Walking Up To Random Doors And Tugging On Them And Saying "i Can't. It's Locked" Out Loud To No One To

Hozier writing Francesca: what if every horrible thing you've ever been through has led you, or will yet lead you, to someone you love so much you'd do it all again. What if the suffering is all worth it, not from a religious standpoint but because of someone you love. What if that's all there is - heaven and hell couldn't care less about us, but we care for one another. We endure the unspeakable for one another. What if heaven won't let us in but we wander together through the darkness for eternity knowing we acted in love and having no regrets. What if heaven can't contain people of complexity and passion like ours. What if we were offered the opportunity and we said we'd do it all again.

Monsters in the Dark #16

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

x

“How’s things going with Billy?” asked Curtis, as you took a bite of your dorito taco. You were having a lunch date with him. He was your very first friend before Billy. You adored Curtis. He had found you on the streets, being attacked by several thugs. It took weeks to nurse you back to health.

Your boyfriend had kicked you out after cheating on you. Life had been hard after being in the system. He knew Billy would understand.

“Good,” you said happily after swallowing, “Billy’s sweet to me.”

Curtis laughed, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” You asked, curious.

“It’s just that I wouldn’t describe Billy as sweet.” Curtis said, taking a drink of his soda.

“He lets me sleep with him.” You told Curtis, smiling softly.

Curtis’ eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

You nodded, “I had a nightmare the first night after you left me there. He let me in his bed, and held me. After that I kept sneaking in. So when we were at the bar last weekend, he said I could sleep with him whenever I wanted if I could hit the bullseye at darts.” You explained, finishing off your taco, and digging into your cinnamon dessert. This place was your favorite to eat at, and that was why Curtis brought you here. His treat.

Right now you worked at a library even though Billy insisted he could take care of you. You liked independence, though, and you were cautious.

Your ex had left you with nothing; you wanted the security in case anything went sour. You weren’t going to be defenseless again.

“And did you?” Curtis asked, cautiously.

“Uh huh!” You grinned, “I sleep with him every night now.” You missed the look of concern on Curtis’ face, but when you looked at him, he smiled and ruffled your hair.

He needed to talk to Billy. He loved his brother, but Billy was a known womanizer.

After that he asked how your work at the library was going, and listened to you chatter about that, and the cranky old lady you worked with.

“She’s so crusty!” You had said, rolling your eyes playfully.

Curtis laughed. And despite worrying about Billy, Curtis could tell he was having a good influence on you.

You’d been skittish when Curtis first found you, and now you seemed open and light hearted.

Still, he needed to hear from Billy that he wasn’t going to just drop you, and move on.

x

Curtis appeared at the penthouse a few nights later. “Can I talk to you, Billy?” He asked, and Billy frowned. It was clear Curtis wasn’t there for drinks.

“Sure, give me a minute.” Billy said, leaving Curtis in the living room.

He looked around the corner and into Billy’s bedroom. He was tucking you into bed, kissing your forehead, saying: “I’m gonna talk to Curt. I’ll be in, in a little bit.” His fingers squeezed your hips before letting go, a soft smile on his face.

Curtis was stunned. Billy was a hard man, not known for being soft. He made his living out of violence, and enjoyed it to some degree. It was why he was good at what he did. It was why Curtis placed you with Billy. He could protect you. But here he was being gentle with you.

Billy shut the door coming back out, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. “So, want a beer?” Billy asked.

“Nah, listen Billy, I'm here for her.” Curtis said, not bothering to beat around the bush.

Billy’s stomach dropped. Was Curtis taking you away? He’d gotten attached to you in the short amount of time he had you. He hated attachments yet here he was, afraid you were being taken from him. If he was, Billy wasn’t letting you go without a fight. “Yeah?”

“What are your intentions with her? She really likes you, and the men in her life haven’t treated her well.” Curtis said, stance rigid.

“What do you mean they haven’t?” Billy asked, ready to murder anyone who’d hurt you. It wasn’t hard to imagine someone hurting you, you were exceptionally kind and gentle. It wasn’t hard to rip the wings off a butterfly.

“Her boyfriend used her until he was done with her, before kicking her out onto the streets. Her dad used to beat her pretty bad, too. The pictures I’ve seen from police reports are pretty bad, Billy. I feel like her father has set a precedent for every man she’s encountered.” Curtis said, making Billy see red.

“Her mother was the only refuge she had. And I’m worried she’s finding refuge in you, and you’ll grow bored of her.” The tension was thick in the room, Curtis just wanted the best for you.

“I’m not gonna throw her aside, Curt.” Billy said through gritted teeth, angry at both what your father and boyfriend did to you, and Curtis’ implications. “I know what it’s like to be thrown away. Better than anyone else. Better than you. You forget, I lived in the system. My ma didn’t exactly want me.” Billy said bitterly.

“So—“

Billy cut him off, rolling his shoulder, “She’s mine, I’m not letting her go.” He said leaving no room for discussion.

Curtis stared at him for a moment, stance softening. He understood this was Billy’s way of saying he cared for you, “Just so long as her best interests are at heart.” He said. “Because the minute I think they aren’t—“

“They are.” Billy said, jaw ticking.

Curtis nodded, before leaving Billy standing there wondering how you’d wormed your way into his heart.

x

Billy crawled in with you that night, wrapping his arms around you, his insides melting when you rolled over and snuggled against him, cheek pressed to his chest,

He meant what he said to Curtis, he wasn’t letting you go. He understood Curtis cared for you, it was easy as Billy found out.

But Billy would rather chew off his own leg, than hurt you.

