Billy Russo X Reader - Blog Posts
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.
Play
A Drabble set in the Monsters in the Dark universe.
—dark themes, abandonment, abuse (mentioned), sexual abuse (mentioned), kissing, fluff mixed with angst, fem!reader—
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
It was when the nights were quiet, and neither of you could sleep that Billy played for you.
His fingers skillfully flew across the keys, while you sat next to him, cheek pressed into his shoulder, eyes closed as you listened to him play.
It wasn’t something he shared with many—the hardened Marine, a virtuoso.
“It was my escape in the group home, music.” Billy had told you, laying in bed one evening after you’d caught him playing.
His fingers had laced with yours as he spoke; “Especially after Arthur. Didn’t want to think, so my teacher got me set up with classes. I guess I was bein’ a troublemaker. Actin’ out.” He recalled, voice low.
Then, one night you hadn’t been able to sleep, and neither could Billy. You asked him to play for you, “Please, Billy? You sound so good.”
“Sure, baby.” He’d said, and you’d both traipsed into his living room to play.
Billy wanted you to play with him, but he knew the trauma your father had caused, and didn’t push it.
“My dad was always harsh on me when I missed a note.” You whispered one evening. “It started so many fights between my mom and him. He swore I was coming between them. Mom said she’d always choose me.” It was the most you’d spoken on the subject.
Billy felt the same way as your mom did. He’d choose you every time, too.
There was a pause, and you said in a small voice; “My dad didn’t want me. I was just a disappointment to him.” You mumbled.
Billy stopped playing, looking over at you; “Did you ever think he was just trying to justify his shitty actions because of guilt?” He knew a little of your father, who had been physically and emotionally abusive. You had talked a little about it.
It always made Billy silently rage, the things your father did to you.
But otherwise you rarely spoke of it.
You chewed your lip, “Maybe.”
“I think it’s more than maybe.” Billy said, tapping your nose. “You were a kid. None of it could have been your fault, especially not him hurtin’ you.”
“But maybe if I was better, a good girl—“ you began, but Billy grabbed your face making you look at him.
“Baby, it wasn’t your responsibility to be better for him, it was his responsibility to be better for you.” He kissed your mouth, lingering. His fingers tangled in your hair, letting you cling to him.
“Wanna hold onto Billy forever. So you can never leave me.” You said, gripping his hand.
Billy kissed you, he wanted you to hold onto him. His own abandonment issues lingered. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby.”
You shivered pleasantly. His words brought you comfort. His hard kiss soothed the hurt in your heart, as you clung into him.
Sometimes you wanted to climb inside his heart, and stay there warm and safe, where nothing could touch you.
His heart was your safe haven.
Maybe yours could be his.
Monsters in the Dark #12
—dark themes, talks of Billy’s kill count, alcohol consumption, kissing, possessive behavior, fem!reader—
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
You were straddling his waist while he laid back on the bed, sharing a glass of wine with him, his cheeks were flushed from the alcohol. You couldn't help but admire him beneath you. His fingers danced across your thighs, making you hum. The rain pelted the window, and occasionally lightning lit the room up. Billy could tell you wanted to ask him something, but were too shy to ask.
"Spit it out, baby," said Billy, taking a cheeky sip from your wine glass. His obsidian eyes were shining with something dark. It excited you.
"Who was Billy’s first kill?" You asked finally, wiggling your hips making him hiss, his hands moving to your waist with a bruising grip, as you slowly rocked against him, enjoying the friction.
"A target over in Iraq. I don't even remember his name. But I sniped him from a rooftop." He told you, "I had nightmares for a while about it. Your first kill is always the hardest. I used to wonder who he was. Did he have a family? A wife? What made him a terrorist? But now I know to not let my thoughts go there, easier to kill when they're faceless."
You stroked his face, "Would you kill me if I became your enemy?" Your lips brushed his mouth, licking into it making him groan.
"You plan on bein' my enemy?" Hs teased, eyes fluttering at your soft touches.
"No, but what if I did?" You insisted, letting your fingers slip underneath his sweater, feeling his muscles twitch under your touch.
His fingers dug into your waist, as he rolled his hips into yours, making you keen with an ache for Billy alone. "I'd punish this pussy, make you see the error of your ways." He purred, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.
"But what if I persisted?" You whined, as his fingers teased you.
You were suddenly flipped over, pinned beneath him. "You'll always be mine, no matter what. Even if I have to hold you in chains, pretty girl." His hands trapped your wrists as he rutted against your hips, making you moan.
"You promise?" You whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist, holding him to you.
"I promise."
Monsters in the Dark #11
—dark themes, religious discussion, anti religious sentiment (Billy), mentions of an attempt on reader’s life (her father), blood, canon typical violence, fem!reader—
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
You were staring at a painting of Jesus being crucified, with a stormy backdrop. The blood drew your attention, as it was painted so starkly.
You heard Billy approach you in the gallery. It was something a colleague had invited Billy to, and he’d taken you with.
“Do you believe?” Billy asked, holding a champagne flute.
“I think I’ve just wanted a reason for all the pain and suffering.” You whispered, toying the necklace Billy had bought you.
