frank castle x fem!reader — mirrored pasts.
he lost his family. you lost your fiance. looks like you're both even on all counts.
notes: slight agegap, reader is in her mid-20s. endless fluff and an overindulgence of petnames on frank's end
word count: 0.7k.
he wears his old wedding ring around his neck.
it'd nearly made you flinch when he drew you in, the cold band a harsh contrast against your heated skin. he didn't say anything when you reached out to touch it, just traced the chain around your neck, down the valley of your chest to run his thumb across the raised ridges of your fiance's name upon his dogtags.
your fiance was one of the casualties of the endless crime that plagued hell's kitchen. a bystander of a gunfight between the enhanced when he had stepped too close and caught a bullet for his troubles. daredevil was kind enough to deliver the body to the hospital, still warm enough for you to cry over.
it'd been a whirlwind affair and yet your heart breaks all over again when you feel the weight of his dog tags around your neck.
it doesn't feel as heavy when frank's on top of you like this, pinning you against your ivory sheets as he snores into your neck. your hand grazes along his bare back, fingertips catching along the chain and the ring, but your touch never falters. something deep grumbles in his chest and you fight back a sleepy chuckle.
"what time 's it..." he rasps, lips grazing along your jaw. unmarked. untouched. it gives him a sick satisfaction that he can have you like this even with his hands permanently stained red.
"just barely past eight am," you muse as your hand travels up to scratch up the back of his head, curling the short-strands of his hair there. he grunts and returns your tug with a sharp bite to your jugular.
you can feel his smirk against your heated skin. "'s too early for ya, sweetheart."
"too early?"
"mm. too early," he reaffirms as his lips shift upwards to capture yours in a hungry kiss. "need your beauty sleep, kid."
you scoff dramatically with a harsher tug on his hair. his grin widens, all teeth and no bite. "you callin' me ugly, castle?"
"'course not." he holds your chin steady as he kisses your upper lip, then your bottom lip. "prettiest little thing i've seen. but you get cranky when you don't get enough sleep, gorgeous, and i'd like to get through the day without a fight."
you swat his bare chest but he catches your wrist and kisses your palm. "i don't get cranky—"
"you're proving my point here, sweetheart."
your eyes narrow. "... i'm an angel. i don't get cranky. i'm a goddamn delight—"
frank's bark of a laugh interrupts your sentence and the way his eyes crinkle has your breath hitching. happiness looks good on frank. it's something he's told you on your second date, when he had pulled you in for a dance to a song you don't recognize on the oldies' station. he had pasta on the stove and he led you into a simple swaying motion that had you falling deeper for the older man. it's the first time he's seen you smile like that, unbidden and bright.
sure, you'd smile at curtis during those special group sessions for loved ones of military personnel. but those were closed off smiles, didn't quite reach your eyes. you looked like a doll, sure, but frank couldn't find any kind of life in you until you spoke about your late fiance.
and now he's got the privilege to see it on you every time your eyes land on him. it's something he won't take for granted now.
"alright, alright. i'm sorry, sweetheart, won't happen again. but take it easy, this old man can't take it when you get upset." he's still teasing but he rolls off you and you immediately mourn the loss of him. and when he puts his shirt on, you pout and he does that look away thing, smile before stealing another glance as if he isn't sure he has permission to stare. "stay in bed. i'll make you breakfast."
you perk up and roll back into bed, curling up into his side. the dogtags glint from where they're pushed up onto the covers. his ring hangs proudly on his chest. the two of you share a smile.
Requested: Can I request a Frank Castle Fanfic? Maybe something where they're together (they also live together) and one night Frank comes home brutally beaten up and the reader treats his wounds as usual but then starts crying because she's worried?
Warnings: swearing, descriptions of injuries
Word Count: 800~
Author’s Note: Ya’ll I’m the worst and I know it. But here’s a requested fic. Don’t hate me too much
Frank had been gone for hours without checking in. You watched him leave the bed with groggy eyes before the sun was even up. Now the sun had set and there was still no word from him. The pit in your stomach had grown exponentially bigger as the day went on, but now that the day was over and Frank still wasn’t home you were beyond worried. “He normally says something by now.” You whispered to yourself, pacing in the living room. The cellphone in your hand was getting warm and sweaty from the iron grip you had on it. you hadn't noticed your fingers turning white from the straining.
There was nothing you could find to relax. Every possible scenario you came up in your head of why he hadn’t contacted you was worse than the last. Most of them ended with him being dead, and with the way Frank operated it was entirely possible. He never told you about his work, but you knew it wasn’t good or safe. All you knew for sure was that he would come home beat to shit sometimes and you would have to patch, disinfect, or stich him up. Most of the time his injuries weren’t too bad, but sometimes you thought it would be better if the hospital saw him. Frank was vehemently against hospitals, which made you worry more.
You decided to make a cup of tea to calm your nerves a little, since it was now four in the morning and there was still no word from Frank. When the kettle started to whistle was when you heard the front door open. Abandoning it completely, the pot still screaming, you rushed to the door. There was Frank, looking like hell, using the doorway to prop himself up.
“Jesus, Frank.” Your voice barely came through the rush of air escaping your lungs at the sight of him. Doing a quick once over, you saw he was dripping blood from somewhere and it was starting to slowly pool at his feet.
“Shut that fucking thing off, Y/N.” Frank’s voice was weak, but you could hear the agitation in his tone. So, you quickly shuffled back into the kitchen and shut the burner off and removed the kettle from the heat. Then just as quickly retreated back to Frank. You grabbed the first aid kit you kept by the front door for situations like this one as he slowly made his way to the couch. You could see he was in pain, and for Frank it must have been bad. You tried to hold back the emotions that came flooding forward at the sight of him this way. You had to be calm to stitch him up.
“You know the drill.” You couldn’t help but choke the words out and this got his attention. Frank stared up at you, aggravated and tired, but you could see some concern behind his hard eyes. He didn’t address it though. Instead, he lifted his shirt off, struggling with his left shoulder. You looked over at it and gasped. “You got stabbed.” It wasn’t a question.
“The other guy got it worse.” His words seemed cold and that’s what sent you over the edge. Tears flowing freely now, you tried to wipe them away but there was no use. “Y/N…” He stated but you just placed a finger on his lips. Nothing he said could make you feel better, not when he was sitting in front of you with god knows how many stab wounds.. or worse. What if something was punctured? How far did he have to walk? Why didn't he call?
You tried to push all the questions down and sit in silence while you patched him up. The tears slowed but your eyes stung and your vision was too blurry to be of any real help. Sighing out a huff in frustration, you got up from your seat and headed to the bathroom, wiping the sorrow from your eyes as you padded down the hall. Once there you turned the shower and called to Frank. Silence.
“You need to clean them.” You called, your voice annoyed he hadn’t answered you. Frank didn’t say a word, you only heard his shuffles to the bathroom to tell you he heard you. it was a little more silence until you finally couldn’t take it. “I want you to stop this.” Silent tears rolled down your hot cheeks. Frank looked up at you with only sadness. “i know.” Was all he had said the rest of the night. You threw different alternatives for work at him and he just shot them down with a disapproving nod.
