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#actually allow me to gush about her she's such a polite little beast

la-fille-en-aiguilles · 3 years

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Dog Tags

Billy Russo x Female!Reader

Request by @nebulastarr : Hey! Whenever requests open up again, could you do a Billy Russo x Reader where the reader liked Billy but doesn’t want to tell him because she thinks he won’t feel the same way

A/N: I was going to wait and get down to writing this once I was finished with my series... But this one has simply hit a little too close to home. I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I saw it and I ended up putting a lot of personal stuff in it so I’m sorry if it feels chaotic at times. Thank you for requesting, love, I hope it lives up to your expectations. The Only Living Thing series will be back with its third part next week. The song: Isak Danielson - Power

All you heard was an excited scream, that raised above all of the New York’s past-6-pm commotion, as a slender tall body smashed into you, locking you in a bone-crushing hug. You laughed happily, albeit feeling a little bit uncomfortable in Karen’s strong hold. You knew it didn’t seem that way, but Karen packed a wicked punch in those elegant arms of hers. Those self-defense sessions with Frankie boy that she’s been gushing about over the phone must have been finally paying off.

“Once I am done hugging you, I am so kicking your ass,” she breathed out into your hair as she squeezed you harder, as if reading your thoughts. “You’ve been ghosting me for what, a month now?”

You sighed guiltily as Karen pushed you slightly away, keeping her hands on your shoulders. You watched her as she studied your face, a creeping smile stinging at the corners of her mouth.

Grabbing one of her elbows, you groaned dramatically, pulling her towards the busy road. With your hands locked, you finally admitted:

“I did suck at communicating these past couple of weeks. Work’s been…. hectic”, the lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but this was the best explanation you’ve been able to come up with so far. “Please don’t kill me”.

Trying to keep up with your power walk, Karen let a bubbling laughter leave her lips.

“You’re not the one who should be worried then,” she gave you one of those bright trademark smiles of hers. “Next time I’m going to interview Russo, I’ll…”

You stuttered at her tirade as you walked, and of course it didn’t go by unnoticed. Karen was the best journalist you have ever met during your prominent career. She just sensed that sort of thing.

“I’m getting this ‘I-meant-to-tell-you-Karen-but-I-didn’t-and-now-you’ll-need-to-fight-it-out-of-me’ vibe”, she gave you a scrutinising look. “Want to maybe share whatever it is you’ve been not telling me before I go full interrogation mode on your plump backside?”

You rolled your eyes as you led her to a terrace-ringed Upper East Side high-rise, waving to the doorman through the glass doors. Jackson, a thirty-five year old ex-military with three kids and a labrador, gave you a brilliant smile as he hurried to open them for you.

“Good evening, Mrs Y/L/N!” He bowed his head in a stiff, very army-like manner. “A package arrived this afternoon for you, should I bring it up?”

From the corner of your eye, you caught Karen looking around, confusion written all over her face. You had a lot to catch up on.

“Don’t worry about it, Jax, just give it to me,” you didn’t mean to urge him, but you couldn’t wait to change out of your corporate attire into some comfortable old pyjamas and crack open a bottle of whiskey - that’s right, some habits did die hard. And to think you were a bubbles-kind of girl a year ago when you met him.

You could feel Karen’s blue eyes drill a hole in the back of your head as you took a small, envelope-sized package from Jackson’s hands.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the elevator that Karen cleared her throat.

“When you said you’d rather have a girls’ night in, I asked Frank to pick me up from Queens, not from…here,” she spoke, her eyes skimming expensive red wood and mirrors. “Did you finally sleep with Russo and moved in with him?”

Whatever it was that Karen expected you to say to that, it definitely didn’t include you spitting out a roaring laugh, as you nearly dropped the package on the floor.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” you informed her after you finally restored your breath. “I left Anvil. And, well, Russo. At the end of last month”.

—

A half-bottle of whiskey for you and a bottle of white wine for Karen later, both of you were sprawled out on the lambskins thrown over the hardwood floor in your living room. Jazz music was seeping out of the speakers by the TV, a couple of Diptyque candles emitting a soft yellow glow.

You stared at the ceiling of your new living quarters, your mind a blur. As you folded your hands on your stomach, you felt Karen twitch as she bent her elbow and leaned her blond head on the palm of her hand, facing you.

“So let me get this straight,” she paused, narrowing her eyes. “After becoming the Forbes’ hottest CSO, concluding what can easily be described as deals of the century - especially the one with Anthony Stark aka Iron Man and his magnificent goatee…”

Involuntary, you giggled at this. This talk brought out some very dear memories that you wouldn’t trade for the world - the way Billy’s dark eyes shimmered in the dim lights of the opera house as he gave you a look that said you did it, ever the perfect team… Or the way he threw his arms around your frame, his long fingers sliding down your back… You knew you looked good in that dress, but the moment Billy saw you wearing it… You felt like the only girl in the world, the way his jaw dropped a tad, his lips opening up in awe…

Oookay, Y/N, can’t go there, your mind screamed at you as you wiped that dreamy smile off your face. Sitting down, you took your whiskey glass, and washed those memories away with a gulp of amber liquid.

Meanwhile, Karen ranted on.

“…you just quit?!”

She jumped to her feet all of the sudden, brushing her blond hair away from her face as she watched you excitedly.

“Jesus Christ, did Billy make a move?! He made a move on you, didn’t he?”

The urge to facepalm was fierce, almost overpowering, but you managed to resist. Slamming your empty glass against the floor harder than you intended, you gave her a bored look.

“No, Karen, why… Why in the world would you think that?” You sounded just a little short of desperate, so you cleared your throat. “I was his second-in-command, that wouldn’t have been appropriate…”

When you were done studying the flame, dancing within the glass walls of one of the nearby candles, you raised your eyes to meet Karen’s. She wore quite possibly the most blatant look of ‘you are shitting me’ on her face.

“So you just quit?” she stared at you in disbelief, unblinking. “No explanations provided?”

“This wasn’t how it happened,” you said, hating the fact that you felt like you had to justify yourself. You brought your knees closer, hugging them tightly. “I…”

—

“…I’m here to see William Russo”.  

With a nonchalant gesture, you unbuttoned your Burberry coat, looking at a red-head secretary behind a desk that screamed power and status with every inch of its epic proportions.

Anvil was certainly new money. With all of those hedge funds injecting their cash into emerging companies, there was no shortage of these - entrepreneurial endeavours that didn’t last long.

You didn’t know that at the time, but you were going to make sure this one would.

“My name is Y/N Y/N/L,” you added, perching your sunglasses on top of your head. “He’s expecting me.”

The red-head gave you a polite smile before checking something on her Mac.

“Welcome, Miss Y/N/L,” she almost seemed shy, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before standing up. “Mr Russo is indeed waiting for you. If you would like to follow me, please”.

As the redhead led you through the training grounds, packed with fit men and women that looked like they walked straight outta Gym Shark ad, you did notice a couple of vagrant stares in your direction. You couldn’t blame them. You looked slightly out of place; more Vogue than the setting allowed for.

You quit your job as the COO of a global FinTech company just weeks ago, looking for a new challenge. It was an adventure of a lifetime, and while your ex-executive board had literally begged you to stay, once you’d decided something, no promise of a generous promotion could make you change your mind. While you absolutely loved your job, working for one of the most prominent online payment giants in the world, it felt like it was time for you to step down. Due to all the processes and wise investments you’d initiated, the company could make millions of profits without their CEO having so much as to lift a finger.

And you, well, you lived for the hustle. And that’s exactly what you were here for.

You still had your doubts about Anvil’s owner and acting CEO, though. William “Billy” Russo had already become a household name in the financial circles, albeit the company he was spearheading had little to do with the FinTech space. Some said he had the potential to succeed; others badmouthed him for being ruthless and balancing on the very edge of legal limits.

In short, the man had you intrigued. So the very moment he called and invited you to drop by Anvil to talk strategy, you knew you had to meet him.

See the beast for yourself, so to speak.

The first thing you noticed about William Russo as you walked into his office, spacious and entirely transparent, with its glass walls overlooking the training grounds, was experience, for the lack of a better word. It was etched into his every handsome feature, especially into his scruff strong-willed jaw. As he raised his gaze to meet yours upon the red-head’s announcement, his black eyes swallowing you whole, you realized no light reflected on their surface. There was a certain confidence to him as he raised from his chair, his white shirt straining some over his chest, long dark strands of hair falling onto his long eyelashes. This man meant business, as those black impenetrable eyes zeroed in on yours. He almost seemed too flawless - to spotless to be an ex-marine, stained with blood and murder.

All that Hallmark handsomeness was nothing but a cover.

Before William Russo had even got a chance to open his mouth, you were determined to find out what was lurking underneath.

“Mrs Y/L/N”, the hot-shot gave you a polite smile. “Thank you for coming”.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Russo”, you didn’t move an inch. He may have invited you for interview, but he wasn’t the only one with a long set of demands.

You briefly wondered if he knew that.

Before your thoughts could take you further, William Russo made his way to you, composed and calculated. He stopped by your side, albeit for a moment; rolling the sleeves of his shirt further up, he shot the red-head a charming smile (nothing like the one he gave you).

“Olivia, would you please bring a fresh pot of coffee to the conference room? Mrs Y/L/N and I have a lot to discuss”.

When he turned back to face you, you noted unconsciously that he was taller than you expected, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders. The cool and composed look was back on his face as he motioned towards the doors.

“Would you like to follow me, Mrs…”

“Y/N”, you cut in with a slight raise of your chin. “I’d also prefer to call you William while I tear Anvil’s strategy down”.

His reaction didn’t disappoint. Some tension left his arms, his stung-up body relaxing just enough for a spark of mischief and curiosity flicker its way to his eyes’ surface.

A twinkle of a smile danced across his lips as he bit on the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly in approval.

“It’s Billy”, he said, amusement echoing in his every word. "I don’t expect any leniency, Y/N”.

“Good”, you replied instantly, looking him straight into his eyes. “That’s not what I came here for”.

He nodded again.

And this time, there was liveliness in the quirk of his brow and a touch of insecurity in the corners of his mouth.

Now that was the man you could potentially work with.

—

Working with William Russo was anything but predictable. There were, however, certain patterns to his way of handling things. Whatever the trouble was, Billy was good at seeing the bigger picture - he was usually able to put things into perspective, but there were occasions when he refused to. You dare say that sometimes, you felt like he thought that money didn’t matter - like Anvil’s financial prosperity didn’t matter - as long as his team got not to risk their lives one extra time. You watched him turn down several lucrative deals that you’d busted your ass to put on his table, because it involved sending his men a little too far from home, in a place where he had no strings to pull whatsoever should anything go south. A part of you (the part that wasn’t frustrated as hell) admired him for that - it didn’t, however, stop you from disagreeing with him, time and again.

