“this Character Is Dead” To You Maybe. I Don't Know Where Y'all Live But I Live In Denial

Croissant appreciation post. The beanie remains

when hozier said "i'd burn every soul i knew if i thought the fire was warming you" and when he said "no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her" and when he said "i'm so full of love i can barely eat"

My condolences for your loss. That must be a truly difficult time now. Wishing you all the support there could be and if there's anything I can do from far away, ask.

Thank you, my friend. I’m struggling. I’ll never hear her voice again, never hear her laugh, or have a good conversation with her, and it makes my heart hurt terribly.

Monsters in the Dark #15

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

x

Billy and Frank were beautiful when they sparred, you thought sitting back watching with excitement tightening in your gut as they danced around each other.

You secretly thought Billy was more beautiful and graceful out of the two of them.

“Cute, huh?” Maria nudged you, a smile playing on her lips.

You grinned shyly, but your eyes didn’t stray from Billy for long.

Frank was like a bear, all raw power and rage, brute strength. Like a strong wave pulling you under.

But Billy? He was like a panther. Graceful and deadly, lithe and clever, all cool aloofness of a cat toying with a mouse.

They were perfectly matched, but Frank got him in the end. Billy grinned, shoving his friend playfully on the shoulder. It was the lightest you’d ever seen him.

His eyes sparkled when they caught your gaze. He sauntered over, sweaty and proud, his hair sticking to his face.

He gulped down some water, wrapping his free arm around your waist, pulling you to him.

Your heart fluttered, and you leaned up kissing him, teetering in your wedge shoes.

Billy hummed, squeezing your ass. “Billy Russo!” you playfully scolded him, and slapped his arm.

He smirked, but felt happy that you seemed more at ease than when he first got you.

He dropped his hand, and you looked at him sweetly, “Didn’t say you couldn’t touch me at all,” you told him petulantly.

He laughed, squeezing your hips, “Better?” He asked, amused.

You giggled, leaned against him, reaching around, and squeezing his ass.

Billy scoffed, “I’m a human being, baby. Not a piece of meat.” He teased you.

“All right, you two.” Frank called, “If you’re done grabbin’ each other, Bill and I got work to do.” He said, making Billy roll his eyes.

He saluted Frank mockingly, before giving you a kiss on the cheek and moving away.

You loved seeing Billy light hearted. It made you happy to see him happy.

Your writing has brought me a lot of joy over the time. Thank you! Take all the time you need to take care of yourself. That matters most ♥️

Thank you, my friend. I really appreciate that. And to know I brought you joy, brings me joy as well. ♥️ Hugs x

I’m always grateful for kindness too, and I am usually surprised to find it in people. Love you, Robin! 💜

BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out 💗

I really didn’t mean to leave this unanswered 😅 I remember being flustered when I got one from @kayhi808 because kindness like this isn’t easy to find. It just makes me so very grateful 🥹 Sending a ton of love back to you, K!

anyway normalize women not wanting children as a happy ending

Diet Mountain Dew.

I’m posting a few pieces I’ve posted before that are safe to post. I’ve also got new stuff in the works, but I am writing new content. It’s just taking time. I write slow these days. :) But I do have a bodyguard mini series planned.

1.2k words.

Tagging; @terry2227 @e-dubbc11 @aoi-targaryen @snowkestrel @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @danzer8705 @firexfate

x

It started where you’d come by, and help give him tools, “Here, Mister Russo.” You’d say, sweetly.

And if he said he didn’t imagine you calling him Mister Russo in different circumstances, he’d be lying.

You smiled, pushing up your large glasses, as though you knew, twirling the tools in your hand, and blowing bubbles with your gum, and changing his radio station to country music of all things.

He turned it back to rock, and you popped another bubble. “I was listening to that.”

“I don’t care. My garage, my music.” He said, lifting the hood of the car.

“You’re kind of an asshole, aren’t you?”

“Took you long enough to figure it out.” He smirked over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes.

One day he was getting ready to leave when you popped your gum, blowing another bubble, waiting for him to take you home in the cold weather. You often popped into your neighbor's work to chat with him, while you waited for him to get off work. His business was near the bookstore where you worked, and he’d drive you home every day so you didn’t have to walk home with your bad knee, especially with winter right around the corner.

He wiped his hand off of the grease on an old cloth, “Need a ride home?”

You smiled softly, “Yes, Mister Russo.” And then popped your gum again.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back. “You pop that gum one more time, we’re gonna have a problem.” He said, baring his teeth.

You blew a bubble, popping it.

The audacity.

He growled, kissing you hard, pushing into your mouth, knocking your glasses askew, and making you gasp. He pulled back, with your gum in his mouth, and spit it out in the trash.

“I wasn’t done chewing.” You said indignant.

“You are now, sweetheart.” He smirked, closing the garage down.

You followed him with your cane, “Asshole.”

Billy watched you apply your chapstick that was root beer flavored while he took a wheel off a car. “That actually work, or does it just taste good?”

You huffed, “It works.” You blotted your lips. “Wanna taste, Mister Russo?” You teased, puckering up.

