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becauseicantthinkwritings · 9 months

Text

Teeth

Part 17

Werepanther! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of stalking, anxiety, bad dreams, comfort, talks of injury.

You find that packing a bag is a lot harder than anticipated.

You stand in your bedroom after Billy made sure it was safe, trying to just grab as many items of work clothing as possible. Your eyes drop on the modest blue dress you’d worn with the intention of catching his eye, and your heart squeezes at the reminder of every time he’d abandoned you. You really didn’t feel like doing this, staying with him would be torture, especially since you’d told him earlier in the day that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

There’s a pressure in your throat when you think of him, and yet still, a flutter in your stomach. How could one person make you feel so sad, and undeniably happy at the same time?

You sigh, flopping onto your bed aggressively, feeling the cool sensation of your sheets against your cheek, wiggling to get comfortable and accidentally knocking one of your many pillows off the bed. You reach for it lazily, sitting up and grumbling when you can’t reach it.

Like everything else, you almost miss this, until you remember Billy telling you that he’d left some type of note.

It’s what makes you look, really look, ducking your head under the bed to look around. Tucked in the small space between your nightstand and your bed, you notice the peek of a piece of paper.

You reach for it, squishing your hand into the small crevice.

It’s not much bigger than your phone, and you tilt your head to study what you’ve found.

You know his handwriting, sleek and a little messy, perhaps too many things on his mind all at once.

‘I promise,

I didn’t want to leave you.

-Billy’

Your mouth turns down into a frown, a deep chasm of sadness being carved out inside you. You’re not sure how to feel, but for the first time, you try to think about things from his perspective.

Maybe he hadn’t meant to leave that night, maybe he’d wanted to wake up with you as much as you’d wanted to wake up with him.

You wonder what that might have been like, opening your eyes and finding him there, maybe still asleep. Just the idea of it flips your stomach.

And the absence of it brings tears to your eyes, longing for something too big for you to name.

Your lip wobbles, your throat tightens, the telltale signs of an oncoming episode of tears.

It’s like a release, letting yourself cry, feeling the lingering sadness and fear find a way out of you.

Desperate, to feel safe and protected.

He knows it’s Dinah before she knocks.

It’s a familiar scent, one of his most significant ‘almost’ relationships- if he could even call it that.

In reality, it had just been three months of fooling around, late nights and early mornings and a constant string of ‘never enoughs’ between them.

She’d put an end to it amicably over breakfast, and he’d understood, even agreed.

That was three years ago.

They’d encountered each other a lot over the following years, even butting heads over keeping clients of his safe once or twice.

Dinah, with her lilac scent, was something of a friend to him, despite the number of times their conversations escalated into arguments.

Billy pulls the door open to greet her, cup of coffee in hand, she steps in with her hair in a ponytail and her face clear of makeup, having clearly come from home.

“Thanks for coming so quickly.” He says to her.

Dinah nods.

“It’s fine.” She responds, taking a sip of her coffee and sauntering over to the photos still laid out on your counter.

He comes to stand beside her, trying to imagine what she could be seeing.

After a moment, the suspense is too much.

“What do you think?” He asks.

It takes a moment for her to respond.

“Someone is trying to scare her. These photos-.” Dinah gestures at two photos in particular, one of them is taken from a high vantage point, the rooftop most likely, of the alley where you’d been robbed. He can see the back of your head as you try to back away from one man just to run into the other. The other photo is of you and Andrew in the grocery parking lot, he can see the fear in your eyes. He takes a deep breath to reign in the beast.

“-Were picked in particular to frighten her, to show her that he’s always there, in her worst moments. They want her to feel watched.”

He clenches his jaw, it was an analysis he’d already drawn upon, but hearing it from someone else solidifies his anger.

“You think this is sexual?” Billy asks, looking over Dinah’s shoulder.

“I can’t say. They could be getting off on the fear, but the photos themselves don’t give much away, except that she’s being watched a lot.”

Dinah grabs a small packet of gloves from her bag, and carefully takes her time, tugging one out of the packet and sliding it onto her right hand. She grabs a photo, lifting it to her nose and taking a cautionary sniff.

He knows what she smells, ink, paper, and distinctly nothing else.

“Hmm.” She hums, flipping it around to examine the back of it.

He raises his eyebrows curiously.

“There’s no scent on these, nothing discernible. They could be copies for her, and not the ones the stalker looks at and obsesses over. But that doesn’t make sense.”

Billy’s trying to see what Dinah sees.

“Why doesn’t that make sense?”

Suddenly, Dinah pauses and tilts her head.

What now? Billy wants to ask.

“You’re not in any of these.”

