it wild to me that there are people out there who aren't interested in history
like wdym you don't think about the fact that women would tell stories as they made butter in the same way we listen to podcasts today? wdym you don't think about that one Chinese poet who wrote about how much he loved his cats hundreds of years ago? wdym you don't think about the fact that we found a gravesite of a young child surrounded by flowers from THOUSANDS of years ago? wdym you don't think about how people wrote "i was here" into the walls in Pompeii? wdym you don't think about the little egyptian boy who drew little doodles at the top of his school works more then a thousand years ago?
wdym you don't think about the fact that people, no matter the place, time, or social status, are fundamentally no different from you. that they loved the same as you, enjoyed the same things you did, dreamed about a better life the same way you did. that despite how seemingly detached you are from these people, in time, place, and culture, the things you do and what u are is so undeniably human that it transcends time and space
@gathermoments
A Monsters in the Dark Drabble.
Warnings; angst, mentions of Billy’s bad childhood and reader’s, language, fear of attachments, kissing, possessive behavior, fem!reader.
I’ve rewritten this more times than I can count, so I’m posting it for better or for worse.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist
x
And I am done with my graceless heart, so tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart.
You knew you shouldn’t have been, but you were snooping in his office. You wanted to know where he went every week. It wasn’t your business, but curiosity killed the cat.
You ended up finding a picture of a woman and what presumably was Billy as a child. He was cute, you thought unable to tear your gaze away from the photo. He had her eyes, but neither were smiling in the photo.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Billy stood at the door looking thunderous.
“I just—“ you began, head snapping up.
“Get. Out.” He snarled, cutting you off, snatching the photo out of your hand, his face contorted in fury.
“Wanted to know Billy.” You whispered, brushing past him, your throat burning with the effort to keep from crying.
“By invading my privacy?” He seethed from behind you. You sniffed, and god Billy almost pulled you into his arms, knowing what you’d been through with your father.
But he didn’t need or want your pity.
He was going to kick you out, you just knew it. You began making contingency plans. You wouldn’t be homeless again with nowhere to go, you swore.
x
“Billy’s mad at me,” you whispered into your tea, sitting with Curtis.
“He’ll cool off. He just doesn’t want your pity. Billy’s very independent that way.” Curtis said, having coffee himself.
“I don’t, though. My daddy didn’t want me, either. If anything I felt understood, but I’ve gone and blown it.” You said, keeping out that you’d been sleeping with Billy.
Your chest ached knowing you’d have to sleep on your own tonight. That the memories of your father would likely resurface, scaring you. You chewed your lips until they were bloody.
Curtis extended his leg, he looked like he was in pain. “Don't chew your lips,” he scolded, lightly dabbing at the blood there. You had a habit of worrying at your lips, something Curtis often scolded you for, “Want me to talk to him?” He asked, pulling the cloth away from your lips.
“No, it’ll make it worse.” You said, finishing your tea.
Curtis hummed, “It’ll be okay, Billy’s stubborn but I can tell he cares about you, even if he doesn’t say. He’s not good with emotions.” He explained sipping his coffee.
You hoped Curtis was right, because you’d grown to care for Billy, even knowing he wasn’t entirely good, and made his living out of violence.
You trusted him, and even as angry as he got, he hadn’t struck you. He’d been controlled.
You only wished his anger hadn’t hurt so much. A curse of feeling everything strongly, everything felt so deeply.
x
Billy couldn’t fucking sleep. The image of your eyes filled with tears stuck in his head, that he’d caused them. But more than that he missed your warm body next to his, the feeling of your even breaths, and soft snores, the way you played with the scar at his hip before you went to sleep every night. You always had a fixation with it.
You were the only woman he’d let into his bed. It was his one safe space, but he hadn’t been able to turn you away that night you’d begged to sleep with him.
And now he was attached to you. The very thing he hated, because it meant he could be vulnerable again. Sometimes he wanted to cut his heart out, it would make life so much easier.
The woman who was supposed to love him, had abandoned him. The most important relationship he’d ever have in his formative years. His fingers fisted his duvet seeing your sweet face in his mind again.
But god he liked you. He still had the lavender under his pillow that you got him.
“Fuck this,” he hissed, throwing his duvet off. He wanted you in any capacity you’d have him. There was nothing to think about.
x
You laid in bed that night in the guest room, trying not to see your father in the shadows as you usually did, his shadow still hanging over you, frightening you years after his attempt on your life.
You hid under the covers letting out a shaky breath. He’s not here, you told yourself. He can’t get you. You chanted over and over, but a tingle of fear trickled down your spine, making it hard to breathe.
You screamed when you heard someone knock on your doorframe. You peeked out from the covers, “Billy?” You asked, shaking.
“Who else?” He asked not unkindly, his hair mussed from laying on it. “Come to bed,” he said hoarsely, as though he hadn’t gotten much sleep, either.
You hesitated and he ached at your reluctance, “I’m not mad anymore, sweet pea.” He said seeing you shake, before you threw off your duvet, and followed him into his room. When you climbed in, he pulled you against him, stroking your spine, burying his face in your hair. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he rasped, surprising himself. He rarely apologized. But he realized he valued you.
You kissed his mouth, “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have been snooping around.” You mumbled against his lips.
Billy’s fingers dug into your hips, “I just wanna love Billy. Every part of him, even the parts he’d rather forget.” You continued, trying to make him understand.
Billy ached at that. His own mother hadn’t loved him, how could you? You kissed him again, soft and slow making him groan softly, tasting the toothpaste on your tongue.