He held up his can of soda, “I’m good.”

You sighed, “Too bad. I would have given you a kiss for a few dollars.” You teased lightly.

“Jesus, in my day it was fifty cents.” He teased back.

“I’m expensive.” You laughed.

Billy huffed, “Clearly.”

You stood in the hall outside your neighbor’s apartment with your cane, knocking on his door. Your leg ached.

He opened it, “Yeah?” He asked admiring you in your sweater dress, the way your hair was done up nice. He wanted to brush it, and play with it.

“My stove won’t work.” You said softly. “Can you come look at it?” You asked, pushing your glasses up, your sweater sleeves too long for your arms, and hung over your hands a little.

“For a few dollars.” He grinned, laughing, when you hit arm.

You ate chocolates, while he bent over your stove, looking at it and mumbling to himself.

You admired him in his tight dark jeans and green sweater. You may or may not have found things around your apartment wrong, just so he’d come over. So you wouldn’t have to be alone. Always alone, friends were hard to come by being disabled. You slowed them down.

You were too shy to ask him to have a movie night or something. And sometimes you just wanted to sit and read a book with your feet in his lap, while he read his own book, enjoying each other's company.

And he caught you at it, too. “You want me to come over, sweetheart, I will. Don’t need an excuse to see a pretty girl.”

Your cheeks heated, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You sat there in his work garage watching him work on some old Chevy or something, you were terrible with cars, admiring how his sweater slid up exposing his naval and the little patch of hair there, you twirled a wrench or whatever it was, in your hand itching to touch him.

You pressed your thighs together, as he slid out from underneath the car, hands looking greasy, his sweater pulled up around his elbows. You imagined him staining your thighs with his handprints as he kissed you.

You imagined running your fingers through his soft hair, always slicked back and faded on the sides, before pulling on it while he kissed you, probably tasting like the soda he drank. And then you imagined pulling on his hair for an entirely different reason.

He looked over at you, smirking as he sipped his soda, fingers stained from working on the car. Uh oh. He must have noticed you gawking. He rolled over to you, sitting at your level on the thing he’d rolled under the car with (you were at a loss for the terminology), in his maroon sweater and black jeans.

“Want somethin’, pretty girl?” Billy asked, looking cocky.

“No.” You said, shyly.

“No?” Billy asked, smiling growing. He leaned closer, and you instinctively leaned in too. “Gotta be a good girl and ask for what you want.” He teased you.

“Mister Russo, you’re being an asshole.” You whined, seriously considering whacking him on the head with the wrench-thingy.

He laughed; “I think we both already know I’m an asshole.” He said, booping you on the nose with his dirty fingers.

“Can I have a kiss?” You asked, sweetly. “I helped give you tools all day. Froze my leg off here.” You said, patting your leg.

“For a few dollars.” He smirked.

You glared, “Fine, I’ll just kiss Paul down the hall.”

Billy huffed, “You think mama’s boy can kiss you right?” Billy asked, rolling closer.

God, he was being an asshole, but Paul was a mama’s boy. He did nothing without his mother’s help.

“Mister Russo.” You whined, “Don’t you wanna taste the root beer on my lips?”

“C’mere.” Billy hummed, and you leaned into him eagerly. He kissed you this time, making your insides melt, his fingers touching your thighs making you sigh. He gripped them, and yanked you closer, careful of your bad leg.

You gasped into his mouth, tasting Diet Mountain Dew on him. The feel of his tongue sliding against yours had desire licking at your insides.

You pulled on his hair roughly, making him groan into your mouth, and an ache built between your thighs.

He pulled back kissing you once, twice, three times before nudging you with his nose. “You taste real sweet, sweetheart. Better than root beer.” He husked.

And then you looked down to see your legs stained with grease, and oil. You grinned inwardly, that had been your intention all along.

“Sorry.” He said, not sounding sorry at all.

You giggled, “Next time I bake, I’m getting flour all over you.” You threatened.

Billy grinned.

God, you made work go by easily.

Later after he drove you home, you shyly invited him into your apartment, and you both ended up on your couch, you laying back, with him laying between your thighs, chin resting on your stomach while you played with his hair, listening to an audiobook.

He looked like a lazy cat, enjoying petting from his favorite human. His eyes were hooded as he watched you, feeling wanted after a childhood unwanted in the group home.

For the first time, you didn’t feel like a burden, alone with only the characters in your books to keep you company.

You didn’t know what you and Billy were, but you were content to let it unfold.

how come you don’t write as much anymore?

because you have to practically beg and plead people to interact with your work and it’s extremely demotivating and makes you question your ability and self worth and I straight up just stopped tolerating it lmao

Thank you, Terry! I’m glad to have found you, too! You’re a real gem, and I enjoy reading your thoughts on my stuff. ♥️

💐🌷spread the love to the people you’re glad you’ve found in this corner of the internet 💐🌷

@k-marzolf @luckydiorxoxo @punk-in-docs @delliomellidom @morby

There are so many more who entertain me with their wonderful stories, tag me to read their fics and keep me up to date on the latest fashion. I truly appreciate each of you. Some of you have become my dearest friends.