#objectively i think billy is the only one with decent odds of ever making it into DBD if we get more skins

[thecodeveronica]

Oh boy, Dead by Daylight patch time tomorrow. You know what that means! Time for me to unreasonably get my hopes up for new RE skins to be in the datamine and then feel the crushing disappointment when they aren't!

[my-little-dumpster-fire]

Let it Burn. 3/?

Catch Up Here

P A R T   T H R E E

A week after your first date, if you could call it that, an unknown number rang over and over again until you could no longer fight the urge to answer it.

“Hey, it’s Billy. Russo. Billy Russo. From dinner.” Is it that hard to admit you have a soulmate, Russo?

You never asked Billy how he got your phone number, never had the desire to. You met up again, trying for lunch this time and again it decent. Some of the magic had worn off the second Billy thrust you into a cab, effectively ending the first non-date, and now it felt like catching up between two old friends, despite the fact it was only your second time intentionally meeting up.

He’d been spending his days meeting with more investors, all of which seemed to have gone successfully, signing the deed to his first warehouse, as he assured you Anvil would quickly outgrow the shell he purchased, working odd jobs about which he never went into detail, glossing over your skeptical looks with extra charm, and working night and day to connect with his chosen team, the backs upon which Anvil’s reputation would be built. Part of you wanted to tell Billy that he was working too hard, but it would have fallen on willingly deafened ears. He was a hungry dog, who’d caught his scent and could practically taste the reality that he was building for himself. His determination was admirable, his work ethic was enviable, his focus and enthusiasm when talking about the project was unwavering. Just like the Corps had been before, Anvil was Billy’s life. You were just his soulmate, a nonessential on his journey to becoming the Billy Russo he wanted to see in his mirror. The Billy Russo that would be known, respected, and powerful.

Everything about Billy Russo was sinful. His new wealth. His looks. The way violence seemed to follow him. The Machiavellian way his ends always justified his means. His cavalier attitudes toward life and love. You often found yourself wondering how someone without the hint of a soul at all could be the other half of your own, but the connection was undeniable. It was as intoxicating as they said it would be and it was infuriating to admit, so you simply didn’t. When your friends asked what it was like to be paired with someone well on their way to becoming New York’s most eligible bachelor, you shrugged. Despite your souls supposedly being made for one another, you found quickly that you simply did not fit into Billy Russo’s life style or his now incredibly active schedule. Between planning and pushing for the start up security company he was slaving over and Billy’s insatiable need to occupy himself with the flavor of the week, there was very little time left for a soulmate.

Though you could see the loneliness in his eyes, you didn’t press him on the subject. Hadn’t anybody told him about the benefits of quality over quantity? Still, the two of you met up whenever he had time, his schedule the more demanding of the two, his mood the more fickle. You shared space, shared meals, shared more and more of yourself as the days went by and the rhythm you fell into was incredibly comfortable. You started to understand this self proclaimed mystery man and while his gratitude was mostly silent, you felt it in his willingness to share words with you that you assumed would not otherwise see the light of day or reach another’s ears.

The locations for your non dates changed dramatically after the first, but you never objected. The new places that Billy dragged you were much more your speed and honestly, seemed more like his. The kind of haunts that he actually enjoyed, not the stuffy dining room with the gold matchbooks that seemed so out of character for a man like Billy, even with his exciting new business prospects. The restaurants, bars, and cafes you sat in now made you feel like you were actually seeing Billy, not the Billy that someone else told him he should be.

One such meal, after an unnecessarily thorough explanation of why women were good for a couple weeks before he became a ghost, evaporating into thin air while his phone lit up with all sorts of unsavory names and ill wishes, Billy leaned back in his chair with a damn near devilish smirk on his face. The candle on the table between you danced in the reflection of his black eyes, while his lips curled subtly in the corner and his arms crossed in front of his chest. One elbow propped against his other arm to support the weight of his chin in his hand while a single long finger rested straight up next to his nose and drew your attention to the furrow in his brow but also the subtle birthmark just below his eye. He was easily the most beautiful man you’d ever had the pleasure of sharing a meal with, but the heated look in his eye was not for you, at least not at first. He was testing you. The meal neared it’s end and the bottle of wine he ordered was only half spent, but nowadays honesty flowed without the assistance of the spirit and for that you were thankful. He eyed you mercilessly, waiting for the soulmate to comment on his newly honed ability to live extravagantly or his disinterest in ceasing his other intimate activities just because of your existence. God made him that way for a reason and it was merely his duty to share the wealth, he’d insist while gesturing down at himself with a smile that offered life and death in equal measure.