But you knew, knew deep down this was his life and now it was yours. You had to play nurse on the bad nights. But after the very short conversation and all your tears, he made it up to you in the following days. He promised he would be more careful, he started checking in with you while he was on jobs, even brought you gifts all the nights he was away for longer than a few hours. Anything to ease your worried mind a little he tried to do; because to see you cry over him like that broke his heart and he would do anything in his power to never see you cry like that over him again. He vowed he would make it home safe to you after that night.
Summary: You hike through the gorge trail and catch lunch, have some heart-to-heart with billy before packing everything up and returning to the city.
Wordcount: 6239
Warnings: smut towards the end.
A/N: Last part of this trip!! thanks for coming along for the ride.
You woke in increments, a low indistinct murmuring filtering through the haze of sleep, you hum at the feel of lips brushing feather light against the shell of your ear, the drag of a beard against the apple of your cheek, fingertips being ghosting up and down your arm, and a pleasant weight on your back.
"Billy…" the word laced with want and need, shifting your hips backwards to grind against him turning his murmuring to a groan as strong hands grip and still your movement.
“As much as I wanna tire you out first thing in the morning, I dont think it’s such a good idea.”
“Whaddaya mean?” your brows furrow in confusion as you continue to try and grid against him.
Billy rarely ever turned down morning sex, even when he was overseas on a contract, if he had time to squeeze in a quick jerk while you two were on the phone, he’d take it.
“It’s a ten minute walk to the showers,”
That made you stop and turn to look over your shoulder, the foggy image of him tying up a condom coming to your mind's eye.
“That why you—”
“Didn’t think it’d be a fun way to wake up”
You turn to face him, the sheet pulling down and tight against your body with the movement and see that he’s dressed in fresh clothes, face washed and hair slicked back away from his face. Knowing him, he’s probably already been on his morning run
“You brought more than one, right?.”
He shifts and props himself on his elbows, body hovering over yours, lowering his head and pressing his lips to yours, his tongue coaxing your mouth open, your arms coming up to circle his neck as you kick your leg out of the sheet, hooking over his hip. Before the kiss could get too heated he pulls away, resting his forehead to yours,
“No more group trips after this.” he murmurs, his breath fanning across your face, "At least not the kind where we don't have solid ten inch walls between us and the rest of the world" he continues, making you chuckle as he lowers himself beside you, arms reaching out and bringing you close, hugging you to his chest for a moment, the gentle notes of sandalwood and spices from his cologne fill your nose while his fingers trace idle patterns on your arm. You feel your eyelids get heavier, your breathing evening out with every inhale
"Breakfast is getting cold."
His words pull you from the cusps of sleep and make you groan, bury your face further into the crook of his neck making him chuckle and squeeze your shoulder before pulling away and saying,
“C’mon, I’ll save you a cup.” before climbing out the bed and stepping out of the tent, leaving you alone.
You roll onto your back and starfish across the blown up mattress for a moment, wiping and blinking your eyes exaggeratedly to dispel the last remaining dredges of sleep from them and climb out, stretching until your back gives a satisfying pop and reach for your clothes, changing into them quickly and slip into the flip flops that Billy insisted you bring. You reach for your phone bringing the screen to life and wince at the time, cursing under your breath as you put it to sleep and slip it into the pocket of your jeans.
Stepping out of the tent you rear your head back, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes, the morning is brighter than what you expected, making you squint and blink your eyes rapidly to help them adjust while you make your way to where Billy is standing, blue white speckled cup in his hand, talking with Frank, who looked like a lumberjack with his red plaid shirt, distressed washed out jeans, and dark worn boots, sans the mustache and beard.
Ten minute walk to the showers and everyone’s awake. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, knowing these guys, you’re pretty sure Billy, Frank, and Curt had gone on a morning jog together, maybe even a race.
“Where’s everyone?” you ask, when you come to a stop next to Billy, reaching for the cup in his hand and cradling it in your own, bringing it to your lips and blowing on it a few times, the palms of your hands soaking in the warmth that seeps from the aluminum cup before taking a generous gulp of the sweetened coffee.
“Karen’s in our tent gettin’ her stuff to head to the showers.” Frank said, handing you a plate with toast and a couple of sunny side up eggs.
“Curt? Matt ‘nd Foggy?” you ask, setting down your cup and taking the plate form Frank, quickly breaking off a piece of bread and dipping it into the runny yellow center of an egg, half expecting to at least find Curt with Billy and Frank.
You noticed the change in their faces instantly, their eyes hardening and the corners of their mouths turning down in a slight frown. You had seen that look on Billy's face before and it had a knot forming in the pit of your stomach, making you forget about the food in your hands.
After a beat Billy cleared his throat, his words somber as he spoke,
“Guy we served with reached out, ((seems to have run into some trouble)),” your eyes scanned the area, expecting to see Curt pacing along the treeline as he spoke into his phone. You’ve heard about some of the men Billy and Frank had served with, even met a few of them, knew that they weren't the type to come knocking on their door for a backyard BBQ, but the space was empty...emptier than it had been before you stepped into your tent last night.
“Curt headed out a couple hours ago, couldn’t get in touch with Reyes or Romano, Nelson offered to make a few calls to get Jameson out but was told that,” Billy paused, his face scrunching up in distaste before he continued, “that due to the severity of the crime and Jameson’s….particular skill set, the judge was….he’s withholding bail.”
Your eyes widened, the piece of toast falling from your limp fingers onto your plate, you had met Jameson a couple of times before back when Anvil was in the stages of its infancy, he had been one of the few trainers Billy had hired alongside Frank, a mountain of a man, with an intense presence and few words, most of them used to give an insight of the devotion he had towards his little girl.
“What did he—”
“He didn’t do it,” Frank interrupted, voice hard leaving no room for argument, “Whatever it is that they’re accusing him of, he didn’t do it. Jameson, he wouldn’t do that to his family, he’d—” he cut himself off, letting out a long huff, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, fingertips digging into the cartilage that never set right.
People change Frankie, thought you’d understand that better than most, after Maria and the kids….your eyes jumped from Billy to Frank and back to Billy, who shook his head.
“Curt and Frank know the guy and they say he ain’t the type,” Billy says, hand reaching for the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out his phone, giving the screen a few quick taps and flicks. Dark eyes scanning the screen as a smile pulled at the corner of his lips followed by a few more taps, “and they’ve never steered me wrong” he continued, pressing the power button, making the screen go dark and returning it to the back pocket of his jeans.
“Just put the boys on retainer, don’t worry Frankie, Jameson is gonna be in the best of hands.”
Boys? You looked over at Billy, brow arched in question as you set your plate down. You knew of the lawyers that Curt had on hand for anything and everything to do with his veterans group, had spent a few afternoons helping him do some paperwork with them, and none of them were boys
“Nelson and Murdock. ”
“Still no Mick and Linda?” asked Karen as she made her way to where you were standing, hair pulled into a messy ponytail at the crown of her head, a soft looking green towel over her shoulder, and a blue mesh shower caddy in her hand.