“Yeah?”

Dinah looks up at him as if he’s supposed to understand something he clearly doesn’t. She looks back down, begins shuffling through the photos with her gloved hands. She stops at a particular photo.

“Isn’t this your front door?” Dinah asks.

Billy looks over, nodding at the photo of you, standing outside his apartment. He didn’t know when exactly it was taken, but he has a general idea that it might be when he was gone.

“It is.”

“But you weren’t there.”

“No.” He answers.

At the same moment, something else disturbs his ears. Both him and Dinah turn to your bedroom, listening to the quiet sounds of you crying.

Billy lets out a low sigh of agony on your behalf, he turns to Dinah to excuse himself, but she’s already looking at him like he’s her next puzzle.

“That bad, huh?”

He doesn’t dignify her comment with an answer.

“I’ll be right back.” He grunts, turning away from Dinah.

You wipe at your tears hastily when someone, who you presume is Billy, knocks on your bedroom door.

“Yeah?” You say, with a heavy wobble in your voice, crumpling the note in your hand to conceal it at the same moment he opens the door.

You glance up at him, a tear swelling at the corner of your eye.

You give an awkward laugh, looking away as you wipe your eye.

“Sorry, long day.” You mumble, sniffling.

He doesn’t say anything, walking over to you, before gently pushing the pillow that’s beside you away to make space for him to sit.

You furiously wipe at your tears, a little tired of depending on him to comfort you.

You sniffle, unable to handle the silence between you, opening your palm to show him the piece of paper you had intended to hide from him.

“Found your note.” You say, trying to keep your tone light, despite the shaky way it sounds.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says, in a low way that makes his remorse resonate through your chest.

You smile, shaking your head, wiping at more tears.

“It’s alright, I guess I’m still trying to understand how intense this field of work is.”

You hear him take a slow breath, still unable to look up at him.

“I shouldn’t be repeating this, but it was my friend, Frank. His son had gone missing. I can’t say much more than that, but I need you to know that I never wanted to do that to you.” Billy says softly, leaning in so that you can hear him.

Your heart squeezes even more, and you finally look up at him. There’s not much on his face that gives away his earnesty, only a look in his eye that begs you to believe him.

“Did everything turn out okay?” You ask, concerned.

He presses his lips together, nodding.

You look back at the note again.

“I guess if there had to be a reason for you to leave, that’s a good one.”

His hand clenches tightly into a fist before you watch his hand reach across to hover over yours. There’s a moment of hesitation before he touches you.

His large hand covering yours tingles almost instantly. His fingers are purposeful in their subtle motion. You watch his thumb sway over your skin.

You think about turning your hand upward, about the way his palm would feel against yours, like a fire that can’t go out.

But all you can do is think about it, too afraid in the moment to actually act, your chest squeezing as you struggle to decide what you want from him.

“Come on, you should meet Agent Madani. It’ll help you feel better to know she’s on the case.”

You smile, nodding your head slowly.

Agent Madani is gorgeous.

It’s definitely not the first thing you should be thinking when you see her, except that you couldn’t logically think of anything else with the way she looks.

She extends her hand out to you in greeting when you’re near.

“Dinah Madani, Homeland.” she says, and you shyly shake her hand, introducing yourself in turn.

“Stalking isn’t specifically handled by Homeland, but I’ll pass the information down to the relevant authorities. This is really just a favour to Billy.” She explains, inclining her head in his direction.

You wonder briefly if they’ve dated. The answer is probably yes.

“I do have some questions for you, about the pictures. Do you mind?”

You suck in a deep breath. Her casualness about the situation helps you.

“Not at all, go ahead.” You encourage.

“Do you have any idea which one of these are most recent?” She says, waving her hand over the photos spread out on your counter.

You examine them closely, immediately picking out the photo of you standing in front of Billy’s home.

“This one was taken Sunday I think.” You answer, pointing at it. You tilt your head, remembering the moment, your most desperate, you think, where you’d given up on calling and texting, going straight to his front door.

You keep your eyes on it, not daring to look up at him, afraid of the pathetic way you probably appear to him.

Dinah nods, making note.

“Okay, I’m gonna bag these up for analysis, and I definitely don’t recommend you staying here. Is there a friend you can crash with?” She asks.

“She’ll stay with me.” Billy supplies, and you really avoid looking at anyone in the room, pretending to find the invasive photos of yourself more interesting than the silent conversation going on between Billy and Agent Madani.

Dinah hits him with an angry stare as soon as you’re not looking.