In the weeks you’d known Billy, you learned that no reaction was better than an over reaction, especially in those moments when he was testing you, waiting for you to slip and reveal that you were just like all the others. So you leaned back, matching his posture, and said, “It’s your life, Billy. I wouldn’t ask you to change anything about it.” You took a deep breath and met his dark, but wavering gaze. “I’m here now and I’ll still be here when you...I don’t know, I’ll just still be here, okay?” You weren’t sure what you were trying to say or if it was even the right thing to say, but you hoped that Billy heard the sincerity in it.

His genuine surprise at your response told you all you needed to know. Other women, women not meant for him, would try to change him and maybe they already had. You imagined that eventually they made it clear that they expected more from him, expected dedication and monogamy from him, made careless ultimatums that only served to end whatever brief tryst they engaged in. Other women pushed Billy away in their desperate attempts to draw him close, apparently unaware or purposefully ignorant to what you saw in his eyes.

Billy Russo was like a flame, useful, comforting, a shining light in the darkest places merely to illuminate not to correct. He and the flames was everything you needed, but if you got to close, you’d get burned. Or worse yet, if you attempted to caged him in, the lack of oxygen would snuff him out completely until all that was left was a tendril of smoke, a ghost of the flame you once tried to capture. Fire cannot be owned and neither could Billy. Though you suspected that his appetite for survival never let anyone get close enough to think they could cage him in. On one hand, you respected it and would never ask Billy to be someone he wasn’t. One the other, you pitied it and wished deep down that one day he wouldn’t view you as another potential cage, but maybe as the kindling to keep the fire alive.

Much to your surprise, and your unspoken delight, the meals you two shared increased in frequency. Perhaps he saw something in you that he desired more of, though you were certain it wasn’t what you originally hoped. But to be desired at all by Billy Russo was enough to keep you accepting his invitations. He was the kind of man that you felt you needed to thank for his eyes falling on you, rather than the other way around. So most of your meals together went like that. Sitting across from each other, not touching, while Billy tried to scare you, prove his own theories that even a soulmate would not be able to handle the shadowy recesses he knew resided within. There were few things in the world he loved as much as being right.

In only a couple weeks time, you knew more about Billy Russo than anyone and to some extent you knew that it scared him. He’d never admit to the fear, especially of a woman like you, but you saw the practically physical discomfort as he realized how much of himself he trusted -no, not trust- as he realized how much of himself you willingly carried with you, without judgment and without expectation. He’d done the work of squashing any expectation you held for the relationship as early as your first meeting, but you kept coming back. It was too much for him sometimes, most times really, and he’d abandon ship in the middle of a sentence, eyes searching yours for any trace of a future betrayal, but finding none, he’d pull his phone from his pocket. With the screen still obviously dark, he’d say he needed to accept a call and wander off to do so. Mere minutes later, some woman would make a show of being led out of the restaurant by the handsome Billy Russo, proudly putting herself on display. While his face revealed only the desire to slip away into the shadows, his perfect posture and guiding hand on her lower back as he strut alongside her told the rest of the restaurant a very different story. You’d ask for the check, only to find that it was already taken care of, sometimes a dessert already boxed and on its way over to you, as you watched your soulmate’s eyes fall on you one last time before disappearing into the night with someone else.

