#if he were to preface and be like ‘hey listen’ and then go on a spiel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

geminiwritten · 1 year

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i’m yours ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you find out that butcher slept with maeve, and attempt to ignore your feelings by going m.i.a. and going home with a complete stranger, only to awake the green-eyed monster living inside of butcher

preface: this isn’t set in canon timeline, it’s basically just using the bit where butcher sleeps with maeve as a bit of a jealousy catalyst

notes: this man has a hold on me... and i feel like this got a little rushed at the end but i still kind of like it, please let me know what y’all think! (also, i’m sorry all my stuff has the same formula, i promise i’m trying to mix it up!)

warnings: a lot of swearing, the ‘sewer-slide’ word, google-translated french, sexual content, and some soft smut

word count: 5315

Things are good, too good, but you’re doing your best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hughie and Annie are happy, MM is content, and Frenchie is excitedly creating new methods of blowing up Supes almost daily. Butcher is… well, Butcher. He’s grumpy and brash, but seems to be feeling a little more positive lately, focusing more on recon and intel rather than running in with guns blazing.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you had managed to go grocery shopping without anyone stumbling home bloody and bruised. Frenchie is humming along to the song that had been playing on the radio, carrying most of the plastic bags while MM carries one with you on his back. You were all in such high spirits that he had let you jump on his back at the bottom of the apartment stairs, carrying you up four flights as if you weighed no more than a hiking backpack.

Frenchie chuckles at the two of you as he unlocks the apartment door, entering first and pushing it open all the way. You have to duck a little, giggling and holding on to MM for dear life as he starts jogging toward the couch. He drops the bag on the floor before falling into the sofa, and you squeal as he squashes you.

“Hey,” you exclaim, still laughing, “what the fuck? Steeds don’t sit on their riders!”

“You want to ride me next, petit ange?” Frenchie calls from the kitchen.

You writhe until MM moves, standing up with a satisfied grin across his lips. You flip him your middle finger as he turns away, ushering Frenchie out of the kitchen so he can put the groceries away. You find the TV remote buried in the couch cushions, and just as the old screen flickers to life, Kimiko emerges from the hallway. She looks at Frenchie with a small smile, signing hello before her nose crinkles, and she signs another sentence you struggle to catch as your attention is called toward the master bedroom doors.

Frenchie frowns curiously, “She says that it smells in here.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you lot are stinkin’ up my fuckin’ apartment,” Butcher says, running a hand through his hair.

He looks like shit. His shirt is wrinkled and the buttons are fastened crookedly, his hair is standing up in all directions, and the circles beneath his eyes are several shades darker than usual.

“It is our apartment, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “it is the least you can after making me blow up my last two places, eh?”

Butcher rolls his eyes before dropping into one of the dining room chairs, holding his face in his hands as he takes several deep breaths.

Frenchie looks to Kimiko again before translating, “She says it smells like alcohol and sweat, and a perfume that she has not smelt before.”

“I don’t wear perfume,” you note, “every time we have to haul ass and run, the bottles end up broken or missing, so I gave up.”

MM raises his hands in defence, “Don’t look at me, I haven’t seen anyone but you lot in the past twelve hours.”

“Perhaps it is something we picked up at the shops,” Frenchie shrugs.

Kimiko signs again, and you watch her to listen.

“You can smell a stranger?” you ask with a frown.

“To reiterate,” MM says, “I stayed at a motel alone last night, I was too tired to drive all the way here after visiting Janine.”

“I stayed with Annie,” you point out, “is that who you can smell?”

Kimiko shakes her head, and your heart begins to race anxiously. Neither she nor Frenchie stayed here last night either, opting for one of his old hideouts after scouring the city for any possible missed traces that Vought could use to find you all.

MM turns to Butcher, “Was there someone here last night?”

“Why would you not tell us that there was a break in?” Frenchie demands, his face a mixture of irritation and concern.

Butcher sighs, “There wasn’t a fuckin’ break in, calm down.”

Kimiko pads quietly around the room, subtly sniffing the air around MM and then Frenchie before moving toward you. She inhales above your head and grimaces, before moving to the side and taking a deep breath over the couch.

You shoot up from your seat and stumble toward the kitchen, “Me or the couch?”

She points at the sofa.

“Butcher,” MM says, his voice demanding, “explain before I slap your hungover ass.”

Its only then that you notice the two empty bottles of whiskey, one on the coffee table and one laying on the floor. You back up slowly toward the kitchen, a fresh wave of panic washing over you.

“Someone stopped by,” Butcher mutters into his hands, “that’s all.”

You reach the kitchen bench at the same time Kimiko does, still sniffing like a police dog, and her face twists into a disgusted frown. You startle again, jumping back from the bench as if it had burnt you.

“Care to elaborate?” MM presses.

Butcher sighs, and you can feel a lump growing in your throat.

“We all sleep here too, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “and we deserve to know if it is still safe to do so.”

“‘Course it’s fuckin’ safe,” Butcher says, finally turning his head to face the room. “Maeve came by, alrigh’? Just her, ‘n’ she had some information, so we had a chat and a drink. Is that alrigh’ with you nosey bastards?”

A weight drops in your stomach, anchoring you to the floor as moisture begins to blur your vision.

Kimiko stops sniffing when she reaches Butcher, cringing and stumbling several paces back until she is beside Frenchie.

“You slept with a Supe?” MM gasps.

Butcher huffs and pushes himself up from the chair, “No fuckin’ privacy with you lot, is there?”

MM raises his hands again, “Hey, I’m not judging, just shocked.”

Frenchie’s concern melts into taunting smirk, “No need to be defensive, Monsieur Charcutier, we all have our needs, and I am surprised that you managed to woo such a beautiful woman.”

“Fuck off, Frenchie,” Butcher sighs, dragging his feet toward the fridge.

Their voices blur into white noise as you focus on the slow inhale and exhale of your breath. You wriggle your toes in your boots, forcing yourself to feel your physical body instead of the whirlwind of emotions swirling through your head. It feels like your skull is fracturing with the effort that it takes to contain the storm, but you refuse to let your feelings win. You find a bottle and push them inside, jamming the cork in just as Frenchie snaps his fingers in front of your nose.

You blink, “What?”

“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft crease between his brows.

“Yeah, sorry,” you blink again to quell your watery eyes, “what’s up?”

“Are you hungry?”

You glance over his shoulder at Butcher, his head in the fridge as he ignores MM’s demands to get out of the way.

“Not really,” you reply, “I was actually thinking about going back over to Annie’s, I think I forgot my… my socks.”

The concern between Frenchie’s brows deepens, “You forgot your socks?”

You nod, “My favourite socks.”

“Didn’t know you had favourite socks,” Butcher mumbles as he steps out of the kitchen.

“You don’t know a lot of things,” you state, plastering on a smile that you know doesn’t reach your eyes.

You can feel their curious gazes on you as you turn, retrieving your wallet and keys from the couch before striding out of the apartment door without a second glance. You pull your phone out of your pocket and text Annie to let her know that you’re on your way before switching it to ‘do not disturb’ and zipping it inside your jacket pocket, determined to forget about it until you’ve got a handle on your emotions.

The sun is setting by the time you reach the familiar street on which Hughie and Annie’s apartment is located, and you’re rather proud of the fact that you managed to focus on nothing but your steady steps the whole way here. You look up at the brick building on your left, but instead of turning toward the front steps, your feet carrying you across the street toward the park, not stopping until you’re standing in front of an empty bench.

“Something wrong with that one?” a voice asks, and you startle toward the source of it.

A young man is standing beside you, clad in running shorts and a tight exercise jacket. He doesn’t look menacing, but your whole body tenses as your fight or flight instincts battle for dominance.

“I’m sorry?”

He chuckles, “The bench, I mean. You’re frowning at it as if it’s diseased or something.”

“Oh,” you look back at the moss-ridden seat, “no, I just- I don’t know.”

“Are you alright?”

He buries his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and you let yourself relax, deciding that he isn’t a threat, just an overly friendly stranger.

“I’m fine, sorry,” you sigh, “just had a weird day.”

“That’s nothing to apologise for,” he says, sitting on the bench and looking up at you. “I know the feeling.”

You sit beside him, watching his side profile and slowly realising how attractive he is. His hair is cropped short, shorter than you usually liked, but his eyes are a stunning green and the faint shadow of stubble across his jaw is definitely something you can appreciate.

“Do you often approach strangers in the park?” you ask.

He laughs again, his eyes sparkling under the orange sky, “No, not really, especially not strangers as gorgeous as you.”

You blush at the ground, deciding to focus on your fraying shoelaces rather than the handsome stranger.

“But I figured,” he goes on, “that if I didn’t ask this pretty girl if she was okay, I might not be able to stop thinking about her for the rest of my life.”

You actually giggle, immediately cursing yourself for being so easy, “That’s a long time.”

“I know, right? I didn’t fancy the risk, and hey,” he smiles at you, “looks like it might have been worth it.”