“Curt hasn’t been able to get a hold of them yet, and it’s been a few hours since Jameson called” he said shrugging, picking a piece of toast from your plate and popping it into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it quickly, “from the looks of it, it ain’t a vet thing, but if they need to be brought on later we’ll give them a call.”
That mean… “We should get going if we wanna get through a couple of these trails and catch lunch.”
You groaned internally as you throw back the last of your coffee, setting down the tin cup on the table and turning to head back to your tent.
“Want me to wait for you?” you heard Karen call, but you waved her off, throwing a quick, “i’ll catch up with you” over your shoulder.
*****
The trek through the gorge alone was worth the four hour drive to the state park. You’d never expected such a place to be so near the city.
Stepping out of the entrance tunnel and onto the bridge was something else, the shades of green and yellow in the trees, the sun light streaming in overhead and the glistening walls of rock, you had been able to hear the roaring of the waterfall, had been fully expecting it, but seeing it, framed between two walls of rock, with scattered leafs and vines was breathtaking.
You leaned your hands on the top of the bridge wall, the stone cool and damp under your palms, the sound of the rushing water drowning out the noise of the passersby around you as you watched the water break at the bottom, joining the stream that continued gently down its course.
Billy's hand a warm weight on your back as he said,
“Frank and Karen went on head, but we can’t fall too far behind if we wanna catch lunch.
You turned to look at him, brown raised in question, “You made reservations? What kind of place takes reservations but is okay with you walking in in jeans, t-shirt and sneakers? Is it a local hotspot that's always full?”
The corner of his lips pulled up into a smile, a mischievous glint in his eyes that would’ve gone unnoticed to someone that didn’t know him like you did.
“C’mon, we better get going if you’re gonna stop at every fall like this.”
Every fall? “How many are there?” you ask turning to him fully
“Nineteen.” The smile on his lips grew, crinkling the corner of his eyes as yours widened in disbelief.
Better get movin’ then. You took his hand and tugged, continuing on at a leisurely pace, always mindful of the slick stone at your feet and the water that fell like soft raindrops, stopping for a moment to admire the cavern on the side of the rock wall, taking in the dozens upon dozens of erosion lines that littered its surface and the cascade in front of it before continuing on to the next set of stair that took you further into the gorge. At the top, nestled between two walls of eroded rock was fall number three, the water a brilliant white as it fell off the edge towards the bottom, beyond it a cluster of trees in shades of greens and light yellows, the sunlight streaming in making everything seem like it had an otherworldly glow. You reach for your phone, pressing and flicking the screen to bring up your camera, taking a couple of pictures, focusing on the white frothy water.
“Can’t get any better than this.” you murmur as you take one last shot of the fall before pocketing your phone, you catch the ends of a smile on Billy’s lips before he turns and continues to guide you through the trail.
You’re reaching the next set of steps when you feel your eyes widen and understand why Billy had chuckled, you had thought that the trail led you past the waterfall, not behind it, as you got closer the water got louder and the spray of the water grew, littering your skin in tiny drops that helped cool it, and when you walked directly behind it, you couldn't help but reach out and touch it, pulling it back almost immediately due to it being so cold.
You continued on to the next set of steps that lead you through a short tunnel, through it a wall littered with vines and tree branches that ranged from greens, to yellows and browns, and when you turned to continue down the trail it was made even more majestic by the stone walkway and the brilliant sun that shined down on the scene, reaching for your phone again to take a few more pictures.
After a few steps you caught sight of the next fall up ahead and quickened your pace, taking out your phone and took a short video of the multiple small falls that cascade into the peaceful stream. When your finished you pocket your phone and come to stand beside Billy, ((whose)) fingers are tapping about the screen of his phone.
“Got your shot Warhol?” Billy asks as he pockets his device, making you roll your eyes at him.
“Yeah, I did.”
You continue down the narrow walkway looking between the calm stream, the looming trees overhead and the mossy rock walls before turning onto the next set of steps that lead you higher above the gorge.
The next stop was Glen Cathedral, and it was even more beautiful than the last stop you had made. The trees were high above the rock walls, the sunlight shining on a smattering of greens, yellows, browns, reds, and oranges.
You made it to the central cascade and the rainbow falls both of them breathtaking in their beauty, but your favorite had to be the view from mile point bridge, where you reunited with Frank and Karen, looping back together.
*****
When Frank and Billy had said “catch lunch” you had expected to go off the trail into town, to a small secluded bistro with patio tables that served iced drinks in little mason jars and plating was worth a picture to add to your personal social media, you hadn’t thought that they had meant it literally. Which if you were being honest, was on you.
You’ve known Frank for a while now, knew that that wasn’t his style.
That’s how you found yourself in a charter boat, a spinning rod in your hands, line casted a few feet from the rear end of the boat, the round red and white marker attached to it bobbing with the minute waves.
If you were being honest, you didn't mind it, it felt nice to hold a fishing rod in your hands again, even if it wasn’t the one you had back home and it didn’t have your lucky lure, had you had it you were sure that you would’ve caught a fish by now.
It was getting close to the 20 minute mark and all you felt on your line were tentative nibbles, while Frank and Billy had already caught several fish between them and Karen had had the bad luck of reeling too soon before the fish was properly hooked on her line.
You know it’s a game of patience and tamp down the urge to reel your line back in and cast it again, especially when you see the tug on Karen's fishing line, Frank coaching her on how to feel if the fish is properly hooked to be reeled in.
Dave, the guy that took you out into the lake, checks his watch and mentions that your time with the boat is almost up. You hear Frank and Billy say that you’ve caught enough to make lunch for the four of you, to start heading back to shore.
You start reeling in your line when you feel a tug that makes you stop, when there is no pull you begin to crank the lever again, giving it a few full turns when there is a tug on the line again.
A nibbler, Instead of continuing to reel the line back in, you tug the rod back a few times, hoping that it entices the fish to actually bite the lure. After a few quick tugs, you feel the sudden pull, you plant your feet, pull the rod straight up and start to reel in earnest, ignoring the commotion behind you.
It isn't long before the fish breaks the surface of the water, and when it does you feel your eyes widen in a mixture of shock and awe. It’s big, with silvery scares, muddy yellow fins and light spots along it’s back and sides, you ((offhandedly)) register Frank leaning over the edge of the rear, holding out the fishing net to catch the large fish when it’s close enough, Karen’s hand fisted in the back of his shirt, holding him so he wouldn't fall, Billy coming up behind you and helping you hold the rod as you cranked the lever.
Everyone gave a satisfied cheer when Frank slid the net under it and pulled it onboard, opening its mouth and pulling the hook out from the corner of its mouth.
“This is a whole lotta fish” he says holding it up and he’s right, the fish easily clears the foot long mark and is wider than Franks arms. You idly wonder how the sheer size and weight if it didn’t snap your fishing line as Frank sets it in the cooler with the other fish that had been caught while Billy gives the go ahead to Dave to head back to shore.