You may have never been to Iraq, and may have never known the horrors of sleeping with the bombs exploding a mere kilometer away, but you knew a game-changer when you saw it. There were risks involved, there was no arguing about that, but those were calculated, and those kind of deals could make Anvil jump straight to the top of the private military sector overnight.

William and you disagreed.

When William and you disagreed, no voice was raised, no blood was spilt, but Billy usually became distant, cold and just short of snappy when those conversations took place. 

He only crossed the line once.

  You were three months into your job as Anvil’s Chief Strategy Officer when Mayhew happened.

The clock on your desk showed midnight as you paced in your office, on the phone with Rex Mayhew, the U.S. Ambassador in Cairo. A cat-and-mouse game between the Egyptian Armed Forces and the nefarious arms dealer group had become common knowledge since a week or so; the U.S. special forces got involved in the conflict when it’d been discovered that the arms were being transported onto American soil. Rex, an old friend from your Yale days, had let you in on the fact that General Richard Ravelin, in charge of the operation, was looking to reinforce his rangs with private military before “neutralising the threat”. This was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, with a potential governmental recognition in play… and Billy wanted to hear nothing of it.

You were exhausted and barely hanging in there; Billy was categorical and stubborn.

You’ve dropped the phone on your table promising Rex you were going to give him an answer in two hours, tops. Taking a deep breath, you walked out of your office, your bare feet thudding on the parquet floors of the corridor. When you reached Billy’s hideout, you found the man leaning against his desk with a glass of whiskey in his unnerved hand.

“Billy…” you spoke firmly, barely stepping through the doorway. “Rex…”

“Can go fuck himself”.

Oh, okay. No sugarcoating this. Alright.

You saw his lips barely touch the amber liquid as he slammed the glass against the surface of his desk.

“I said no, Y/N,” he wasn’t facing you anymore, leaning on his desk with his hands digging into the wood, his back tense. “Please just go home. Have a good night sleep. We will talk about this tomorrow.”

You could have sworn you felt your head starting to fume. This was the third time Billy Russo was shutting you down. For the third time he was making you feel like an incompetent fool when you were trying to do your goddamn job.

Why in hell would he hire you if whatever vision you had for Anvil didn’t match with his own?!

“You could at least say this to my face, Billy,” you spoke a bit harshly before you could stop yourself. “You know, to my tired and disappointed face, with a mouth that you have been shutting up every time it offers you a deal of the century”.

This sounded so much better in your head.

“Why did you hire me?” you asked almost immediately, trying to soften the impact of the words that had already escaped. “If this isn’t the direction in which you want to take your company, maybe I should just…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Y/N, just fucking leave already!” Billy snapped like a branch that’s been holding too much weight, the sound of it dry and final.

…maybe I should just rethink the entire plan.

There was no point in finishing that sentence now, was there?

“I was there long before you came along, so I’d think I know a shitstorm in the making when I see one!” Billy was looking at you alright, brushing his hair back, his eyes black and void.

You had wished It would have been new to you - looking in William Russo’s eyes and not seeing him there. But it wasn’t. He was back to his Hallmark version of a man, but instead of playing a hero, he was now putting on his villain guise.

“Let’s get something straight here,” he leaned back on his desk, crossing his arms on his chest, his black eyes narrowed. “While you were making your way to the top of a rich-ass cookie-cutter FinTech company, I was crawling in the dirt in Iraq under a downpour of the Trident D5LE missiles. While the closest thing you’ve come to havin’ your hands dirty was bribing an investor or two, I was fucking beheadin’ people under the direction of the CIA,” his words were cold, measured and rhythmic, like a round of bullets being fired on a range. “You know nothing of what’s it like to be in the middle of that kind of shit show, princess, so when I fucking say no, you listen. Is that clear?”

Bark. Sit. Roll over.

“Crystal. Sir.”, you finally broke the heavy silence hanging in the air, just barely resisting the urge to salute him. “I’ll see myself out.”

Biting the inside of your cheek like your life depended on it, once you turned your back on him, your first thought was don’t you dare cry on his account, bitch and then almost right away wait at least until you’re home.

You could have sworn you heard William call your name in a stranded voice, but you made sure to slam the door somewhat hard as you left his office so you could pretend you didn’t hear him.

If you were to face him now, with all that power and toughness he exuded… You would never admit it, even to yourself, but you’d just end up on the floor, huddled into a shivering little ball.

—

You were grateful that the next day after the shit went down with Mayhew fell on a Friday. When you stumbled into your apartment in Queens at almost one in the morning, you immediately shot an email to the HR department asking for a day off. Once that’d been done, you dialled Rex to decline his offer to introduce Anvil to general Ravelin, washed the makeup off your face and crawled into bed, hugging the second pillow close to your chest.

You didn’t cry, if that’s what you’re wondering.

As you rolled out of bed in the morning at around 8 am, you took a shower and grabbed a coffee from the kitchen before settling behind your home office desk with a heavy head. When you opened up the Keynote presentation with your strategy outlined for the H1, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at the iPhone you left on your couch last night.

You weren’t going to check if you had any missing calls.

There was nothing you had left to say to each other.

…with your chest hollow, you powered up the screen. There were no missed calls and no new messages.

It all looked like you had another strategy to build now. If Billy Russo thought that calling you a rich-ass princess that knew nothing of the world, all butterflies and rainbows, was going to make you resign, then man, was he in for a surprise.

You once heard one of his men compare you to a military convoy, when the guy thought you weren’t listening.

He had no idea.

You spent the morning refilling you coffee cup and rebuilding your H1 plan from scratch. After about eleven calls with the people you knew could get you a foot in the door of the offices of some government officials, billionaires and generals, after typing, deleting and typing again for 5 hours straight, by 2pm you had a solid game plan. You were pretty sure it would still need some tweaking from Castle, who essentially held the role of the Chief Operating Officer, dispatching men and women on missions and planning operations, and, well, from Billy Russo.

The Badass-ex-Sniper-turned-CEO himself.

You kept the email short and to-the-point, sending the document over to Russo with Castle on copy, saying you’d be in the office to debrief on Monday.   Refusing to check whether your email’d been opened, you slammed your MacBook shut.

The rest of the day rolled on uneventfully. You grabbed a coffee with the People Culture Officer from your previous company, who also happened to be one of your dearest friends; then you picked up your dry cleaners and did some shopping, cracking for a pair of new shoes in Saks Fifth Avenue.

Shoes were, indeed, your weakness.

By the time you got home, the tired sun was yawning, stretching its rays in one last effort before rolling into bed. Humming a Dua Lipa song under your breath, you were putting your new Jimmy Choo’s away when you suddenly heard your phone ring.

You didn’t even have to look at it to know who it was.   You checked the time, however, noticing is was two minutes after the official end of the working day.

“Hi, Y/N”, Billy spoke, clearing his throat. “Are you… Um… Any chance you’re available to meet tonight? I would really appreciate it if you could give me fifteen minutes of your time. Please.”

It sounded like the real Billy Russo was back around. Insecure. Rugged. Imperfect.

“Can you pick me up?” you asked softly, “I’ll text you my address. There’s a pizza place just around the corner, I could use a free slice”, you circled the cold coffee cup you left on the counter with your finger. “Free as in you’re paying, Russo”.

A laugh that came somewhere from within caressed your ear.

“Uh, yes, I’m actually… Yeah, thanks. I’m leaving the office now,” even if he tried to hide it, a shocked surprise still seeped through the cracks in between the vowels.

You chuckled silently at his reaction.

“Just one more thing,” you ventured, placing the cup in the sink and making your way to the balcony - your small piece of heaven with a wooden chair, pillows and lavender. As you stepped outside, you put oyour free hand on the railing, just to feel the coolness of it, the evening air and the gentle flower smell stroking your skin. “What kind of car should I be on the lookout for?”

Billy hesitated, biting his bottom lip, running his nervous fingers through the thick strands of dark hair. The setting sun was hitting him just from the right angle, making his sculpted cheeks look like they were made of marble.

“A Rolls Royce Wraith”, he squirmed, rubbing his forehead, probably realising how lame and pretentious it sounded. “I’ll call you once I’m downstairs”.

“Uh-huh”, you smirked, leaning on the railing with your forearms.

You saw Russo pinch the bridge of his nose, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip again.   Your small balcony provided quite a view, when you really thought about it.

“Don’t take too long”, you couldn’t help it, it really was stronger than you. “I’m starving”.

With a wide grin, you dropped the call and went back into your apartment.

You were planning to make him wait for ten extra minutes when he would finally “arrive”.

Just for the hell of it.

—

“That’s a lot of hot sauce for one pizza”, Billy commented, watching you spray your truffles and cheese generously with the piquant olive oil.

You gave him a mischievous smile.

“What can I say,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and licking the tip of your finger after you swept a drop of it from the top of the bottle. “I like them hot”.

That startled a laugh out of Billy as he eyed you with something in his irises looking a lot like awe.

Just when he was about to speak, a servant brought a glass of red wine for him and bottle of sparkling water for you.

You thanked the guy with a sweet smile, while Billy eyed him a bit coldly, obviously waiting for him to leave.

When the waiter had finally made himself scarce, Billy softly called your name.

You raised your eyes to meet him, struggling as hell to keep your stare vacant. (Which was hard to do with some foreign tightness in your throat).

“Before we dig in and I hope spend a nice evening as two friends, getting together on a Friday night”, he didn’t even blink? Was he blinking? You couldn’t tell, his black eyes swallowing you whole, again. “I want to apologise. I was completely out of line… It was unacceptable. You don’t need my validation, of course, but I still want you to know that you are doing a terrific job at Anvil, taking us to the heights I never even thought existed. It’s just… It’s hard for me sometimes to be a good CEO and someone who promised to take care of my men at the same time… Everything is happening so fast, I’m afraid to lose my footing.”

You reached out for his hand across the table before you could stop yourself. You didn’t take it, but your fingers brushed his ever so slightly before you realized what you were just about to do. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, searching for a reaction.   Billy remained perfectly still, not taking his eyes off you.

You grabbed a napkin next to his wrist, pretending this was what you had meant to do all along.   “We’ll get there, Billy”, you said, a small encouraging smile blooming on your lips. “We just need some tweaking”.

You weren’t sure if you were talking about strategy at this point anymore.

—

You had a great time at dinner.

(And a whole-hearted laugh as Billy finished your remainders of the truffle pizza, downing a litre of water to numb down the burning sensation in his throat afterwards).

You talked about your respective lives, your ex-colleagues, your hopes for the future… You dared think this who the real Billy Russo was.

And he was incredible.

After the two of you were done with dinner, you offered him to come upstairs to your place and go through the new strategy together. He didn’t hesitate, although you could swear you’d seen something ambiguous flash in the depths of his dark eyes before he nodded.

(You must have imagined it.)

The two of you ended up sprawled out on your soft faux fur carpet talking game plan, bouncing ideas off each other. You watched Billy frown, as he rubbed his mouth with his long fingers, smile in excitement and shake his head in awe when you voiced your ideas - you felt proud and appreciated, and you wouldn’t trade the sensation for anything in the world.