“Maybe,” you smile back, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nate.”

You’re not sure if you’re an idiot or if you’ve just given up on your own personal safety, but you sit and talk to Nate until the sun is well below the horizon. You learn that he’s a journalist and a dog person, and lately he’s been more afraid of Supes than comforted by their presence. You tell him you’re a freelancer, because it isn’t technically a lie, and that you’re in between gigs at the moment but questioning whether you’re really doing what you want to be doing. Also, not a lie.

“I know that this is probably very forward,” he says, his knee bouncing nervously, “but did you want to come back to my place for a drink? I would suggest a bar, but I’m not really dressed for it, and I just get this feeling that as soon as we say goodbye, you’re going to disappear forever.”

You frown, “You’re a real long-term guy, aren’t you?”

His cheeks flush pink, “I don’t have to be.”

As you walk alongside the man you met mere hours ago, you come to the conclusion that you must be suicidal. In the current state that the world is in, who in their right mind goes home with a complete stranger? You, apparently.

His apartment isn’t far from the park, which is a little comforting, knowing that you will have a speedy escape to Annie’s place if this guy does end up being a psycho serial killer. The buildings all look the same as you approach a row of tall brick blocks, climbing the few concrete steps up to the lobby doors before scaling three flights to reach his apartment door.

It’s surprisingly well decorated inside, and you can eye a few expensive items that make you wonder if he really is a struggling journalist, or perhaps a shady underground arts dealer. You take a seat at the kitchen bench as he babbles about how crappy his landlord is and how much money he’s had to spend on the place to make it liveable. The glass of wine he places in front of you is gone within two gulps, and he happily pours you another.

“I feel like I probably should have asked this a few hours ago,” he says with a sheepish smile, “but you aren’t with anyone, are you? Engaged or married, or anything like that.”

You choke on your mouthful of cheap wine, coughing the burn away while he hurries to get you a glass of water.

“No,” you finally reply, “I’m not, at all.”

“Good,” he replies, his earnest grin returning, “I mean, it’s surprising because you’re incredible, but I’m glad.”

You offer him a smile that you hope appears coy and not at all forced before drinking down the rest of your second glass of wine. He moves into the lounge room, and you take the opportunity to pour yourself another generous glass, quickly swallowing the two mouthfuls left in the bottle while his back is still turned. You gingerly place the empty bottle in the sink before following him, dropping onto the soft leather couch as he turns on the television.

A news broadcast lights up the screen, and fiery images of a truck collision flash behind the breaking news banner that reads: ‘QUEEN MAEVE SAVES THE DAY’. Your stomach twists into a knot as the bottle of emotions you had managed to almost forget about begins to break, the glass fracturing and threatening to send you into a full-blown mental breakdown.

“Damn,” Nate sighs, “I know the Supes are pretty sketchy these days, but Queen Maeve is just gorgeous.”

With one last burning gulp of wine, you turn to the man beside you and take his head between your hands, crushing your lips against his. He gasps, but responds quickly, his hands finding your hips and guiding you onto his lap.

The rest of the night is a blur as you attempt to give all of your attention to this stranger that you barely know instead of confronting the green-eyed monster roaring in your belly. He finishes once on the couch, pretty quickly, but you’re not one to judge, before you drag him into the bedroom and away from the incessant news broadcasts of Queen Maeve’s heroic act.

It isn’t your alarm that wakes you, or the sound of Frenchie and MM arguing about how to cook eggs, but rather the unfamiliar scent that douses your breath. Your body trembles with anxiety and your eyes snap open, darting around the strange room as your thoughts scramble to remember how you got here.

“Fuck,” you sigh at the sound of someone snoring beside you.

You gently roll over and slip out of the sheets, cold air immediately nipping at your naked body. You find the nearest item of clothing and slip it over your head before tiptoeing out of the bedroom and into the lounge room. Nerves and hunger mingle inside of your stomach, making you overwhelmingly nauseous by the time you find your jacket thrown over the back of the couch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter as you retrieve your phone from the pocket.

Dozens of missed calls and text messages fill your lock screen, several from Annie and Frenchie, a couple from Hughie and MM, but the majority of them listed under Butcher’s contact name, ‘Big Willy’. You thought it was funny a few days ago.

You quickly text Annie that you’re okay, you’re incredibly sorry, and that you’ll fill her in as soon as you see her. You find your jeans and wriggle into them before finding your panties and tucking them into your back pocket. You scoop your bra and your shirt off the floor on your way to the kitchen, and check your phone again for a reply from Annie. Nothing yet.

You drink the glass of untouched water from the kitchen bench before splashing your face and trying to calm the vibration of nerves coursing through your body.

“Hey.”

You startle at the sudden voice, turning to find Nate in nothing but sweatpants as he emerges from the bedroom.

“Hey,” you murmur.

He frowns, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I-I’m fine, just- uh, my friends have been calling me,” you gesture to your phone, “and they’re pretty worried.”

“Oh,” he lets out a long breath, “I didn’t even hear it ringing last night.”

You smile weakly, not bothering to explain that you were intentionally avoiding your phone all afternoon.

He steps forward, “So, did you-”

The apartment door bursts open, splinters of wood scattering across the floor as you squeal and Nate jumps away from the blow. Your heart is racing, but your body reacts as it was trained to do, and you dive for a knife from the block beside the stove before freezing as you recognise the figure stalking through the broken door.

“Butcher,” you say, “what the fuck?”

His head snaps toward you, the crease between his brows softening and his eyes looking almost vulnerable as realises that it’s you.

“I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you and why did you just break my door?” Nate speaks up.

Your stomach sinks as Butcher’s attention is turned toward the shirtless man, murderous intent returning to his face.

“Who the fuck am I?” he spits, “Who the fuck are you?”

Nate looks tiny compared to Butcher, his narrow frame absolutely dwarfed by Butcher’s broad height and intimidating stance.

“I-I’m Nate,” the smaller man says, “and this is my apartment, that’s my door that you just destroyed.”

“Yeah?” Butcher taunts, stalking forward, “An’ what’re you gon’a do ‘bout it?”

Nate looks at you, his eyes frantic and begging for help.

“Butcher, calm down, he’s-”

“Calm down?” he whirls toward you, “You want me to fuckin’ calm down?!”

“Hey, man,” Nate says, “we can talk, you don’t have to-”

“Nate,” you put your hand up, “I’m sorry, but please shut up.”

“Nate,” Butcher repeats mockingly, “if you value your life, I’d listen to ‘er.”

You drop the knife on the bench, “Butcher, can we just leave, please?”

“You don’t get to make any requests right now, sweethear’,” he says, taking a heavy step toward you, “not after the shit you put me through for the past twelve fuckin’ hours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls sarcastically, “maybe ‘bout the fact that you fuckin’ disappeared! You didn’t answer your damn phone, didn’t tell anyone where you fuckin’ were! I got a call from Hughie askin’ if you were back home, ‘cause you texted Annie ‘n’ told her you were comin’, but didn’t fuckin’ show up!”

A pebble of guilt drops into your stomach, but you ignore it, squaring up to him with a scowl.

“So?” you shrug, “I’m an adult, I can do as I fucking please.”

“Not without tellin’ me!” he exclaims, “Not if I don’t know where you fuckin’ are or if you’re even fuckin’ alive!”

“You’re not my fucking father, Butcher!” you shout back, feeling another fissure in the bottle of emotions. “I don’t belong to you, I don’t have to ask you for permission to live my own fucking life!”

His jaw twitches, a tidal wave of emotion crashing through his eyes all too quickly for you to try and discern any of them.

“A-Are you Y/N’s boyfriend?” Nate asks timidly.

You and Butcher turn to him in unison, exclaiming at the same time, “No!”

A beat of silence passes, and Butcher’s glare doesn’t falter. You take a deep breath to try and sooth the storm of frustration threatening to consume you.

“Butcher,” you say softly, “can we please leave?”

His head snaps back toward you, his eyes scanning your body as they fill with realisation.

“Did you fuck her?” he asks, turning back to Nate.

He doesn’t respond, his mouth hanging open as he takes several steps back.

“You gon’a answer me?”

“Butcher,” you say again, “cut it out.”

He takes another menacing step toward Nate, “I asked you a question.”

“W-We slept together, yes,” Nate stammers.

The laugh that leaves Butcher’s lips is chilling, sounding almost mad.

“Oh, pardon my French,” he says, “perhaps I should’a asked if you made sweet fuckin’ love to this gorgeous woman right ‘ere.”

“For fuck’s sake!” you shout, “Stop it, stop whatever the fuck this is, and let’s just fucking go!”

“You’re tellin’ me that you fuckin’ disappeared so you could hide out with this fuckin’ twat?” Butcher exclaims, “You let me worry myself fuckin’ sick so you could get a lousy fuck?”

The bottle explodes, shards of glass cutting you from the inside and sending white hot waves of frustration and anger, and despair rolling through your body.

