When Hozier Said "i'd Burn Every Soul I Knew If I Thought The Fire Was Warming You" And When He Said

focus on the likes and not the wants

you may not want to clean your room, but you like the peace and call it brings you after

you may not want to study, but you like the confidence and satisfaction you get from being prepared

you may not not want to apologise, but you like the relief and connection that reconciliation brings

you may not want to cook, but you like the satisfaction of eating a healthy come cooked meal prepared with love

you may not want to exercise, but you like how you feel afterwards and how it makes you confident

you may not want to journal or write, but you like the reflection and calm it brings you

you may not want to step out of your comfort zone, but you like the new experiences and growth you gain from it

my insta @ malusokay

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.

BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD. Once you're given this award, you're supposed to paste it in the ask of eight people who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing happens but it's sweet to know so. I think you're beautiful inside and outside ❤️🥰

🩷 Right back at you, my friend. I think of you often, even though I’m not as active lately. I’d like to be but it seems I’m sick again, so other than reblogging, writing wears me out so I’ve paused until I feel better, but I always look forward to your stories, especially with Mr. Russo. ♥️

I hope you have a Merry Christmas!! 🎄

Monsters in the Dark #13

—kissing, biblical references, dark themes, mentions of Billy being an orphan, fem!reader—

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

“Tell me you love me,” murmured Billy, knees on either side of your hips, pinning you to the bed, lips brushing yours. He needed it, and hated that he did. That he was still that orphan, looking for affection.

“I love you, Billy.” You whispered. And God, you did. So much that it consumed you, made you ache for him every minute you were apart.

“Yeah?” He hummed, fingers pinned your wrists down, as his nose brushed your neck.

“Love you like David loved Jonathan in the Bible. I love you as my own soul.” You told him, earnestly.

Billy’s treacherous heart ached. He kissed you hard, tongue slid against yours. You moaned sweetly, and arched. Your wrists burned at the force of which he held you down.

“I love you too, baby.” He admitted breathlessly, and felt his heart race at the admission, even though he’d said it before. He loved you with a terrible fierceness that had him rendered asunder. Attachments were a weakness, and he’d unwittingly created his own. He hadn’t been entirely prepared in sharing a relationship with you. Your sweet acquiescence was his undoing.

But he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, especially with the smile you gave him, that was brighter than the sun.

Hearts in her eyes post bite.

he’s a fictional character to you, i know him personally

Monsters in the Dark #22

Fluff, mentions of a hard childhood, fem!reader.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate

Monsters in the Dark Masterlist

x

It was pouring down but all you were aware of was Billy’s hard body pressed to your back under the awning, as he lifted his coat over your heads. You were struck with the feeling of warmth and safety, despite the cool spring rain.

He reminded you of your mother, hard and unforgiving, but always looking out for you, even as something as simple as being caught in the rain. “You’re going to catch a cold, silly girl.” She’d scold you, making you soak your feet.

You always complained, but you sorely missed that now. Billy’s heat radiated behind you, and you pressed back against him, eager for his strength.

“Shoulda brought an umbrella, sweet pea.” Billy scolded you.

“I didn’t check the weather.” You mumbled.

He kissed underneath your ear, “Silly girl.”

You looked up at him as he echoed the words of your mother, feeling closer to him than ever. He was the only person besides Curtis and your mother who had ever loved you.

“Ready?” Billy husked into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You looked up at him, as he looked down at you. You nodded subtly, and you both darted out into the rain, both laughing when you both got soaked anyway, down to your socks.

You wished the rain could wash away your past, and all the pain that accompanied it.

Maybe it could wash you clean.

Maybe it could be the start of something new.

Something new with him.

—and it’s my whole heart, weighed and measured inside,

And it’s an old scar, trying to bleach it out,

And it’s my whole heart,

Deemed and delivered a crime—

Mulled wine & ham

A Monsters in the Dark Christmas Drabble

Christmas fluff, mentions of dark themes (prevalent throughout this series), possessive behavior, alcohol consumption, bust mostly just fluff, fem!reader.

Monsters in the Dark Masterlist.

737 words.

x

He watched you drinking too much at a holiday party that night in December, playing footsies under the table with him, unbeknownst to all the guests.

He’d smirked, sipping his mulled wine as you snitched ham off his plate, and then another piece, and another still.

“Oi, Billy. You gonna let her steal all your ham?” asked one of the men, drunk and on his third plate of food, looking curiously at you.

Billy hummed, not liking the man’s gaze on you at all, and gave him a dark look. “I don’t care for ham, at all actually. It’s too fatty and salty.” He said as your foot climbed up his calf, and you stole some mashed potatoes with your fork.

“I’m sorry, Wilbur. But I can’t resist the taste.” You mumbled, before biting off another piece of ham you’d taken.

Billy took another drink, and almost choked on his wine at your words. God, you made these holiday parties for Anvil worth going to. He wasn’t bored out of his mind with you here. He saw several women wanting to approach him, by the way they kept peeking at him and giggling like school girls. A year ago he would have happily indulged in it, but he was entirely caught up in you, especially after you’d killed Arthur. You’d defended him when his own mother, and others hadn’t.

He’d always grown disinterested in women after a week. He was sure some had loved him, but he loved you. Because you wanted him, because you were soft, and devoted, and made him realize the world wasn’t always such a dark, and evil place. Because he could be his true self with you, and still receive your love. He didn’t have to put up the facade of a good man, because you wanted him to be entirely himself, otherwise he wouldn’t be worth half as much to you.

The Tiffany bracelet he bought you last week, was shining on your wrist in the light, creating prisms. The only reason you wore it was for him. You couldn’t care less about material things, which made it hard when he wanted to spoil you, to take care of you.

And he’d wanted to care for you, he didn’t think you needed to work, but you put your foot down on that. You liked your independence, and if something went wrong you’d be stranded with nowhere to go.

Billy had reluctantly agreed, but he knew nothing was going to change. You were his.

You liked working at the library anyway, affectionately complaining about the cranky old lady who worked there.

“I’ll probably end up like her,” you laughed, “with five cats.”

That was when he seriously decided to keep you. He wanted your five cats, attachments be damned.

“I want to grab your hair, and kiss you.” You said, watching him, feet still playing with his legs.

Billy uncrossed his legs, “Why don’t you?” He asked, leaning in, voice husky.

“I don’t think your fan club would approve.” You laughed, eyes flicking down to his mouth.

Billy huffed, “The only fan club I want is yours.” He said, leaning back.

You smiled, “Oh, Billy. Don’t tempt me. You might find yourself stalked.” You said, drinking more of the awful wine.

Billy didn’t get a chance to respond.

“Isn’t he handsome?” One of the women laughed, looking at you, eyes glazed. Drunk, probably.

You stole a piece of his pumpkin pie, “And smart. And ambitious. A tactician. Resourceful. A protector. And sweet when he’s not being an asshole.” You said softly, spraying a bunch of whipped cream on a single bite of pumpkin pie.

Billy adjusted his tie, feeling uncomfortable. You saw him through the facade, you didn’t see him just for his beauty, but everything else, too.

The woman stared. She hadn’t thought of those things, she just saw him superficially. Just another pretty face, as they say. She ended up drifting away and Billy let out a sigh of relief. “Janice. Every office party she hits on me.” He whispered, pouring himself more wine.

“I bet she’s the president of your fan club.” You laughed, and then paused. “Billy should take me home, so we can have a hot bath together with some better wine.”

Billy’s lips turned up. “You don’t like mulled wine?”

You curled your nose, and he kissed your mouth. “I thought you’d never ask, sweet pea.”

x

Tags; @idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

Restart.

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.