************
You reach the campsite, after making a quick stop at a store on the way back, Billy made quick work of cutting and cleaning the large fish you had caught, putting away the smaller ones in a ziplock bag, saying a quick,
“Lunch tomorrow” as he tossed the bag into the cooler
“I thought we were packing up after breakfast?”
“You really wanna drive 4 hours back to the city with fish in a cooler?” Billy arched a brow, managing to make it look questioning and judging at the same time.
“He’s got a point there.” Piped up Frank from where he was crouched over, cleaning the burned out remnants of the fire form the morning and got to work starting a new one, Billy dunking the fish in a large bowl of water, running the edge of a knife along its’ body, scraping off the scales, while you and Karen were put on vegetable duty, cleaning and chopping carrots and potatoes, packing them in foil.
It wasn't long before Frank had a fire going under the grill rack, moving and spacing out the flaming chunks of wood and turning it into a low flame.
You, Karen, and Frank were sitting in your chairs, enjoying a beer as the veggie packs cooked on the rack, the skillet heating up beside them, when Billy made his way over with the prepped fish, placing two fillets at a time on the skillet, the pink meat sizzling as it was laid down. It only took a few moments for the aroma of herbs, spices, and a hint of lemon to waft into the air, making your mouth water.
After a few minutes Billy flipped the fish, the top a nicely toasted brown, after a few more minutes and Karen was handing Billy the plates, Billy loading each one with a pack of veggies and a golden fish fillet.
Hints of spices engulfed your tongue after the first bite, forcing you to suppress a moan as you chewed,
“This is amazing!” you say after swallowing your first bite, fork working on breaking off another piece.
“You sound surprised, what? Didya think we were gonna have you eating beans out off a can?”
Your enthusiastic chewing stopped as you threw a sidelong look at Karen, who was also avoiding looking at Frank and Billy, her fork picking aimlessly at the food on her plate.
“You really thought I’d feed you canned beans? I’ve made you dinner before!”
“You’ve plated takeout Billy, that doesn’t count." You deadpan, before shoving another bite into your mouth, Billy’s eyebrows quirk in question while your words send Karen into a fit of laughter.
You ate the remainder of your meal and shared various stories until the sky began to turn and the air got chilly, making quick work of the clean up while the fire, that was fed every so often, was put out. After checking that everything was put away and the trash bag was out of reach from any potential midnight thieves (Frank, Billy and Curt had woken up to Matt chasing away a couple of raccoons), you say your goodnights and head to your tent with Billy at your side.
You go through your nightly routine, stripping your clothes, tossing them in the hamper and pulling your Anvil shirt on, then move to one of the small tables and pick up the things to brush your teeth before climbing into bed, Billy settling behind you a few minutes later, his arm going around your waist and pulling you back against him, his hand snaking its way under your shirt and resting on the skin of your stomach, thumb swiping across the skin under your sternum.
As you lay in bed, the faint sounds of crickets and the gentle sound of Billy’s breathing filling the empty space, you thought over the past couple days, the satisfaction you felt helping pitch up your tent, victory when you found your way back to your campsite, wonderment as you walked through the gorge, exhilaration when you reeled in the large trout, most of all amazed at the fact that despite the amount of years you had known Billy, there are still things to learn about him.
Your mind wandered to things you wished you had had time to do, like swim in a lake, chop down a tree, take a shot at building a fire yourself, sleep under the stars….
“Bill?” you whispered into the dark, taking his wrists and squeezing, repeating his name a little louder.
“what is it?” he mumbles into your hair half asleep.
“Didya mean it? What you said this morning,” you shift and turn in the circle of his arms until you're on your side facing him. “About next time, it just being us.”
A slow smile spread across his face, his hand coming up to cup your face,
‘Yeah, I meant it, just us," he pauses for a beat, as if deep in thought before continuing, "or investing in multiple packs or earplugs."
You snort, smacking him in the middle of his chest with the back of your hand,
“Didn’t mean that,”
“What did you mean then?”
“Being out here, unplugged, it was fun, relaxing, and I wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime.”
The corners of his lips pull up in a gentle smile, pushing the apple of his cheeks up and crinkling the corners of his eyes,
“I wouldn’t mind doing it again either.” he murmurs, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours, humming when his tongue pushes past your lips and delves into your mouth, your hand snakes between your bodies, cupping him through the thin material of his boxer briefs, feeling him grow stiff as you squeezed and stroke his length, groaning into your mouth before sinking his teeth into your bottom lip and tugging as his hips move in counterpoint with your hand.
“Please tell me you brought more than the one condom.”
“Y-yeah, they’re—” a groan rumbles in his chest as you drag your hand along his length, your grip twisting as you neared the tip, “fuck, they’re in my….in my….if you keep”
You slowed and slackened your hold on him, while seeing how long you could make Billy hold off releasing in your hand was your favorite game; it wasn’t what you had in mind for tonight. You pull your hand away and Billy throws the sheets off his body, climbing off the bed in the same motion, long legs carrying him to the hanging organizers in a handful of strides; hands reach in and riffle through one of the compartments, returning to the bed just as quickly and tossing the foil packet onto his pillow.
He made his way between your legs, holding himself over your body, your arms going around his neck, hand threading themselves in the longer strands of his hair as he lowered himself and kissed you. His lips moved against yours with purpose as you dragged your nails against the back of his head, his hand slid over to your breast, long fingers cupping and squeezing the pliable mound, his thumb sweeping across the peaking bud, before he pinched and rolled it between his thumb and index finger, making you moan into his mouth.
His hand gripped and squeezed as it made its way down your chest, gripping the edge of your shirt and pulling on it insistently, pulling away from you and pushing it up and over your head, returning his lips to your overheating skin, kissing a trail along the column of your neck. You hissed in pain, back arching off the bed slightly, when you felt his teeth sink into the delicate skin of your collarbone, before moving on to the top of your breast, sucking it into his mouth.
He presses opened mouth kisses to every inch of skin as he continues downward, licking and nipping the inside of your legs as he settles himself between your thighs, making you hum when you feel his lips press against the apex of your mound and down along the folds.
He teases you relentlessly, a long dexterous finger joining his ministrations, running up and down your lips, spreading the wetness that he’s working out of you while his tongue lightly flicks and circles your clit. His tongue working you over harder when he adds a second finger, pushing them past your folds and pumping them into you, the pads of his fingers brushing against your soft walls, eliciting moans and groans from you, your skin turning feverish as you grip and guide his head over to where you need him, your hips undulating of their own accord.
You're a writhing mess when he works a third finger into you, pumping, curling, and massaging your walls, that coupled with the way his mouth is insistently working your clit has you hurtling towards your orgasm. Your hands fly to cover your mouth, muffling the long dragged out moan, your legs clamping around Billy’s head as you curl in on yourself.
You flop back down in a heap, feeling boneless and high, body jolting as Billy’s gives you a few final licks, and begins to lazily kiss his way back up.
“Been wantin’ to do that since this mornin’” he murmurs, lips ghosting against the base of your neck before he nips the skin over your pulse point.