“I can fuck whoever I want, Butcher!” you scream, startled by the volume of your own voice.

His eyes narrow, but his lips don’t move.

“And you can fuck whoever the fuck you want,” you spit, “obviously.”

You snatch your phone off the bench and stomp toward the door, turning to Nate with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, about… this.”

You continue down the hall and the three flights of stairs, not bothering to check if Butcher is following until you’re outside. The temperature is significantly lower than it was yesterday, but your stubbornness doesn’t let you show it as Butcher strides past you toward the car haphazardly parked at the curb.

You climb into the passenger’s seat, sitting as close as you can to the door and hugging your clothes against your chest as you stare out the window. Tears fill your eyes, your nose growing hot and your cheeks undoubtedly red as you use every ounce of self-control you still have to stave of the inevitable. All you need to do is make it home and make it to your bedroom, and then you can cry. You can curl up with your face in your pillow and sob, and admit that you’re jealous, that you’re hurt, and that you love a man who doesn’t even understand the meaning of that word anymore.

“You look like shit,” he grunts.

You sniffle, keeping your face turned away from him, “So do you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get much fuckin’ sleep,” he says as the car comes to a halt, “I was up all night worryin’ ‘bout whether or not you were fuckin’ alive.”

“Well, I didn’t get much sleep either,” you retort, before pushing the passenger door open and stumbling out.

You hear the car door slam as you hurry up the stairs and into the building, taking the steps two at a time until you reach the apartment door. To your great relief, it’s unlocked, and you let yourself in before Butcher has even made it into the hallway.

“Oh, my goodness, mon amour,” Frenchie gasps, “you’re alive! You’re okay… are you okay?”

You don’t realise your crying until you try to look at him, your vision blurred by heavy tears as they fall in fat droplets down your cheeks.

MM steps forward, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, “I’m fine, I was with a-a friend.”

“A friend?” Butcher echoes, the door slamming behind him.

Your blood sizzles in your veins, heated by the overwhelming frustration coiling in your chest.

“How the fuck did you know where I was?” you demand, spinning around to face him.

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you have my fucking phone bugged?”

Butcher blows a long breath out of his nose, the thick vein in his neck throbbing under his red skin. “Look,” he says, “I know that whatever the fuck just happened wasn’t ideal, but why can’t you fuckin’ see this from my point of view?”

“Our point of view,” MM corrects, “we were all worried.”

“I get that!” you exclaim, “I fucking understand that, but what I don’t understand is why Butcher is still acting like such a fucking cunt. You can see that I’m fine! I’m alive, so what’s your problem?”

“What’s your problem?” he snaps, “Why didn’t you answer your fuckin’ phone? Why didn’t you tell anyone where you fuckin’ were? And why the fuck did you go home with a complete fuckin’ stranger?”

“Oh, shit,” Frenchie murmurs.

“Maybe I just needed a fucking break.”

The room falls quiet, the only sound being Frenchie’s soft footsteps as he backs away. You use the clothes in your arms to wipe the fresh fall of tears from your cheeks and try to ease your shaky breaths as you wait for another onslaught of reprimands.

Butcher sighs, “Go shower.”

“What?”

“You need to shower,” he says, stepping forward.

You frown, “Why?”

“You look like shit, and you sm-” he stops himself, pausing when you take a small step back.

“I look like shit and I smell,” you finish for him, “thanks, Butcher.”

You drag your feet toward the bathroom, dropping your clothes on the floor and staring at your wrecked face in the mirror. Your hair is a mess and your face is blotchy and red, with streaks of black painting your cheeks. The shirt hanging loosely from your shoulders is unfamiliar, and something akin to disgust settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Give me your clothes,” Butcher says as he appears in the reflection behind you.

“Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?”

He sighs, “I’m tryin’ to help.”

“I don’t want your fucking help,” you turn to him and lean against the vanity, “go offer it to someone else. I’m sure Maeve would love to see your fucking name pop up on her phone.”

His frown disappears, and you can feel the air shift. Fuck. Now you’ve done it. The shards of glass sticking you from the inside have cut right through your chest, slicing it open as your ribcage cracks and unfolds, presenting your pathetic heart to the man who already held it in his hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back with determination.

“I-Is that what this is-” he struggles for words, running his hands through his hair, “for fuck’s sake, Y/N.”

Your breath comes and goes in short gasps, the lump in your throat crushing your windpipe as it demands to be felt.

“For fuck’s sake!” he exclaims, before taking one step forward and slamming the bathroom door shut.

Fear sparks through you, and you whimper, “Butcher, please don’t-”

Before you can finish, he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a vice hold as he rests his chin on the top of your head. You sob into his shirt, tremors wracking your exhausted body as every bit of fear and frustration tears you apart from the inside. You’re not sure how you let yourself get this emotional. Maybe it’s the fact that the world is falling apart, and you’re supposed to act like you’re ready to save it? Or maybe it’s because you’re fucking tired of having everything you love ripped away from you, every chance you think you might have at happiness taken from you by the cunts in the sky who call themselves ‘Superheroes’.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

The turbulence inside of you quells simply because you finally acknowledged it, and you manage to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Butcher,” you croak, looking up at him through tear laced lashes, “kiss me?”

He hooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts it up, leaning in to meet you the rest of the way before his lips brush yours. It’s hesitant and soft, barely a touch, and he pulls away too soon.

“You need to shower.”

“Oh,” you try to wriggle out of his arms, but they’re too strong.

“I can smell that fuckin’ twat all over you,” he growls, “an’ it’s makin’ me fuckin’ sick.”

Realisation slaps you across the face, giving you the strength to remember how to hold yourself up as he pulls away. His fingers curl into the material at the neck of your shirt, ripping it apart right down the middle before pushing it off your shoulders and tossing it on the floor.

Another growl rumbles through his chest and the air in the room shifts again, now thick with a tension that has your heart throbbing in anticipation. Your mind races, your thoughts riding rollercoasters as you struggle to catch up with his fast hands. Your jeans are unbuttoned and pooled around your ankles in less than a second, and he takes another moment to devour your naked body before moving to turn on the shower.

You stumble out of your jeans as he quickly sheds his own clothes before wrapping an arm around your waist. He pulls you under the warm stream of water and holds your body against his, the feeling of his bare skin making your head spin. He takes the bottle of bodywash from the small shelf and pops the cap with one hand, turning it upside down and squirting a ridiculous amount all over your chest and his.

You giggle and he grins, returning the bottle to the shelf before crushing his lips against yours. The soap makes your skin slide against his in the most delicious way and you can feel your core clench, eliciting a wanton moan from your open mouth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and claiming you with hungry, sloppy kisses.

“Didn’t think you’d be jealous,” he murmurs against your mouth, “didn’t think you fuckin’ cared about me.”

You slide your hands across his bare shoulders and behind his neck, finding purchase in his wet hair and tugging gently as you kiss him with every ounce of passion that you have.

“I do care,” you sigh when his lips leave yours to lap at your neck, “I am fucking jealous.”

“Sweethear’,” he whispers, his hands moving to your breasts, “you’ve got nothin’ to be fuckin’ jealous ‘bout.”

His mouth leaves your skin as he turns you to face the wall, pressing his body against your back before pushing you into the tiled wall. You gasp first at the sudden cold, and then at the feeling of him grinding himself against your ass.

“I’m yours,” he growls, his lips against your shoulder, “always fuckin’ have been.”

You still manage to speak despite the pleasure of him threatening to overwhelm you. “Then why?”

One hand wraps gently around your throat while the other splays across your lower belly, teasing the place just below that aches for his touch.

“‘Cause I never fuckin’ dreamed that I’d have you,” he says, his lips at your ear now.

You reach back with one hand, holding the nape of his neck as you turn so that your mouth can meet his in a messy kiss.

“You’ve always had me,” you murmur, “I belonged to you the day I met you.”

His hips buck against your ass, pressing you against the wall and making you whimper.

“You’re mine,” he says, moving back just enough for you to turn around.

You nod as you lean down to kiss his neck. Your tongue laving at his wet skin before your teeth sink in and he hisses, one hand squeezing your hip as the other smacks against the tiled wall.

“All yours.”

You place your hands against his chest, pushing him back enough for you to drop to your knees, your hands trailing down his body until they reach his hips. You dig your fingers in and look up at him through your wet lashes.

“Show me who I belong to.”

END.

#billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #butcher x reader #the boys #karl urban #frenchie #mm #mothers milk #hughie campbell #starlight #queen maeve #homelander #oneshot #one shot #imagine #fanfic

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szollibisz · 1 month

Note

Do you have any hcs abt how Curt and Owen "came out" to one another? (Using the term loosely cuz obviously they can't just be like "IM GAY") And also how they got together (who fell first etc etc)

Ok, so to preface this, my favourite thing about curtwen is just how many ways you can interpret their pre-canon relationship.

I try to keep their story relatively loose in my head, save for a few headcanons I very strongly believe in, because it's more fun this way.

