neither you nor Jenna spoke for at least a minute.
“Fuck,” Jenna said, “you don’t think -”
“No,” the word tumbled out of your mouth before you could even stop to think about it. “No, it - I mean... she must be wrong. He couldn’t...”
“Wow, not like you to jump to his defence.”
You tried to ignore the smirk on her lips, instead focusing on the way your heart was pounding in your chest.
It felt wrong, though you couldn’t place your finger on why. You’d always assumed that Billy was dangerous, that he could hurt people if he wanted to - hell, he’d put someone in the hospital for spiking your drink - but murder? Murders, plural?
“It’s just... you don’t think he’s -”
“A serial killer? I doubt it... unless he’s really good at hiding how much of a psycho he is,” Jenna answered.
Ah. That was it. Billy was good at hiding it, at pretending to be some sweet and charming guy to everyone while simultaneously stalking you.
“But, look... maybe you should stay away from him until we know for sure?” She carried on, and you nodded.
Jenna was talking, saying something, and you barely even realised you were stepping back.
“I... I need to -”
You didn’t even finish the thought before heading into the back and pulling out your phone, calling Billy. As it rang, you steeled yourself for him to answer and for all the questions to start pouring out. Part of you felt betrayed, lied to, while another part just couldn’t accept anything that Madani had tried to tell you.
It felt like you were falling, like you’d been hanging off the side of a cliff for so long, looking for something stable to cling to. The last few days had made you dare to think that maybe Billy could be that for you. But, now, the rockface was crumbling beneath your hands and you were falling.
“Kitten?”
His voice was a dry rasp, like he’d just woken up, and just hearing him again had your heart pounding painfully in your chest.
“You - you can’t come to the bar anymore, Billy. It’s not safe for anyone and I just think -”
“What? Kitten, slow -”
“There was a Homeland Agent at the bar. She was looking for you,” you tried to explain, word fast and frantic, almost running into one another. “She said you killed people, Billy. She’s looking for you, and we can’t -”
“Hey-hey, take a breath.”
You did as you were told but it didn’t help. Your heart continued to pound wildly in your chest while you struggled between what you thought you knew about Billy and what the Homeland Agent had told you.
Was he capable of murder?
Yes.
There wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that Billy could and would kill someone if he had reason to. That alone should have been enough to make you end the call, enough to go home, grab your bag and leave the city. But, really, were you in any position to judge him?
“Tell me what happened,” Billy said, breaking through your racing thoughts.
There wasn’t much to tell really, just that the Homeland Agent had been there and she’d told you and Jenna that Billy was a killer, that he was dangerous. But you also made sure to tell him that you and Jenna hadn’t said a word - though you had no idea why that piece of information felt so important to share.
Then came the pregnant pause, the silence that you couldn’t stand.
“Did you do it? Was she telling the truth?” You asked in little more than a whisper, not sure you even wanted an answer.
“I...” he trailed off into an uncomfortable sigh, “I don’t know. I still don’t remember.”
You nodded, at a loss for what to say.
“I wish I could tell you that it wasn’t me or that I had a good reason but I don’t remember,” he continued. “Fuck. I wish I remembered, just so I knew, just so...”
“I... I think you should stay away from me, Billy.”
“Kitten...”
You’d lost count of how many times you’d told him to stay away, how many times you’d told him to leave you alone but this was the only time you’d heard him sound so broken about it, like your words had finally hit home. Just hearing the pain in your voice had you wanting to take it all back, but you knew that you couldn’t.
“Even if you didn’t do it, I... I can’t have cops - or Homeland Agents - sniffing around,” you said, and there was no hiding the way your own voice seemed to want to break and betray you.
Billy paused and you dared to hope that he was actually thinking about what you’d just said, thinking about how he could ruin your life if he persisted.
“I can’t,” he said softly, “please... don’t ask me to give you up.”
“You said you wanted to keep me safe. You being around me, bringing law enforcement to the bar - that puts me in danger.”
Silence fell again and you heard Billy take a ragged inhale and it reminded you of the panic attack that you’d witnessed him having, and it made your heart ache all the more.
“I can’t,” he said again. “I won’t. I’m sorry, kitten. I won’t let any of it come back on you, but I can’t let you go.”
“Billy -”
The line went dead.
He’d hung up on you.
You felt sick and you spent the rest of the night feeling like your stomach was twisting and tying itself in knots. Of course, Jenna noticed and tried to talk to you about it, tried to help convince you that it was probably for the best if you didn’t see him again until everything blew over. If it ever blew over. But all you could think about was Billy and how he’d sounded on the phone.
Jenna tried to convince you not to worry and that, one way or another, the truth was bound to come out.