He slept that night, vowing to always keep you safe, to kill your enemies, and to be their worst nightmare.

Moodboards.

@violetflamesx for my witchy and whimisgoth side blog. @esthers-wine for my fall/autumn themed sideblog. And @zeldafairy for my fic recommendations!

Billy Russo;

Series;

Monsters in the Dark Masterlist

Drabbles;

The Wolf.

Diet Mountain Dew.

Jasmine.

—my flower, withered between pages two and three.

Fear of the Dark

A Monsters in the Dark Drabble.

Nightmares, PTSD, kissing, a bit of dacryphilia, mentions of Billy’s bad childhood, fem!reader.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

Billy woke up to sniffling by the door to his bedroom, he paused wondering if he brought someone home and didn't remember, but then he realized you occupied the penthouse now, taking you in for Curtis, you’d had no place to go.

“Mr. Russo?” You asked, voice watery. “Can I sleep with you? Don’t like the dark, don’t like being alone. I’ll be good, I promise.” Your voice shook as you clung to the doorframe.

“C’mon, baby.” Billy said, patting the bed, unable to resist your tearful voice.

It excited him.

You crawled in, curling in a ball, your whole body shaking. He wondered what haunted your nightmares. He pulled you against him, stroking your hair and trying to soothe your tremors, as he hushed you softly, his lips brushing yours.

You shuddered, pressing closer, returning his affection. You were hungry for it.

You reminded him of a small mouse, looking for safety in a deadly panther.

God, it took him back. His fingers moved to your hips, digging into your flesh, and you sighed shakily, clutching his own hips.

“Where’s my mom?” Billy remembered crying to the firemen at the station, his lips had trembled, his chest had heaved. He remembered he couldn’t breathe because of his sobbing.

Why had she left him there? When was she coming back? He wondered if he had been bad.

It was an unfamiliar place, and he just wanted to go home.

“Your ma ain’t comin’ back, son.” The man had told Billy, who had sunk into hopelessness with no comfort in sight.

Billy stroked your hips, thumbs rubbing back and forth. Your crying slowed down, and you clutched his shirt in your hands, lips only trembling off and on now.

Billy was struck with the idea he was needed. He wanted to chase away your demons, to hurt anyone who had hurt you.

Mine, he thought, surprising himself.

Your eyes fluttered, tears clinging to your lashes, cheek pressed to his chest. Your body shuddered one last time before you slept soundly.

His heart ached.

God, attachments were a weakness but the feeling of being needed was addictive, and that was a very dangerous thing.

Billy groaned inwardly, fingers digging into your flesh, nose skimming your hair. He wanted you in his bed more than he should, wanted to spread you out on his sheets and devour you, hear your sweet sighs and moans while he ruined you. To settle between your thighs, and split you open on his cock.

The last thing he remembered was your soft breathing, and your body slotted perfectly against his.

It brought him more comfort than he wanted to admit.

Comfort that hadn’t been in his life since childhood.

ok no I'm still annoyed about what they've done to anne elliot. why must every heroine be beautiful, smart, confident, witty, flirtatious, funny, independent, firm-minded etc.?

what about shy women? humble women? lonely women? women who are just sad and a little bit pathetic? not firm enough to speak their mind? not strong enough to know their mind? who are riddled with anxiety and embarrassment? who have genuine faults and mistakes they regret but are too mortified to acknowledge? who know they are being taken advantage of but who keep sacrificing their own happiness to maintain the peace and reputation of their family? who are smart in their own way and happy with that even if it doesn't amount to anything that can be paraded around as a talent? do they not deserve to have their stories told?

I've had enough of snark!!!!! enough of smugness!!!! i wanna see a heroine who is so miserable and lonely and who feels everything so deeply and who yearns so bloody hard for years that she collapses when he finally gives her that letter!!! i want pathetic pining!! i want miserable social interactions!!! i want stolen glances and subtle questions and agonising despair until a confession so cathartic that i faint with her!!!! i want to feel something real!!!!!!!!! god!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Being a nurse is such a difficult job. Thank you for doing what you do, even though it’s often thankless. Nurses are so important. My aunt was a nurse. 💜 And thank you for tagging me, this was a huge compliment, and I appreciate it so much. 💕

Side Note To Fan Fic Authors

Here’s the thing.

I read a lot of scripts.  A lot.  From professionals to aspiring writers to complete newbies.  Features and pilots.  Specs and treatments.

And 8 times out of 10 the fan fic that I’ve read over the last, oh, 15 years is leagues better than this stuff.  It’s more inspired.  It’s more compelling.  It’s genre bending and creative and heartfelt.  It’s well-paced and intense and funny and sexy and meaningful.  It’s smart and thoughtful and good.  It’s novel-quality.  Better than, sometimes.

Rare is the script I don’t want to put down, but how often have we stayed up until 3am to get to the last chapter of a 100k fic? And it’s not even a fan fic author’s day job.  This is what they do on the side.  In their spare time.  For free.

So my point is, fan fic authors, you’re good.  You’re good writers and great storytellers.  I know it doesn’t always feel like it, especially if you’re one of the authors who’s not a BNF and doesn’t get the notes/hits that a few do.  And  because some people still view fic as “not real writing.” You guys know the shit that gets made into movies.  You’re better than that.  So be better than that.  If writing is what you think want to do, then just know you’re already doing it.   You’ve already started.

And you’re more talented than you might think.

i need to tell you that your Billy Russo Pomegranates series makes me so happy. that is all. thank you for putting each little work out there. keep on, my friend.

Thank you so much, love! 💜 Sometimes I doubt myself and my writing, so this was really quite nice to hear.

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