For me, the #1 headcanon that's in all the iterations I think of, is that they hated each other at first. I think their personalities clash way too much for them to be all buddy-buddy on the first day. (Physical attraction? maybe. Was it minuscule compared to their irritation with each other? yes.)

I just think it's interesting how the two of them gradually (and begrudgingly) start to care about each other.

I think their "friendship stage" is one of my favourite parts about the whole thing. Now I refuse to believe either of those men have friends. Maybe coworkers and acquaintances, but not friends. Which is why this stage lasts so little.

As their work their way up to care for and respect each other, both of them go a little crazy about it.

It's the first time in years or even decades they felt genuine affection and maybe even trust, and both of them are extremely starved for it. So it really doesn't take much for them to fall for each other. (especially since the aforementioned physical attraction was always there and only getting stronger as they learned to tolerate each other)

I imagine, because of this, Owen was the one who fell first, and he employed his usual tactic for dealing with unwanted feelings: Being an ass and depriving himself of good things. He got more intense about his work, trying to immerse himself in it, so he'll stop thinking about Curt. He stayed up late, didn't even try to take it easy when he had a migraine, drank shit coffee and other great things.

It technically worked. He looked like shit, which in turn made Curt worried, and if Owen completely invalidated his worries the two of them would get into a fight, be mad at each other and not interact so much. Owen thought this would make him not yearn for Curt so bad (he still did, in fact, yearn for him that bad)

When Curt realized he was in love with Owen he was pretty horrified. Like listen. If someone has commitment issues it's Curt. Maybe he had a boyfriend or two during his teenage years/twenties, but they didn't end well, and since then he's been trying to keep everybody at arms length. He convinced himself Owen wasn't so bad because hey. They were just buddies (and Curt desperately needed a buddy.)

He tried to shove down and ignore his feelings, but moaning your friend's name while banging another guy may just be a little more than what you can avoid.

He never understood why Owen turned so cold suddenly, and he was terrified Owen just didn't like or trust him anymore. In turn he was also mad at him for trying to shut him out.

Their little hate renaissance could only last so long though. They were still each other's only friends and no matter what they did they kept being drawn back to each other.

This was a super long preface but. I am not normal about those two.

So. different scenarios and headcanons and whatnot

1. Either one of them somehow discovers the other is gay. This would probably mean Owen finding out about Curt, because, I wholeheartedly believe that man would leave during a mission sometimes just to get a quick fuck in. Maybe Owen finds out with evidence (fast & easy method) or he just starts strongly suspecting with his great spying and deduction skills (slow & torturous method, he'd try to convince himself he's just seeing what he wants to see) either way, the confrontation would be very uncomfortable for both of them. Curt would deny it ofc, and Owen would go through the internal battle of "tell him it's fine, you won't rat him out, but be a little homophobic about it, so maybe you can keep the only friend you have, but also be ok with the fact that he'll always be with other men and never you" or "tell him you're gay too, maybe he likes you, maybe not, and potentially risk losing your job and livelihood and everything you've ever worked for" He'd most likely end up doing the latter, surprising both Curt and himself. (He's already way more into Curt than he admits to himself) And things escalate from there.

2. Dramatic post mission (maybe a "I thought I'd never see you again" moment) This is where their friendship gets really interesting to me. For a scenario like this the months long yearning is a given, maybe even a lot of unresolved tension between the two (which would probably be resolved with violence anyways) They care very deeply about each other by now. They know each other better than anyone, and their idyllic relationship is only made into a living hell by all the pining. At this point I mean, they'd buy each other birthday gifts, go over to the other's house when they were in the same country and share way too much info over drinks. Their job is always dangerous, but even they can get scared. Maybe we're talking being crazy outnumbered, or a torture/hostage situations, or hell even a collapsing building. Point is, id either one of them thought the other (or both of them) may die, at this point they'd be impulsive enough to just say I love you or kiss the other. In the moment neither of them would care, and later on, when you'd normally talk about things like near death makeout sessions, they'd just. not. do that, because communication is for guys with better life prospects. This one has absolutely no coming-out talk in it, simply because they don't need it

3. Possibly drunk hookup Now clearly, we are talking about two of the most down bad men ever. This is one scenario, I think could also work really well when they still really hated each other. Maybe throughout their first few mission they both gathered enough evidence and sussed each other out, and after (yet another) explosive fight they might just. Alleviate the tension by not beating each other up but by. other means. They don't end up talking much about it, but it keeps happening, and wait maybe they don't even hate each other all that much. (This is the more sober option) The other one is where the "possibly drunk" comes in. If they've been friends for a while, they probably got used to working around each other and finding comfort in the other's presence. This includes little habits, inside jokes, and even (very small) physical touches. This probably wouldn't go down during a mission, it's more likely to happen at either Curt's or Owen's house, maybe during some holiday. Both of them realizing it's a pretty bad idea early on, because, without all the stress of the missions and navigating a foreign country all that's left is them and the feelings they have for each other. Owen would probably say no to drinks for the first few times, just to avoid a potentially dangerous situation, but Curt would wear him down eventually. Now, with both of them drunk and comfortable, it wouldn't take much for things to escalate. Maybe Curt forgets to take his hand off of Owen after patting him on the back, or Owen holds Curt gaze for a little too long. Either way, those two end up fucking. The next day both of them are a little horrified, but they manage to come clean about their feelings (even if it's in the most backwards and convoluted way possible)

Happy ending (or not) There's many more ways it could've happened, but I already wrote wayyyy too much I think.

In the end I don't think they'd ever have a proper conversation about homosexuality, even way into their relationship. It's something they slowly pick up on from each other. How ashamed are they, what makes them tick, what you shouldn't say etc. And then of course, since they don't communicate properly and sometimes purposefully hurt each other, they'd throw it all back in the other's face.

I'm not sure this is what you meant when you asked for hcs, but I got carried away.

#spies are forever #tin can bros #saf #owen carvour #agent curt mega #szol's spy rambles #curtwen #tcb #hoooo boy this was very long. sorry #edit: pasted this into word it's 1.4k words. again: sorry

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fanficsformyfaves · 9 months

Text

And I've Been Meaning To Tell You, I Think Your House Is Haunted

Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

WARNING: ANGST, Emotionally and Physically Abusive Relationship with Father, Hurt to Comfort

PREFACE: After a fight with her dad, Reader runs back up to her room, when she hears someone at her window

A/N: Phone calls are Colored and in Bold!

Sidney and Billy aren't together and Billy and Stu are not a killers in this A/U!

"YOU'RE A SHIT DAD! YOU DRIVE MOM AWAY BY CHEATING ON HER AND NOW, YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU SOLD MY CAR?! FOR WHAT?! TO BUY MORE FUCKING BOOZE?!", I scream,

Shoving him backwards. Just then, my father slaps me across me the face, causing a gasp to escape me as a result. I hold the stinging hand mark on my cheek, as the ringing began to pick up in my ears.

"Bitch to someone that fucking cares", he spits,

Sitting back down and picking up another bottle.

"Kill yourself", I say under my breath,

Before storming back up to my room and slamming the door behind me.

My life was a living nightmare that I couldn't escape from. Ever since my mom left, everything went to shit. All my father ever did was turn to alcohol to fill that void and he used me as the punching bag to distract himself from his own misery.

I wanted to go with her, but she was already gone before I even knew what happened. The only reason I found out was by reading the note she left on the kitchen counter when I woke up that morning.

To say I was devastated would be an understatement.

As I sat on the foot of my bed, struggling to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill and remembering the pain I felt on the day day she left, I hear something rustle on the other side my window.

"What the fuck?", I mutter to myself,

Getting back up. I reluctantly make my way to the window and open it to look outside.

At first, I don't see anything, but then I feel a hand grab at my wrist, making me scream at the top of my lungs, as I pulled away.

"Hey...it's just me", Billy reassures,

"Billy? What the-"

"I'm sorry. Don't hate me", he interrupts,

While climbing through to the inside of my room.

"What are you doing here?", I question,

"I heard you screaming from down the street", he answers,

Dusting himself off.

Billy and I met during sophomore year and got together a few months later. Him and his friends were the only people I actually enjoyed hanging out with. My dad never cared about me, so it was nice to have people that did. Whenever another fight would happen, they'd always insist on me staying the night at one of theirs.

"It's fine", I sigh in defeat,

Sitting back down on my bed.

"Doesn't sound like it", he joins me,

Before taking my hand into his.

"Look, I ain't gonna make you tell me anything you don't want to...but I'm worried about you, kid", he caresses the back of my hand,

As I nervously chew at my bottom lip.

"You know I'm always here to listen"

"It just sucks, Billy. He fucked up things up with my mom and now he's fucking things up for me", I explained,

He shakes his head, tucking a rouge strand of hair behind my ear. It was just then he notices the hand mark on my cheek.

"What the fuck?", he exclaims,

"Billy-"

"Did he fucking hit you?", he cuts off,

"Yes, but, it doesn't matter-"

"Like hell, it doesn't!", he yells,

Getting off the bed and rushing towards my door, when I make a desperate attempt to stop him by wrapping my arms around his waist.