There were so many questions and thoughts, but no answers to be found. If he didn’t remember, was he even the same person who’d done it? Was it fair to blame him for things he couldn’t remember? Were you in any position to judge him? Is that why he’d been hurt so badly by a man who’d been his best friend?
Each question only brought with it more uncertainty, and you had no way of knowing what was true and what wasn’t. All you knew was Billy, the person he was when he was with you.
Jenna offered to let you stay with her that night but you turned her down, not wanting to spend the night being scrutinised every time you mind wandered to Billy and the chaos you’d invited into your life.
No, you just wanted to go home and crawl into bed, hoping that in the morning everything would be back to normal.
Some time around four a knock at the door startled you awake.
Slowly, you climbed out of bed, staring at the door, your heart beating a mile a minute. For a second you expected the door to be knocked off its hinges and for armed cops to swarm your apartment.
The second knock had you tensing, ready to grab your go-bag and make a break for it down the fire escape.
But then you heard him.
“Kitten, it’s me.”
It didn’t exactly make you feel any better that Billy was at your door at four in the morning, but you still let out a sigh of relief. You kept the chain on the door as you opened it and heard him sigh.
“Let me in, kitten.” It wasn’t quite a demand but you already knew that saying no wouldn’t end well.
“It’s four in the morning,” you said, not moving. “What do you want, Billy?”
“I want to see you.”
“Well, now you’ve seen me,” you answered back.
“Just let me in before I kick the door down and disturb all your neighbours,” he said. As firm as his demand was, he sounded tired but, given the time of night, you didn’t think much of it.
It wasn’t just an idle threat, you knew him better than that now, and you couldn’t risk your neighbours calling the cops. So, with a frustrated huff, you took the chain off the door and took a few steps back, making sure there was plenty of space between you and him.
His movements were slow, closing the door and locking it behind him. He looked tired, exhausted, and it was almost enough to spark a hint of sympathy inside you.
Billy immediately took a step towards you, unhappy with the space you’d created, his eyes taking in the sight of you and the light blue satin slip you were wearing.
“Christ,” he muttered, “you’re gonna drive me crazy, kitten.”
“What do you want, Billy?” You asked again, folding your arms in an attempt to cover the way your nipples were poking through the silken fabric. “I told you... you need to stay away from me.”
“I can’t. I needed to see you.”
“It’s four in the morning. What could you possibly want to see me for?”
“I -” there was a noticeable hesitation, something you’d never really seen from him before, “- I want to stay the night. With you.”
“No,” you answered flatly. “No, I’ve told you, I don’t want -”
“Just to sleep,” he interrupted before you could complete your rejection of him. “I just want to sleep next to you.”
“Billy, they think you’re a murderer,” you said, hugging yourself all the tighter.
“I don’t remember,” he told you, equal parts frustration and pain. “I don’t know what I did or why I might’ve done it. All I know is that I’d never hurt you.”
You didn’t say anything. There was nothing you could say. There was no figuring out the truth of the matter and, if there was one thing you did believe, it was that Billy wouldn’t lie to you and he’d never hurt you.
“Please,” he tried again, “I’m... I’m so tired, kitten. If I knew about any of it, I’d tell you. But it’s all still jumbled up. And I - I don’t even know if I’m that person anymore. This - me, now - I’ve never been like this before. That Agent, Madani, I think we used to sleep together... she used to visit me in the hospital, used to taunt me every single day... I don’t know why.”
The more he spoke, the more confused things became, but Billy made no attempt to move any closer to you.
“I just want to sleep,” he said again.
Common sense told you to say no, to stick to your guns and tell him to leave but, seeing the state of him, the thought of turning him away made your chest ache regardless of all the uncertainty surrounding him. Without a word, you sighed and turned back towards your bedroom, crawling back into bed and pulling the covers up over your face.
You heard him slowly follow after, heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor before you felt the mattress dip behind you. Billy waited a moment before shifting closer, pressing himself against your back and draping his arm over you. He let out a soft sigh as he buried his face against the back of your neck.
He felt warm against you, cosy - though you tried to ignore it as best you could.
“Why are you doing this?” You asked quietly, half-hoping he wouldn’t answer.
“I just wanted to see you.”
“No, I mean why are you doing any of this?” The million dollar question. “Why me? Why are you dragging me into this shit, Billy?”
“Because you’ve been stuck in my head since the first time I saw you,” he told you, his fingers softly tracing patterns on your stomach through your slip. “Every time I close my eyes, I think about that night in this bed with you. You’re under my skin, you haunt me.”
“It wasn’t that mind blowing,” you muttered.
“Right,” Billy grumbled, sounding half-asleep already “‘cause you still want to pretend that I’m the only one that enjoyed it...”
“Why would I lie?” You answered back, not willing to give him the last word.