A couple of hours later the two of you had finally decided that it was enough brainstorming for one night, and you rose to your feet to go and make Billy a coffee before he got behind the wheel. As you pushed the start button on your coffee machine, you heard him speak over the noise.

“You know I’ve done four tours - three in Iraq and one in Afghanistan”, you popped your head up, only to see him play absentmindedly with something on his chest. “And every time I’m considering a mission for Anvil, I find myself back in there again… A part of a death squad.”

You carefully picked up his cup of coffee and made your way back to him. You didn’t say a word as you leaned lower to hand it over to him, encouraging him to go on.   Billy thanked you in a whisper before clearing his throat.

“Every time I have to send them somewhere, especially overseas, I force myself to stop and think… Is this really worth it? Is a fat check really worth putting the lives of my men and women in danger? And most importantly - you may think it’s stupid…” he avoided your gaze, staring into his coffee cup, a miserable smile on his lips. “I think, will it make a difference? If one of them dies on a mission, I have to at least know they made a difference… it’s selfish and it’s more about the peace of my own mind, but it is what it is, you know?”

When he looked up at you, his eyes were full, full to the brim. There was so much emotion in them, hatred, misery, hope, adoration, all whipped in a wild mix that was Billy Russo’s dark, velvet eyes.

“I carry these at all times,” the fingers of his free hand dropped to his chest, as he got a hold of something hanging around his neck. A necklace? “When in doubt, I just look at them - they help me remember where I’ve been and what I’ve done - and I just know if it’s worth it or not. The answer is usually no, by the way”.

He smiled again, the curve of his lips looking less haunted this time, as he sipped on his coffee.

Dog tags. Those were Russo’s dog tags.

“So they’re your reminder that, even being a badass CEO of a private military company”, you couldn’t help but feel some kind of zero gravity settling in your lower stomach as you saw him chuckle at your words. “…you still have a heart”.

“How poetic”, Billy teased you without missing a beat, putting the empty cup on the floor next to him. “But yeah. Sort of, I guess”.

As you fell asleep that night, you dreamed about explosions, piquant olive oil and holding Billy Russo’s dog tags in your hand.

—

The time flew by after that. In 8-month time (after some tweaking) Billy Russo and you became a team. It sometimes felt like nothing could stop you, as long as you were together.

It should not have come as a surprise that the two of you earned yourselves a catchy nickname - at first, it was spoken solely behind your backs, but soon enough it became some kind of a title, more powerful than that of the CEO or the CSO.

Anvil’s men and women (and especially Frank - the fact that he invented the nickname secretly tickled him pink) - were now calling you Bonnie and Clyde. The ultimate partners in crime, against all odds, doing the impossible.

The two of you also settled in an almost homely kind of routine. Ever since that Mayhew fiasco and the day that followed, Friday had become the non-spoken partners in crime day. What it meant in practice was exchanging Friday jokes on Anvil’s internal communications suite…

(Billy once attacked you with a “would you look at this, just found the actual footage of your interview @ Anvil”. Before you even got a chance to answer, he forwarded you a cheesy meme with two old women speaking to each other, one of them saying “We need someone who can do the job of two men”, and the other responding “oh, so it’s only a part-time job then”. When you shot him back a message asking whether he really considered himself an arthritic old woman, that seemed to have shut him up).

…grabbing a beer in a bar nearby…

(you sometimes invited your colleagues to join you, plus it was an unspoken rule that Frank and Karen were to be there as well)

…you making fun of Billy Russo’s eating habits…

(It was honestly a nuisance to have a lunch with him. The list of things he refused to eat went on and on: no asian food, no food chain restaurants (even high-rated), no soups, no cheesecakes… He sure was settling well in that peaceful life he earned after spending all those tours living off canned food).

…and just overall enjoying each other’s company.

By the time the ninth month of your being Anvil’s CSO had rolled in, you couldn’t imagine not seeing Billy Russo every day. Not noticing him rolling his eyes at a smart-ass comment you or Frank made, or his orbs lighting up every time you told him the deal with that or this decision maker had gone through. You simply could not understand how you managed to live day in and day out, and think you were genuinely happy, before you actually met Billy. Everything before him just faded away somehow, your memories lost their colour and spike in comparison to the life you were living now. You kicked ass at your job, your career thrived, but most importantly, you were feeling like this was exactly where you were meant to be, braving the obstacles by Billy Russo’s side, knowing he would catch you should you fall.

He would, wouldn’t he?

It was your usual Friday night outing, the seven of you - Billy, Frank, Karen, Curtis, James from legal, Ashley from mine clearance and yourself - occupying your usual table at Whimsy, the bar that must have made 90% or their revenus off of Anvil’s folk. It was just around the corner from the headquarters, after all.

The overall mood of the evening was rather nostalgic. It’d been four weeks since you’d lost a team member in a crossfire in Falluja, Iraq. After everything was said and done, his loss still hung heavy in the air, and it felt right to get one more drink in Jasper’s honour. The conversation flowed easily, even though the topics you’d spoken about were anything but.

“I remember how I felt when I lost Andy”, Ashley nursed her beer as she stared into the distance. “I just literally had the weight of the entire world on my shoulders, pinning me to the ground, I just couldn’t move on”, she finished her bottle in one go and motioned for the bartender to bring her another one. “Sometimes, I just ask myself, what would have I done if I’d known he was going to die the next day? Would I have stopped him from going? I think I would,” she thanked the bartender as he put the beer in front of her, her eyes a bit foggy. “Yeah, I definitely would have.”

Frank grasped Ashley’s shoulder and squeezed it hard in a comforting gesture; Karen gave her a tender look.

You didn’t know why your mind had gone there, but all of the sudden a memory of Billy sitting in his office chair, laughing his ass off at some offhand comment you’d made flashed before your eyes; it quickly got replaced by the recollection of his hand brushing against yours during the Zoom meeting you’ve had with general Warren Singer; then you remembered him putting his hand on the small of your back, staring daggers at some army brat wanting to join Anvil, eyeing you like a piece of meat (you learned later that day that the man’d been thrown out before having a chance to introduce himself); until finally, your brain stopped dead at the picture of Billy running his nervous fingers through his hair as he called you from his car, telling you he was only leaving the office.

What would you do if you knew he was going to die tomorrow?

Your heart sunk at the thought as you gulped hard, ducking your head and staring at your hands folded in your lap.

A soft touch enveloping your elbow had you facing the man of the hour, his black eyes shimmering with concern.

“Are you okay?” he half-whispered, half-mouthed, not letting go of your hand.

No.

Nothing is okay, Billy.

I’m so happy that I met you, but you’re scaring the hell out of me.

I never wanted any form of eternity until now, I never saw the point…

So stay. Please, stay forever, and feel something for me, too.

“Yes. I’m fine,” you whispered back, staring into his eyes, hypnotised and helpless. You watched him turn away from you as if in slow motion, the warmth of his hand leaving nothing behind but emptiness in your bones.

“Here is to always telling the things that matter to the people who matter”, Billy spoke firmly, raising his beer. “Here’s to never missing a chance to open up to the people we love”.

Well, if this was his way of crossing the t's and putting the dots to the i’s regarding his feelings for you, he couldn’t have been clearer.  

As far as confessions of love went, this one was non-existent.

—

You tried, time and again, to convince yourself you had to go. You learned the hard way that your unrequited feelings were feeding on a sort of inadvertent parasitic relationship where every moment of your day depended on the level of Billy’s unintentional emotional indifference. Your days were spent questioning his every move - every look and every touch; until, the grown-ass woman that you were, you’d commanded yourself to stop second-guessing everything - stop feeling - and decided your best course of action would be… to work yourself into the ground.

If Billy ever noticed anything, he didn’t show it - your were still you, after all, working hard, laughing when he said something funny, calling him out on his bullshit when needed. He didn’t notice slight change in your eyes, when their icy surface cracked at every other compliment he threw in your direction (and there was no shortage of those). He didn’t realize the smile you gave him was different from those tightlipped signs of appreciation you gave to Anvil’s potential clients, he didn’t think twice about the reason for which you glowed around him, your every move softening, your every gesture emanating warmth.

Because Billy hadn’t really known you until you started to have feelings for him.

You knew this couldn’t go on forever. This entire situation was bound to result in some explosion of nuclear proportions, and then all hell would break loose. You needed to get yourself out of this situations, but you just… couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine your life without Billy Russo. You couldn’t leave him.

Even if being friends with him meant tearing yourself apart and suffering in silence.

  Long story short, you waited with fear in your bones for someone to walk into your life and to get you out. You’ve had no fight left in you to do it yourself.

Your salvation came in the form of a phone call on a Friday evening, when Billy was on a recruiting mission in California.

You were typing back a response to his cheeky message when the call cut in half-sentence.

Billy Russo: Please remind me to take you with me instead of Frank next time? He’s driving me insane trying to set me up with the ladies from the Organising Committee. Any ideas on how I can calm him the fuck down?

You: Sorry, Billy, but recruiting is out of my mission scope. As for the calm down part, try bondage maybe? :)

Billy Russo: I’m going to pretend you did not just suggest I engage in sexual practices with Frankie. Karen will have my balls.

Billy Russo: But perhaps you’re right. Taking you with me is probably not a good idea. Wouldn’t want my new recruits’ brains to turn into mush because of how beautiful you are.

You: The flattery will….

“Hello? Y/N speaking”, you brought your phone close to your ear, your cheeks still a lovely shade of pink. If you were going to feel miserable when Billy came back, acting like nothing happened, you were sure going to make the best of that fuzzy feeling in your chest right now.

“Miss Y/N/L”, a smooth deep voice greeted you, and you could have sworn you’d heard it many times before. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Frowning in an attempt to remember, you urged:

“No, not at all. How can I help you?” you stared into the screen of your Mac, wheels turning in your head as you silently catalogued all the men you were in discussions with regarding a deal. “I didn’t catch your name…”

“Oh, how rude of me”, the man chuckled but there was no mockery in his voice, more like self-depreciation. “Tony Stark, from Stark Industries”.

Your mind went blank. Did you hear his last words correctly?

“Uh… Mr. Stark”, you quickly got a hold of yourself - well, as quickly as you could. “I appreciate you reaching out to me directly. What can Anvil do for you?”

You did a pretty bang-up job trying to mask your amazement with polite cheerfulness, and Stark had caught on that.

Tony Stark just called your cellphone number. What in the world?…

“We don’t really do alien invasions”.

Ohyourgod, did you just say it out loud?!

His uproarious laughter took you by surprise, reverberating through your entire body. It took every ounce of your self-control not to giggle in response.

“That’s a good one, I love it”, Stark finally said, restoring his breath. “And the better question would be, Y/N - can I call you Y/N? - what you can do for me”.