You expected the invitations for meals to stop eventually, but they never did. They’d pause for a couple days at most, before Billy’s voice was back in your ear, confident, flirtatious, informing you that he had room to fit you in over a long lunch. You hated yourself for how quickly you accepted, hated the idea of being at his beck and call, but it was painfully obvious that your innocent rejection of a meal or day out with Billy would never be perceived as innocent. Key word, painfully. It seemed that after every walk out, you started from ground zero all over again. His accent would be thick, his smile sardonic, his posturing cocky, seated practically sideways in a metal chair outside one of his favorite lunch spots, ankle perched on one knee while the other knee rested gently against the metal arm of the chair. He’d draw his water glass to his lips, licking them as he scrutinized you, head to toe. It was rather unsettling the first few times, even still it wound you up in the most confusing yet comforting ways. Most men had not the balls to observe a woman so obviously and so shamelessly, but Billy Russo wasn’t most men. He’d take his time and his efforts to shake you with his glare was only met -perhaps rewarded, even reinforced- by your effort to look your best on days you saw Billy. The more his eyes roamed, the more yours did in the bathroom mirror, forsaking your own shame or girlish embarrassment to make sure he had something nice for his eyes to fall on.

After his subtle acceptance of you, really your appearance, with a grin and a nod, the testing started all over again. He’d share a little about the woman he left with and you hated how thankful you were to be spared the more intimate details. You had no idea what he was waiting for, what he was expecting from you, but apparently you never gave it to him, not that you were aware of. You kept your mouth shut for the most part, listened while he spoke, occasionally catching the fierce look in his eye, practically daring you to hold his gaze as if what looked back at you would send you running. Often you didn’t indulge. The casual snappy banter you two shared would fall away, make space in the air for whatever game he was playing. You stayed focused on your meal, letting your eyes drift casually upwards to settle on the birthmark you loved, but sometimes, on days you felt brave, or maybe the subtle burn in your chest while he described yet another woman was some other affliction that only mimicked bravery, you met his stare head on. Look if you have to, you told him silently with your eyes, you won’t find what your looking for. You didn’t balk, didn’t shy away, and you knew that frustrated Billy to no end. He didn’t like being challenged, didn’t like seeing his own stubbornness thrown across the table at him. He’d shift in his seat, realizing how closely he’d leaned over toward you, and rest again, smirking as if he won, perhaps trying to convince himself that he had. You weren’t so easily fooled and as your eyes dropped away again, you’d look up to watch the relief come over him, like the end of your staring contest had unexpectedly zapped the energy from him.

You imagined it had, but soon enough he’d be back to talking, sharing something about the progress of Anvil or most recently the return of one of his Marine buddies, Frank Castle. There wasn’t an invitation attached to the announcement, there weren’t even details surrounding their friendship, but it was the first person that Billy spoke about with anything other than disdain. Frank was important to him, that was all you knew and for now, that was all you needed to know. By the time you’d resigned to let Frank Castle remain a mystery, Billy had moved on to another topic and the two of you fell back into quiet laughter and eye rolling over differing opinions.

The first time Billy invited you to his apartment, it scared you. He didn’t sound like himself. Normally his phone calls were quick, telling you a time and a place, but that place was always neutral ground. You never expected to be asked to come over, definitely not so late and definitely not when Billy’s voice shook, when he lingered on the line longer than usually, when he told you not to bother knocking. The circumstances were strange and you had no idea what you expected, but it certainly wasn’t what you found.

You entered Billy’s apartment gingerly, taking care to close the door behind and deposit the key that the night guard handed you upon your arrival. It was dark, the living room only barely illuminated by the lights outside, yet as easily as you would have at high noon, your eyes found Billy. He was sitting in a chair and, he wasn’t looking good.

“Have you ever done anything...that you knew....that you knew you’d never be forgiven for?”

Billy’s question came out of nowhere and the gravity, weighing down both his voice and his shoulders, sank like a hot rock in your gut. You stepped forward slowly, watching carefully for any sign of life, but Billy was little more than a statue, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his chin perched on his thumbs. His eyes, surprisingly expressive for as dark as they were, looked through you when you moved to stand in front of him.

“No,” you answered solemnly, but honestly. Billy’s eyes closed, unable to look at you, not that he really had been before. “And neither have you.”