Billy knows what it’s for. Saying anything about Frank was largely considered a bad idea. Bears were a popular target for hunters, their ability to withstand harsh situations meant that they were always stepping in to protect shifters that couldn’t protect themselves. Bears never turned from a fight, and in turn, protecting bear communities was priority one to all shifters. To take down one bear, was to also take down the hundreds they would protect from harm’s way.

It was no question why Dinah would be upset at him mentioning Frank to you.

But Billy didn’t care. He’d said as little as he possibly could, and you needed to know that he’d had a damn good reason for not staying that night. He needed you to understand that you were his highest priority now.

So, with that in mind, he keeps his gaze calm on the were-cheetah angrily staring at him.

Dinah turns to you after Billy’s little reveal that you’ll be staying with him. She dips into her wallet and produces a card.

“In case you want a different place to crash, give me a call.” Dinah says, extending her card to you.

The predator growls loudly inside his head, drowning out all his thoughts for a brief moment. No way would you be staying anywhere else than with him.

He has a self indulgent moment, where he thinks about seeing you just as you wake up. He curls his hands into tight fists at his sides. How was he going to be able to keep himself in check with you in such close proximity? Was he strong enough to look at you, and not take you into his arms?

He didn’t think he was strong enough now, as he watches you walk back to your room to continue packing.

Billy’s place is bare in a way that takes you a moment to realise that there’s nothing of substance used to decorate.

With a mix between blue and grey, the walls of his home stand solitary of anything besides mirrors, that help to make the place seem just a little bit bigger than it really is. As you step in, you’re met with a living room space on your left, the stone grey couches complimenting the walls easily.

There’s a vintage feel to his place, hardwood floors, with the bannister of the stairs made of some old winding wood, the doors are framed with articulate designs, which make you feel like you’re in a timeless space.

He places your bags gently on said couches, and you follow suit with the small bag of personal items in your hand.

“I’ll show you around a little bit.” He says, barely meeting your eye.

“Okay.” You respond, your voice feeling louder than normal.

The lower floor has a gym, and somehow a swimming pool. The deeper in you move, the less antiquated things feel, and the more modern. It’s not too noticeable to the untrained eye, but you manage to identify what’s new from what’s old.

You stare at the pool in open-mouthed surprise. The ceiling dotted with many tiny lights, giving the impression of a night sky above the water.

“Holy shit, this room is pretty cool.” You murmur, taking a few steps in, admiring the plants that surround most edges of the pool.

“Thanks, I designed this myself, I really wanted something that felt like the forest. I even have a rain setting.”

You turn to watch him move into the room, and tap on a small LED screen. After a few more taps, it begins to rain right above the pool.

“Woah.” You say, feeling a desperate urge to just shed your clothes and jump right in, the rushing sound of the rain tingles your ears pleasantly.

“You’re welcome to use it whenever you like.”

You turn to look at Billy, your stomach flipping with all the thoughts running through your head. You think about the way he kissed you.

He takes a deep breath, looking away, making a few more taps to stop the artificial rain.

He takes you upstairs next, showing you to a guest bedroom near the front of his home, where you can see the cars passing by on the street, but no sound of them reaches your ears because he’s soundproofed the room for comfort.

Beside your room is his office, and then across from that is a sitting space with a TV. When you look out of the windows here, you can see your building, and you realise that this window looks right into your bedroom.

With absent minded realisation, you acknowledge that this is the window he was standing in, that night when he-

You gulp, feeling your body flush with heat.

You study the window frame, trying to memorise it, trying to imagine Billy standing in this very spot, stroking his magnificent cock, head tilted back… moans that echo through your head from the night you spend together… the way he probably looked- maybe with sweat beading on his skin-

You blink, mouth parted, breaths harsh, trying to rein yourself in, your clit throbbing at the very thought. You swear you could come from just the idea of him alone.

He’s standing behind you, and you hope that you keep a calm, neutral expression on your face when you turn back to him.

His eyes on you make you flutter, you feel like a pair of wings, anxiously flittering under his warm gaze. You find it hard to maintain eye contact.

“You have a nice place.” You whisper quietly, glancing up at him for only a moment.

Billy can smell your arousal.

Notes of sweet strawberries in the air, he licks his lips and takes a deep breath, tries to reorient himself.

He’s growing used to fighting the predator inside himself by now, that demands he scoop you into his arms and kiss you till your eyes glaze over from the bliss.

He thinks about it, thoroughly, he’d walk up to you, pin your body against the window so that you can’t slip by him, cup the back of your head and press his mouth to yours. He’d sigh in relief, his cock slowly starting to swell as your hands would grip his biceps, trailing up and into his hair. He considers what taking you against the window would be like, only being pulled from his thoughts when you speak.