Before your brain could take you into some naughty direction, freaking Iron Man cleared his throat.

“Okay, this came out wrong,” he admitted with a sense of self-irony. “I um… I’m looking for the Co-Chief Executive Officer for Stark Industries. Well, Virginia Potts is actually looking for a Co-CEO, I’m just her errand boy. And my missions apparently include recruiting…. Anyway,” it was a bit of a challenge to follow Anthony Stark’s train of thought, but you were also still shocked, so that could explain it. “…I think you are the perfect fit for the job”.

You just stared into the screen front of you, your breathing barely audible.

“Mrs Potts and I would love it if you could swing by the A-Tower, let’s say, on Thursday? You’ll be surprised, but I can also whip up a mean cup of coffee…”

Say something.

Fucking hell.

Say something!…

“Thursday sounds great,” you blurted out without thinking. “Let me just shuffle my schedule around… I could stop by after lunch?”   Your hands were slightly shaking as you clicked on your mouse, opening your schedule window.

“Whatever works for you, Y/N”, you could hear Stark smile. “Not to sound like a creep, but I’ve been following your career for quite a while now, and I think that the work you've done in such a short span of time for Anvil is outstanding, even though you still don’t offer protection from alien invasions”.

That made you chuckle, pushing you halfway out of your stupor.

“I’ll put that on the list of things for us to consider”, you promised.

"Tell Mr. Russo I sent my best,” Stark added, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. “I actually might have some ideas for how we could collaborate. Let's discuss this on Thursday, too, shall we?”

After you said your goodbyes, you fell back in your chair, dropping your iPhone on the table.

You: The flattery will….

...get you nowhere.

You never finished that message, leaving Russo on Read.

—

Starting with that evening, things were moving fast - too fast for you to keep track.

After a three-hour long coffee and the tour of the A-Tower, Virginia Potts, the acting CEO of the Stark Industries, had offered you the job - just like that - and asked you to come back to her executive assistant should you wish to take the job, with your salary expectations and the information about your notice period. You thanked her for her time and promised to get back to her as soon as you made your decision.

Virginia Potts was a brilliant woman; but running a company like Stark Industries while being equipped with a vagina was certainly no walk in the park. Sexism was still very much present within the Boards of the Tech Businesses. You understood perfectly well why she wanted a woman in her corner - it would have been a massive slap in the Board’s face, but it was also about having someone to lean on, who just understood.

In any other circumstances you would have peed your pants in excitement. It was an opportunity to work for Stark Industries - no, scratch that - it was an opportunity to step in as a Stark Industries co-CEO. The idea of it still made you dizzy.

…but as you looked at Virginia’s email sent to your personal address thanking you for stopping by, your eyes were swimming with tears.

You weren’t ready to leave Billy.  You just couldn’t.  You couldn’t leave him.   There was no epic finale to your story. There was no big revelation, no closure, no moment of relief, no acceptance, nothing. Only a fat-ass what if.

And you didn’t know how to let go of a what if with Billy Russo.

And that was exactly why you had to do it.

You heard Billy come in the next Monday earlier than usual. He was positively humming Usher’s Yeah! quietly as he made his way past your office’s doors straight into his own.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You’ve been psyching yourself up during the entire weekend, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal, we wouldn’t even flinch when you were going to tell him.

You had to tell him.

As you stood up from your chair, straightening you skirt with the palms of your hands, you suddenly heard the footsteps coming back in your direction. You froze in place like a deer in headlights when Billy swung open the door to your office, a box of Pierre Hermé macarons in his hands.

Your goddamn favorite Pierre Hermé macarons.

“You’re here!” Billy’s warm smile illuminated the room. “So much for a surprise, huh?”

He shook the box carefully in the air. You stared at it, dumbfounded, every single thought leaving you.

You couldn’t breathe.

In the hazy morning light seeping through the windows of your office, Billy looked beautiful and dissolute, shirt open at the collar, longer strands of dark hair falling into his eyes.

He was going to be the death of you. It really wasn’t fair.

“Billy, I have to tell you something.”

Was it you who spoke those words? They seemed distant and cold, so uncharacteristically detached.

Blood roared in your ears.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy’s reaction was instant. In three decisive steps he closed the distance that separated you, leaving the macarons on your desk. He stood still just mere inches away, and just like during your very first meeting, you had a fleeting thought cross your mind: you really were tiny next to him, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders.

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to keep your composure. He stared at you unblinking. He wasn’t touching you, but it felt like his eyes were looking straight into your soul, undressing you, blowing that wall you built around yourself into dust. They were taking you down, piece by piece, determined to see what you’d been keeping from him.   Because, of course, he knew. He should have known something was going on. Hence the surprise this morning.

He had no idea what it was though.

“Maybe you should sit,” you said, making a physical effort to tear your eyes away from him, feigning sudden interest in the buttons of his shirt.

  That chest…

  …was going to be just fine. He didn’t feel the same way you did. He would just find someone else to fill your position. With brilliant women stalking him - in cooperative packs - that would not be a problem.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you”.

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as his words reached your ears.  Fucking hell, you should have done that by phone. Or with other people around. You should have…

“You’re leaving”, you heard Billy repeat as his voice broke a little. He stepped away, burying his face in his hands as he dragged them down his jaw and neck, staring into the ceiling.

“Billy, listen, I…”

You were the one to close the space between the two of you this time, and before you could think too much into it… You threw your hands around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

The sensation struck you like a bolt of lightening when you felt his hands cross behind you back and pull you closer.

He smelled heavenly. Like a forest fire, a hint of smoke with oud and pine. You inhaled deep, deeper still, losing yourself in his comforting touch.

In his arms, just for a second there, you felt home.

“You… The company doesn’t need me anymore”, you nearly choked on words, screaming internally at yourself to keep the waterworks at bay. “It’s thriving, there’s not much else I can give you. My job here is done.”

I need to leave because your indifference is destroying me, and when I think I’m ready to let go, all it takes is one look from you, and I’m back to wanting you, to settling for anything you give me, like a goddamn fool.

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?!” Billy exclaimed, his hands grasping your shoulders as he distanced your bodies just enough for him to look into your eyes. “I nee- The company needs you! I was… You know, I was planning to make you the CEO of Anvil in a couple months time,” his smile, as earnest as it was, did not reach his eyes. “Yeah”, noticing your eyes go wide in shock, he let his hands slide down your sides. “You’re so much better at it than I ever was. I was going to join Frank and just manage operations… under you”.

You just stared at him, dumbfounded, not feeling a stray tear escape your eye and rolling down your cheekbone.

“These are the tears of happiness, I hope”, Billy added, and you barely registered his touch as his thumb wiped the salty drop off. “Well, I guess Anvil will have to settle for the little old me. With my best girl going places."

You gave him a strained smile before you carefully wiped your cheeks, just taking a moment to look at him. To try and read him.

Billy Russo was a goddamn ceiling. Plain white, cool and unattainable. In all of your time working for him, you have never seen this Hallmark version of him before. Which one was it?  

Oh wait, you guessed you knew. The happy-for-you friend.

“So where are you going?” Billy asked, his eyes empty. “Who snatched you away from m- Anvil?”

The stutter was so subtle you barely noticed. You were finally tired of reading into shit.

“Stark Industries. I’ll be their co-CEO”.

—

Before you left Anvil you promised yourself you’d get the deal with Stark Industries up and running. There was no one in the world you trusted more in terms of security than Billy.

(The fact that you couldn’t keep your heart safe from him didn’t really count, did it?)

As a matter of fact, Billy and you were going to shake hands with Anthony Stark on the deal on your last night of being Anvil’s CSO. It was happening in The Metropolitan Opera and required both Billy and yourself to dress for the occasion.   He promised to come pick you up at 6pm sharp; you were putting on the Jimmy Choo’s you’d bought a coulee months ago in Saks Fifth Avenue when you heard a low knock on your door.

Straightening up, you threw a quick glance at your reflection in the mirror. You decided to go with a long Marchesa black velvet gown with a rather deep V-line, a pair of long diamond earrings and an elegant half-up half-down hairdo, soft curls in the front framing your face.

“I’m coming”, you yelled out, picking up your leather jacket (because why the hell not) and your purse from the kitchen counter. Sharply opening the entrance door, you realized moments later that you didn’t even take time to prepare yourself for seeing William Russo in a tux.

If you weren’t already half in love with him, the sight before your eyes would have sealed the deal.

God-fucking-damn, like he needed any help being unforgettable.

With a black jacket thrown on a crisp white shirt with a couple of buttons undone and the tie hanging loosely around his neck, Billy was here to make a statement, to leave a mark. His hair was coiffed back in his usual style; honest to God, he looked like he just stepped out of the Man of the Year special GQ edition…

Just when your thoughts were about to switch to the way you must have looked next to him, ridiculous in your simplicity, like you refused to make an effort…

…Your eyes met his.

And the way he looked at you was so intense, his big black eyes with galaxies in them probing into yours, his strong jaw slack. There was beauty and tragedy reflecting in those orbs, but only just for a second - just for a second, he looked at you the way he probably looked at the sky he could never reach. Just for a second, he looked at you the way that made your heart beat twice as fast, like the world could crumble all around him and he still would not have blinked.

Would not have taken his eyes off you.

“Wow, Y/N, you look… You look beautiful”, he finally said. “I just can't spot a part of you that beats the other.”

Something in your chest exploded silently.

“Thank you, Billy,” you smiled at him - a genuine and happy smile, because you felt on top of the world with his adoring eyes on you. “You’re quite a catch yourself”.

Before you could scold yourself for your choice of words, you stepped out of your apartment and locked the door behind you.

“Shall we?” Billy offered his hand to you, without hesitation it seemed.

“We shall”, you replied instantly, slowly sliding your hand into the crook of his elbow.

And, just like always, you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

—

The crowd in the opera was so posh, the looks all the women had been throwing you first made you question your choice of outfit. It’s after overhearing their conversations that you realized, the reason they stared daggers at you was the man that kept by your side no matter where you went.

Virginia and Anthony welcomed you at the buffet with sun-stained sincere smiles. After a short small talk, Anthony Stark informed you both that he had signed the contract earlier today, thus officially giving Anvil an exclusive security deal with Stark Industries. As of now, Anvil was the only company allowed on the Stark Industries’ premises in the quality of guards and protection officers.

The look Billy and you exchanged spoke volumes; while your eyes were sparkling with excitement though, screaming “we did it!!”, his bottomless black eyes were whispering “thanks to you”.

The four of you then shook hands and went through rounds of gratitude and appreciation; when a pleasant woman’s voice announced the imminent start of Onegin, inviting the guests to go to their seats. Virginia immediately took you hand, leading you straight into the Opera house, saying something about leaving men to finish their drinks. You threw Billy a laughing look over your shoulder, mouthing “come join me” before disappearing out of his sight.

“So on the scale of one to ten, how pissed at me are you, Mr. Russo?”