“‘cause you’re scared of admitting that you like the way I touch you,” he answered. “Or maybe it’s ‘cause you’re scared of admitting that you might actually like me.”
“I don’t like you. All you’re doing is making my life more difficult,” you huffed. “I must be fucking crazy to have you in my bed like this, not knowing if you’re some psychotic killer...”
You didn’t expect him to pull away, to roll on to his back behind you and let out a sigh. More than that, you didn’t expect to feel the loss of his embrace so acutely.
Had you managed to hurt your stalker’s feelings?
And why did it bother you if you had?
Drawing your knees up to your chest, you tried to ignore the feeling of awkwardness that was starting to gnaw at you, closing your eyes and trying to fall asleep. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew he was right there, not when you didn’t know what was running through his mind.
You weren’t even sure what was running through your own head anymore. It was almost enough to make you laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing was; you had a man who was wanted for murder in your bed but, still, you felt safe with him, comfortable in a way you hadn’t for a long time, despite what your protests might have suggested.
And he was right. You were scared that some part of you liked him - that some part of you still liked him, even after everything you’d learned.
It was all such a fucking mess and you had no idea how to deal with any of it.
But, now there was something, some feeling in the pit of your stomach that felt so wrong but, at the same time, it felt like it was the only thing in your life that made any sense.
Cautiously, you rolled over, your heart skipping a beat at the way the heel of his palm was pressed against his eye. It was another headache. He’d come to be with you because he was in pain, because he’d needed comfort and, for whatever reason, you were the only person he thought he could find it with.
Everything you knew about him seemed to twist and alter, leaving you more confused than ever.
Without a word, you got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, running a washcloth under the cold water before returning to him.
Billy hadn’t moved, he didn’t even look at you as you climbed back into bed beside him. His eyes didn’t open again until he felt you press the cold cloth to his brow. A relieved breath slipped from his lips but, the moment he looked like he was going to say something, you silenced him.
“Don’t say a word.”
Defiance flashed across his face, but exhaustion quickly overtook it. His eyes shut and you continued to gently press the cloth against his forehead, trying to soothe him, watching as the tension slowly seemed to leave him and he fell asleep.
Once you were certain he was asleep, you laid back down beside him, curling into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, not sure what the morning would bring.
End Note : 😅 this is slowly starting to move towards the endgame now, I think there's about four chapters left? Maybe five depending on how I decide to do the ending.
As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!
Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).
Tag List : @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @sweetserendipity65 @dreadfulxives18 @snowkestrel @ladyblacky
Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.7k
A/N : Billy gets a little jealous...
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR
Master List
Chapter Five
You didn't sleep much after getting home from your night out at The Styx. Instead you found yourself staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to make sense of him.
Alcohol. That was the excuse you wanted to use, for both times you'd allowed things to get too familiar, but that wasn't you; you weren't a messy drunk, you didn't let yourself lose control.
It was him.
No matter what you did, he kept finding ways of getting under your skin. It was infuriating and only made worse by the glimpses of vulnerability you saw in him; his nightmare, the way he'd tried to explain his trauma to you, the way he’d held you so tightly as you’d danced with him. But, more than that, it was the way he seemed to just get you that had you reeling.
He saw through your lies when no one else could, and he'd quickly developed a habit of getting you away from drunken men and situations you didn’t want to be in. And the way he looked at you… he looked at you like you were the only other person on earth, like he needed you more than he needed air.
And that was terrifying.
And it was alluring.
No one had ever wanted you the way Billy seemed to. You’d never let them. Part of you wanted to put it down to the fact you both spent time in the system growing up; you'd both felt lost and abandoned, unloved and unwanted, and you could both see that in each other.
But none of that mattered. You'd said no, you'd told him to stop, and his insistence that he wouldn't was as troubling as it was frustrating. You needed him to stop, to leave you alone.
Avoiding him hadn't worked, nor had your lies about dating someone new, and the less said about your attempts to flip the tables on him the better.
A more direct approach was obviously required. And besides, you couldn't continue working the day shift, scraping by on the meagre tips you made. So you called Sam and told him you'd go back to night shifts with Jenna.
You weren't going to let Billy scare you off - he'd already shown that he'd stop when asked, that he was waiting for you to show weakness. And you weren't going to do that anymore. You weren’t going to give in to him again. You were done playing nice, done letting him cling to the illusion that you were somehow his. You’d dealt with scarier things than Billy and you’d be damned if you let him ruin the life you’d managed to build for yourself in New York.
The next night you dressed up and did your make-up like you were going into battle. You were going to show him that he wasn’t special, you were going to make him see that he was just like every other drunk that found themselves in Sam’s; he could look, he could even fantasise if he wanted to, but you were no more his than you were the next guy’s.