“What if that reason is He just wants to be glorified? Is that better? Don’t you think it’s arrogant?” Billy asked, agitated.
You turned to him, “When I was seven, my dad tried to strangle me. My mom shot him, and as she was wiping the blood from face, he stood up. She told me to run. I hid in the woods for hours, until a police officer found me. Both my parents were dead.” You explained.
Billy ached at the image of a small girl hiding in the woods, alone.
“I wanted to believe God protected me in those woods, because maybe I just wanted to be unconditionally loved, like they say in the Scriptures that God is love.” You let out a shaky breath, turning back to the painting.
But Billy, feeling irrationally jealous towards God, that you’d pray to God, that you’d cast all your cares on Him, when you had Billy; grabbed you and turned you to face him, saying;
“What loving God watches a girl get strangled by her father? And hide in the woods alone and afraid? I love you. Is that not enough?” He sounded pained.
You looked at him wide-eyed. “Yes, Billy. You’re the only god I need now. You’re what I’ve been searching for, for so long.” You confessed, honestly.
The jealousy in Billy’s heart faded, replaced with a burning adoration.
You leaned up on your tippy toes, and kissed him.
His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer.
With you, Billy was not a mother’s unwanted son, but god himself.
He nipped at your bottom lip, and you sighed dreamily.
With Billy, you were not a sinner, but a saint.
Stronger Without
A Drabble set in the Monsters in the Dark universe.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
//angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abandonment, mentions of an attempt on reader’s life by her father, dark themes, fem!reader//
Billy wondered if his mother ever loved him. Or if he’d been a burden from the beginning. Had she wished she had terminated the pregnancy?
What about his father? Had he left when he learned of his mother’s pregnancy?
Had he abandoned Billy, too?
Bitterness filled him at the thought, maybe it would have been better than all this suffering, he thought hitting the punching bag hard, his knuckles aching.
He sweated as he hit the punching bag in quick succession, his muscles aching with the strain. It didn’t relieve the ache in his heart, the fucking pain, that no matter how much he tried to shove it down, still remained.
But then he’d never know you, if he hadn’t been born. And that made him ache deeply. Especially knowing you’d experienced the trauma you had. Your father hated you, and made it known to you every day. Tried to kill you, even.
The thought of you facing that alone, was enough to make him realize that he’d go through it all over again, just to be with you.
Billy clenched his fists.
You were both stronger without your parents.
Monsters in the Dark #10
//Dark themes, fluff, kissing, fem!reader//
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
Billy loved you.
He knew that all consuming ache in his chest could be no other thing.
It was four in the morning, and a few minutes before his alarm went off, and he was watching you sleep curled against him.
He was terrified of this new feeling.
He hadn’t meant for it to happen. But he hadn’t expected you to be so soft. So good. People were mostly a means to an end for Billy, save for Frank.
They’d proven time and again they were shallow, and only after themselves.
But you were different. You saw the best in people, even in Billy. You had a hard life, but you hadn’t let it harden you.
Billy thought you were brave, to wear your heart on your sleeve after being knocked down so many times.
His fingers curled around your hip, pulling you closer. You mumbled something but didn't wake.
He thought love made people pure, but your love had made a monster out of him. He didn’t care who he had to destroy to make sure you remained intact.
He’d burn the world and every fucker in it for you.
He kissed you as his alarm went off, realizing he’d been watching you for too long.
You sighed into his mouth, “Morning, Billy.” You mumbled sleepily.
“Morning, baby.” He purred, kneading your hips. “Wanna take a shower with me?”
You were suddenly very awake and eager. “Mhm!” You said, and the enthusiasm in your voice made him ache in the best way as you threw the duvet off.
He sat up chuckling as you ran to the bathroom, after a few seconds you peeked around the corner. “Come on.” You said impatiently.
Love, indeed.
//Birthday//
A Drabble set in the Monsters of the Dark universe.
Fluff+angst, alcohol consumption, dacryphilia, kissing, fem!reader.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
&&&
It was Billy’s birthday, and your heart ached.
No one had told you, and now you had nothing to give Billy.
You were a little angry with Curtis that he hadn’t told you. He’d looked apologetic when you brought it up.
He’d scratched his head, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it.” He said. “But don’t worry about it. All Billy wants is you.”
But it didn’t make you feel better.
Your fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, sitting in the bar next to Billy in the booth, trying to smile and look happy.
But as always, Billy saw through you. “What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
Your eyes welled up instantly, and you hated how emotional you were, how he could draw the emotions out of you just like that; “Got nothin’ to give to Billy.” You said, lips trembling.
Billy threw his arm over, across the booth, beer in his hand. “How ‘bout a kiss?” He purred, smirking at you.
You were silent as you looked up at him, cheeks wet with tears.
God, you were pretty when you cried.
You grabbed his hand, kissing his fingertips, making Billy’s heart race.
He loved your affection more than he was willing to admit, or show.
You leaned up, holding his hand in your lap, and kissed his mouth softly, teasing his lips with your tongue.
He opened to you, tasting the Zinfandel on you, and squeezed your hand in your lap.
Your tongue teased him, making him groan.