Billy turned his head sharply to a side, leaning on the high table, and spotted Anthony Stark himself, nursing a glass of whiskey. “For taking your queen away from you? Excuse the chess metaphor, but that woman”, Stark took a sip of his whiskey and savoured it before swallowing it down. “Is a goddamn queen.”

Billy chuckled, straightening up, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“That, she is,” he whispered, his eyes still piercing the spot in the crowd where your smiling face was mere minutes ago.

—

When the opera ended, both Billy and you couldn’t be more relieved - because both of you hated it with passion.

Exchanging meaningful glances in the dark during the singers’ performances now and then, you had to bite your tongue in order to not just ask Billy if you could maybe sneak out. Russo proved to be more stoic than you, carefully covering your hand with his in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You didn’t look at him once after that, afraid to say or do something that would make him remove his hand.

How much more pathetic could you get?

When the performance was over, Billy led you out of the opera house without saying a word, his hand hugging carefully the small of your back.

His silence was unnerving. You didn’t know what to make of it. Should you have shaken his hand off back in the darkness of the concert hall? Or should you have caressed it with your thumb?

Your mind was spinning in circles by the time he opened the door for you and you slid into the front passenger seat of his Rolls goddamn Royce.

When he got in the car and gripped his steering wheel, you reached out and placed your hand on his whitening knuckles.

“Billy,” you spoke softly, barely audibly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, turning his head to a side to face you. His black eyes stared into yours, looking hypnotised and helpless. “Everything is fine.”

It didn’t take a degree in Psychology to see that he was lying. You could feel his gaze on you as you turned away from him, taking your hand away at the same time.

Billy started the car. The revving engine filled the silence, loaded with the unsaid words.

—

“…he then walked me to my door, we exchanged our goodbyes. And that was it,” you finished lightly, looking back at Karen.

Her eyes were red as she stared at you, unblinking.

“Unbelievable…” she whispered. “So you never told him?…” her lips barely moved.

You sighed.

“Have you ever felt like you’re potentially in love with someone? Like, you don’t actually love him, you know you don’t, but one day you realise that you could? You realise just how easy it would be for you to fall in love with him? With all the teasing and the banter, the play hitting each other, calling each other names, just…. You start to pick up on little things - like if you listen closely, in every shut up, there’s a barely-there ring of I could love you.”  You shifted on the floor a little, and Karen watched your memories transport you somewhere else again. While physically your were here, in your apartment - with your fluttering eye-lashes, uneven breathing and loaded expression - mentally, you were somewhere else.

“….You probably don’t notice it at first, but your body is drawn to him. Every accidental or absentminded touch…” you continued quietly. “And there’s that twinkle in his eyes when he looks at you and it messes you up, because - what’s going on with you? What the hell does it even mean? Are you imagining shit? You’re trying to make sense.”  

Karen didn’t interrupt, still staring at you as if she were seeing you for the first time

“I mean, he didn’t ask for any of it, you know?” you finally raised your foggy stare at Karen, as if searching for confirmation. “Maybe he just did something dumb one day, smiled at you or said something that seemed important and then all of the sudden you’re full on Looney Tunes, seeing stuff that isn’t there?”

Your words barely audible, you swallowed hard, before continuing.  “…I just kept looking at him with what ifs, and could haves, seeing all that goddamn potential. It’s so fucking twisted. Over-analyzing everything? Waiting for a sign?…” you chuckled bitterly all of the sudden. “…I was so fucking scared of reading too much into it, of crossing that line, because… It would be so easy!… Falling in love with him would have been so easy.”

Oh sweetheart, Karen’s eyes glowed with comfort as she reached out for your hand and squeezed it softly. But you already are in love with him.   

A loaded silence ripped through the air in your living room. The sound of an engine revving somewhere close squeezed its way through the slit of an opened window, and it seemed to break the trance.

Both Karen and you shuddered, and as you took in the realisation Karen’s eyes just bestowed upon you, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“It’s pretty late,” Karen spoke up, reading you like an open book. She knew it was her cue to leave the stage. You needed time to process. “Frank is in a bar nearby with Curtis, let me just give him a call, okay, sweetheart?” she gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze. “You know where to find me when you need me”.

“Yes”, you responded, blinking tiredly. “Thank you so much for coming, Karen. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that…”

“Shut the hell up,” the blonde advised, raising her eyebrows. “But honestly, Y/N, please call me once you… come to terms with things, okay?”

You nodded.

When Karen left, leaving the sweet and pleasant smell of her perfume behind, you closed the door behind her and turned around, leaning on the cold wood and metal with your eyes closed.

It’s been a month. This was supposed to pass by now. Billy was supposed to stop inviting himself into your dreams. You were supposed to heal.

You may have just realized you were in love with the man instead.

Letting out half a moan, half a groan, you peeled yourself from the door slowly, and brushed your hair back, wanting nothing more than to fall face-first into bed.

After you at least cleaned up a bit and put out the Dyptique candles, that is.

As your eyes scanned your living room in an attempt to asses the size of the job at hand, you stopped mid-way, zeroing in on the box Jax gave you earlier in the evening. It rested silently on the kitchen table.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you made your way to the kitchen area. Grabbing the package, you turned it around, looking for any indication of the sender.

The package wasn’t even stamped.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you took a moment to grab a knife from one of the drawers, and carefully swished it between the two cardboard sheets.

Flipping over the envelop, you heard something fall out of it before you could actually see it. A small sheet of paper floated in the air before falling on the surface, partially covering whatever fell out of the package.

Your heart squeezed the second your brain identified the object, attached to a worn silver chain.

With trembling fingers, you slid two metal pieces from under the paper, covering your mouth.

Finding their home in the palm of your hand, Billy’s dog tags shimmered in the dim candlelight.

Squeezing them in between your fingers, you grabbed the paper with your free hand, your eyes staring at one single sentence scribbled on its surface.

“You took my heart with you”.

#billy russo x you #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo angst #billy russo fanfic #billy russo story #the punisher imagine #billy russo imagine #the punisher story #billy russo request

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feelingsdusk-writes · 6 years

Text

Mojo shenanigans

From According to plan's verse.

Up until Peter graduates, Stiles visits him a lot at New Haven, always detouring to surprise him with at least a short visit. What can he say? He’s a sucker for the surprised and pleased smiles that spring on his face when he spots him.

It also leaves him wanting to march back to Talia and throttle her badly. He knows that she was being influenced and twisted by Deaton, but the damage she did to Peter is huge. Because Peter also tries to cover those smiles… It took him a while to get that part of the surprise is because he can’t fully believe that anyone would do something like that for him. Even after more than two years of relationship.

It’s the three year anniversary of their first date and they are walking through East Rock Park, Stiles continuously making puns about cheeks that make Peter snark back good naturedly about three headed dogs and sarcastically remark about elite hunters. He hasn’t stopped milking that ever since a rookie from another family gushed about the Argents and especially about Stiles. He still grins like a lovesick idiot when he remembers Peter’s peeved face and territorial growl, though.

Of course, with his luck everything goes south. Maybe taking a stroll in the dark for the sake of remembrance wasn’t such a good idea, after all?

Peter stops and cocks his head and, really, Stiles shouldn’t find it so cute, and he’s internally gushing, and… then he hears them. His eyes slowly follow the rapidly approaching sound to the manhole to his left (a frantic WILL YOU FUCKING PIPE DOWN!!! comes clearly through the grid) then further as it moves away.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present you the elite,“ Peter quips drolly.

His phone rings.

No, absolutely not. He considers seriously not picking. This day is for Peter and just for Peter and he has a damn present that took forever to track and he’s going to give it to him over that horrible coffee and almost stale muffins the place where they had their first date has, dammit.

Peter blinks before a slow smile creeps into his face. He grabs his face gently to kiss him… and at the same time filches his phone and picks up the call, pressing the phone to Stiles’ ear.

“I’m all about tradition,“ he smirks sassily after he hangs up, pulling him in the direction of the screams he undoubtedly still hears. “Maybe we can bring another species to extinction today. It does wonders to the self-esteem.”

“You would love that, you beast,“ he grumbles as he follows him dragging his feet and pouting.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, STILES" Brandon cries when he spots them ahead. From behind him, screams approach fast. “IT’S A FUCKING TANK! BULLETS FUCKING REBOUND!“

“RUN, RUN, FUCKING RUN!,” Madison screams, pushing her brother forward and past them.

“FUCKING LANGUAGE!” Reaches them, the voice steadily coming closer. “I DIDN’T FUCKING PAY A DAMN KIDNEY FOR THAT MOTHERFUCKING POSH AS HELL SCHOOL TO HEAR YOU CURSING LIKE SAILORS, DAMMIT. AND PIPE THE FUCK DOWN OR WE’RE GONNA WAKE THE HOLE FUCKING TOWN!!!“

“Ah, the elite,“ Peter snorts and Stiles rolls his eyes. “Well? Where is the big bad? It can’t be that-WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!” And then he proceeds to grab Stiles and run, survival instincts kicking in hard.

“AND YOU HAVEN’T SEEN ALL,“ Anthony wheezes as he catches up with them. “HI, STILES!”

“WHAT CAN BE WORSE THAN THOSE TEETH?!” Peter gasps.

“I DON’T KNOW, WHAT ABOUT THE SCORPION TAIL?”

“ARE YOU TELLING ME IT’S A FUCKING TARASQUE?!“ Stiles cries.

“A FUCKING W-” Anthony’s scream gets abruptly cut when they are pulled to the side and they get their mouths covered. Only Stiles’ firm grip on Peter’s arms stops his immediate violent reaction.

Meghan appears running and Clara grabs her too. Not even a minute later a humongous beast passes them, only to stop and start sniffing around. They even contain their breathing.

Several things happen at once. Peter looks as it physically hurts him not to comment about the fact that ten elite hunters are huddled together like scared and puffed kittens (never mind he’s doing the same) when faced with one single enemy. Meghan starts frantically gesturing at Stiles and mouthing MOJO while Clara, Anthony, Brandon and Madison look at him hopefully. Stiles gestures back just as frantically what he hopes conveys clearly a what the fuck can he do about a dragon with the head of a lion, six short legs similar to that of bear legs, the body of an ox, the shell of a turtle, and a scorpion stinger-tipped tail??? The rest of the hunters are eyeing the proceedings confused and is this really the best time for this?

A tiny almost nonexistent frustrated sound escapes one of the rookies and everyone freezes as the tarasque stills and sniffs around. It doesn’t move in the end, but everyone glares at the rookie and he makes a plaintive gesture. Clara breathes out slowly, leaning a little bit on the disgusting wall, utterly exhausted.

A rock falls.

Daniel eyes the group of people that just entered the coffee shop incredulously and then turns to look at his boss wordlessly. They are filthy and smell horrible, but there’s such a dangerous aura around them that he doesn’t dare to say anything. His boss, an asshole of the highest caliber, motions at him to start attending them.

