K-marzolf

You heard the tape. That’s why we’re here.

Monsters in the Dark #21

Nightmares, ptsd, mentions of canon typical violence, dark themes, fem!reader.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

x

You were drowsy that night, curled against Billy while he cleaned his ka-bar. You watched him, eyelids drooping. “How many people has Billy killed with that?” You asked, scooting closer.

“Too many to count.” Billy said, wiping the blade. He looked dangerous holding it, the way the blade gleamed in his hand. The casual way he handled it, and twirled it.

It excited you.

“I’m a monster.” Billy said, though not self deprecating at all. He sounded darkly amused.

“Billy’s my favorite monster.” You said, playing with his sweater, twirling a loose thread around your finger.

“Oh, baby. You’re my favorite angel.” He said, pinching your cheeks.

You giggled, before yawning halfway through your giggle. “Time for bed, sweet pea?” He asked, setting his knife down.

“Wanna be with you a little longer.” You said, yawning again.

Billy’s heart burned for you. You reminded him so much of the boy he was; sweet, trusting, loving. He remembered following his mother everywhere, to her annoyance, clinging to her clothes.

Billy wanted to protect your heart. Even from himself.

He kissed your forehead, watching you.

“Sometimes I dream that I’m in those woods again,” you said, “waiting for my mom. And if I look close enough the trees and the branches look like monsters in the dark.” You continued.

Billy listened quietly. It was the first time you had spoken of your nightmares.

“They pull on me, on my clothes, trying to drag me deeper into the woods, tearing at my skin. I always wait for God, but He never comes. But you know who does?” You asked, looking up at him.

Billy swallowed.

“Billy. Billy comes. And I always take his bloody hand, and we go away, away into the darkness. And then, I’m finally safe in his arms.” You said, softly.

Billy crushed you to him, and tucked you under his chin, and his treacherous heart blazed.

You both sat like that for some time, enjoying each other’s company, feeling full there.

There was never going to be a time that Billy wouldn’t come for you.

“wtf is wrong with you”

you mean like today or like in general?

“She thought to herself, "This is now." She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.”

— Laura Ingall’s Wilder, Little House in the Big Woods

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.

freeze! ✧ ─=≡Σ((( つ•̀ω•́)つ you’re under arrest for being so lovely. copy this message to 10 other blogs (only if you want to) that you think are beautiful and deserve it. keep the game going and make others feel beautiful. 💓

You’re so sweet. Thank you, my friend.

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

for such a violent man, his kisses are so very tender.

Aspen is affectionate this morning. 😍

{Monsters in the Dark #4}

Kissing, abandonment issues, insecurities, Billy’s mother, fem!reader.

392 words.

+++

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11

“What’s wrong with you, man?” Frank asked, watching his best friend turn down yet another beautiful, flirtatious woman.

Billy shrugged, tipping his head back and drinking his beer. If he was honest, he was anxious to get home knowing you were warm in his bed. He jiggled his leg, playing with the paper on the bottle.

“Got a girl, Bill?” Frank asked, amused.

“You know I’m not the settling down type, Frank.” Billy drawled, feeling butterflies in stomach. He’d never been attached to women.

They always wanted him for his wealth and looks, and Billy found them shallow. But you defied every expectation.

He was afraid to tell Frank in case you got tired of him and left. He didn’t want to look like a fool. He took another swig of beer, stomach sick.

This quality over quantity is shit, Billy thought. It was painful and riddled with anxiety.

“Afraid, Bill? It’s that girl you took in for Curt, isn’t it? I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Like you put the stars in the sky. She isn’t your mother.” Frank said, watching Billy carefully.

He was always good at noticing Billy's subtle facial expressions. He knew he’d hit the nail on the head when Billy looked away, tongue swiping his bottom lip.

x

Billy stood in the doorway to his room, watching you sleep. Fuck, you were pretty. You yawned, and stretched. “Billy?” You murmured.

He shed his coat on the chair in the corner of the room. “Hey, baby.” He said, laying over you. You wiggled your hips making him groan. Your soft body fitted perfectly against his.

“Did you miss me?” He asked, kissing the corner of your lips.

You smiled, “Always miss Billy when he’s away.” You told him honestly.

His heart threatened to burn from his chest as he kissed you. Your lips parted for him, sighing softly into his mouth.

Your fingers settled in his hair, smoothing it from his face. “Mine,” you said as he pulled away.

His lips twitched up, “Yeah?” He asked, your claim on him soothing his insecurities, laying his chin on your soft chest.

“Mhm!” You hummed, stroking his forehead.

Billy’s eyes fluttered, hating how hungry for your affection he was. His eyes burned into yours, “All yours,” he said.

He wasn’t lying, either.

No other woman compared to you.