You pulled back, breathless. “Happy birthday, Billy.” You whispered sweetly.
Billy’s heart burned for you.
It was the best gift he could have asked for.
//Monsters in the Dark #9//
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.
Monsters in the Dark #8
Dark themes, mentions of Billy’s abandonment by his mother, dark fluff, fem!reader.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
&&&
It was quiet that evening. You both laid on his living room floor, Billy lost in his thoughts, watching you read Shakespeare while he played with your hair.
He shook himself from those thoughts, knowing they were growing dark, thinking of all the ways he was sure you’d eventually leave him.
The ways he’d drag you back. But stopped himself, knowing if you truly wanted to leave, he’d let you go.
Even if it made his chest fucking ache.
“Read to me,” Billy murmured, lips brushing your head.
You shuddered, enjoying Billy’s touch, and began to read;
“These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume.” You recited, softly. Your fingers played with the edge of the paper.
Billy watched you, admiring you, and kissed the corner of your lips. He was the Devil, but for you? He was Godly vengeance on your enemies.
You loved Billy at his darkest. But you didn’t seek to save him. You knew you could not, instead you stayed in the darkness with him.
Like Persephone had chosen to stay with Hades by eating the pomegranate.
He stroked your cheek, “I’m damning you.” He spoke, startling you.
You shrugged, a smile played on your lips. “It’s my choice, Billy. It’s not on you. A God who is supposedly for free will but punishes you for not choosing Him is maybe a God I don’t wanna choose.” You told him, leaning into his touch.
“You’d choose me over heaven?” Billy asked, thumb brushing your bottom lip.
“I don’t wanna go to a place I can’t follow you.” You said earnestly. “You cut off someone’s fingers for me just because they threatened me. What has God done but watch my father abuse me? My mother had to step in, and He didn’t defend her, either.”
Billy was a selfish bastard. He rarely cared about anyone but Frank and himself, but he fucking ached at the thought of you suffering eternal misery for him.
He grunted as you pushed him back, discarding the play, and climbing on top of him. You laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, thighs on either side of his hips.
Silence reigned, but it was comfortable, the clock ticked over the TV, and New York bustled below the penthouse.
He remembered Curtis bringing you over, a fragile woman, scared of so much, shaking the first night at the door to his bedroom, begging to let you sleep with him.
How he’d been hooked the minute you’d crawled in, fingers clutching his shirt. You reminded him of the boy he’d been. How he’d cried at the fire station, wondering why his mom had left him there, and when she was coming back.
He’d marked you as his since then, and swore to protect you, swore that no one would ever hurt you again, after hearing from Curtis the tales of your father’s abuse.
Billy gripped your hips, angry thinking about it. He wanted to drag your father from his grave, and burn the bones. No. No one would ever hurt you again.
If only he knew, you felt the same way about him.
The Dreadful Need in the Devotee
A Drabble set in the Monsters in the Dark universe.
Have a Drabble while I edit the next main part of the story. :D
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
&&&
You had never felt more warm and safe, tucked into Billy’s side, and under his arm as you laid on your stomach on a chilly autumn afternoon, face buried in his pillows.
You were quiet and Billy watched you. “What’re you thinking about, baby?” He asked, tucking you closer.
You felt drowsy, but answered anyway; “Want you all to myself.” You mumbled sleepily, moving to bury your face in his neck. He smelled so good.
The wind blew around outside the penthouse windows, and the sounds of New York City were heard below.
It was a gray cloudy day, but no rain.
Billy chuckled darkly. “What’re you gonna do with me when you have me all to yourself, baby?” He asked, playing with your hair.
He didn’t expect your answer.
“Love you forever.” You said softly, feeling warm despite the chill.
He didn’t say it, but he wanted you all to himself too, the only woman who’d captured his attention for any length of time.
What had started as a desire fueled by your need for him, had become this burning in his chest for you that went beyond sexual desire.
He didn’t want to put a name to it yet.
“Sweet girl.” Billy lips brushed your forehead.
Monsters in the Dark #7
Religious guilt and abuse, cutting (past), mentions of canon typical violence, sexism, kissing, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, possessive behavior, idolatry, protective!Billy, fem!reader.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
You woke up startled, wrapped in his silk sheets, finding Billy laying next to you on the bed, playing with your hair. His eyes were like pits as he watched you quietly. He was almost too quiet, deadly calm.
You waited for him to speak, his nose brushed your cheek, his breath tickling your neck. You sighed, eyes fluttering.
“I maimed a man last night. I cut his fingers off.” Billy said matter of fact, like he was discussing the weather. “He threatened you.” He said, almost seething at the memory.
Despite the admission of violence, you felt warmth bloom in your chest. He often reminded you of your mother, who had killed your father and died to protect you. She was a hard woman like Billy, but like Billy she’d been soft for you.
His nails scraped down your spine, and you whined, scooting closer to him. His lips turned upwards, a dark chuckle leaving his mouth, “Do you like pain, sweet pea?”
You didn’t answer, feeling an ache between your thighs as he pressed harder into your spine. “Asked you a question.” He said, making you look at him.
Pain and pleasure went hand in hand for you, as if the pain absolved you of the sin of pleasure. “Yes.” You whispered, making him hum.