You wrap your arms around his shoulder, dragging your fingernails across his shoulder blades, fueling the quiet rumble in his chest,
“Been wantin’ to do something since this mornin’ too.” you say against his temple, you drag your hand back and over his shoulder, laying your palm on his chest and give a hard shove, flipping him over and onto his back, and quickly climb over on top of him, a little too quickly. You let out a surprised yelp when your knee slips over the edge of the bed, the rest of your body following the momentum. You would have landed on your face had it not been for the strong arms that circle your waist and roll you back to the middle of the bed.
“That usually works and is infinitely more sexy when we do it at home.” you say between heaving breaths.
Billy lets out a rumbling laugh, kissing the top of your head and saying,
“Might be because our bed at home takes up half our bedroom.” he rubs the length of your arms a few times before pulling back to look at your face, “You alright?”
“Yeah, didn’t hurt anything, just my pride”
He lets out another small chuckle, fingers brushing back a few strands of damp hair you can feel sticking to the side of your face “if you wanna try again, I’m all for it.”
“Can’t imagine being sexy after that.”
“Hey,” he pulls back, pushing your chin up to raise your head so you meet his eyes, “there’s nothing sexier than making someone laugh in the middle of sex.”
His eyes are intense and you know he means what he just said, it makes your chest bloom in warmth, you stretch and press your lips against his, flicking your tongue against the seam of his lips as your hand reaches for the edge of his boxers. You can tell his erection has flagged a bit, most likely due to the scare of you falling, so you forgo the elastic and palm him through the fabric, pumping and squeezing the shaft while deepening the kiss.
It isn't long before his hips are grinding into your hand, dick hard and dampening the front of his boxers. You pull away from him and with hurried hands push the underwear down, scooting down the bed to pull them off his legs and tossing them somewhere over the edge as you hear the crinkling and tearing of the condom packet, when you look back up, Billy is rolling the condom onto himself. You make your way back up and settle over his waist, lowering yourself onto him, running your wet sex over his harden length, his hands reach out and grip your waist, fingertips digging hard into the soft skin as his legs come up behind you.
There's a flush that spreads over his chest as you continue to roll your hips, his hands helping to guide the speed in which you move, when he starts tossing his head back and his hips begging to give aborted buck you lift yourself onto your knees, reach for his length and guide it to your entrance and slowly sink down. His eyes roll back and a low groan rumbles in his throat, while you bite your lower lip to stifle the moan that’s threatening to push past your lips.
Once he’s fully inside you, you pause for a moment, breathing deep and slow to fully adjust, you give a tentative roll of your hips making him hiss and grip your thighs, then another, and another and soon his hands are urging you faster, his own hips pushing off the bed and thrusting into you, his hands reaching up to squeeze and push at the swell of your breasts, leaving pink prints behind as it continues up to your neck.
You lean forward, palms splayed and fingernails digging into his chest as you continue to ride him, you're close to your second release, and you tell him as much between labored breaths. The hand that's gripping your neck brings you down, angling your head to the side and slotting his lips over yours, tongue pushing past your lips and turning it deep and filthy as he shifts your position, rolling you both onto your side, grabbing the back of your knee and hooking it over his hip and pistons into you with reckless abandon, making you reach your climax with a silent scream. Billy follows soon after, his thrusts becoming disjointed before stilling against yours a few moments later with a bitten off moan.
He props himself up on his elbows, his breathing was ragged as he held himself over you for a beat before dipping his head dragging his lips against yours slowly in a final kiss and pulling out of you, letting himself fall beside you on the bed.
You struggle to keep your eyes open long enough for Billy to get rid of the condom and hug yourself to him but you tried anyway, forcing your eyes open until you felt the bed dip again when he climbs back on, settling behind you, pulling you against his chest and murmuring something that sounded like a goodnight against the back of your ear, only then did you let your eyes to slip close and allow yourself to drift into unconsciousness.
-May 24 2015-
Morning comes too soon for your liking, making you groan when you feel Billy pull away from you, he chuckles and presses a quick kiss to your temple and saying,
"C'mon lazy bones, we got a busy mornin' ahead of us."
"Or" you said, rolling over onto your back the bedsheet pooling around your waist, exposing your bare breasts, "we could lay here and just forget the world."
"As tempting as that notion is, and believe me, it is very tempting, we both have morning meetings tomorrow that can't be rescheduled."
You roll your eyes and groan, "thanks for the reminder."
You love your job, you really do, Mr. Fitzgerald is one of the few decent men you had come to work for in New York, but that didn't mean the people he worked with were the same. You thanked your lucky stars that you only had to deal with the board members once every few months.
"And before you start with your Anvil pitch, I'll think about it when Mr. Fitzgerald retires.”
Billy climbs on the bed again, arms braced on either side of your head holding himself over you.
"I’m just sayin’, I run a pretty tight ship at Anvil, you wouldn’t have to deal with ((half)) the bullshit you deal with working for Mr. whatever-his-name-is.”
You chuckle, running your hand over his chest, “Mr. Fitzgerald and you know why I’m not jumping to work at Anvil”
Billy’s head rolls along with his eyes and lets himself flop next to you, lifting his hand and gesticulating as he spoke,
“It wouldn't be the same thing and you wouldn’t have to be my secretary, there’s always positions for trainers, HR, Jenson is still looking for a capable accounting assistant.
“And before you go on your “i dont wanna ride anyones coattails” or whatever speech, I’m not involved with the hiring process, that’s all HR. and we have a strict unbiased policy.
“So if you manage to get a position at Anvil, it’ll be all on your own merit. Nothing else, not cuz you’re sleeping with the CEO, not because you have nice legs, a great rack, or have a peach of an ass, it’ll be because you are more than capable for the position.”
“I’ll think about it.” you say, meaning it more than you ever have.
You shift to roll out of bed but stop when Billy doesn't move, you look up at him and arch your brows in question.
“While I have you here,” he pauses and you knew exactly where this was going,
“Billy, it’s too early to have that conversation again,”
He reaches for your hand, twining your fingers together and bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss to the back of your hand, “I just wanna take care of you.”
“You already do Billy, so much”
“Right now, sure, but...this would be for the future, whatever it is, if somethin’...somethin’ happens and I’m—” you press two fingers to his lips, silencing him. you wouldn’t let his thoughts go there.
“I’ll think about it.” you say, reaching up and pressing your lips to the bridge of his nose, climbing over him and out of bed, reaching for your clothes and getting dressed.
*******
Billy had been right to say you had a busy morning ahead of you. After a light breakfast of coffee and granola power bars and a quick trip to the showers, everyone got to work, picking up trash and putting away the nonessentials, packing them away in the back of the SUV.
It was about midday when Billy started to work on getting lunch ready, laying down fish fillets on the skillet and letting them cook for a few minutes before turning them over, taking them off the pan and letting them rest while he repeated the process with the next batch. A few minutes later, he was handing out plates with fish tacos on them. And wondered, not for the first time, where Billy had gotten his culinary skills and why he had hid them for this long.
You and Karen were coming back from tossing out the trash and washing the inside of the cooler, plates and the pan Billy had used a few sites over to find Billy and Frank had taken down and were meticulously folding the tents.