"Billy, please don't!", I shriek,

Not wanting to make things were.

"That son of a bitch can't just hurt you and get away with it!"

"Billy", I sob,

Unable to hold back the tears from spilling any longer. His body softens and he looks back at me from underneath his arm.

"It'll only make things worse, please", I pleaded,

Seeing how distraught I was, he takes a deep breath and turns to hold me tight in his arms.

"Okay, fine"

"He'll hurt you too. Just...please don't"

I would've never been able to forgive myself if something happened to Billy.

"Hey, look at me", he says,

Pulling away and holding my warm face in his hands.

"I'm not letting you stay here. My old man's out of town for the week, so you can stay at mine"

"I couldn't impose-"

"It's not imposing, if I ask"

"I'd make me feel a lot better to know you were fine and what better way to make sure of that, then to have you stay with me?"

"I don't know, Billy"

On one hand, my dad couldn't give less of a shit where I slept, but on the other, I hated feeling like a charity case.

"Look, we could invite the gang over and watch some scary movies. I know you're a sucker for those", he suggests,

Making me laugh to myself.

"We could even stop by the store and get you your favorite snacks, obviously, it's my treat", he added,

Taking my hands into his. I couldn't help but sigh contently at his sweet he was. Every time we were together, it felt like nothing else mattered, except us in that moment.

"So?"

I take a moment, before finally agreeing.

"That does sound nice"

"Yes! Alright, pack your shit and meet me outside. My car's parked down the street, so I need to get it", he exclaims excitedly,

Pressing his lips go mine, as I giggle at his eagerness.

"I'll call everyone and let them know we're meeting at yours"

"Sounds like a plan. See you in a minute", he says,

Hurrying out the window. I pick up the landline and dial up Tatum and Sidney first. A few rings go by and they both answer at the same time.

Sid: Hello?

Tate: Hey!

Me: Hey, so, impromptu movie sesh at Billy's. Are you girls' down?

Tate: Hell yeah!

Sid: I'd love to, but my dad would freak if I asked to go to Billy's house

Tate: Then, don't tell him? Just say you're staying at mine

Sid: I don't know-

Tate: We're going

Sid: Tate!

Tate: Oh, come on, Sidney, I'll pick you up!

Me: I really want you guys there. I'm inviting the guys too and I'd rather not drown in all that testosterone

Tate: Exactly! We can't just leave our girl to fend for herself!

Me: Pretty please with the juiciest cherries on top?!

Sid: *Sighs* Alright. I'm packing a bag

Tatum: Awesome! I'll be there in 10

Me: Kk, see you there! Just gotta call up Bert and Ernie

I joke, before hanging up and putting in their numbers in. As I waited, I began stuffing my backpack with pajamas, toiletries, my books for tomorrow and a change of clothes.

The moment I was done pulling up the zipper, Stu finally answered the call.

Stu: Hellooo

Me: Hey, Stu! Got a minute?

Stu: Oh, I've got all the time in the world for you, gorgeous

Me: *Scoffs*

Just then, Randy joins the call.

Randy: Hello?

Stu: Ugh, why'd you add rat-boy?

Randy: If I'm rat-boy, what the hell does that make you?

Stu: Incredibly sexy in comparison?

Randy: You know what-

Me: Jesus, could we please cut the biggest-dick-contest short?

Randy: He started it!

Stu: Oh, grow a pair!

Me: GUYS!

I scold, finally causing them to fall silent.

Me: I was just about to invite you for a movie night at Billy's, but if you two fucknuts can't get along-

Stu and Randy: No!

Stu: I mean...fine. We'll behave, Ms.(Y/L/N)

He promises in a sarcastic tone, making me roll my eyes.

Me: Just get to Billy's

I eventually hang up the phone, pick up my stuff and climbed out the window. Just as he promised, there Billy was, waiting for me in his car. I hop in and he turns up the music.

"You ready?"

I smile and kissed him once more.

"Hell yeah"

#billy loomis #scream #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis oneshot #billy loomis fanfic #billy loomis fluff #billy loomis angst #billy loomis smut #skeet ulrich

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ilyasorokinn · 7 months

Note

hey!! can i request number 23 from the physical affection prompt list (a hug that some might consider as ~too long~) with roy kent please?

ONE LAST TIME

eek! i'm so excited for this because this is the first time i've written for roy on here! this is basically just the scene after roy gets injured in his last game and keeley comforts him! also, i am american. just thought i should preface that. i hope you enjoy :)

23. "a hug that some might consider as ~too long~" (from this prompt list)

tw: the injury (but not detailed)

it was quite a cliche. you weren't sure what you and roy were. you had been friends since he started his professional career but never anything further.

although, you had discovered pretty early on that you liked him. that tiny little crush turned into a full-blown love. but you could never tell him. the mere thought of him not reciprocating the same feelings made you sick.

so, you pushed those feelings down and tried to forget about them. you continued to be his friend and agreed to go on as many dates as keeley could set you up with.

sports were never really your thing. yeah, you went to a few games growing up with family but you never really understood them. when you and roy started hanging out, he started inviting you to games and you started to pick things up.

now, as you sit in your seat in the stadium, bundled up in your million layers, rebecca on your left and keeley on your right, you could confidently call yourself an expert in the sport of football.

you were standing up, nervously holding onto keeley's hand was roy ran down the field to stop jamie from kicking the ball into the net. he slid down to the ground, using his leg to kick jamie's legs out from under him, sending him to the ground.

the crowd cheered jumped to their feet and cheered when the ball flew in the other direction. keeley pulled you into a hug, jumping up and down.

you cheered, but kept your eyes on the field, pulling away from the hug with a nervous look on your face, "what? what is it?" keeley asked.

"he's not getting up."

the crowd stopped their cheering as roy writhered on the ground, clearly groaning in pain. the doctor rushed onto the field as a few of the players crowded around him, sam by his side.

keeley held onto your hand as rebecca ran a hand across your back, trying to calm you down. you watched the scene in front of you anxiously, waiting for roy to get up.

you only looked away from the field when the crowd of people started cheering for you, "roy kent, roy kent! he's here, he's there, he's every-fucking-where!"

roy laid on the ground for an extra second, listening to their cheers before the doctor and sam helped him off the ground. you let out a sigh of relief when he gently brushed sam off with a pat on the back, and handing the captain band off to isaac.

he stood before the crowd, clapping at them and giving them an appreciative nod before walking off the field, all by himself.

it took a second for you to gather yourself, but once you felt like you were good, you gathered your things, looking over to the other two women, who understood and gave you big smiles and quick nods.

you navigated your way through the building, toward the locker rooms. you peeked through the windows, seeing roy sitting alone in his stall.

you pushed open the door and he briefly looked up at you, but when he saw it was you, he looked down, "you're not allowed back here during a game." he told you.

you ignored him, approaching him slowly, "i told you, you have to get out." he repeated, but again, you didn't listen, "i mean it, stay the fuck away from me."

you set your jacket down and sat down next to him. you reached for his hand and squeezed it. when he didn't pull away, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

he leaned his head on your shoulder, reaching for your other hand and practically folded into you. neither of you said anything. you sat in silence, enjoying each other's company.

you didn't know how long you sat there in silence. it would have been minutes, it could've been hours. when he was really, he pulled his head up and looked at you.

you smiled, "i know." you nodded. he opened his mouth, but you beat him to it, "me too." his shoulders sagged and you saw his lips pull up into a small smile.

taylor's tumblr-versary!

#roy kent imagine #roy kent imagines #roy kent x reader #roy kent fic #roy kent blurbs #roy kent #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso fic #ted lasso blurbs #ted lasso #brett goldstein #taylor writes #taylor writes: tv #taylor's blurbs

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lxtstrip · 7 days

Text

Homesick | C. Sturniolo

TW: weed/drugs mention

AN: first sturniolo fic — also don’t do drugs, smoke a joint (pack a bowl, rip a bong, eat an edible idc!) where/when legal and enjoy.

WC: 935

Pairing: Chris x Reader

“Stay in Boston.” Chris read with confusion from a crumpled note he found in his newly thrifted hoodie pocket. He didn’t think much of it, just some trash left by an artist in Los Angeles. Whether it was a photographer, videographer, songwriter, or maybe a failed sketch was anyone’s guess.

What he wasn’t aware of was the treacherous journey that hoodie had taken to get to him and its ties to the city he called home. The hoodie had gone through a family vacation, a boy’s high school career, moving into a college dorm, a relationship, many italian ice date nights, and a breakup. The hoodie signified an era of someone’s life; the same tagline as everything else you lay your eyes on at a thrift store.

He thought about everything he had ever known as the items were piling up in his newly found second hand collection. Donating his skates when he was 13, his mother cleaning out the garage of all their holiday things, and even down to his brothers piling clothes on the bed to list for sale online. He didn’t own much, just enough to keep him out of trouble, so the thought of someone having enough to give away was enough to make his head spin.