“Wait, I’m not done showing you around.” He says smoothly, extending his hand for you to take.

He watches you look down at his hand and something like surprise covers your features. He considers he might be pushing it, and he begins to retract the offer of holding his hand.

He doesn’t get far before your hand is slipping into his, giving him a reassuring squeeze that feels like it goes right to his heart.

He tries not to overdo it, turning and guiding you.

A little path down from the kitchen and you both reach another bedroom.

“This is mine.” He says, his voice sending waves of desire through you.

You blink in amazement at the room.

Dark, viridian walls, a four poster bed with midnight black sheets, you tilt your head and admire the ambience the room mimics. Floating shelves that look like rocks and a couple of lamps in the shape of mushrooms.

And yet still, barely any personal items lying around.

You can count them all in one hand, a few worn books on his nightstand that you trace your fingers curiously over, a watch that’s no doubt triple your salary, and a t-shirt dropped on the bed as if he was in a rush to leave.

Before he came to you, you realise.

“You don’t have a lot of personal items lying around.” You think aloud.

“I’ve heard that before. I just don’t have that many sentimental things.”

You try to smother a fond smile.

“I have the movie ticket stubs from the first time I saw a movie by myself.”

“I hate crowded theatres.”

“I have pictures of Amy and Dani and me at each other’s birthdays.”

“I have Frank’s dog tags?”

You giggle, turning to him.

“I guess that counts. Maybe you have sentimental items in your own way.”

“Maybe I do.”

You want to sit in his bed, instead you settle for touching the sheets, wondering what sinking into them would feel like, absentmindedly, you take a deep yawn.

“You should get some sleep.” Billy suggests from behind you. You look back at him.

“I’ll show you the rest of my place tomorrow.”

You let out a slow sigh, nodding, before heading to his door.

“Goodnight, Billy.” You say softly.

“Sweet dreams.” He answers.

When you leave his room, you find yourself wide awake again.

After a quick shower, you lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out why you’d felt so sleepy in his room, and so wide awake in this one.

You wonder what being next to him again would feel like. His warm skin and his deep breathing, right into your ear, spreading tingles over your skin. You need him, you realise, you need him in every way one person needs another. The only way you’d be relaxed now, is thinking about him beside you.

You only notice you’re asleep when you dream of him.

He’s sitting on the couch outside of his office when you find him. Billy looks up at you with a smile as you approach.

You don’t say a word, climbing onto his lap and resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the peace he radiates seep into you.

The serenity turns into something more when he kisses your neck.

You hum, feeling his hand drift into your hair, fingers on your scalp to ease your stress.

“Despite how much I ache for you,” He whispers, “Right now, I just want to make you feel safe.”

You sigh, letting your shoulders slump in peace.

“If there’s anyone that could do it. It’s you.” You reply, “Billy I- I feel so much for you.”

He says your name on a soft breath.

“I know it’s fast and probably insane but more and more I can’t stop thinking that… you’re so right, and I wonder- I worry- if I’m right for you.”

Suddenly, he disappears from under you. Vanishes into thin air.

You look around, calling his name in confusion.

In the window, something catches your attention.

You stand, worry in your chest, fear as you approach, your dream consciousness is too curious to deny peeking out of his apartment window.

You can see your bedroom, the curtains have been pulled open, you tilt your head in confusion, knowing that the last time you looked out of this window, your curtains were drawn.

In the haze of the night, you can just make out the shape of your bed, lilac sheets that do not look quite right, as if you’re seeing it from an angle you’ve never seen before.

Still, there’s a seed of fear inside of you, something is off about what you’re looking at. Your curtains sway in the breeze.

Fear seals itself into your bones when a dark, unfamiliar figure stands in your window, looking back at you.

You don’t realise you’ve jerked awake until the crash of falling glass meets your ears.

You sit up in fright, looking over the edge of the bed to see that you’ve knocked over the glass of water that was on the nightstand.

Your breathing is shallow, still trying to process the last few moments of your dream when the door swings open startling you.

His hair is fluffy and askew, his beard still a little too long and his body bare save for a pair of loose pants.

Your heart is still slamming into your ribcage, and breathing is a task, but you still try to speak.

“I’m fine,” You gasp, “Bad dream.”

You hunch over, pressing your hand to your chest as you hear him moving around. Everytime you close your eyes, you see the silhouette of someone you don’t know, in your private space, looking at you. Unsettled, your heart pounds, your body betraying you with the way you tremble.

Billy grabs a spare towel from the adjoining bathroom and places it on the floor beside the bed to soak up the spilled water.

You startle when you feel him beside you in the next moment.