He settled between your legs, your t-shirt riding up your stomach. He noticed silvery scars along your thighs, and shame flooded you, “What are these?” He asked, tracing them.
“I grew up in a strict religious home. Women’s pleasure was taboo and sinful. Pleasure was for men. Every time I touched myself, and got pleasure from it, I’d cut myself for my sin.” You admitted, quietly.
Billy frowned, “If women aren’t supposed to enjoy sex, why did God create you so you can?” He asked, tilting his head.
“I don’t know,” you answered you hadn’t thought about it.
“The Bible was written by old men to control women.” Billy said, eyeing your pussy. You were soaked from the pain he’d given you earlier. You could still feel his nails on your spine, and you ached for him.
He didn’t give you a chance to answer, he dipped his head, mouth latching onto your soaked pussy, making you whine when he let his teeth scrape your clit. His tongue pressed at your entrance and you gasped, fingers sinking into his hair, pulling.
He groaned and it vibrated against you. He took his time, slowly working you up, making you writhe on his bed, begging for him. Your sweet sounds had him aching in his pants. His tongue swiped you roughly, and it only added to your pleasure.
“Billy,” you chanted, staring up at the ceiling as he showered you with the attention you’d craved since being in foster care, neglected and alone.
Your toes curled as he lapped sure and hard, his beard scratched your thighs, and you knew he was the closest to heaven you’d ever be. You came in his waiting mouth, shuddering and moaning.
He pulled back, wiping his mouth, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he looked at you.
x
His breath was ragged against your lips. Your heart ached at the beauty of him. You reached between the both of you, stroking him, thumb teasing the tip of his cock. “You’re so beautiful, Billy.” You said against his mouth, admiring his scarred body, the way his hair fell into his face. His want for you.
He gazed at you, and the sweet idolatry on your face knocked the breath from his lungs. You looked at him like he was God.
x
You were clawing at his back as he slammed into you, over and over again. And you knew you’d be bruised in the morning. You wouldn’t be touching yourself for a week. His mouth latched onto your breast, sucking and biting, making you clench around him. “Shit,” he groaned, pulling from your breast, and looking between you, “you’re so pretty stretched out on my cock.” Billy growled. “You were made to be mine.”
“Oh God.” You panted, feeling a pleasurable tingle down your spine, as you arched, his words making warmth flood your insides.
Here, you weren’t alone.
“God isn’t making you feel this way,” husked Billy, pulling your hair, and making you arch again. He was sweating, and the sounds you made had him close to coming undone.
“You’re the only God in my temple.” You breathed knowing your foster mother would condemn you for those words.
If she saw you now, her southern Baptist heart would fail her.
Your words were Billy’s undoing.
x
Billy watched the city lights from his penthouse window, fingers stroking your spine. You mumbled something in your sleep, and curled closer to him. The man who had threatened you to get to Billy, still making him seethe.
Billy’s grip on you tightened, he didn’t care how many motherfuckers he had to kill and maim. He’d protect you.
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.
Monsters in the Dark #6
Talks of Billy’s time in the Marines, mentions of war wounds, kissing, angst mixed with fluff, mentions of Billy’s childhood, non sexual nudity, fem!reader.
Words: 325.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11
The water was warm, and you were sitting in his lap, tracing his scars on his torso, no doubt from his time in the Marines. "Where'd you get this one?" You asked, fingers tracing his hip.
He watched you through impossibly dark eyes, "AK-47, through and through." He answered, "Got it stuck in a house in Basra with no backup."
You shivered, "It sounds scary." You wondered silently if you could be brave like Billy.
He chuckled darkly, "It was one of the best nights of my life. It was a matter of who was better, them or us. And there's no one better than Frankie." He said, playing with your fleshy hips. He loved your curves, how soft you were, the way you scooted closer, silently begging for more of his attention.
“What about these?” He asked, looking at wounds on your back and chest.
“Daddy didn’t like me. I upset him by runnin’ away to mama for safety all the time. So he took a knife and—well, you can guess what he did. He was violent. It wasn’t the first time.“ you stopped, letting out a shaky breath.
Billy felt anger simmer beneath the surface that the man who was supposed to protect you, had hurt his daughter.
You smiled sweetly, "Do you love Frankie?" You peeked at him under your lashes, changing the subject, and Billy let you.
Billy grinned. "Yeah, I love that motherfucker."
You kissed Billy softly, before saying; "Could you love me?" You asked, looking at him shyly.
Billy watched you through a hooded gaze, "Is that what you want, baby? My love?" He hummed, lips brushing your cheek.
“Yes,” you whispered. You were hungry for it.
“Baby. You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He said, kissing you hard, tongue plundering your mouth. His fingers dug into your cheeks, as his cock brushed your heat, making you whine into his mouth.
He pulled back, “I’m not a soft and gentle man. I’m not a fairytale lover,” he said, fingers still digging into your cheeks, his tone almost self-deprecating.
“Don’t want a fairytale lover. Want your darkness, want your thorns, want all the parts of you that you hate.” You breathed, aching for him.
And you made him ache for you, as he trailed kisses down your jaw, holding you in place.