One of them approaches the counter. His left eye is twitching a bit and when he speaks, it’s like it’s physically paining him to be polite. He’s also clutching a package in his hands in a white knuckled and almost manic grip. He involuntarily takes a step back and the guy behind him smirks.

“What I don’t get,” one of the guys by the door (not) whispers pouting like his three year old sister, “is why didn’t he do that mojo thing right from the start.” Some of the group gasp as if he’s blasphemed.

The guy from the counter pauses ordering and twitches. Two of the nearby guys take a step back and he unconsciously mimics them. One of the hot twins headslaps the guy by the door hard. “Okay, bitch, engrave this in your brain,“ and she pokes at his forehead so harshly that several (including Daniel himself) wince.” You never ever question the mojo again if you wanna live. Fucking rookies.”

Which what? Who the hell are this people? He looks anxiously at his boss again and he makes a chop-chop gesture at him.

They stay for breakfast. Why? No one does that? The coffee is a sludge that could be used as a degreaser and the pastries are so stale that could be used as military weaponry and they look like the kind of people that would kill for something like that. That smirky guy is just saying what about extinction? And did that hot chick (the other twin) just embed the knife on… they are those shitty plastic ones!

“Fuck this, I’m not paid enough for this shit,“ he mutters as he flees to get his things and leave.

“Now, this is something wouldn’t mind making a tradition out of,” smirky guy crows as he watches him leave. He walks faster ignoring his boss’ cursing. “It’s another type of extinction, after all.“

Tick guy laughs and the rest of the party seems to relax. He really wants to flip sarcastic guy the bird, but… those teeth… did they just… He sprints the hell out of there.

—

On a sunny and beautiful Sunday afternoon, Stiles and Allison nearly die.

It’s summer and Stiles babysat six year old Allison yesterday so that Chris and Victoria could have a date night that didn’t involve ghouls or hydras or anything supernatural (they haven’t been very lucky lately), and have a good dinner on a nice restaurant that just opened last week and has had very nice reviews.

He’s pretty sure her detailed analysis of the food is going to be hilarious and not very flattering. After last time, he’s never doubting her culinary skills, though.

He’s meeting her and Chris, along with several visiting family members (it’s Alexandrine’s birthday) at the picnic area that has become so popular lately. You can’t go by car (only police and emergency services are allowed), but it’s just outside town proper, after a nice ten minute walk you cross a pretty big bridge and you’re there.

Allison insisted on baking a cake for grandma so they’re running a little late. It’s lopsided and made almost entirely out of sprinkles and gummy bears more than actual cake, but since it’s Allison’s, he’s pretty sure everyone is going to be gushing at the feat.

He eyes her fondly. She’s insisted on walking, so right now he only has the cake box on his hands. She’s on her princess stage, so she’s wearing a pretty light pink and white (Victoria is going to kill him for letting her wear that to a picnic) dress with matching Mary Janes. He’s also put her quite long hair in a braided crown with flowers interwoven on it and she’s been squealing about it on intervals ever since he finished.

What. He researched, okay? Chris is hopeless about those things and last time Victoria had to leave for a week… He couldn’t stand it anymore, okay? Kate can mock him all she wants (it’s a fair price for letting him practice on her beforehand).

“We’re almost there,“ he tells Victoria on the phone. “Just crossing the bridge. Where are you? It’s pretty crowded.”

“I’ll meet you at the end and lead you there.“

“Perfect. No one has killed Peter yet, right? I’m hearing a car coming but since I don’t hear the sirens…”

“I can’t promise you more than a few minutes more of safety if he continues like this,” she deadpans and he cracks.

“See you in a few. Say bye to mama, Ally.”

“Bye, mama!“ she squeals and he melts like always.

He can tell the car coming from behind is driving quite fast. “Ally, come here, honey.” She runs up to him, slamming into his legs and hugging them, and he picks her up. He spots Victoria ahead and he makes Allison wave at her for him as they continue crossing the bridge. He presses himself to the edge to leave more than enough way for the vehicle to pass them safely.

A few seconds later Victoria screams, terrified for the first time since nearly seven years ago.

Instead of slowing down, the car goes even faster, obviously targeting Stiles and Allison. It crashes on them and then falls over the edge.

“CHRIS!“ she screams, calling him to her as she starts staggering towards where she last saw them. Peter grabs her as he passes, helping her before she falls.

“I can still hear their heartbeats,” he says urgently before letting her go and sprinting towards the edge and jumping before anyone else appears. “I hear his voice! STILES?!”

She forcefully composes herself and sprints after Peter. People are starting to appear when she lets herself slip on the hillside, her heart pounding wildly.

“I know it hurts a little bit, honey, but it will be over soon.“ She hears Stiles’ pained and strained voice. She reaches Peter and then looks up.

“Mama!” Allison cries, big tears sliding down her face.

Stiles’ palms are stuck to the ceiling and he has Allison grabbed tightly between his legs. Even from where she is, she can see the oddness of one of his shoulders, probably dislocated. He’s trembling badly and gritting his teeth. Allison looks unharmed, even if shaken.

She hears the sirens getting nearer. They have to act fast because it’s obvious that the way Stiles is keeping himself up is not normal.

“Peter,” Stiles grunts as he lets the palm of the not dislocated arm unstick, a pained scream escaping him. “It’s okay, Ally,” he gasps and hoists Allison up to press her to his chest. Her stomach rolls. When he speaks again, she can clearly hear in his voice the extreme pain he is in now. The deputies start to slide down the hillside, running towards them. “You’re gonna have to catch us.”

“I’m ready when you are,“ he answers, gaze intense.

He lets go, curling himself around Allison as he falls and putting her above him. The deputies yell alarmed. She reaches for them too.

Peter catches them with a grunt, steady as a rock.

Later, at the hospital, after being checked (Allison is unharmed, Stiles pulled several muscles and really dislocated his left arm), they get the whole story from one of the deputies. The man that tried to kill them was Alan Richardson, a recent divorcee that had decided, under the influence, to get revenge from his ex-wife by trying to take from her what she loved the most, their daughter. His crazy idea was to search for them across the picnic area, not caring about who he run over until he found them. If he hadn’t spotted Allison before reaching the actual picnic area and drunkenly thought her his daughter, he would have killed a lot of people.

“Those are pretty good reflexes you have there,” the deputy says, “and a very good luck.”

“He’s a tough cookie,“ Chris says fondly.

“I’m hungry, mama,“ Allison pipes from Stiles’ side. “Can I have some cookies?”

“Here, honey,” Victoria answers as she passes her a little bag. Homemade cookies, of course.

Stiles’ lips twitch. At the moment the rest of the family is in the waiting room (Peter’s not very happy right now, he bets). Allison refused to part from Stiles, and her parents refused to part from her, so the doctors have made some allowances. He’s happy that apart from some clinginess on her part, the whole ordeal doesn’t seem to have left any lasting consequences on her.

His left arm is taped to prevent him from moving it and his right arm is around her, so he nuzzles her hair to catch her attention. “Share?”

She’s such a generous cutie. She hums and turns to put a cookie in his mouth, still munching hers.

Right them, his father enters the room, relieving the other deputy. He freezes, nearly choking and Victoria places a hand on his back. Chris eyes them curious but doesn’t say a thing.

“You seem to have an uncanny ability to be in the middle of all the trouble, son,” he says drolly, smiling slightly at the picture he and the little girl make.

“I’d like to point out that I also have the ability to get me out of it normally,“ he answers, mouth partially full. Allison puts another cookie in it the moment he swallows.

“One of these days I’ll get how you do it and share the secret magic with the rest of the police force.“

“It’s the mojo.” Allison pipes helpfully. Stiles chokes, Chris is flabbergasted and Victoria shakes containing her laughter.

“The mojo,“ he humors her gently but obviously not taking her seriously.

“Never doubt Uncle’s mojo,“ she nods seriously and proceeds to try to put the last cookie in Stiles’ mouth. “Right, uncle?”

He bites only half, letting her have the rest. She munches happily. “Right, sweetheart.”

He takes in his father’s expression and he cracks, hiding his face in her nearly undone updo. She doesn’t really get why he’s laughing but she joins him.

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sage-nebula · 7 years

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Not meme, but headcanons about Link's and Zelda's lives post-game? I like to think they just stuff Zelda's library in the Hateno home eventually since I don't think they'd spend much time in the house anyway, Link would be out there helping people and Zelda would be in Purah's or Robbie's labs, or otherwise warping around with the Sheikah Slate (or not, idk if it would allow non-Hero to warp. Regardless, she'd be out there for her archaeology passions). (I still need to finish 😅)

Sure!! I have lots of headcanons about this. ♥ I do include some information from the Golden Ending, so I’ll put that bit under a cut to give you the option of whether or not you want to read it. As for the non-spoiler stuff:

I do think they actually live in the house in Hateno. In my headcanon, Link bought it not only so that he would have a place to store the special weapons / a place to rest when he got tired, but also with the thought in mind that he and Zelda could possibly live there together once all was said and done. He was still regaining his memories of the past at the time, and they were disjointed and out of order; but the more he remembered, the more he remembered how close they once were, and aside from that, he figured (correctly) that Zelda wouldn’t want to live in the castle when all was said and done. She did spend one hundred years in there with Calamity Ganon, after all. Wouldn’t she want to spend her days somewhere else?So after the events of the game, he brings her back to Hateno. He already has his horse there with him thanks to the Dark Beast Ganon fight (in my headcanon this is Keith, but it could be any horse for any others), and so he helps Zelda onto the back of the horse and brings her back to Hateno. He blindfolds her with a scarf when they get near, leads Keith over to the little mini stables and puts him in the stall (next to the royal white horse, named Allura in my headcanon, but again, the name is irrelevant), and then when he goes back over to where Zelda is in front of the house, he removes the blindfold … and lets her see the house.“Ta-da!”Zelda blinks, staring at the house for a moment before she says, “… It’s a house.”“Yeah. It’s our house. I bought it.”“You … bought a house?” Zelda turns to look at him, staring, and Link laughs a bit awkwardly.“Yup. They were going to tear it down, so I bought it for 3,000 rupees and some wood. And, uh, some other stuff inside—it’s all decorated. Here, come see.”He takes her hand and leads her inside. Shows her the Champions’ weapons on the wall (“I figured it’d be best to honor them, instead of breaking their stuff in combat”), the table, the desk and bed on the second floor. He stutters and stammers over getting a bigger bed, or a second bed, before Zelda laughs and says it’s all right, she doesn’t mind sharing. They’ll need a bigger one, of course, but for now this one will do.“Really?” he says, his blush fading, but his heart still racing.“I’ve spent one hundred years alone, with only a brutish pig-beast for company,” she says, and Link’s heart cracks as Zelda wraps her arms around her middle. “I wouldn’t mind having someone soft and warm to lay next to at night.”They’re both blushing, now, their cheeks pink and indeed warm, so Link clears his throat. “All right. Well, then, I’ve got one last thing to show you.”That’s when he takes her hand again and leads her back outside, to the stable beside their house, where their two horses each have their own individual stalls. Zelda is in shock; she goes to the white horse and tentatively reaches out her hand. The horse sniffs, and then bumps her snout against Zelda’s palm.“That’s a descendant of your old horse, I think,” Link says. “I’ve been calling her Allura, but you can call her whatever you like.”“Allura is a nice name,” Zelda says, and she turns to look at Link in wonder. “Where did you … ?”“Plenty of time for that story later,” Link says, mostly because he has just remembered the room in the back. “Come on. One last thing, for real this time.”