A few minutes later, you were all piling into the SUV, Billy pulling out of the site and heading back up the dirt road you had taken back to the city.
DO NOT INTERACT WITH OR READ THIS IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, PLEASE AND THANK YOU. Seriously, you could get me in trouble, and get yourself in trouble. Thank you.
CW: Unprotected s.ex, blood, knife play, stabbings, gun play, shootings, violence. Kinda a form of self harm or at least self destructive behavior? Kinda? Pls let me know if there should be additional tags/warnings. Everything was consented to tho! No worries there.
idk man I just wanted to write this and get it out of my head lmao, this was pretty self indulgent fantasy shit. It practically wrote itself.
Word count: 1280
The KA-BAR in near your shoulder twisted, pulling a half gargled moan from your lips. More blood oozed down your torso and arm, soaking into the once-pristine pale sheets of your bed.
“Christ, of course you like that.” His voice was gruff in your ear, hot breath skittering over you neck and hair. You knew your healing factor would rub out the wound in a matter of an hour or so once the blade was gone, but for now, you wanted the pain. Needed the pain.
Earlier
You glanced at the layout on the bed.
Rope. Check.
Duct tape. Check.
KA-BAR. Check.
Glock and silencer. You had the silencer, where was the Glock?
Wait…
“Looking for this?” A voice sounded from behind you. Turning, you saw a figure in the shadow of the door, holding out a pistol by its barrel. Striding forwards, coming into the light, your boyfriend gently placed it on the bed next to the KA-BAR.
“Jesus, you planning a kidnapping?”
“No Frank.”
“What then?”
“I’m planning on pain.”
“For who?”
“Me.”
His eyebrow quirked at that. He knew you had a healing factor, one that worked pretty quickly. What he didn’t know was how completely overwhelmed you were right now. You needed to focus on something and physical pain helps. Not when you do it, of course. It doesn’t help when it’s by your hand. No, it had to be by someone else. It’s why all the fights, all the late nights patrolling the area. Stopping muggings and whatnot.
You had to get your fix. It was an addiction, really. You just wouldn’t admit it yet.
“You wanna, uh, explain yourself?”
So you told him. Told him why. Told him what you wanted.
“And you want lil ol’ me to help you with this?” He muttered, hand running over the coarse rope. Fingers dusting along the blade of the KA-BAR.
“If you… don’t feel comfortable I’m sure I can find someone-” You yelped, his hand scrunched up in your hair and pulled you down. You landed hard on the floor, knees crashing into the floorboards. It was times like this you were thankful you lived alone, and not in an apartment.
He pulled you back up by the hair, leaning in to whisper in your ear.
“Don’t ever even think you can ask someone else. I’ll never let you go.” You moaned lightly at the harsh tone. Frank swung around, dragging you towards the bed. Throwing you on it, he uttered a one-word command.
“Strip.”
And you complied, as fast as you could. Trembling hands pulled clothing from your body, throwing it across the room. You laid flat on the bed, waiting. Rope slid over your wrists and was wrapped around and around, tying them together and to the headboard. Another long strand tied each of your ankles to the foot of the bed.
The light clink of his belt coming undone made you lift your head to look at him. A calloused hand pushed your head back down.
“Don’t move unless you’re told.” He growled. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying your best to resist looking at him. You wanted to, so badly. You loved this man, and the way he was acting stirred something primal in you. You could hear the rustle of his clothes as he took them off, then silence.
You felt something cold and sharp ghost over your ribcage, before a slight bit of pressure was applied to it. Blood welled up and collected on the edge of the blade. You groaned as Frank stared you down like an eagle. Lifting the blade from your body, he brought it to your face.
“Look.” He commanded. You slowly unclenched your eyes, watching as a crimson drop dripped off the tip and next to your lips. As if on instinct, your tongue darted out and licked it clean.
“Hit me. Hard.”
His other hand, balled in a fist, struck you first in the other half of your ribs, and then once in the face.
“Shit.” He hissed, as blood ran down from your nose. “Did I go too far?”
“No no, don’t stop… Please don’t stop, I need more-”
Before you could reassure him further, a hand roughly covered your mouth and the blade was buried in your shoulder.
“Shhhh… Shshshshshsh… Don’t make noise now.” He whispered hoarsely, twisting the blade.
“Christ, of course you like that.” You nodded, letting him know you were okay.
He slid into you, slowly and surely, making sure he hit his mark before picking up the pace. In, out, in, out. His hand wrapped itself tighter around your throat, cutting off more of your air supply.
“Harder… please…” You wheezed out.
“Harder, what?” He growled, releasing his hold on your throat some.
“Harder please, Sir.” The hold tightened again, and the pace picked up. After a few moments, he was slamming into you, the KA-BAR jostling in his grip with every movement. The knife ripped more muscle as it got dragged down, pushing against your ribs, your lung. You could tell it was cutting into the bone, fracturing it since he wouldn’t let go.
Your mind focused only on the now. Not on the stress of life. Just the sensations that were racking your body, here and now. For this, you were eternally grateful.
“Fuck, fuck-” He hissed. “Fuck I’m close.” He let go of the KA-BAR and your throat, snatching the Glock and the silencer from the bed. Screwing it onto the Glock, he cocked the gun, then leaned down close to you, pressing his chest against yours.
“When I finish, I’m going to shoot you once. Where do you want it?” His voice rumbled through his chest and into you.
“L-leg. Please, sir.” You whimpered.
“Leg it is.” He whispered, whipping the gun down to point at your thigh. The other hand clapped itself over your mouth again. You bit your tongue in anticipation.
The familiar burn of a bullet tore through your thigh and buried itself in the mattress. You wanted to scream, to howl, but you wouldn’t let yourself. Your pride wouldn’t let you.
Frank pulled out, and rolled off of you, breathing heavily. Sitting up, he watched as your chest heaved as you lungs sucked in air and expelled it.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He gently slid his arms under you, picking up your body. Carrying you to the bathroom, he set you down on the toilet lid, letting you lean against him as stretched for the wash cloth on the towel rack. Soaking it in warm water, he carefully scrubbed the blood from your body and face. He worked in silence, gazing at your eyes.
“How do you feel?” He asked, voice low.
“Better. Much better. I feel like I can focus now.” He kissed the top of your head as he placed at gauze bandage over the large stab wound in your shoulder, before moving onto the bullet wound.
“You wanna write that paper now? Or do you wanna cuddle on the couch for a bit first?”
“Cuddles sound good.” You responded, as he washed your blood from his hands.
On the couch, the two of you sat in silence, with you listening to his heart beat in his chest. You were the first to break the silence.
“We’re gonna have to clean the bed.”
“Yeeeahhh… About that…”
“We are not burning the sheets, Frank. Those are my favourites.”
“I’m just saying! It’s an option!” He replied, throwing his hands up in mock defense.
You chuckled, leaning up and pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.
The Punisher Imagine: Telling an Overprotective Castle You’re Pregnant
Requested by: Anon
Warnings: None
A Safe Bet
Your hands are shaking when you tell him. His arms are crossed, bewildered by your behavior.
“Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me.”
“I-I-I-”
You just can’t seem to get the words out. He moves closer, one hand on your shoulder and one holding your chin and gently making you look into his eyes. “Whatever it is, we will get through it together, okay?”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
You take a breath. “I’m pregnant.”
He freezes, not moving his hand away, and he looks like he’s not even breathing.
It frightens you. “Frank?” you ask in a small voice.
He blinks as if he’s just returned to reality. “Pregnant?” he asks in a faraway voice.
You nod slowly. He’s frozen again.
And then in a blink of an eye, he’s yanked you into the hardest kiss you’ve ever had.
“You’re pregnant,” he says breathlessly when you finally both break for air.
“I’m pregnant,” you echo back.
There are giant smiles on both your faces before they fade into another heated kiss.
“Bedroom?” he asks with a grin.
You laugh softly. “Fine.”
-
“Frank, come on, I can carry it.”
“No, you will do no such thing. I’ll carry it. You rest.”
“It’s just a small box!”
“Sit.”
You sigh softly. “Fine.”
-
“It’s just some rain!”
“It could storm pretty bad, let’s just stay home.”
“You’re kidding right?”
“Not in the slightest.”
You grumble softly. “Fine.”
-
“She’s my kid too, you know. I wanna hold her,” you say tiredly, having just pushed out a 6-pound being.
He kisses your head but his eyes are trained on the small bundle in his arms.
➴ Warnings: Language, mention of cheating, signs of depression. Explicit content in future chapters.
➴ Wordcount: 1212.
➴ Tagging: @lisssays
“... All was well,” Bill said, closing the book. He sighed, leaning back on his chair and turning his head to look at her. She was still asleep, she had been for two weeks. She’d wake up for no more than a minute, screaming as if the nightmares followed her from her dreams, and before he could comfort her she’d pass out, giving in to the pain again.
Not being able to help was frustrating but, at the same time he had done enough. She was in pain because of him, because of his choices. He knew the best thing he could do for her was to walk out of the hospital and never return to her life; but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, he couldn’t bring himself to live without her. Bill couldn’t stop being a selfish bastard.
He took her hand, it wasn’t cold but he still worried, it was as if something was forcing her to remain unconscious and cold, when her temperature raised she would start convulsing and it would drop once again. He feared it was her own subconscious wanting to die.
What could Bill do to bring her back? To make her want to live?
His hand moved to her face, caressing with his fingertips the skin. He trembled, weakened by the situation he wasn’t the cold soldier he used to be. Fear had taken over him, it haunted him in his dreams, hand in hand with the guilt that threatened to eat his insides.
“Wake up,” he pleaded. It must had been the tenth time he did so in the morning. Nothing felt enough, not if she didn’t wake up. “Come on, be mad enough to wake up and punish me.”
Nothing. Her still frame laid on the bed, her chest rising and falling with each breath she still took and that God knew for how long.
With a sigh, Bill let go of her hand and got up from the chair, the book he had been reading to her he left at her side, in case she woke up and wanted to read it. He knew she wouldn’t, but dreaming was one of the few things he was still free to do. Bill put on and straightened his coat, ran a hand through his hair. Posh routine, she had called it once. He let out a short, humourless laugh at the sound of her voice inside his head.
Bill walked up to the bed again, leaned in and kissed her forehead. “There’s someone I need to meet with, but it won’t take me long. I’ll be back before dark, that’s a promise.” In case that was still worth something for her, which he doubted for good.
As his lips left her skin, he felt burning. Bill had to control himself to not curl in a ball besides her and forget about the world around, but he couldn’t. He still had someone to see, plans to arrange, people to eliminate. He had to put an end to the war he had started to guarantee she would be safe in the near future. Bill never wanted it to reach that point, but if it did then there was nothing he could do against fate. It seemed, fighting was all he was.
Bill left the room, passing the nurse he had hired as he did so. “Make sure she’s alright and call me if something changes. No one but me goes into that room!”
Or so help them God.
Blood, lights, the stupid music he hated so much. Fate was laughing down at him as he tried to get to his car and leave the park. Frank was somewhere, with Madani. Bill was certain he had shot her in the head, but that tough bitch would survive just to piss him off, he knew. But it wasn’t what he worried about, nor Frank, he worried it was past dark and he had promised her he would be back at the hospital before it was night. Jeez, she was going to be upset.
He coughed up some blood and his ribs and face hurt like hell, but he managed to get into a car - which ended up not being his, and drive off Central Park. Would Frank follow him? No, he doubted it. Frank’s code didn’t allow him to leave Madani alone to die, even if it was to get revenge. He’d be safe to go to the hospital, he wouldn’t put her in danger.
But he had to leave. As long as he remained in New York he’d be a target, and after shooting Madani and being exposed, his face would be in each channel in the morning. She’d never be safe with him. That, if she still wanted him.
On the radio no one was talking about him, but his fight with Frank was news. It was said an agent had been shot in the head and was in critical state, and that Frank had been taken as well. The two kids he had tied up to the horses were alright and had escaped but, they had seen his face and, if he survived the night he’d have to take care of them.
Most would believe he liked it, killing, but the truth was it was his surviving instinct kicking in. Bill had gone through a lot, the 90% of his life had been hell and chaos, all he ever wanted was for it to end and find some peace. So, when the colonel approached him with the drug offer, he saw his winning lottery ticket. He got a nice house, nice cars and nice suits. He got her clothes, flowers, diamonds. The life she deserved, the one he wanted to give her. It may be the reason he made the choices he made, but even so he was the one to blame. Whether he did it for her or for himself, he brought hell into their lives and as in that moment, he didn’t know how to get them out of there. Bill would burn, he would burn her too.
He carried himself into the hospital, declining the nurse’s help. Yes, he was bleeding to death and being patched up would’ve been a good idea, but a moment was all he wanted. Just one moment, he thought. To see her, tell her he had arrived and he didn’t mean to be that late. If he could have that then he’d go with the nurse and allowed her to treat him. Because she got all upset when he arrived late, Bill wanted to calm her down as he lost his mind. He went into the room, holding his sides. He had a few broken ribs, the cut on his face and some stab wounds that were burning him from inside out, but he still could walk - although not for long. And as he looked up from the ground, with sweat dripping down his face and a broken look on his bloodied face, his ears picked up the last sound he expected to hear.
“You’re late, Bill.”
He stared at her in surprise, happiness, when his brain shut off due the blood loss. But it was fine, wasn’t it? It was fine, because she was awake.
There’s a knock at the door, but you don’t answer it. You stay on the floor, dazed as the horrible storm continued its assault on your home.
You squeeze your eyes shut. Knock, knock, knock.
You can’t bring yourself to move from the floor, and after a moment you hear the door pop open.
That’s what gets you to look.
Castle is standing there. He immediately rushes to you when he sees you.
“Hey, are you okay?” His voice is low and warm, but full of urgency. His hand gently cups your cheek.
You nod silently.
He gets up when he knows you’re okay, and goes around securing the house and cleaning up the broken plates around you. When he’s done, he sits beside you.