He kept the paper regardless of whether it was trash or not. Chris adored Boston and only associated positive memories with it. Fenway Park, Gillette Stadium and TD Garden were his go to places to hang with his friends, brothers, or even alone. He remembers frantically Googling ‘free things to do in Boston’ before dates and eventually dipping into his wallet after he couldn’t find anything good with pride. He was someone who would do anything to make anyone happy, whatever the cost, but he couldn’t apply that theory to himself.

When all was done and dusted for the day he decided to shut himself in his room and unwind. He ran his fingers down the spines of the books you gave him, reading the titles to himself, hearing your voice with each syllable. Empty promises of going to visit him came flooding back into his memory as soon as he saw your favorite book; tattered edges, taped spine, and a receipt paper bookmark. He shook himself out of it and went to his desk to pack a bowl.

With a swift flick of the lighter Chris pressed the glass to his lips and inhaled for a moment feeling the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders. He sat in his computer chair and looked around his room for signs of you - something, anything. He repeated the motion a few times and grabbed the torn piece of paper from his thrifting excursion.

“Stay in Boston.” Chris repeated to himself countless times before grabbing his phone. He knew your number by heart and as soon as he hit the call button an all-too-familiar ache came over him. He took another hit and exhaled when he heard your voicemail message play. He never thought he’d be here; alone, in his room, pining after a love lost.”

“Hey, it’s Chris…” he started. “I wish you were here. I’ve said it every day to myself while I’ve been out here. I know neither of us wanted this… I don’t think either of us knew what we wanted. I’ve been getting by on memories of stumbling to diners and stealing the mugs or skipping classes to go hang out at the park…” he took another hit and sighed. “What I’m trying to say is my heart will always have a space for you, my brain has always had one.”

You looked at your phone to see another voicemail from Chris. You shrugged it off thinking it was most likely another message he recorded at a party where he would preface it with whatever drug he was taking at the time; the west coast ruined him. As much as you hated to admit it you kept up with their videos and you locked in on Chris looking more gaunt every time.

You hadn’t answered a call from Chris in months and you never reached back out. You listened to his newest voice message as you recanted the first call since the split. He had just done a few lines of cocaine and he described it as feeling a sense of finally being able to focus to a greater extent. It shook you to your core that a once happy-go-lucky boy turned into… this. You couldn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling.

Chris often called to describe his high to you; cocaine, ayahuasca, benzos, acid, angel dust, salvia - the list went on. You were still his safe space and since he drew the conclusion you weren’t even listening to them he let his troubles go in the safe space of voicemails and dial tones.

Chris clutched the “Stay in Boston” note and thought about what it meant to the previous owner of the hoodie. Chris also thought about why this would fall into his lap and when it did. He slowly fell back into his nightly routine while he continued to contemplate that random piece of paper.

After a night of continuing keeping up his high, losing games, and melting his brain over three words Chris decided to head to bed. The second he was in bed it’s as if on cue he saw your name flash across his screen. It knocked his next breath out of him as he answered with a simple “Hello?”

“Chris…” you said followed by a shaky exhalation. “Please stay in Boston.”

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #tw: weed #tw: drugs #lmk if we need anymore tw’s friends!

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eyeofnewtblog · 8 months

Text

Things that happen at home:

I had a very good birthday yesterday…went to a coin expo and geeked out with my dad, I bought a proof set of Irish and Norwegian currency (pre euro, nothing wrong with modern coins but it’s just neat to see what used to be minted) found a proof set of Vatican coins that were probably just novelty but it’s still cool (minted 1952)

There was a very nice gentleman who sold antique 925 silver jewelry that I bought a few sets of vintage clip on earrings from.

I’m going to pause, and preface this story with the universal truth that being patient and kind will pay off in the end.

Anyway, the first time I’m going through the jewelry that Very Nice Gentleman has to offer, it’s my first circuit of the whole expo, I want to budget accordingly, and there might be something that Pops Out to me later that I Just Have To Have. So I spend my first $70, circle around (I’ve been coming to this specific expo for about three years now so I recognize the vendors who have what I like) pick up my proof sets, and land back at Very Nice Gentleman’s booth.

I tell him straight up “Well, you guys definitely have the best jewelry selection in the whole expo.”

VNG: Oh, you should see the whole three boxes of stuff that I brought and haven’t even priced yet. I’ll sell you anything you want by weight.

Me: *spends the next hour helping an 80+ year old man sort literal sandwich bags full of antique silver jewelry, talking shit about living in New Mexico, and learning a fuck ton about Native American artist stamps, while his son (50s, economics professor in Fairbanks AK, talked shit about living in Alaska with him as well) checks on us periodically*

My dad, in the middle of all this: *catches my attention* Hey. Doin’ alright?

Me:…wanna see what your birthday present to me looks like?

My Dad: …yeah, alright. You like the same kind of stuff my mother did, so it’s at least going to be interesting. *proceeded to buy exactly one bracelet that was made out of “plantation 1948” silverware because “the only good thing that’s come out of the South in the last 50 years is their food. I hate the way they vote but good god they make some AWESOME ribs.”*

Me: *spends another 30 minutes sorting jewelry with VNG before birthday calls start coming in, I’m getting hungry, SO and mom and siblings all want to meet up, Dad is mia* hey, I need to check out or pay up, I’ve got my family wanting me, so I need to take off now.

VNG: Oh, yeah, let’s get you started then. *proceeds to ring up my purchases in the most painfully slow manner possible because he’s 80+ and all analog* (literally he had a calculator that printed out the receipts, it had a bunch of finger grime on the number keys, he’d clearly been using it for decades, honestly it was so awesome but super frustrating)

Me: *being patient, being nice and kind and friendly, regardless of the situation*

VNG: *rings me up, gives me my total, then WINKS and throws in a $50 pair of vintage clip-on, lapis lazuli with gold inlay earrings*

Me: *KARMA, BITCH! Be fucking nice to people All The Time Regardless of Circumstances!!!! VINDICATION!!!*

My Dad, after I found him again and told him the factual events: Sweet deal! Sometimes I’m actually glad when you don’t listen to me!

My dad’s advice to all of you would be “don’t ever say anything, at all if preferably, but only give yes or no answers to anyone who works in insurance or government.”

#humans are space orcs #denver comic con #be nice to people #things my dad says

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placeinthisworld · 1 month

Text

ttpdta review part one 🤠

let me preface this by stating that i am a swiftie first and person second in this situation. i have grown up with taylor and feel as if shes my big sister- yes i can make fun of her but if i see anyone else do it i will get fiercely protective. i do understand her music is not only art but also her form of therapy. that being said, throughout these nonsense notes i am constantly mentioning that taylor should go to therapy. i am aware of what she has said about therapy (and why she doesn’t go) but i would beg to differ with her…especially after this album release lol.

taylor is an extraordinary storyteller and song writer. i believe this album is full of evidence of that, but it also has some faults that prevent from being as good as i felt like it could have been. overall the album feels rushed.

i also feel like it’s important to recognize the elephant in the room. i know we probably all expected this to be a joe breakup album, so the fact that it turned out to be a “fuck you matty healy” album shook us all a little bit. i know matty had a controversial history, im not gonna sit here and defend him. i don’t know much about him other than what is forced against my will. i do however know that he struggles with mental health issues/ substance abuse/ addiction. i’m not gonna comment much about his personal issues, i don’t feel like that’s right and taylor’s constant references to drugs throughout ttpd definitely rubs me the wrong way. i should also mention i grew up with an active addict and do view things from that perspective, so i feel slightly triggered by the topic and my feelings about that may just be personal but i do mention that in my notes when it’s relevant.

lastly, i am not a music production girlie idk shit lol. i only know i am a aaron dessner stan so any song with his name im already biased towards and i am aware, if u don’t like that idk what to tell u lol. i just know what i feel like is “good” or “bad” but music is subjective🫶🏻

1. Fortnight:

Hate the functional alcoholic part. Like the beat, the chorus is catchy. One thing i love about a taylor swift song is that theres always a story and its always visual. I like the metaphor of the “good neighbors” of like having this teasing/ longing feeling for someone that you could have had a life with. “Your wife waters flowers/ i want to kill her + my husbands cheating/ i want to kill him” feeling like you were robbed of her life, feeling “all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february” reminiscing about the short period of time where you were together and convinced it would last forever (only for it to end before it even started). I do not listen to much post malone but i enjoyed his verse!! So many florida references we get it everything bad happens in florida.