The shed / room in the back of the house becomes Zelda’s new study. Link never minded her intellectual curiosities; aside from the incident where she almost made him eat a frog (Zelda pls), Link was actually always impressed by how smart and studious she is, and loved seeing how passionately happy she got when talking about her interests. So after he helps clean the room of spiders and cobwebs, they install nice lights and move the desk from the second floor of the house to the back room, so that can be Zelda’s study. She still does study with Purah, Symon, and Robbie, but she also has her own study at their house where she can go for private thoughts and reflections, just as she did at the castle.

Link does most of the cooking, because he’s gotten rather good at it over the course of his adventure, and Zelda—being a princess—never actually learned. She does have Link teach her, though, and he’s happy to show her new recipes. He’s less happy when she tries to add actual monster parts to food.“Zelda, no,” he says.“What? Monster parts can be used in elixirs. It stands to reason that they could be mixed into food as well. It’s worth a try, at any rate.”“No, it’s not. That’s disgusting.” Link pulls a face. “You should go hang out with Kilton. He’d love to lick Lizalfos with you.”“Who’s Kilton?”“I’ll introduce you sometime.”

They go horseback riding a lot. Since my headcanon gives them Keith (my black horse, my beautiful and brave and best boy) and Allura (the royal white horse), they actually make quite the striking pair. Only Link can warp with the Sheikah Slate (given that he’s the Hero), and he does warp them around sometimes, but Zelda also enjoys seeing the world by traveling on horseback, and Link can’t blame her. Even if there’s so much reconstruction to be done, Hyrule is still a beautiful place. So they go horseback riding a lot, either because they have somewhere to be or simply because they want to enjoy riding for the sake of it. One hundred years has not done very much to diminish their love of riding.

Although only Link can warp with the Sheikah Slate, Zelda is the one who carries it the most often. It was originally hers, after all. That said, they more or less share it now. Zelda was very thrilled to see all of the information Link had added to the Compendium. He, meanwhile, is very pleased that she’s so happy.

After showing Zelda the house, Link took Zelda to Kakariko so that she could reunite with Impa. Both Impa and Zelda cried at this reunion.

Now that she can actually practice and learn without King Rhoan being all D:

With that said, Link ends up taking her by Jini’s Mounted Archery Course, so that she can drill and get good at mounted combat. Jini is excited to have a new pupil, and warms up to Zelda just as quickly as he had warmed up to Link.

And then the kind of #spoilers things:

Although Link takes Zelda to a variety of other places for fun reasons as well (diving in Zora’s Domain, sand seal racing in the desert, listening to Kass’ kids sing in Rito Village, et cetera), they are still focused on reconstructing Hyrule. They maintain upkeep on the Divine Beasts and are actively working to try and unite Hyrule into one kingdom again, given how splintered the various settlements have been ever since the calamity. They do a lot of traveling for this reason, so even though they do return home when they can (either by warping or otherwise), they do spend nights out in the world as well, either by campfires or at inns, stables, et cetera.

Zelda, as mentioned, doesn’t want to live in the castle, ever again. But that said, she is still the kingdom’s princess (queen, now), even if she’s not sure she’s ready for that responsibility, either. Link thinks she is—she has always been a magnificent princess, and will be an amazing queen—but Zelda herself isn’t sure. Even so, she knows that if Hyrule is to be united and truly come together as a kingdom again that she’s going to have to start introducing herself as the queen, and so—with the help of their allies—they do start spreading that word. Zelda formally introduces herself to King Dorephan, Riju, et al as the Queen of Hyrule shortly after she is freed from the castle and is able to travel again. At least by starting with the leaders of each place, it can make it easier for people to see her for the queen she now is, whether she’s ready to be or not. (Although, running a kingdom out of a house in Hateno Village will be tricky, but …) So there’s a lot of political stuff to figure out, but Link assures Zelda that they can take it one step at a time.“We still have to figure out what those steps actually are,” Zelda tells him. “We can’t just … fly by the seat of our pants!”“Why not?” Link asks, and as Zelda gapes at him, adds, “It’s worked pretty well for me so far. Well, actually I was flying by the handles of my paraglider, but—”Zelda swats his arm.

They don’t come together romantically right away. It’s been one hundred years, after all, and things were complicated even back then. So for a long while they live together as friends, platonic roommates even as they share a bed and cuddle and find comfort in each other. Romance builds up slowly over time, and they don’t actually come together romantically until about another year has passed. That said? No one is surprised when they announce this. “Splendid! I must admit I thought you were already together, but even so, superb! Well done!” Sidon gushes.“Were you not … already together?” Kass asks, confused.And so on and so forth.

And that’s all for now!

#tofukitten #loz spoilers #botw spoilers #legend of zelda spoilers #breath of the wild spoilers

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middleearthtales · 7 years

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Adventures in Middle-earth pt. 7

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Sorry I’ve been away for a while, I promise to have the rest of this up soon, I’ve had writers block the past few days. Enjoyyyy!

Word count: 2,002 Warnings: Action, feels, hurt. Synopsis: After stumbling into Middle-earth, you became part of Thorin’s company to reclaim Erebor, your feelings for the dwarf king grew and his in return.

Thorin held onto your hand with all of his might, through every bump that the river took you, even being chased down by orcs, he still held your hand. It was nice even though his grip felt like he was tearing your skin. Although him gripping your hand was painful you also loved it. Hunted down by yet more orcs was just growing tiresome. You hated the look, the smell, everything about orcs. And yet they were always finding ways to hunt you down, it's like they had some unnatural super sense of smell or something in which they knew where the company would be and when. Luckily the elven rangers were cutting them off whilst trying to hunt you down too, which was convenient considering you could hardly defend yourselves being inside a barrel and travelling at whatever miles per hour down this extremely dangerous river. You had no weapons and therefore couldn't defend yourselves, which was why you were grateful of the elves hunting down the orcs. Climbing onto the riverside made you feel a little queasy, you body had just adjusted to the movement of the barrel and you felt as if you were still moving in it even when stood upright. When you climbed up to your feet, Thorin grabbed each shoulder of yours, "Are you hurt?" he looked desperate as he stared into your eyes, "Quickly!" "No- no, I am well." you stuttered, how did he still manage to make you a nervous wreck even in such times?

Sneaking into Laketown was a pain in the backside. You were a slightly clumsy person, therefore sneaking wasn't on your resume. You had to climb up through Bard's toilet. You felt relatively relieved to come across people of your own kind, it felt odd though to see people of a normal size other than Gandalf. Although, Gandalf was quite tall as were elves. But it felt quite nice to be among people of your own race. Bard's home was damp, it was small and compact and definitely not the type of place in which you'd like to hide a company of dwarves, a hobbit and a human. You didn't like the smell of Laketown, it was incredibly fishy and the smell of damp wood that was most probably rotting away filled the scent as well along with the cold sharp air, it didn't complement the other well.

After Thorin had held your hand so desperately, he could barely keep his eyes off of you, even when you caught him looking, he didn't stop. He just smiled politely, his eyes looked so calm as if everything would be okay. But something wasn't right in his eyes, you couldn't pin point it but it was like his eyes looked differently at everything ever since he had seen the mountain up so close. You were practically on Erebor's doorstep and you felt as if the Thorin you knew was beginning to disappear. You hated every second of it. You wanted to know why you felt this way, maybe it was just a gut feeling but usually they're right, aren't they?

When the Master of Laketown had accepted the company with open arms, you felt little more comfortable taking rest here, you weren't in a cramped room anymore, you could actually move around with freedom. They filled your bellies with hot food and prepared you for reclaiming Erebor. Boarding the boat to go to Erebor, you saw Thorin push Kili away, Kili looked exceptionally upset but you didn't know why. Fili stood and protested to Thorin about staying, you were confused and you didn't think much of it until Thorin came to put his hand on your shoulder. No. Thorin was not about to leave you behind. "You cannot come." he spoke sternly, it sent shivers down your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck began to stand. You felt a deep sickness lay in the pit of your stomach, you didn't want the company to get to the mountain without you. "No, Thorin, I'm coming with you!" "No, you are not." his voice was abrupt but you didn't want to give into him, "Thorin, you can't do this!" you felt a hiccup in your voice as if you were about to sob uncontrollably, "You can't just leave me here!" "I can, I will, I am. It is too dangerous." he placed his hand on your cheek and looked into your eyes almost as if to apologise. You rushed into his body and wrapped your arms tightly around his torso allowing a sob to silently fall from your lips. He gently embraced you and you inhaled his scent before he got into the boat and sailed off for the mountain, you had never had to hold in a wave of tears before this moment but you felt like if you even opened your mouth a complete flood of emotion like gushing water.

"Bilbo, I have made a mistake." Thorin spoke full of sadness, "What? What do you mean, Thorin?" said Bilbo, "If she were here, I would be able to protect her with my life, first hand. What if something happens to her at Laketown and I am not there to be at her defence?" the sadness still in his tone, "Thorin, she can handle herself. She learned from the best." Bilbo consoled with a genuine smile forming on his face, "You taught her everything she knows, she will be okay." there was a long silence as Thorin's eyes were dragged to the region of Laketown, "You love her, don't you?" Thorin still didn't take his eyes off of Laketown even as the boat sail further and further away. He did not reply to Bilbo but the silence between them made the answer clear as day.

It had been hours since the company had left for the mountain, you felt sick sitting on the brink of danger. What scared you most was not knowing how Thorin was, it was not being able to keep your eyes on him and making sure for definite that he would be alive and well despite he was a dwarf king and could manage himself, you still felt as if Thorin made a mistake leaving you here. There was a deep rumble and you felt everything around you begin to shake. You felt that deadly sickness grow in the pit of your stomach again, you felt like you had just eaten something dodgy and you were about to throw up, but your eyes were glued to the mountain. You could not take your eyes off of the mountain, no matter how hard you tried, Kili was screaming in pain as Tauriel chanted in ancient elvish in order to heal him, and yet you still stared at the mountain as if waiting for a sign. That's when you heard one of Bard's daughters scream and slam the door. Orcs. Not now. You didn't even have your bow or daggers. How were you expected to fight with no weaponry, damn elves, taking your weapons. You looked out the window to see a large company of orcs attacking from the roof of the houses, you were trying to deduce a plan in which to fight off the orcs but with no weaponry, the odds were not in your favour. You had no martial arts skills and frankly, fists against orc weapons was just a large factor that couldn't be missed out on. In the corner of the room sat the home made weapons Bard had offered you all before, you eyed them carefully before grabbing one with a spike at the head, this would made for a pretty standard dagger if you could wield it in a clever manner. The thoughts were racing through your mind of how you would use this piece of weaponry before the door was broken down by an exceptionally large orc, followed by a blond elf. He swung into the room with little effort, sliced across the neck of the orc and looked at the people in the room. He was one of the elves that took you back to Mirkwood, you weren't pleased to see him again and yet you still were relieved that the elf was here. Bard's daughters hid under the table as one orc after the other found their way into the building. Tauriel and the blond elf stuck their knives into many orc skulls, you used your spear-like dagger a few times to catch an orc on the tendon of their foot to make them fall, this was easy, the killing was left to the elves though.