“Bad storm, huh?”
You nod, pushing into him. He holds you close.
“Ah, don’t you worry, sweet thing, I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”
Your eyes close, and this man who is so strong, so dangerous, hides you from the storm in the gentlest way possible.
➴ A/N: We are going forward with this series! I still cannot believe you guys like it so much, but I’m really happy you do.
➴ Pairing: B. Russo / Reader.
➴ Warnings: Language, mentions of cheating, signs of depression. Explicit content in future chapters.
➴ Wordcount: 1522.
It was 2am. You sat alone in the kitchen, waiting for him to show up.
After the call, Billy had gone silent. He didn’t answer for minutes, then hung up. Remembering made you scoff; that coward, you thought. He couldn’t even come up with an excuse or a lie. No, all he did was hide. You didn’t know where he was or who he was with, but you would find out, even if it meant sacrificing your sleep that night.
Out of anger you had assumed he wouldn’t appear until he believed you were asleep, so right after the clock signaled midnight, you had turned off all lights and avoided making noise. You knew it would take some time, but sooner or later Billy would come home.
As if you had summoned the devil - hell, you might had, the door opened with a click and the sound of his expensive shoes against the floor reached your ears. You allowed a grin to claim home on your lips, turning around in the stool to face him. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on his phone. Even as he reached the wall to turn on the light and almost knocked off a vase, he didn’t look up. You thought it was Dinah, cringing at the thought of her name, since not even work made him be so absorbed on his phone.
At last, he looked up, clenching his jaw to avoid making noise. Fine, waiting for him in the dark was something a creep would do, but you had been so upset you didn’t bother thinking twice about it. All you thought about was confronting him, and so you were about to do.
“Waiting in the dark like a serial killer?” Billy huffed while approaching you.
“You don’t want to talk about serial killing, Russo.”
He bit his tongue, looking down in shame. He sat in the stool opposite to you; let his phone in the middle of the table. You could grab it if you wanted and he wouldn’t stop you, you knew that he wanted to prove -more like faking, his innocence. But you also knew that he had deleted her number, pictures and messages so you would believe you had lost your mind and it was all a big misunderstanding. You weren’t falling for that.
“Dinah Madani,” you started. Your voice sounded almost comical. “Who is she? Wait, no don’t answer that since I know her entire life. Thank Jess for such a complete job. Answer this, but don’t even think about fooling me - that shit is over. All I want to know is, why?”
It was a simple question; three words. Yet the number of possible answers to it was infinite. Because he felt alone, she was more beautiful, he wanted to, or he because he could. Being honest with yourself, you wanted him to confess he didn’t love you; even if it was a lie. Living while knowing he still loved you but had being inside another woman, well it was worse than accepting he had stopped loving you. To you, the thought of loving someone and then go fuck another was unthinkable.
“She,” Billy began. It took you back from your thoughts and you looked up, listening. It took him some time to continue, he thought his words with care to avoid a fight, not knowing the fight started the moment he stepped foot into the house. But he kept his cold mask; it was soldier behaviour. “She is work. Nothing more.”
You let out a laugh. “Hell, here I was thinking I was dating a soldier and turns out I’m dating a prostitute. You should’ve said it sooner, to avoid misunderstandings.”
Billy held your gaze, frowning - but he wasn’t upset, no, he was sad. You saw the dullness take over his face, turning off the light he had on his eyes. Even in that moment you had to look down and swallow to avoid giving in. It wasn’t the moment to feel bad for him, he didn’t have the right to be sad, or even upset. He was the executioner.
He whispered your name but you didn’t look up. You heard him sigh. “You must know she is from Homeland, right?” You nodded. “Well, she is investigating Kandahar.”
You listened to him, but when he stopped talking you looked up. That was all? She wanted to know about Kandahar and he decided to give her his dick? Something didn’t add up.
He must had understood your glare, because he went on. “You know what will happen to us if she finds out what happened there. I can’t let that happen. I need to get close to her in order to know what she knows, and even though I dislike the idea, that means fucking her too. You know, I would’ve loved it to be a straight man; I would’ve killed him in the spot and moved on with life. But she’s a straight woman who fancies me and it has to be done.”
Your hand moved on its own, it crashed against his cheek so hard it left a tingling sensation after it. His face was red where you had slapped him. You weren’t proud of it, violence wasn’t the answer you had when you were upset, but in that moment it seemed so right; at least he’d feel an inch of the pain he had caused you.
Billy let out a sigh once again, it must had been his favourite sound, then he turned to face you again. He wasn’t bothered in the slightest, as if he didn’t feel the burn. It had been like slapping a wall.
You shook your head, sniffling. “That’s pure bullshit, Russo. I’ve seen the pictures and, in not in one of them it seems forced or faked. You like it. You like her!” You accused.
In that moment, facing you must had been like facing a lioness. He looked taken aback, not used to that kind of behaviour coming from you. You were cool and composed, sweet too. But you were furious, seeing red. A push and you would break the table in two without issue.
“I don’t.” Was his answer. I don’t, you thought. He didn’t like the sex, her, the situation. What was it he despised so much? Because he sure as hell didn’t look disgusted.
“You don’t?” You asked him. This time your voice was softer, your throat was tired of shouting. It was senseless, he heard you just right and rising your voice would have been but another proof it was you who was losing. Your love, your life, your temper. You couldn’t allow that to keep happening.
Billy reached out to hold your hand; you didn’t had the strength to withdraw and allowed him to. “No, I don’t. But if I don’t do this, then both of us are dead.”
You weren’t sure if it had been the softness of his voice or the choice of words, but something made you look up and frown. He looked ashamed and determined at the same time. He had a soft smile on his face; that one was rare, you realized. You were turning your hand, about to grab his back and accept his excuses, move on with life with him next to you. But then, then you knew what was wrong.
Kandahar; your mind went through the conversations you had with Billy after Afghanistan. He had told you what happened over there, how Orange had turned them into killers. He felt like a piece of crap, ashamed. He told you how he never wanted to do it, but he had to. You had to reassure him he wasn’t a killer - which he wasn’t, and that the nightmares would leave at some point. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember a night he had woken up or disturbed you, because indeed, he never had nightmares. And if he had followed orders, if he was innocent and had been forced to kill innocent people, then how was it possible that what happened there could get them killed? Something was off, but you couldn’t put your finger on it and the mere thought of asking him scared you. I have to, you told herself. Yes, you had to.
“You were following orders?” What was supposed to be an statement came off as a question; he looked at you , confused. “In Kandahar, you were following orders, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then how can that get us killed, Billy?” The question caught him off guard; he bit the inside of his cheek and retrieved his hand. You saw how he swallowed hard, straightened his back. To act like a soldier was his defense mechanism, but that didn’t erase his emotions. In that moment of weakness, you saw right through him and your breath was caught in your throat, but you didn’t notice the tears building up. Your hand trembled as you moved it closer to your chest, your voice a mere whisper as you asked him, not about his actions anymore, but about his persona. “What have you done, Billy?”