i have not seen the video yet oooopsies

2. Ttpd:

i thought this was the opening of Hey Stephen (the remix) or something at first. gotta say i absolutely love the way she sings “you left your typewriter at my apartment/ straight from the tortured poets department” i enjoyed the vibe of this song, and lyrics up until the “you smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate (OKAY SOOOOOOO ME CODED NGL I LAUGHED at this point i could let this lyric slide- bit then she had to mention the charlie puth and golden retriever thing and ngl it almost ruins the song entirely for me. Tbh when i first listened to the leak i thought this was a fake AI song and that i was sending around a fake leak bc these lyrics started to get a little weird to me. ‘Sometimes i wonder if youre gonna screw this up with me/ but you told lucy you’d kill yourself if i ever leave” …………girl i am begging you to see a therapist (side note did anyone else have a friend in hs whos bf would say that shit a lot?? I remember straight up fighting with a friend who refused to break up w her bf bc he would threaten to end his own life is she did and he was like 16? If an adult is saying that same shit i would be Very concerned not gossiping about it???) “i chose this cyclone with you” my first reaction was: ride the cyclone the musical? Overall i liked the first half but you lost me at charlie puth (hes the one with eyebrow right? I think i get him and miles teller mixed up) (i dont know who either of these men are)

3. My boy only breaks his favorite things:

Okay tbh i thought this was gonna be one of my least favorites, but the total opposite happened. I think this is one of my top 5 favorites on this album. I do think that there is a difference between a poem and a song and that they are not always interchangeable. I feel like if this was edited into a poem it would be KILLER. The visuals, the the story, the vocabulary, the sadness in it. “Im queen of sandcastles he destroys/ There was danger in the heat of my touch/ once i fix me/ hes gonna miss me/ i felt more when we played pretend then with all the kens / cause he took me out of my box” i feel like ever since folklore, taylors been trying to push these big fancy words and sometimes it feels awkward and forced, but this is one of the rare songs that doesn't suffer from that.

4. Down bad:

meh. Chorus is catchy. I dont love the narrative “fuck it if i cant have him/ i might just it would make no difference” but i also have never once experienced that over a person before lmao……….taylor go to therapy. Nothing really stands out about this to me otherwise. No offense, but it sounds like a generic jack antonoff song lol. Like maybe if another artist released this, i would enjoy it more but idk i wouldnt expect it from taylor i guess. Just kinda feels boring to me sorry if u enjoy it <3

5. So long, london:

oh man were done with british men now for real for real. “ two graves one gun. I'll find someone” its over for joe and matty (but thats fine if all she has to say about joe is what i think she said on this album i am happy i think We Get It…) Aaron dessner i love u (remember when he reposted me on his ig ahh).”i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift/ pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away” + “I stopped trying to make him laugh/ stopped trying to drill the safe/ i didnt opt in to be our odd man out/ im pissed off you let me give you all of that youth for free” oof i FELT that one a LITTLE too hard. I think this is both a song about matty and joe- i think she had a life and an attachment to london just in general through both relationships, “im just mad as hell because i loved this place” and so reflecting back on how both are over and how all those plans with either are done. “You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days” OKAY kinda hate this phrase bc it feels like shes placing blame on whomever’s mental health/ depression, like as if they made the conscious decision to sacrifice the relationship solely. This very much feels like “how much sadness did you think i could take before i got bored???” overall top favorite songs bc it doesnt have too many cringey or odd lyrics and the production is 10/10 thank u aaron dessner ilysm king

6. But daddy i love him:

tbh when i got the leak this was the first song i listened to bc i thought it was gonna be the worst one and i wanted to get it over with (i was RIGHT until she dropped that second half……..) and i DIDNT have the lyrics obviously so i couldnt for the life of me figure out if she really said “im having his baby…..NO IM NOT!” until the VERY end of the song and bro…….the cringe. The cringe. The cringe. This is also when i started to question if this was real or if i was passing out a fake leak, lol. I dont understand how she could be saying this shit about matty. And like we all know it lol. “Sometimes growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all” …….but like does it??? I feel like thats kinda an oxymoron or something like i understand what shes trying to say and MOST of the time her metaphors and comparisons make sense to me but like this one doesnt. Growing up precocious means to grow up more advanced in maturity, how would that also mean not growing up at all? Is it just me getting stoned and overthinking things? “Ill tell you something about my good name/ its mine alone to disgrace” true that bestie ur doin a great job by being so politically quiet over the past couple of yeats after making a whole asss documentary about wanting to be on the right side of history. But I digress i am just one of those bitches performing soliloquies you'll never see. Overall this song is very weird and cringey imo and i wish it stayed in whatever vault it was sitting in lol.

7.Fresh out of the slammer: “In the shade of how he was feeling” -_- dont like this narrative already. I could honestly go on a rant about why i dont like this song but im going to spare for the sake of my sanity in this review of thirty one fucking songs but its along these lines “to the one who says im the girl of his american dreams” oh brother. otherwise i dont care for many of the lyrics, the chorus/ melody/vibe is mid i guess. It sounds like another jack song (i was right)

8. Florida!!!: “all my friends smell like weed or little babies” okay i know what she was trying to say but im SORRY you cant tell me she couldnt think of ANY other way to say her friends are either parents partiers lmao. Deserves jail for that but luckily the vibe and the chorus of the song are really catchy and florence’s voice is beautiful in it. “Well me and my ghost we had a hell of a time/ yes im haunted but im feeling just fine” CHILLS i loved it. I didnt think i would like this song but (maybe as much as i like no body, no crime which is meh) but no i lowkey love this song and think its really fun. Once again the drug references start to get heavy here in the album and like i mentioned i do get slightly triggered by drug mentions.

9. Guilty as sin?:

okay taylor we get it you masterbate. Another strong jack song and it’s pretty similar to others on the album so nothing besides the sexual lyrics stand out.

10. Whos afraid of little old me?:

“if you wanted me dead you should have just said/ nothing makes me feel more alive” ooooooooooh i love that. I feel like a live or an acoustic version of this song would give me CHILLS. “Is it a wonder i broke / lets hear one more joke/ then we can all laugh until i cry” honestly so relatable, “i was tame, i was gentle til the circus life made me mean” oh :( that hurt bc it just reminds me of the vibe shift during midnights era/ eras tour where it *feels* like she started to pull back from being taylor swift and started to become Taylor Swift (™) and the way her fans/ media has treated her made her mean or cold or something and that just makes me feel sad. “Whos afraid of little old me? You caged me and then you called me crazy! I am what i am cause you trained me! SO. WHOS. AFRAID. OF ME? Again the narcotics line kinda makes me feel icky but thats bc i have that thing about drugs and just dont LOVE all the references to them. Like i know its not that serious but theres a reason why i dont seek out artists that typically talk or write about that stuff ya know so its weird. Overall i think the production is one of the most unique ones on this part of the album.

11. I can fix him (no really i can):

i hate it all around i think. I hate the narrative of “i can fix him!! I can handle a dangerous man!!! No really i can!!!” there is a reason why this song is barely 3 mins long lol it should have been cut but i think taylor wanted to Be Edgy. i dont care for the productions or the lyrics, its very forgetful imo.

12. Loml:

okay i really thought this was gonna be a joe song (rip) so i was thinking it was gonna be really deep and sad and like it IS but with the context of it being the pt 2 fling with matty it doesnt seem like it now. Anyone who thinks this is not about matty please look at the lyrics and be so serious “whos gonna stop us from waltzing back into reklndled flames/ if we know the steps anyway” I think matty just said too much shit to taylor during their fling and taylor WAS truly convinced this her invisible string and he promised her a lot that he couldnt upkeep and ghosted her and she took it SUPER hard, i mean two breakups in one year is a lot (me, whos never been through a single breakup once). I just dont understand how she feels like matty is the greatest loss of her life. One of my favorite tracks on the album, “our field of dreams engulfed in fire/ your arsons match your somber eyes” a LOT of these lyrics are actually really good imo. I think im the only one that didnt find the “mr. steal your girl and make her cry” line idk i thought it was actually kinda neat, the phrasing of it, kinda contradicts the title “love of my life” because he was never that serious or respectful of her and only use her from the beginning. This is another song that i think would make KILLER poem over song. Overall i think the piano is haunting and a live version of this will make me die, thank u again aaron dessner 10/10

13. I can do it with a broken heart:

ngl i thought this was the opening to mastermind for a hot second- also gave me a scare on whether or not this was a fake leak lol. Catchy ass chorus but very YOYOK. “Breaking down i hit the floor/ All the pieces of me shattered/ as the crowd was shouting “more!” ooffffffff seeeeee that is exactly WHAT i was afraid she was feeling durning the eras tour after the joe breakup/ matty situation and all these stupid twitter and tik tok swiffers were out here overanalyzing EVERYTHING and demanding rep tv like every other day. “Im so depressed i act like its my birthday” …….okay taylor. Like a lot of people have said, i think she interchanges “depressed” for “sad” a lot and the two are not the same. I think taylor wrote this song (but specifically the “i cry a lot time but i am so productive” and was like “yup this part is gonna go viral on tik tok,” initially i wrote “feels like taylor saw that depression barbie commercial in barbie 2023 and wrote a song based on that” lol which i still agree with. Overall the production of this screams midnights reject lol, very jack antonoff. Over time this song has grown on me a lot. Originally i didnt care for it but now its kind of a bop but i think its bc its so similar to YOYOK. “Try and come for my job” @taylorswift deadass you couldn’t think of anything else to say instead. cmon. I was mostly on board until that very last part, just seemed very cheesy lol like its not a big deal but i thought it delivered well without it.