Your strange addition caught Billy off guard. He was visibly shaken before, but it was your bold move to sit in his lap that left Billy almost adorably startled. His body stiffened, not that a woman in his lap was a foreign feeling, but this particular woman had never seated herself across his thighs, so close to parts of his body you had to tell yourself not to be concerned with. Your arms rested against his shoulders and reflexively his hands found your waist, stroking your sides with a gentleness you only speculated he could possess, never having witnessed it for yourself. With your fingers pulling through the hair at the back of his neck, you looked down to meet his growing confusion head on.

“Neither have you,” You repeated firmly. Billy ignored the sentiment, shaking his head in vehement denial, but when he opened his mouth to correct you, to prove that once again he knew better, you didn’t let him. “There’s nothing you can do that I wouldn’t forgive, Billy Russo.”

“That was before-“ he started, head still shaking and his eyes still down.

“There’s nothing you can do,” you said again, slower this time and singing the truth into his soul. “That I won’t forgive, Billy. I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but you will always have me.” His eyes were wide and you watched his Adam’s apple jolt heavenward, swallowing your words and clearly struggling to decide if they were believable. This is a bad idea, you warned yourself, but you were already leaning in. For the briefest moment, Billy’s face tilted up in expectation, just a reflex, you told yourself as you gripped the hair on the back of his neck to hold his face still. Your lips met his forehead and rested there as his body went from stock still, to nervously squirming, to completely at ease. You couldn’t even imagine how his face was responding below your eye-line as you felt his brow furrow before fluttering into relaxation under your lips. You pulled back slightly and Billy leaned in again as if chasing the sensation. Just a reflex, you reminded yourself as you willingly complied, kissing his face again.

You hadn’t even noticed that his hands were gripping your sides with opposing hands. His arms wound and crossed behind your back until you two were locked in a much more meaningful embrace than you originally had planned. Though every embrace was more meaningful with Billy and fighting that seemed a futile attempt at this point. A muted gasp felt warm against your chest, reminding you what brought you to his apartment and to this position. Billy had done something, something that very well could be unforgivable, and yet you assured him that you would. Not that you were naive enough to believe that he’d ever tell you what it was. His face was pressed against your chest and you silently promised him that you’d never bring up the tear you felt sliding against your skin. He would never thank you for mentioning it, nor would he thank you for not mentioning it. All the same, it was your secret to bear, burning a wet trail between your breasts until it disappeared. Long moments passed, silence wrapped around you two like a heavy blanket, protecting the moment from the cold air of your previous expectations. A single moment couldn’t replace the delicate relationship you two had built. It was a veritable house of cards that a single ill timed hiccup could tear down, let alone a moment of intimacy that shouldn’t have existed between you two.

“A lesser man would use this moment to point out that your chest makes an amazing pillow,” he said suddenly. There he is, you smiled.

“And a lesser woman would point out the depth of mommy issues that are hidden in that statement,” you countered, holding the back of his neck as his laughter vibrated against you. Billy leaned back first, looking up at you, eyes lit up with something so close to affection you suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Aside from the slight movement to seek your face, he made no attempts to pull away from you, so you continued running your fingers through his hair, daring to capture the surprisingly silky feel for a few moments longer.

“Guess I should be glad we’re us then,” he offered with a smirk. Us. Can we even call ourselves an us?

“Yeah,” you returned casually, removing yourself from his lap. There was a moment of resistance, a moment of brief hesitation, where you felt Billy’s fingers dig into your skin to hold you in place. You felt his palms flatten against you as if he needed more of him to feel more of you, but so gentle you could feel his unwillingness to cross that line. You felt the muscles of his arms tense, becoming a cage you wouldn’t be able to release yourself from. Not that you’d want to. As quickly as the moment came, it was gone and you were walking toward the kitchen again, back turned to Billy as you told yourself you’d imagined his reluctance to let you go, even if it was just for a second.

One glorious second where you felt your desire returned.

@something-tofightfor @actuallyazriel @cerezahowl @littlemermaidprobz