And just like that the ache in Billy’s heart eased in the wake of your kisses, sweet and yielding.
“You’re mine.” He rasped, making your heart leap with hope.
“You promise?” You asked softly, minty breath blowing over his face.
“I promise.” He said, kissing your forehead, before tucking you under his chin.
And after hours of fighting for sleep, you both fell asleep at two in the morning.
The ‘you’re mature for your age’ to sleeping with a bed full of plushies in your mid twenties pipeline is real
"Your days off are sure brutal on your lingerie" Jean Harlow as Lola Burns Bombshell 1933
Thank you, Terry! I’ve missed writing. I don’t know often I’ll write, but I miss being creative. And I’ve missed you, too. 💜
—The Wolf.
—slightly canon!Billy, alluding to oral (f receiving), implied poly, alcohol, drunk reader.
—526 words.
—I haven’t written in a long time. I felt a little inspired, so I wrote. :) I’ll tag a few who might be interested. If you don’t see yourself tagged, it’s because I can’t remember my taglist, lol.
— @e-dubbc11 @kayhi808 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @snowkestrel @aoi-targaryen @terry2227 @firexfate @danzer8705
You drowsily watched him work at his desk, leaning your chin down on your arms, feeling jittery. You probably shouldn’t have drank that wine with your antidepressants. “Sometimes I think Anvil is what you love the most. More’n me and Frankie.” You slurred, drunk from the wine he’d given you, and feeling like you’d stepped into a hot bath. The fire cracked in the background, light flickering in the dark room.
Billy leaned back in his chair, clicking his pen, dark eyes watching you. He reached across the desk, a finger curling around your hair. “It’s proof of how far I’ve come.” He said, voice low, making a fire burn deep in your belly. God, you wanted him. In every way, you wanted to devour him like the wolf in the woods.
“But Billy, we love you. Is it really worth everything?” You asked, taking another sip, sinking deeper into the chair, his answer wrapping around you;
“I loved my ma. Where did it get me?” His voice was sharp, as bared his teeth. A pin drop could be heard, and the wind blew outside, making you cold somehow despite the warmth of the fire.
“I could love you.” It was quiet, but he heard you as he pulled back, dark eyes like chips of onyx.
“It doesn’t matter if you love me. You’re mine.” The clock chimed midnight.
“And you’re mine and Frankie’s.” You said, shifting, the chair creaking underneath you. You remembered recently sharing a bed with Frank and Billy, nestled between them while they smoked. You felt an ache between your thighs even now, the smell of Billy’s cologne and nicotine.
Billy fidgeted with the pen, a frown between his eyes, and his lashes fanning over his cheekbones.
The room was dim, casting harsh shadows across his face. He dropped the pen and it rolled across the desk. He grabbed his glass of whiskey, Tennessee Honey, and finished it off. He looked at you over the glass. “There’s no such thing as fairytales. That shit is for the storybooks.”
“But maybe in the fairytale Red Riding Hood gets eaten, and she’s happy for it.” You said, wide eyed, and eager.
“And I’m the wolf, right?” He set the glass down, admiring how you pressed your thighs together under his hot gaze.
“Billy, who says you’re the wolf?” You said giggling, and he couldn’t tell if it was the wine. “I can eat you when you visit your mother in that home you keep her in. When you keep her—“
Billy clicked his tongue. “Careful. You’re clever and I like you, but my ma is off limits.” He said through his teeth.
“Oh, Mister Russo, won’t you keep me and Frankie locked up, too?” You continued, unruffled.
He closed his laptop, and stood up moving around the desk. He fisted your hair, “Alright, little bird. Let’s go to bed. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll eat that pussy.”
You laughed, standing up, running for the stairs, looking over your shoulder, beckoning him. Your hips swayed, taking the first step, and then laughed again racing up the stairs, Billy hot on your heels.
And hell on his.
Dark themes, mentions of abandonment, anxiety, codependency, kissing, fem!reader.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
&&&
The clock ticked overhead, and you chewed your nails, nearly down to nothing. Billy had been gone for hours after having left you with Frank and Maria. He was dealing with someone who had come after his client.
He’d left when the sun was still up, it was dark now. Maria had tried to soothe your worries, “Billy’s very capable. He’ll come home.”
It didn’t take away the anxiety from your stomach, the heavy feeling in your chest that another person had abandoned you.
You moved to the window, watching for the headlights of the car. The clock ticked, and you wanted to rip it off the wall, as it measured Billy’s absence.
You thought of your mother. She had always protected you, but she couldn’t help herself against your father. She’d killed him as she went down in flames.
Your heart ached. Billy protected you, but could he protect himself? You’d lost so much, that the idea of losing more was crippling.
Headlights flashed across the driveway, your heart rate picked up, as the car shut off and the sound of a door being opened and closed could be heard.
You could hear his feet on the gravel pathway leading up to the house.
You ran to the front door as it opened, and Billy stepped through. He looked tired, but when you pulled him down for an eager kiss, he hummed and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, nipping at your bottom lip.
You pulled back, “Welcome back, Billy.” You said, trying to mask your relief. But he could see. He could always see.
Billy nodded to Frank, before taking your hand and pulling you out of the house, and towards his Wraith.
“Missed you, baby.” He whispered in your ear, before ushering you into the passenger seat.
You relaxed as he walked around the car and got in, starting it up. You admired him as he turned the heat on for you.
He was back. He was safe.
36. | because we are living in a material world, and I am a material kitty. | my cat, probably. Masterlist I
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