Lucky Charms Sugar Cookies

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

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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 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 💗

It shouldn’t be any surprise that you’d get this award back 😉 I found your stories when a lot of things weren’t going well and the way they made the world feel a lot less cold was a precious gift. How this site is set up, I know it’s not always easy to tell when a story has had a profound effect on someone; but I can assure you that your every story touches lives and they have very deeply touched mine 🥹

You’re so sweet. I never stop to think my writing has an effect on anyone, because I always think I can do better, or this writer executed that idea better than I did. I struggle with imposter syndrome, unfortunately.

You’ve been a blessing, too. The last year has been really hard, so I often write to get my feelings out. And your reviews always make me smile!

I’m so glad that my writing made your difficulties easier. ❤️

astonishing how good it can feel to get some chores done sometimes. you’ll be sitting there like damn i am some type of horrid little smeagol like creature who should be crushed to death. but then you do some laundry and you’re like wrow. im actually gods most fuckable soldier.

My ideal weight is Ben Barnes on top of me

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

Bullseye.

A Monsters in the Dark Drabble.

Warnings; alcohol consumption, jealousy, possessive behavior, kissing, fluff, fem!reader.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate

Monsters in the Dark Masterlist

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Billy hadn’t expected you to take him so seriously.

He’d leaned down during a night at the bar and he said in your ear; “If you can hit the bullseye, you can sleep in my bed. Whenever you want.”

Your eyes had immediately lit up. “How many tries do I get?” You asked.

“As long as you hit the bullseye before we leave.” He said, amused at how determined you looked.

You’d been practicing all night. He watched you aim, as he sipped his beer. He was confident you wouldn’t be able to do it.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Shoot.” Billy said after a few minutes. You did after a few nervous glances at him, you shot for it, missing by quite a bit.

He laughed at your little whine, “Try again, baby.” He said, unaware of a group of girls watching him. But you were aware.

You missed again, too busy worrying they were going to approach him, and take him from you. You knew he wasn’t yours, but you wanted him to be.

Billy set his beer down, standing behind you with his hands on your hips, “Focus,” he hummed.

“Those girls like you,” you mumbled back.

“I’m with you right now,” he said, “Now, try again.” He said adjusting your posture.

You liked the feel of his hands on you, burning you with their heat through your dress. You knew Billy wasn’t exactly a good person, but like a moth to a flame, you were drawn to him.

You took a deep breath, focusing on how you’d get to be in his bed every night if you wanted. You threw the dart, and were shocked when you hit the bullseye.

You squealed, spinning around and wrapping your arms around Billy’s waist. “Did ya mean it? Can I sleep in your bed?” You asked, your doe eyes looking at him softly.

“Yeah, sweet pea. You can sleep with me.” He hummed brushing your forehead with his lips, not sure how to feel about it. Billy was hard pressed to let anyone in, especially women. He’d been hurt, and used, and thrown away.

But hunger for you gnawed at him, until he was sure it would consume him, and he’d taint you.

His fingers dug into your hips, noticing a man watching you.

Fuck off, thought Billy, pulling you closer, glaring over your head at him.

“If Billy doesn’t want me to, I can sleep in my room, I don’t wanna overstay my welcome, and-“ Your rambling drew Billy’s eyes back to you, and he cut you off with a kiss, biting your lip and making you whimper.

“Shut up, sweet pea. I don’t mind sharin’ my bed with you.” He murmured. And maybe that’s what scared him. That he liked sharing it with you.

Impatiently waited every night for you to climb in, the anxiety of what it meant if you didn’t.

Fuck.

But hadn’t he been the one who’d silently decided you were his? He had, and it was that moment standing with you in the bar, he realized he was more yours than you were his.

is your comfort character also a sad pretty boy with trauma and questionable morals or are you normal

Vasilisa Donbay ph.

It’s nearly been two years that I’ve been working on this. It’s the one piece that I wrote that I actually like, and to find that some people have come back and read it again is stunning. Thank you for everyone who has supported me. Maybe someday I will come back to writing. I want to, but I’m really burnt out. I’ve been writing constantly with an update a day since 2021. So right now, I’m just relaxing.

Monsters in the Dark Masterlist.

It’s a strange juxtaposition between the cold blooded killer, and the sweet girl who sought refuge in him.

And all of my devotion turns violent - boyish by Japanese Breakfast

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And I’d be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice - talk by Hozier

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Evil is a point of view...God kills, and so shall we; indiscriminately...for no creatures under God are as we are, none so like Him as ourselves. - Lestat, Interview with the Vampire

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I struggled with some demons, they were middle class and tame. I didn’t know I had permission to murder and to maim. - Leonard Cohen, You Want It Darker

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Killing must feel good to God too, He does it all the time. And are we not created in His image? -Hannibal.

Billy comes home to you after killing a man.

Billy wins you a stuffy.

Waiting

Fear of the Dark

Promise

Lavender

Restart

How I’m Imagining You

Billy has a nightmare.

Sunshine

Billy has a night out.

Whiskey and the Devil

Tutus

Shared

Soft

Bloody

Someone threatens you. Billy sets them straight.

You crave Billy’s love.

A beating heart of stone.

You look at Billy like he’s God.

Billy contemplates his effect on your soul.

The Dreadful Need in the Devotee

You wait for Billy to come home.

Birthday

Stronger Without

Into the Darkness

Billy realizes the truth of his feelings.

You see a painting of Christ crucified. It sparks a discussion with Billy.

You ask Billy about his first kill.

Billy craves your love.

Someone gets into the penthouse.

Play

Billy and Frank spar.

Remember Me

Curtis warns Billy.

Bullseye

You defend Billy.

You discuss anecdotes with Billy.

Blue Moon

Billy has another nightmare.

Mulled Wine & Ham.

Billy’s mother dies.

Billy cleans his Ka-bar. You discuss.

You and Billy are caught in the rain.

Billy ends of biker harassing you.

Providence.

Billy comes home from a trip.

Extras;

Playlist.

Moodboard.

Monsters in the Dark #22

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

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate

Monsters in the Dark Masterlist

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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.