Jenna was glad to have you back working with her, and a lot of the night time regulars seemed of the same opinion. It just felt right, you liked working when the bar was busy and when it meant you got to work with Jenna.
There was no sign of Billy, but you knew better than to hold your breath. His crew tended to show up a couple of hours before last call, though you had no idea what they spent the rest of the evening doing.
And you didn’t want to know. Any curiosity you’d had about Billy had been put to bed. Permanently.
When he did show up, you saw his face practically light up at the sight of you and, for the thousandth time since meeting him, you wished that you could find a man - any man that wasn’t him - who’d look at you that way.
Wary eyes stayed fixed on him as he approached the bar, as if he didn’t see or understand how fucked up the situation between the two of you was becoming.
Before he could open his mouth, before he could say hello or make whatever glib remark he was obviously intent on making, you had your hand up, silencing him. You’d given him too much control over situations in the past, but you weren’t going to let him have control now.
“This stops now,” you told him firmly, keeping your voice level, refusing to get emotional. “Whatever game you’re playing, it’s over. Done. Understand?”
Billy opened his mouth, looking ready to make some comment that would only annoy you further so, again, you decided to cut him off before he could even utter the first syllable and make things worse.
“This is my job and I’m not gonna let you keep making it harder for me. What happened, happened - it’s in the past and I’m not interested in repeating it. So, if you want to keep drinking here, you need to get that through your head, otherwise I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”
There was silence, but it wasn’t the stunned sort of silence that you’d hope for. Billy didn’t seem impressed or worried by your threats, but he didn’t immediately start to fight back either. You knew that kicking him out would be an ordeal, and it would raise questions that you didn’t want to answer (not to mention it would put a serious dent in the number of tips you and Jenna made per shift), but it was something you were prepared to do if he refused to stop.
He let the silence hang a little longer than expected, as if he thought you’d start up again the second he opened his mouth. But you didn’t, once he was finally ready to respond, you let him have his say.
“Okay, kitten, I won’t bother you at work anymore,” he said calmly. “Now, if you’re done, can I get a round of drinks?”
It wasn’t until after you’d poured the last drink and had taken the cash he’d left on the bar that you realised what he’d agreed to; he wasn’t going to bother you at work but he’d said nothing about outside of the bar.
Billy must have guessed that you’d figured out his little loop hole because he spent the rest of the night avoiding the bar, keeping his distance but, as always, watching you, smiling every time you caught his gaze. It left no doubt in your mind that things were far from over.
As the night wore on, it started to get to you. Of course, you knew he was doing it deliberately, staying away from you so that if you wanted to say anything to him, you’d have to go and say it in front of all his friends, revealing to everyone what had happened between you and him. Still, it was enough to make you consider going over and ‘accidentally’ pouring a drink over his head, consequences be damned.
Fortunately for Billy, you were distracted before you could put your plan into action.
“Hey, is Jenna around?”
The voice pulled you from dark thoughts of all the ways you could get back at Billy. Irritated, you turned and instantly felt your cheeks start to warm when you half-recognised the guy. The first thing that got you was his playful smile, reminding you of a late night spent talking and laughing, though for a few more seconds his name alluded you and, instead of answering his question you just stared at him.
“Marc?” You finally said.
His smile widened. “So you do remember me.”
“Of course, we met at -” again, you found yourself hesitating, trying to remember, “- Jenna’s birthday.”
“I didn’t think I’d made such an impression,” he said, leaning on the bar a little, his eyes drinking you in the same way that you were him.
“I had a lot of fun hanging out with you,” you said, wanting to reassure him that you remembered him well, even though you didn’t. But, still, there was a vague feeling of warmth inside you when you looked at him, and you could remember smiling a lot.
“You do history stuff, right?” You felt like an idiot trying to piece together fragments of a drunken night months ago.
“Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that,” Marc answered, barely holding back a laugh. “I’m an amateur archaeologist-slash-treasure hunter.”
That was it. You suddenly remembered all the bad Indiana Jones jokes that you’d made as you’d sat together, out of the way of the chaos that had been Jenna’s birthday party.
“And you travel a lot, right?” You asked and Marc nodded. “Been anywhere interesting lately?”
“I just got back from Cairo.”
“As in Cairo, Egypt?”
“No, Cairo, Illinois,” he shrugged, before finally letting out that laugh, giving away his joke. He shook his head, seeming to hesitate for a moment before speaking again. “You know, after Jenna’s party, I spent weeks hoping that Jenna was gonna tell me that you’d asked for my number.”
You felt your cheeks start to grow hotter still, all thoughts of Billy completely gone from your mind, as you moved a little closer, leaning on your side of the bar, closing the distance between you.
“Y’know, you could’ve asked Jenna to give you my number,” you said, trying desperately not to grin like an idiot. “I definitely wouldn’t’ve minded getting a call from you sometime.”