For a while he wasn’t some orphan no one wanted to claim as their own.
For a while he was yours.
{Sunshine}
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.
A Drabble set in the Monsters in the Dark universe.
Kissing, soft dark!Billy, soft dark!fluff, possessive behavior, mentions reader having braids, fem!reader.
143 words.
+++
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11
Billy tugged on your braids, handing you your iced coffee at the bookstore. “Say thank you, sweet pea. Gimme a kiss.” He husked.
You chewed your lip, before reaching up on your tippy toes, and kissing him softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. He tasted bitter like the black coffee he drank.
“Good girl.” He purred against your mouth.
Oh, you wanted to be his good girl.
“C’mon, baby. I’ll buy you a true crime novel.” He said, slipping his hand into yours, pulling you along, not missing how your eyes lit up.
“Can I have two?” You asked sweetly.
Billy clicked his tongue; “Greedy girl. But you’re cute baby, so I’ll get you two.” He teased you.
You reached up, and kissed his cheek.
He chuckled.
This was why you were his, even if you didn’t know it yet. But you would.
{Monsters in the Dark #5}
Threats, soft dark!Billy, choking, angst, fem!reader.
207 words.
+++
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11
“Your girl is soft. Hard to imagine her with a hard ass like you,” said a competitor of Billy’s as he made his way out of Anvil.
“I like her softness, she’s my soft landing after shitty days. Not everyone needs to be assholes like us.” Billy snapped, his fingers playing with his key fob.
The man smiled tauntingly, “Maybe I should get a taste of her.”
Billy whirled on him faster than he could blink, fingers digging into his throat. “You lay one fucking finger on her, and I will burn you.” Billy snarled.
The man gasped for breath, and Billy waited a few seconds for the message to sink in. When he let go, he spluttered, coughing.
“Jesus, Russo. Losin’ your head over a woman.” The guy spat. “You’re just that orphan boy still, looking for love. But all you’re good for is killing.”
Billy looked away. Billy the Beaut Frank had called him. Then you’d come into his life. You’d caught him in your web, and Billy was not sure if he would like to be free.
He’d been hooked on you ever since Curtis introduced you. He was a liar and loaded gun, but for you, he was your tender lover. “Go to hell, Jameson.” Billy snapped, before getting into his Wraith. He drove away, to home.
To you.
{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.
{Monsters in the Dark #3}
PTSD, nightmares, mentions of sexual abuse, kissing, fem!reader.
286 words.
+++
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11
Billy felt like a weight was on his chest, he was vaguely aware he was sweating, and mumbling in his sleep. He was all around Billy.
Arthur.
Billy was crushed under waves of helplessness and rage, he thrashed swinging the stickball bat. Pain exploded in his shoulder, and he screamed into the darkness.
He jerked at a gentle touch. Yours. He blinked at you in the dim light. He worked to slow his breathing. He fucking hated feeling vulnerable.
He grabbed you, pulling you against him, lips pressing to yours urgently. You melted against him as Billy fought for control. His fingers dug into your hips, and you sighed pressing closer to him.
Billy pulled back, his dark eyes looking like pits as they stared at you. He looked wild and untamed. You didn’t know what was upsetting your roommate.
“What’s wrong, Billy?” You asked softly as he nuzzled your neck.
“When a grown man tells you that you’re pretty, you know nothing good is comin’.” Billy murmured hoarsely, “I was eleven.”
You felt a deep sadness for that helpless boy. But Billy wasn’t a boy anymore, and he certainly wasn’t helpless.
Your eyes watered, and Billy smiled darkly. “Don’t look at me like that sweet pea. It made me stronger.”
“You were a child. Billy didn’t need to be strong, he needed to be safe.” You said lips trembling.
Billy kissed you hard, fingers pulling on your hair. This was why to Billy you were a cut above everyone else.
He loved your soft heart. It was comforting, even though Billy was hard pressed to admit he needed comforting.
He was never letting you go.
They’d have to take you from his cold, dead hands.
{Monsters in the Dark #2}
Billy’s mind, explicit language, kissing, roommate au, fem!reader.
324 words.
+++
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11
You felt tears build in your eyes as you wasted your last quarter trying to get the stuffed elephant out of the claw machine. You watched with trembling lips as it fell.
It was such a silly thing to cry over, but you had always been sensitive, something your father had bullied you over.
You sighed. It looked like you weren’t getting the elephant.
x
“Oh, baby. What’s wrong?” Billy asked, approaching you from where he’d left you to grab some beer.
He couldn’t help but feel his pants tighten at your teary eyes. He was gripped with a sudden fantasy of taking you against the claw machine.
Your dress straps would slip off your shoulders, as he’d bunch up your skirts around your hips. He imagined you teary eyed, “Billyyy.” You’d beg your lips trembling.
He wouldn’t care that people were watching, he’d only be focused on your warm, wet cunt. He’d kiss you, swallowing your sweet sounds, how the machine would move with his thrusts.
“Billy?” You asked, drawing him back to the present.
He blinked, before clearing his throat. “Yeah?” His cheeks were flushed, and you wondered where he went.