You had no idea how long the elves had been fighting off the orcs until you looked around to see no more, you were dazed, had you just dreamed all of this? You clung onto the make-shift dagger in your hand, ripped it from the long stick it was attached to, you prefered to be up close and personal with your killings. It was also easier to hold that way.

You heard the rumble coming from the mountain again, silence fell over Laketown as everybody looked up to the mountain, you heard a woman whimper something about a prophecy but you didn't take it in. You saw something, something like a cloud of smoke rising from the mountain, you were confused but then you heard a giant blood curdling roar and you knew. Smaug had awakened.

The dark shadow of the beast was approaching and you felt your cheeks boil up at the inevitability of your own death. You didn't even want to think of what could have happened to the company, if Smaug was alive and coming to Laketown, he must be.. you couldn't bear the thought. You had to be strong, you had to escape Laketown, Fili, Kili, Oin and Bofur were still with you, as were Bard's children. It may have been a stab in the dark but you felt as if there may be hope still at the end of all things. The fire was searing, you felt as if your skin was being melted from your bones. You had been to hot countries before from when you were at home but that was nothing compared to the agonising ache that stung your bare skin. Every time Smaug flew just feet above your head you saw your life flash before your eyes and yet you still only thought of one person, Thorin. Every time Smaug spoke, you thought of how you wouldn't accept his death, how he just can't be dead. You had all climbed into a fishing boat just outside Bard's home with his children, Kili, Fili, Bofur, Oin and Tauriel. You felt as if you were trying to escape death, you had been through many near-death experiences whilst being in Middle-earth, but this one was going to stick with you. You had no idea how you would even escape the wrath of the mighty Smaug.

Somehow you did manage to escape with your skin still attached, you were now cold but it was refreshing after almost being cooked alive, your skin was still sore from the kiss of the fire. Smaug was dead, thanks to Bard. You had narrowly escaped death another time and you still couldn't believe how you managed to do so. Now to turn to the mountain, Fili, Kili, Bofur and Oin were readying themselves to set sail to the mountain almost immediately, they barely had time to catch their breath. The mountain was now empty, meaning you could go in and look for Thorin and the rest of the company. As much as you wanted to go and look, your body felt heavy and it was like you didn't want to find out if they were alive or not. You felt reluctant but you couldn't stay there a minute longer without knowing. And so you sailed to the mountain with a heavy heart and hope, because that was all you had now.

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mspriss-2u · 7 years

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Before the Fame

*As promised the Luke Kuechly story I have been working on. Enjoy*

Summary

Janelle Johnson is a freshman at Boston College. She comes from a small town with barely 400 people, but she has always been a big dreamer and is excited to embark on her new journey. An assignment from one of her classes helps her to form an unlikely relationship with Luke Kuechly. Their relationship has its fair share of blissful moments and challenges, especially with Luke growing in stardom on the football field.

Chapter 1

Janelle was an eighteen year old girl with big dreams from Bath, North Carolina. Yes, it is barely up for honorable mention to even be a town with a population of less than four hundred, but it was her little community on the river right off the waters that she will always love. Her father was a fisherman from the time she could remember, so she was a lover of the water. Her mother had died during her sophomore year of high school losing her battle to ovarian cancer, so it was just her, her father and younger brother. However, people always told her that she was the exact embodiment of her mother, with her smooth dark brown skin, tall frame, beautiful hazel eyes and go getter personality. Janelle smiled while in her thoughts as she thought of how much this moment would have meant to her mother. Brenda Johnson was always Janelle’s biggest cheerleader for her reaching her dreams. She remembered her mother always telling her how smart, kind, beautiful and determined she was. Janelle soaked up those words to help push her to go for her goal towards becoming a physical therapist, but first she had to get this Biology Major done. It was her first year at Boston College and Janelle was absolutely over the moon to be starting this journey.

Janelle shook herself out of the trip down memory lane to pack up her things for her next class. She was currently well underway in her first semester at Boston College and she learned fairly quickly that the library would probably be her primary place to retreat for all things requiring peace and quiet, as the girls’ dorm rooms seemed to be always crammed with chatter and noise and her dorm mate was obviously very popular socialite oncampus already. However, she did find that Sundays were fairly quiet in the dorm, so she took that time to sleep in and do some studying in her room.

She glanced down at her phone and realized that she only had 7 minutes to book it halfway across campus to her World Literature class. Mr. Weinham was not a professor you wanted to piss off with multiple tardies. Janelle made it right in the classroom as soon as Mr. Weinham was getting up to shut the door to get class started. He gave her a stern look, but gave her a fair pass to come in before he closed the door. Janelle sighed in relief and sat in the seat in the back corner of the room. It wasn’t even 2 minutes later two other students walked into the room. “Please leave, you are late.” Mr. Weinham said in a dismissive tone and then proceeded with his lesson as the students stood in shock before slowly walking out.

It was getting near the end of class, when Mr. Weinham brought it to the class’s attention that another assignment was coming up.

“So, we have a group assignment coming up, as you are aware from your syllabus,” Mr Weinham stated as the room erupted into collective groans.

“I’m always delighted to be the bearer of wonderful news,” he said dryly.

“To display even more of my genius nature, I have decided to pick your groups for you,” he said as he pulled out a piece of paper, no doubt having the groups listed on it.

“I will leave it on the desk for all of you to take a moment to look at it. Once you have found the names of your partners, please group up to collect information and a literature piece that you want to present on as a group. You have approximately 15 minutes left in class, so I expect you to all come to a conclusion on the literature piece today and bring me a paper with your group member names and the name of the piece before you leave today. This will be the attendance count for today, so make sure it gets done,” Mr. Weinham announced before going back to his desk and letting everyone line up to look at the list.

Before Janelle could make it to the list of names, she heard her name “Janelle Johnson?” a random person in the room called. She looked to find the voice and acknowledged it was her. The girl walked over to her, “Hi I am Frieda Lopez, we are signed up in the same group, along with a Luke Kuckly….Kooeckly…umm not sure, but there can’t be many Lukes in this room,” she said with a slight chuckle. Well it wasn’t long before both the ladies figured out exactly who he was, as he walked over to the two of them, no doubt hearing them making horrible attempts at pronouncing his last name. “Hey ladies, I couldn’t help but hear you were probably looking for me. I am Luke Kuechly,” he said politely. “Oh sorry about that, I tried to give it a shot. Nice to meet you Luke, I’m Frieda.” Luke and Frieda took a seat next to Janelle who had already sat back down in her desk trying to figure out what literature pieces they could limit it all down too. “And your name is?” Luke asked as he sat next to Janelle. “Oh I am sorry, I am Janelle. I was just trying to quickly look over some pieces I thought were interesting.” After introducing themselves, their group finally settled on a topic and exchanged information. Janelle picked up that Frieda was a go getter and perfectionist, so she had her fill out their form and turn it in for them. They had all decided that they would meet next Wednesday afternoon, as that seemed to be the time all three were free. Janelle left class pretty satisfied with the group that was picked for her. She still didn’t have a good read on Luke. He seemed like a nice person, but after the initial introductions, he let Frieda and Janelle take the reins on picking the project and just voiced his agreement and then he hurried out to his next class. Janelle was excited. She had met a few people in her classes already, but this assignment had potential to allow her to get to make some actual friends, especially with all the time they would be spending together. This college thing may be alright after all.

The next day brought another ridiculously early alarm and an onslaught of classes. Janelle had managed to fully awake by lunch time. She was lucky enough that her last class was cancelled for the day, so she went back to her dorm room to drop her things off and then made plans to grab something from the Student Union afterwards. When she entered the room, she caught sight of her roommate, Callie, with one of her friends. They seemed to be in a good mood.

“Hey Janelle, I see you are back early. Cancelled class?” her roommate asked, while curling the last few strands of her hair.

“Girl yes, and I am too glad about it! These teachers are not playing with these assignments,” Janelle said with a sigh as she lugged her stuff on her bed and sat down.

“Well, we are getting ready to go to the pep rally for Homecoming.” Callie said as she finished up her hair.

“Oh yeah and I heard the entire football team will be there, especially that sexy beast Luke Kuechly. I just cannot stop looking at him,” Callie’s friend said gushing like a fan girl. If Janelle could remember correctly, her name was Beth.

“Oh yes, I heard that he is a sweetheart, but he is hard to crack, but I do like a challenge.” Callie said with a smug look on her face, as they both got their sweaters to leave.

“Well have fun ladies!” Janelle said as they said their goodbyes and headed out the door.

Ugh, pep rallies sucked. Janelle hated them in high school and could imagine them being even worse in college. She had nothing against football, but basketball was her everything, if she really had to choose one sport. Ask her about her Miami Heat and she could speak for days. As Janelle thought about it, this pep rally probably meant the Student Union would be packed, so she decided to opt for the stand alone café closer to her dorm. It really was a nice place, but since it was out the way from the Student Union, it didn’t get as many customers.

“Welcome to Olive Oil Café ma’am, how can I help you today?” the server asked. Janelle gave her order and paid and sat down at a table that faced the students standing outside engaging in the festivities. She may not be one for pep rallies, but people watching proved to be a good hobby some days. As she sat down to eat her lunch, she laughed at the mascot doing his ridiculous routine with someone playing the opposing team’s mascot. Afterwards she saw the coaches get up to give a few words and then of course some of the primary football players. When they called up Callie’s favorite player, Luke Kuechly, Janelle realized that was her group mate. She thought his name sounded familiar when Callie said it, but now it made sense. Well at least he wasn’t a loud mouth Janelle thought to herself as she sipped on her drink while watching the festivities. He kept his speech short and sweet and then let them go on to the next player. Janelle was growing bored with watching the crowd, plus she wanted to get back before everyone dispersed so she finished up her food and then trucked it back to her room. It was the weekend after all and she thought it may be nice to take the rest of the day to watch something frightful and suspenseful…hmmm World War Z it was.

#luke kuechly #beastlykuechly #panthers59 #kuechlyfan #lukekuechlyfanfic

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