“Maybe I should ask for your number now,” Marc said, quirking his brow a little in a way that made you laugh. “Maybe we could -”
“I’m glad something’s finally cheered you up, you’ve been looking miserable all -” Jenna interrupted before cutting herself off, finally noticing who you were talking to as she approached Marc’s side, a stack of empty glasses in her hands. “Oh my god, Marc!”
The squeal that followed was loud enough to be heard over the music and shrill enough to garner the attention of almost everyone in the bar. She placed the stack of glasses down on the bar so haphazardly that, if you hadn’t been there to catch them, the whole lot would have fallen. But, of course, Jenna didn’t notice that - or she just didn’t care (it was honestly hard to tell). No, she was too busy throwing her arms around Marc’s shoulders, leaving you to deal with the glasses.
“Yeah, of course, Jenna, I’ll take these for you,” you grumbled sarcastically, carefully picking up the awkwardly stacked glasses.
As you turned to take the glasses in the back to the dishwasher, your eyes caught Billy’s and you were both relieved and unsettled to find that his smirk was gone. Instead he was watching you, a silent accusation in his gaze - no doubt he’d seen you talking to Marc and he wasn’t happy about it.
Finally, you’d found a way to rattle the otherwise unflappable Billy, and you intended to put that knowledge to good use.
By the time you’d finished with the dishwasher, Jenna was back behind the bar, serving drinks while trying to keep up her conversation with Marc.
Jake was at the bar, waiting to be served, so you decided to pull him into your war against Billy.
“Same again?” You asked and Jake gave a nod. Before you started to get his drinks, you held out your phone to Marc in full view of Jake, telling him to put his number in.
“How come he gets your number?” Jake asked, managing to sound playful, but a little disappointed.
You shrugged. “Marc’s not really a customer, he’s just here to see Jenna, so it doesn’t break my rule.”
With the seed planted, all you had to do was watch as Jake returned to his friends, relaying what he’d seen. Billy’s gaze darkened, but he didn’t move. He didn’t do anything, as if he was trying to remain true to his word and not bother you at work. But the shift was noticeable, even after Marc had left.
The rest of the night went on as usual, though Jenna spent some time grilling you about your exchange with Marc, leaving you having to lie about the made up guy you’d told her that you were dating. Again, you felt bad for lying to her but, because of Billy, you’d dug yourself into a hole and there was no other option. Fortunately, Jenna wasn’t exactly the sort to judge if you ever came across as being a little man-hungry.
After closing, she hugged you and you both went your separate ways. For a moment you felt lighter, like you’d finally managed to make your point to Billy.
But that was just wishful thinking.
“You think you’re clever, don’t you, kitten?”
You almost jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice behind you.
“Damn it, Billy. You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack,” you snapped, turning to face him as he fell into step beside you. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m walking you home,” he said like it was the most obvious, mundane thing in the world.
“No, you’re not.”
“Well, you’re walking this way and I’m walking this way,” he shrugged, “what else would you call it?”
“I thought I made it clear to you that I’m not interested,” you said through gritted teeth. “I told you this needs to stop.”
“And I told you that I wouldn’t bother you at work anymore.”
He continued walking beside you, despite your protests. You didn’t say anything, already sensing that it was pointless trying to argue with him. Instead you pulled out your phone and started typing up a message to Marc, knowing that Billy would see.
“He’s not right for you,” Billy offered, glancing at your phone and seeing the lengthy message you were in the process of typing, asking Marc if he wanted to take you for dinner some time.
“And how would you know that?” You asked, refusing to stop typing until the message was finished and sent.
“Because I know you, kitten.”
“No you don’t, Billy. You don’t know the first thing about me.”
Finally you looked at him again, anger coiling in your stomach at the way he was looking at you, like he had you all figured out when he didn’t have the first idea. No matter how easily he seemed to see through your lies, Billy didn’t know you. No one did. Not really.
Billy just smiled that infuriating smile as you both came to a stop in front of your building.
“I know a lot more than you think,” he said, his voice turning softer as he reached for you, his fingers ghosting your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear before you could even think to recoil.
His touch left a trail of goosebumps in its wake as you angled away from him.
“You don’t know me,” you said again, your voice softening to match his.
“It scares you, doesn’t it? The thought of someone really seeing you?”
“I’m not scared of you,” you said, repeating the line you’d told him before, ignoring his question. But before he could respond, you were walking away from him. “Goodnight, Billy.”
With that, you left him outside your building and, by the time you’d reached your apartment on the fourth floor, you’d had a reply from Marc, inviting you for dinner on your next night off. You put all thoughts of Billy to the back of your mind and spent the next hour texting Marc, making plans.