He cups your face, urging you to look up at him. For a moment, your still dreaming brain swears he’s going to kiss you. It helps you calm down a little more, though the fear still spears through your chest.

“Wanna sleep in my bed?” He asks softly.

You don’t even think about it, nodding eagerly.

He doesn’t hesitate to slide his arm under your knees, and lift you easily. His strength distracts you even more from your fright.

“I can walk.” You argue meekly.

“There’s glass all over.” He responds, something of an excuse more than anything else.

You sigh, relaxing against him, when he walks past his sitting area and kitchen, you close your eyes and bury your face in his chest, too afraid of what you might see.

You wait patiently till the sound of his footsteps change, from the echo of a large room to the muted footfalls of the rug in his bedroom before you can open your eyes again.

He’s gentle, placing you on his bed carefully, you miss the feeling of his skin, looking up at him with a mix of anxiety and drowsiness.

“I’m scared.” You whisper to him, too vulnerable to worry about how you appear to him.

His eyes are filled with something- molten and warm, concern and understanding.

“Want some water?” Billy offers, and you nod absentmindedly.

You find the strength to be okay with him leaving the room, turning your head to stare at the mushroom lamp illuminating his space.

His space.

You’re suddenly aware that this is his bed, and these are his pillows, and this is where he sleeps and it brings you comfort to be in his space, taking up room.

Your mind jumps back to an image of the dark shadow, and you let out a sigh of frustration. You press the heels of your palms to your eyes, trying your hardest not to cry.

Why was this happening to you? Your thinking spirals, reminding you of all you’d been through. Your head flashes to an image of the serial killer. The fear you’d felt when you’d first noticed him, standing in the shadows, just watching you.

You can’t seem to stop it, your brain going right into the memory of being mugged, your back hitting the wall when you were pushed, the air leaving you now, just like it did then.

He calls your name, and you raise your head.

"I'm alright." You say to his silent question, reaching out to accept the glass of water from his hands and taking a cursory sip.

"Thank you." You say.

Billy sits beside you, studying you carefully while you look into the glass cupped in your palms.

"Wanna talk about it?" He asks.

You sigh, shaking your head.

"There's not much to say. I'm just scared."

"Can I help?"

You look up at him with a small frown on your face.

"You're helping a lot already, I'm worried that I'm-" your voice trails off.

He moves a little closer.

"That you're-?" Billy prompts.

"That I'm too dependent on you. That you've become the person that can calm me the fastest. That if you weren't around, I might have spiraled into a panic attack."

"There's nothing wrong with needing help." He supplies, and you nod your head to agree with him, a small frown tugging at your mouth.

"I still feel like a burden though, I'm sorry."

He finally get comes in closer, taking the glass away from you, placing it onto the nightstand beside you. You look up at him in curious surprise when he settles himself into the space beside you.

He reaches for you, encouraging you to the his hand. You let him pull you closer, wondering what he's doing.

He pulls you into the space beside him, your head resting on his shoulder, your body tucked into his side.

"I know how you feel. I've felt like a burden before."

"Yeah? Will you tell me about it?"

"Well, a good one is that time I got shot. No military training really prepares you for how much that shit hurts."

You smile at his emphasis.

"Frank and I were pulling of some impossible shit when it happened, behind enemy lines somewhere stealing intel or something- the how is not really relevant. But the bullet had been dipped in poison and by all means, Frank had had every reason to leave me behind."

Billy remembers it, the sound of gunfire from the hunters behind them as they'd been escaping. One lucky bullet laced with snake venom and he was basically dead.

"Frank had tossed me over his shoulder, and kept running. He'd put me down somewhere safe, and went back for the antidote."

Your eyebrows raise in surprise and admiration for his friend.

"When he came back. I told him how dumb he was. He should have let me die, he risked the intel that would have saved countless lives… for me."

You study his face, the far away look in his eye as if he's right back wherever he was the first time.

"Frank's only response was that he'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"He likes you." You respond.

"Yeah, I guess he saw something in me that was worth keeping around." He finally looks down at you, "And maybe, to him in the moment, he didn't see me as a burden."

He cups your cheek, thumb caressing the lines of your face.

"I understand now how he felt, cause I don't see you as a burden. I see you as someone who just needs a little help."

You let out a sigh, reaching your arm across his chest to give him a little hug.

“I guess- you’re right. But-”

“-No buts,” he cuts you off, “I am right.”

You laugh, pressing your face to his chest, feeling drowsiness overtake you.

You take a slow breath, yawning.

“Thank you.” Is the last thing you say before closing your eyes, feeling his body with every sense you have, no longer having to imagine what he would feel like because you have him right next to you, just like you’d always hoped.

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