“Want the elephant,” you pointed to the soft stuffy in the claw machine.
He gave you a smile baring his teeth, before pinching your cheeks. “Alright, baby.” He said, putting a coin in the machine. You watched eagerly as he slowly directed the claw over the elephant, before grabbing it.
You squealed when he won it for you, with an ease you’d struggled with. He bent down and grabbed it, holding it behind his back. “Gimme a kiss, sweet pea.”
You pressed a warm kiss to his lips, tongue shyly slipping into his mouth. He smiled into it, before handing you the stuffy. “Thank you, Billy.” You said, hugging the elephant to you.
It made him feral at how sweet you were. How little things affected you. “You’re welcome, baby.”
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
x
And I’d be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice - talk by Hozier
x
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
x
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
x
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 #1}
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.
Canon typical violence, blood, roommate au, soft dark!Billy, fem!reader.
521 words.
A/N: I found all the chapters after scouring a hell of a lot of documents. I think I got them all.
Playlist.
Moodboard.
+++
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11
Blood splattered all over his shoes, and clothes, as he stabbed the man; five, ten, fifteen times. It was a strange sickening high he got with each strike. He watched the body drop with a sickening thud that satisfied his treacherous heart. He slowed his breathing down, his heart raced from the adrenaline. When he got into his car, he wiped his face, and his hands, before he drove home.
To you.
x
He threw his clothes in the wash, he didn’t want you to see the blood and get scared, before he got in the shower. He watched the blood wash down the drain with interest, the high from his kill made him feel keyed up. He’d been to a therapist once, he didn’t check all the boxes of a psychopath. Doctors were useless.
He knew he needed to calm down before he approached you. It was at times when he was keyed up, he was rougher around the edges, and he didn't want to scare his sweet roommate away. He turned the water off eventually, his skin red from the hot water, stepped out, and dried off.
He felt excitement in his stomach that came from knowing that you were only steps away.
After he wrapped the towel around his waist, he left the bathroom.
x
You were laying in his bed, wrapped in his silk sheets as usual. You always found your way to his bed due to nightmares. If only you knew who you laid with each night. He leaned over you and kissed your cheek, which made you sigh sweetly. Your eyes fluttered open, and it was a strange juxtaposition of the cold-blooded killer and the sweet girl that sought refuge in him.
"Hey, gorgeous." He hummed, nudging your nose with his, eyes tender, hiding the vicious killer.
His hands stained with blood touched your hip, knowing you craved human contact. He wondered what you'd been through, that made you crave it so much. But he was a beast lurking beneath the surface. There was no amount of blood he wouldn't spill for you. He'd dirty his hands to keep you safe. To hunt anyone who haunted your nightmares. He'd kill any fucker stupid enough to hurt you. And he'd get a thrill from it.
You smiled softly, "Welcome home, Billy." You wiggled closer to him.
Billy smiled, and nuzzled you, his wet hair tickling your cheek. He looked up at you through his lashes, his cheeks pink. His eyes were shining with something dark, as he watched you. It made you shiver. But you couldn’t help but be drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
"Did you have another nightmare, sweet pea?" He asked, stroking your hair, sitting on the side of the bed next to you.
You hummed, pushing your head into his lap. "Yeah, I dreamed that Billy was gone, and I was all alone in the dark." You looked up sweetly, "Can I stay with you forever, Billy?"
He bared his teeth in a wicked smile. "Of course, sweet girl.”
You were ruined and he hadn't even touched you yet.
{Soft}
Part of the Monsters in the Dark universe.
Soft!Billy, mean!Billy, kissing, dacryphilia, roommate au, fem!reader.
216 words.
+++
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11
“Oh, baby.”
You were sniffling, trying to hide it from your roommate, as you closed your book. But he’d noticed, as you hid your face in his chest.
“Let me see those pretty tears,” he hummed, pulling you from your hiding place. He cupped your face as the tears fell. Your book had ended sadly, and the two characters who you thought were going to end up together, didn’t. You explained it to him.
He licked the saltiness off your cheek, marveling at you. He loved how soft you were, how little things like a romance novel could reduce you to tears. It reminded him there was good in this world. He kissed your mouth, feeling himself grow excited at your crying.
He pulled you into his lap, brushing hair from your face. His thumb teased your bottom lip, and you sighed. “They didn’t get together, now what?” He teased you.
“Billy is making fun.” You pouted, making him grin.
“Poor baby, am I being mean?” He said, laughing.
“Yes,” you told him petulantly. He laughed again, pinching your cheeks.
“Can’t help it, you’re cute when you cry.” He smiled. “And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”
“All yours,” you said, snuggling into his chest.
He felt warmth bloom in his chest at your admission. All his.
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.
In Cold Blood (pt 1)
Synopsis: A slew of murders have you and the other detectives scratching their heads, but the killer himself seems beyond fascinated with you.
Warnings: This is probably my most warning heavy story- mentions and graphic descriptions of blood/gore, death, murder (serial killer!billy is a giveaway), weapons including gun/knives, home invasion mentions, eventual smut lets just say EVERYTHING IS 18+- read at your own discretion
Tag list: @vermillionwinter , @nerdyreaderpapi
You turned a corner, feet hitting the pavement as fast as they could. Water splashed up from a puddle but it didn’t slow you down. The buzz of traffic didn’t calm your racing heart as you skidded to a stop down a corner alley.