Billy and his crew were noticeably absent from the bar over the next few nights, mostly because your tips were lighter than usual at the end of the night. But you didn’t allow yourself to wonder, even as the third night rolled around and they were still nowhere to be seen.
Had Billy finally gotten the message? Was he going to leave you alone? Or was something else keeping him from the bar - had he been hurt? Arrested?
(Okay, so maybe you were allowing yourself to wonder about it a little.)
When it came time for your date with Marc, you’d started to dare to hope that you’d never see Billy again and things would go back to how they’d been before he turned up.
“Where did you go?”
Marc's voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and you realised that you were staring down at your pasta, shifting it around the plate but not eating.
You shook your head and forced a somewhat embarrassed smile to your lips.
It wasn’t that the evening hadn’t been enjoyable, and it wasn’t that Marc wasn’t nice, it was just...
Too nice.
The whole thing felt like a performance, like you were acting out some scene from a movie, learning all the basic and unimportant crap about each other because that was what you were supposed to do on a first date. It wasn’t like Jenna’s birthday, you couldn’t imagine talking well into the night about the sorts of things you only thought about after a few too many drinks.
He wanted to get to know you, just not in a way you wanted to be known.
“Sorry,” you offered softly, “guess I spaced out for a second. What were you saying?”
“I was just asking about your family,” he said, smiling that sweet smile, obviously oblivious to your growing disappointment.
“Oh, well I don’t really have anyone anymore,” you answered, “my dad died when I was younger and my mom passed a few years after that.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
You shrugged. “My dad wasn’t the most stable guy; he was a writer and he liked to drink a bit too much, and when he drank he got nasty. One night he got so drunk he passed out in the snow and... well, they found his body the next morning. My mom never really recovered from what he put her through...”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he repeated, a strange look of discomfort on his face.
Your disappointment only grew when he didn’t catch you in the lie, when he didn’t realise that it was all bullshit, and that you were basically ripping off The Shining. And, yeah, you felt bad for lying, for using the same falsehoods that you’d told to Jenna when you first met, but your past was just something you couldn’t share.
(Billy probably would have seen right through it, he would have been amused and grinned that shit-eating grin at you as he called you out.)
“What about you?” You asked, returning your attention to your food as Marc started to talk.
He started to tell you about his family and you nodded, occasionally asking questions and making little comments, but Marc didn’t try to ask you about family again.
Clearing your plate, you sat back with your wine glass, still listening to Marc talk and wondering just what it was about him that made you feel like you were wasting each other’s time. Again, you found yourself thinking that he was just too nice, that he didn’t challenge you, that he didn’t see you. It felt like an epiphany moment when you realised that most, if not all, of your dates went like this.
You’d spent years going for the nice guys, telling yourself that you wanted someone who’d accept the lies you told, someone who’d be sweet and gentle and kind. Someone who wouldn’t hurt you. Every time you’d been disappointed, you’d never once stopped to really think about why. And, again, it only seemed to lend more weight to Jenna’s argument about you sticking with safe guys.
Your phone buzzed, snapping you from the thought and, without hesitation, you opened the message. Your heart almost stopped at the picture of you and Marc, taken from somewhere outside the restaurant, somewhere across the street. As you looked up and tried to figure out who'd taken the picture, your phone buzzed with another message.
You look like you’re having fun…
Billy. There was no doubt in your mind that it was him, that he was out there watching you from the shadows.
A shiver ran down your spine - all the times you’d felt like you were being watched, all the times you’d looked over your shoulder finding no one there, the times you’d written off as paranoia, had it all actually been him? Was he actually stalking you?
“Are you okay?” Marc asked, clearly noticing your sudden distress.
“Yeah, sorry. Just Jenna being dramatic,” you said, shaking your head and forcing your attention back to Marc, unwilling to let Billy ruin things for you, even if things weren’t going as well as you might have hoped.
Marc gave a smile and continued telling his story, talking about his brother and their recent trip to Cairo. All the while you smiled and nodded along, but as much as you tried to listen to him, you found your gaze drifting out the window and across the street, wondering if he was still out there.
Does he know you’re using him?
Putting your phone on silent, you placed it screen down on the table, but you were itching to go outside, wanting to track Billy down. But you were fairly certain that would just make you look like a crazy person and would spell the end of your date with Marc (though, honestly, maybe that would have been a good thing). The only thing you could think was that you needed to do something, needed to show Billy, once and for all, that you didn’t want him.
You rose out of your chair slightly, leaning over the table, your hand finding Marc’s cheek, startling for a moment until he realised what you were doing. He lifted a little, meeting you halfway, letting you kiss him. It started as something gentle, something chaste, but you knew that wouldn’t be enough. Your tongue ran along the seam of Marc’s lips until they parted and let you slip inside.
Unlike the conversation, the kiss didn’t disappoint, and you were content to continue until your lungs started to ache and burn. (Perhaps you’d been too hasty to write him off completely.)
Dropping back into your seat, you grinned at the confused look on Marc’s face.
“Okay, uh, wow...” he said.
“Do you maybe want to walk me home?” You asked boldly, your intentions more than clear in your voice.
It was a shitty thing to do and you could already feel the guilt gnawing your insides, but what other choice did you have? And besides, with the speed at which Marc started to nod his head, you were fairly certain he wasn’t going to object to getting laid, even if he didn’t get a second date out of it.
His hand quickly went up, waving over the waiter so he could pay the check, dealing with it so quickly you couldn’t even have an argument over who was going to pay or if you were going to split it.
Stepping out into the cool Autumn night, you wrapped your arm around Marc’s and pressed close to his side.
“You sure you want to do this?” Marc asked softly. “We don’t have to if you don’t -”
You silenced him by pulling him into another kiss, right there in the middle of the street for anyone who bothered to look your way to see. Marc held you close as you kissed, his hand slowly slipping down your back but stopping short of reaching anywhere too indecent.
“Do you want to do this?” You asked, pulling back and looking him in the eye.
“Of course I do.”
That settled it. You started moving again, leading him towards your apartment building, barely talking to each other, as if both of you were worried that the bubble might burst and you’d come crashing back down to reality.
But that didn’t happen until you were in your apartment, switching on the light as you pulled Marc into your bedroom only to find a surprise waiting for you that had your heart stopping in your chest.
Your cheeks burned and, for a moment, you were completely frozen - which, unfortunately, was a moment you could have spent fixing things before Marc noticed. Instead you froze and he quickly noticed the dildo left on display on your pillow. Not where you’d left it.
As Marc let out an awkward chuckle, your mind started to race.
This wasn’t the same as glasses moving in the kitchen or drawers being left slightly ajar. No, this was a clear sign that someone had been in your apartment, and there was only one person it could be.
Billy.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Marc offered, a hint of laughter in his voice, “no shame in having needs.”
Finally, you unfroze, snatching the dildo off the bed and forcing it back into the drawer where it belonged.
You knew what he was doing; he was trying to embarrass you so you wouldn’t sleep with Marc. But the joke was on Billy. You didn’t embarrass easily and you’d never liked other people trying to control you.
Without warning, you pushed Marc back towards the bed, forcing him onto it and straddling his lap before he could say another word. You sank into an eager kiss while your fingers pulled his shirt open, almost tearing off buttons as you did.
Marc let out a groan as your hips started to move, his hands quickly pulling your top over your head.
Out of his shirt, you could admire his body, the well defined muscles and smooth skin, no scars or imperfections. Your fingers explored and his did likewise, tracing the lace cups of your bra.
For a few minutes you were content to remain like that, kissing and letting your hands get used to his body, all the while convincing yourself that what you were about to do was fine, that you’d enjoy it. You wanted to get out of your head, wanted to prove to Billy (and yourself) that he had no claim on you, that he didn’t matter and you didn’t want him.
You pushed Marc back onto the bed, following him down, your hips still moving, grinding against the very prominent erection in his pants. Your fingers pulled open his belt and started on his pants before slipping off the bed to pull them down, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. You took the opportunity to step out of your skirt before crawling back on top of him, relishing the heat of his body against yours.
Marc rolled you both, putting himself on top, while a hand slipped down your thigh, pulling it up and hitching it against his hip. A moan torn from your lips as he started grinding his cock against you.
“Fuck, I want you,” he groaned against your lips.
“There’s condoms in the top drawer,” you told him, your back arching against him.
He pulled away to fumble with the drawer, taking far longer than it should have. The box was right there, at the front of the drawer, it should have been easy to find.
Marc pulled back a little more, pulling the drawer out further.
“In this drawer?” He finally asked.
He rolled off you, letting you sit up and see for yourself.
Your condoms were gone.
There should have been an almost full box in there but, instead, the only things worth note in the drawer were some lip balm, tissues and your dildo. You didn’t even bother checking the other drawers, quickly putting it together and realising what had happened.
Billy hadn’t just left the dildo out to embarrass you, he’d stolen your condoms too.
“Do you have any?” You asked Marc, trying not to sound like the moment had been well and truly ruined.
He shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t think I’d need any.”
Your heart sank at the comment, at what you were doing just to try and prove a point. The guilt came crashing back and you collapsed back on the bed, letting out a heavy sigh.
“I could always...” he trailed off, reaching for the dildo.
For a second you worried that he was serious, so the laugh that followed had you breathing a sigh of relief. He sank back on the bed beside you, looking up at the ceiling.