How had this happened? You were so sure of yourself. So careful. At least that’s how it felt.
It had started innocently enough, well maybe innocent wasn’t the correct choice of words.
It had started with the death of a local businessman. He’d been found in an alleyway, shoved between trash bins. Multiple knife wounds scattered across his torso and neck. You’d been called to investigate the scene with the other officers.
It had left your mouth dry, the other officers you worked with were rarely left speechless but this….this did it. The brutality of it was unmatched from anything you’d investigated before.
Then a few weeks later there was a woman found murdered in a similar fashion, body left in Central Park for anyone to find. Then there was another and another. It made your stomach turn.
Then you found yourself volunteering to be on the case. To figure out who the bastard was. Why they were doing this. And to put them away for as long as possible.
The longer you researched and devoted your time and energy to figuring out how to catch the murderer the less it made sense. There was no rhyme or reason or outright motives that stood out to you. Just a building body count.
That’s when you got the first call.
You’d been working from the office late one night, pouring over the latest crumb of evidence you’d been able to scrounge up. A blurry cctv blip of footage capturing a large figure in a black hoodie up over their head leaving the building where the last victim was found.
The noise jolted you from your seat, the blinds drawn in your office and the steady hum of the fluorescent lights overhead wearing away at your eyes. It was late. Very late. No one you knew would be up at this hour. Not unless it was an emergency.
You didn’t recognize the number. So not a friend or relative popping up on caller ID. You let it ring another few times before sighing, with a roll of your eyes and sliding to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Detective Archer.” You felt your body freeze at your name being used. The voice crackled on the other end. Deep. Male. But it was edited somewhat, like he was speaking through some sort of device to conceal his voice.
“Who is this?”
“Ah ah ah that’s on a need to know basis.”
“And I don’t need to know?” You pushed away from your desk standing to walk over to your closed office door. Peeking through the blinds to see the still empty office.
“I’m not in your office if that’s what you think.” Your blood ran cold as you froze in place, fingers just pulling away from the door.
“Are you…watching me?” Your eyes flitted to the windows on the right side of your office, rushing over and drawing the blinds closed.
“Always.”
The word hung on the phone line, heavy silence.
“You’re him.”
“There’s a lot of “hims” out there, I’m going to need you to be more specific.” He was taunting you.
“The killer.” Laughter rang out in the other end.
“It took you a little while there, detective. Here I was thinking you were the top of your class.”
“Why are you calling me?” You moved back to your desk wondering if there was some way you could trace the call from your cell phone.
“To ask what your favorite scary movie is.”
“Fuck off.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re gonna get.”
“Come on Detective, play a little game with me.”
“Is that what you think this is?” You hissed into the phone. “A fuckin game?” Your heart pounded in your chest. Rage bubbling up and leeching into your voice.
“It is to me.”
Then with that the line went dead. You swore, tossing your phone onto your desk falling back into your seat.
Hands scratching your head, fingers twining furiously through your hair. Eyes squeezed shut as you’re cursed once more before calling your boss and the rest of your team to alert them to this new development.
Another victim was found a few weeks later, a single stab wound to the chest right over the heart. A Large Bowie knife was left in the body, with a swath of paper folded and held in place by the weapon.
You talked with witnesses and scribbled into your notes after consulting with another officer before turning on your heel to head back to the office.
Knowing tonight you’d drink a pot of coffee and review how out of character this kill was from the previous victims. Was this even done by the same person? Did you have another murderer out there to watch out for? It made your head spin.
“Detective, I think you need to see this.” A cop named Thomas motioned you over to him holding out the piece of paper just removed from the victim.
You took the now unfolded paper from him eyes roving the page. A large red heart was drawn on it with blood. Whether it was the victims or someone else’s you couldn’t be sure, but that wasn’t the thing that worried you most.
Inside the heart was writing, scratchy red ballpoint pen spelling out in large letters, “Archer.” A gift, a love letter, a taunt, you weren’t sure which one it was but it made your blood run cold.
Hot water poured over your skin in the shower, hoping the scalding heat would strip away the knot in your stomach. Whenever you closed your eyes all you could see was the heart, teasing you.
The paper had been placed in an evidence bag and was now being tested but you couldn’t shake the visual from your head. Turning the water off and reveling in the steam before you wrapped a towel around yourself stepping into the bedroom.
All your scattered notes and random photographs littered your home desk and you were starting to feel pathetic at your lack of purchase on this slippery case. How many people needed to end up dead because you couldn’t do your fucking job?
Then the phone rang. A million thoughts ran through your head before you said fuck it and answered.
“Hello?”
“Did you get my gift?”
“You’re sick you know that?” You flipped on the tracer you’d installed on your phone after your last call.
“Detective, I’m wounded. I gave you a lovely gesture of our relationship.”
“The only relationship we have is going to be when I arrest your ass and put you away for the rest of your life.”
“I love when you flirt back with me.”