“It’s probably for the best,” he offered softly. “I like you and I had a lot of fun tonight, but this all seems a little... rushed...”
“Oh,” you said, not sure what else you could say.
He was right but actually hearing him say it made you feel worse and, in an uncomfortable sort of way, it felt like a rejection. He was rejecting you because you’d spent your night with him thinking about another man - another man who seemed intent on making your life a living hell, but another man nonetheless.
“Maybe we could try again some other time,” he said, voice remaining soft, like he was trying to let you down gently. “I really like you, I just think... well, it just feels like you’ve not really been here with me all night.”
You knew what he meant and he wasn’t wrong, but all you heard was ‘I don’t want this and I don’t want you’.
“Yeah,” you said.
Marc started to move, sitting up and pulling his shirt back on before collecting his jeans from the floor, and you stayed where you were. You kept your eyes fixed on the ceiling, not caring that you were wearing nothing but your underwear.
“I’m gonna -” he didn’t have to finish the sentence, you knew what was coming.
“Yeah,” you said again, almost despondent.
“I’ll call you some time, okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
He might have said something else, but he quickly saw himself out, leaving you laying there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the sort of rejection that you knew you didn’t deserve to feel.
Minutes passed and you didn’t move - you honestly didn’t think you were going to move for the rest of the night until you heard your phone start to ring. You didn’t stop to think or even look at the number on screen before answering the call.
“Lover boy’s leaving early. Hope he didn’t disappoint you.”
For a few seconds you stayed silent, thinking about just hanging up, but you knew that wasn’t going to stop him. Nothing was going to stop him.
“Why are you doing this?” You finally asked in a small, tired voice.
“Because I don’t know how else to make you understand.”
“Understand what?”
“How much I want you. How you invade every waking moment of my life.”
Again, you fell silent, not knowing how to even begin to respond to that. You could hear background noise through the phone, the sound of a street, a siren - noises that you could hear from just beyond your window. He was nearby.
“You were in my apartment,” you said, finding your voice again, finding your anger.
“Of course I was. You invited me in a few weeks ago, I spent the night in your bed, remember?” He answered back, and you didn’t have to see his face to know that he was smiling.
“I mean tonight, Billy. You were in my apartment tonight.” When he didn’t answer straight away, you continued; “give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the cops.”
“I can’t,” he answered, seeming indifferent to the threat, “but I know you won’t.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“Because I know you, kitten,” he answered, earning a heavy sigh from you. “I know that cops will cause you just as much trouble as they’d cause me.
Your heart started to thump in your chest, you mind racing over what Billy thought he knew about you, what he might have uncovered while he’d been in your apartment alone and unsupervised.
“What d’you -” you stopped the moment he let out a gentle laugh.
“You do a good job of living under the radar; getting paid in cash, paying for everything in cash, never putting a name on anything -”
“You’re so full of shit,” you interrupted, not wanting to listen to him dissecting how you lived your life.
“Who are you hiding from?”
“I’m not hiding from anyone,” you snapped.
“What’s the backpack in the closet for?” He asked, ignoring the sharpness in your tone.
“What backpack?” A sickening sensation filling your stomach, hoping beyond hope that he wasn’t talking about what you thought he was talking about.
“The backpack with clothes and money, and IDs that don’t have your name on...”
Scrambling off the bed, you raced for the closet, pulling it open and finding your backpack. You tipped the contents onto the floor, frantically searching, making sure everything was still in there.
“Don’t worry, kitten. I put everything back as it was,” he told you.
You looked up, glancing towards the window, wondering if he was watching you, if he could see you on the floor in nothing but your underwear, searching through your things.
“Whatever the bag is for, you don’t need it anymore,” he added a moment later, after giving you enough time to make sure everything was accounted for.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, tone losing none of its sharpness despite the dread that was threatening to turn your stomach inside out.
“I told you, you’re mine and I protect what’s mine,” he explained like it was an undeniable fact. “You don’t need the go-bag, because nothing is going to hurt you.”
“I’m not yours, Billy,” you told him again, for what felt like the hundredth time. “This needs to stop. And if you don’t stop it, I will.”
You didn’t give him a chance to respond to your threat before hanging up and turning off your phone. You practically flung it across the room and onto your bed before you moved away from the bedroom window and into the kitchen where he wouldn’t be able to see you.
You needed space to think, to figure out what you were going to do as you felt your life crashing down around you.
End Note : We're at my favourite part of writing a story where I get to start raising more questions than I answer 😂 Also... yes, I did loosely base the Marc character on Marc Spector so if you want to just imagine Oscar Issac, that's fine with me 😂 also I'm about 98% sure that I'm going to be writing the next chapter mostly from Billy's PoV so that should be fun
As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!
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