You rubbed your brow absentmindedly, hating how limited you felt. How you felt like back in training being ridiculed by higher ups.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I enjoy talking to you, Detective.”
“No. Killing people. Innocent people.”
“Who said they were innocent?”
“Who says you get to be judge, jury and executioner?”
If you stalled long enough it’d give your tracer a better chance of locking onto where the call was coming from. Giving you a shred of further evidence.
“You look very nice tonight.”
Your fist subconsciously gripped your towel tighter to your chest. The curtains in your apartment were drawn, and you had checked the lock over four times out of habit.
“How do you know how I look?” You wedged your phone into the crook of you neck, holding it in place as you reached into the end table pulling out your gun and checking the chamber was full.
“Are you close to catching me, Detective? Have I been occupying as much space in your mind as you do mine?”
You padded slowly down the hall, weapon held firm, pointing into each room as you passed. The heat from the bathroom emanated into the kitchen and you swiveled around the corner poised for an attack.
It never came.
He was toying with you. He wasn’t here.
“Why would I be in your head?”
You heard a thump back in your bedroom and the hair on the back of your neck stood up at the sound. The line was silent as you waited for a response, slowly inching back towards your room, gun held aloft.
The only sound you could hear was your own heart thundering in your chest as you eased into the doorway, ears straining to hear any other movement. In a rush if adrenaline you tossed the phone onto the bed throwing open the closet door.
It was empty.
Keeping with your agitated pace, falling to the floor and checking under the bed only to see it bare as well. Angrily snatching the phone back and biting into the mouthpiece.
“Where the fuck are you?!”
At that you heard footsteps back from the bathroom, thumping through your apartment and your front door being thrown open, the alarm blaring.
Scrambling to catch up you stumbled into your living room and were greeted by the open door leading into the hallway of your apartment complex broken open, the chain lock busted and scraping back and forth as it hung limply.
The line went dead and you immediately dialed 911, waiting for a familiar operator to answer as you relayed your predicament. When you heard confirmation they were on the way you rushed back into the bathroom to grab your robe.
There on the mirror was drawn a heart, like that from the note found on the victim. The condensation beaded up as it bled in various water droplets from the remaining steam from the shower.
The months continued on, all leads turning up nil. The tracer you had used only led you to a discarded burner phone in a trash bin by soho. The murders had briefly slowed down.
The phone calls however had not.
Their length and timing varied but it was always the same voice. Slightly skewed but a man’s voice all the same. It had helped you rule out a female suspect.
The continued goading wasn’t the main thing grating on your nerves. No it would be much simpler if that was it. The true horror was how you began to wait for the calls.
You refused to use the term, enjoy. But they no longer caused your blood to run cold in the same way. One day to your absolute dismay after a long stressful meeting you actually felt your shoulders unclench when your phone rang.
“Long day Archer?”
“How can you ask me that when you’re the source of my stress?”
“Am I?”
Besides the phone calls there was the disturbing hints of affection. A bouquet had appeared at your desk at work one day. No note, but you didn’t need one to know who it was from.
Then a bottle of expensive wine was left on the steps of the precinct with another card bearing only a simplistically drawn heart inside.
The bottle was immediately taken in as evidence and dusted for prints. There obviously were none. No matter what you did he was always ten steps ahead. 5D chess in the most infuriating way.
“How was the wine?”
“If you’re so aware of my every move you’d know I didn’t drink it.”
“Shame, 1913 was supposedly a good year for that merlot.”
“I’m growing tired of our Hannibal Lecter and Clarice dynamic.”
“Who says that’s what we are?”
“WE are nothing.”
A tsk’ing crackled over the line.
“You and I both know that’s not true.”
“Then what are we?”
You put the phone on speaker as you pulled out a container of chinese food leftovers from your fridge. Popping the lid off and shoveling it into a bowl before sliding it into the microwave.
A chuckle came from the other end. You hated how it didn’t feel gross and malicious like it should.
You continued on, mind listing a slew of options as you watched your food rotate in the microwave.
“Phantom and Christine. Michael Myers and Laurie strode. Billy Loomis and Sidney Prescott.”
“You never did tell me your favorite scary movie.”
you sighed dramatically as the oven dinged and you removed your food, returning it to the counter, pulling your hair into a messy bun.
“You do look stunning Detective. I’m shocked someone of your caliber went into law enforcement.”
“I think it’s unfair you know what I look like and yet Ive never seen you before.”
“Nice try Archer.” You couldn’t suppress the small laugh that shook your shoulders a tad.
“It was worth a try.”
Walking into work the next morning you were immediately greeted by another detective, John Lawson. His cheeks were ruddy and he seemed to be out of breath.
“What’s going on?”
“We have a photo of our killer.”
You felt your stomach flip, either from excitement or nerves.
“What?”
He took out a printed sheet of paper, it showed a dim alleyway and a victim from the other night slumped in the background.
Sure enough there in the foreground was a man, in a black hoodie, black pants and military boots. The hood pulled up over his head and underneath the hood a stark white mask, covered in a multitude of scratches and cracks that seemed to be painted on.
He was staring straight at the camera, knife glinting in one hand, the other raised in a mock wave.
“Smug bastard.”