14. The smallest man who ever lived:

(aaron thank u for saving me and this entire album) “they just ghosted you/ now you know what it feels like” OUCH. “i dont even want you back i just want you to know/ if rusting my sparkling was the goal/ and i dont miss what we had but can someone give/ a message to the smallest man who ever lived” oh this was somber af. I am obsessed with the phrasing of the chorus. I also LOVE taylors deeper voice its def giving me the same feelings MTR gave me from folklore, that made me CRY and this was very similar. This is another classic taylor song that i could EASILY write like a ten page essay about if someone put a gun to my head. I know that its about a *romantic* relationship, but it feels general enough to be able to relate to anyone who is close to someone with an addiction or struggles with substances. A lot of addicts dont understand the impact of their addiction or their behaviors that they display while struggling. To meeeeee, this feels very much like “you were self centered and betrayed my trust, was any of this true? Real? Am i paranoid or is this that deep?” “it wasnt sexy once it wasnt forbidden” has me thinking lots of things. I think that describes taylors “type”if that makes sense? Like i said i would need to literally break this song down line by line like its ridiculous i have too many thoughts about this song i have listened to it on repeat six times by the time im typing this. “In public showed me off/ then sank in stoned oblivion” FUCK. “you treat her like an also-ran” honestly i have never heard of that phrase/word thank u dr. swift. “Were you sent by someone who wanted me DEAD/ did you sleep with a GUN underneath OUR BED/ were you writing a BOOK?/ were you a sleeper cell SPY? IN 5O YEARS WILL THIS BE ALL DECLASSIFIED?/ AND YOU’LL CONFESS WHY YOU DID IT!/ AND ILL SAY GOOD RIDDANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” tears were formed besties. Also love the gracie abrams reference. “And you deserve prison but you wont get time” i feel like is very metaphorical like you DESERVE to be punished for what you did to me but you won’t admit to the guilt, you wont admit your wrongdoings, you wont admit that i would have done anything for you and you have no problem replacing me. “You said normal girls were boring/ but you were gone by the morning” first of all red flag girlie, nonetheless heartbreaking. “And in plain sight you hid/ but you are what you did” i say this with all the love in my heart, someone take taylor swift to a really good really private therapist. I could say more but i think i need to move on because i am now on my eighth cyle of listening to this song.

15. The alchemy:

already kinda hate it. “What if i told you im back/ the hospital was a drag/ worst sleep i ever had” do you think taylor swift has ever been admitted to a real hospital in this context. Feels very out of place and like i said earlier i dont love the psych ward visuals/ references she keeps inserting in this album. “He jokes its heroin but this time with an e” thanks! I fucking hate that line so much. Feels very icky, not funny. I get what shes going for but it falls so flat for me. The football references (yall know my opinion on meathead!!!!!!!! I will not engage!!!) are fucking dumb. Production is kinda lame and uninterested. Will only listen to this song if by force and will not repeat it ive head enough lets move on.

i have Lots Of Thoughts. i don’t think anyone cares about what i have to say though so i don’t think i’ll bother posting the rest lol but i did do a lot of work so ill post just a bit to make myself feel better.

#personal #ts ttpd #ttpd #the tortured poets department

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givemea-dam-break · 1 year

Note

hi my love, can you do anthony lockwood x reader

possibly with prompt 17 or 24 from the angst list?!? ive been craving some lockwood angst recently and i love your fics so who else could i ask to fulfill my needs

a/n: yes yes yes i have been dying for angst it’s my favourite thing to write. i'm so glad you like my fics! feeling honoured rn. this is shorter than some of my other fics, but i hope you like it!

warnings: angst, language prompts: "You're not my friend anymore, remember?" and "You left, you left, and now you have the gall to come back like nothing happened." gn reader

Your day couldn't have gone worse.

Originally, your plans for your first day off in weeks had been to spend your time in the library nearby, listening to the rain on the tall windows as you read in your favourite seat before stopping off to grab a takeaway on your way home.

Of course, things can never go to plan in a world haunted by ghosts.

To preface, the Visitors aren't the problem, not today at least.

You've reached a particularly good chapter of your book when things start to go wrong. You're completely content just reading away, sipping on some tea in your travel mug, when a shadow looms over the pages, making it hard to read.

Looking up, slightly irritated, you say, "Hey, do you mind moving, please?"

Then you see the face, and the irritation melts into something more: fury.

Anthony Lockwood stands before you, soaked with rain and dripping all over the floor. His hair, usually neatly brushed, looks like a wet rat, and his cheeks are flushed from the November chill. From the way he smiles, they remind you a little bit of apples. You like apples considerably more than you like him.

"What do you want?" you ask.

Lockwood points at the free chair next to you. "Can I sit?"

"Absolutely not."

"Right." He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat. "Can we talk?"

"Also, no," you say, returning your attention to the book. "Goodbye."

A sigh. "(name), please, it's important."

"Important enough to bug me on my only day off? No, I don't think so."

You hope for a moment that he'll turn and walk away, but this is Anthony bloody Lockwood, and when does he ever listen to you? He moves, sinking into the seat beside you, and crossing his legs. You make a point of ignoring him, continuing to read the last paragraph you were on.

"We need your help."

No response. You keep on reading.

"(name), please. It's a big case, and we could really use your Talent."

Again, you ignore him, silently mouthing the words as you read them. Your focus on him strays, and for a minute it's as if he's no longer there, but the scent of bitter tea and citrusy shampoo lingers, taunting you.

Swiftly, you shut your book and stand, grabbing your bag. The action seems to shock Lockwood, and his daze gives you enough time to slip the book back into its slot on the shelves and storm out of the library.

Alas, Lockwood has long legs and catches up momentarily.

"I don't want to talk to you," you grumble, pulling your hood over your hair as you step out into the rain.

"I know, and that's my fault, but, please, listen this once. We -"

"Need my help. Yeah, I got that." Squeezing through a crowd of kids heading into the library, you continue, "But, thing is, I'm not an agent anymore. And, even if I was, you're not my friend anymore, remember? You gave up that right months ago. I wouldn't help you even if my life depended on it."

That stops him short. You keep on walking, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

"You're not an agent anymore?" he asks, catching up once more.

You scoff. "Haven't been since that last case we went on, and I don't plan on becoming one again."

Judging from his expression, he hasn't taken the news lightly. He almost looks betrayed, and that makes you want to strangle him. He's got no right.

"Why not?"

"Because," you say, stopping at the side of the pavement, out of the way of other people, "you left. You left me there, Lockwood. And now you have the gall to come back like nothing happened! You don't just do that."

His frowns. "I didn't leave you."

You want to scream at him, to pull your hair out. It feels like you're about to explode from the rage you're feeling.

"Yes, you left. I was left in that goddamn maze of a mansion by myself while you and George, what? Went to go have some celebratory doughnuts? Not all of the sources were secured, Lockwood. I almost died trying to get out of there."

"I didn't -" His face blanches, and he looks like he's going to be sick. "We thought we'd secured them all."

"Well, you didn't. Want to know why I didn't go back to Portland Row for a week before getting my stuff? I was in the hospital recovering from ghost touch. Took my a month to regain full use of my right arm, you know. I almost lost my arm, in fact. But you didn't ask, you just stood and watched as I packed my stuff."

That makes him angry. "What was I meant to do? There was no stopping you."

"I wanted you to try," you say, and your voice wavers. His expression softens. "If you'd tried, I might've stayed. I might've forgiven you. But you just watched. You never asked me where I was for that week. No, you were busy revelling in your success and hiring other agents."

"We needed another agent, anyways."

"You should've checked on the one you had!" Your breathing is heavy, and your head hurts from the myriad of emotions swirling around. "I'm not - I'm not doing this right now. Today was meant to be a good day. Goodbye, Lockwood. Don't come see me again."

You start to walk away, but his hand clasps around your wrist. Scowling, you tug it from his grip, looking at him incredulously.

"I'm sorry, (name)," he says. In his defence, he's being genuine, but that doesn't mean that you're having any of it. "I am. About all of it. Please, can we talk it out?"

Thank god for the rain, because it hides the tears in your eyes. "No. I - I'm going home, and you're going to leave me alone. I don't want to see you again."

Lockwood's jaw goes slack. "Please, I'm sorry. I can't lose you."

"The minute you left me alone on that case, you lost me," you say. "I don't care how sorry you are. It does nothing. It doesn't stop me from seeing the moment I almost died every night when I sleep. It doesn't change the fact that I don't trust you anymore."

"(name) -"

"I pray that your new agent, Lucy, 'the Superstar' - that's what you called her on live TV, right? - I pray she doesn't have the same fate. I hope things work out well for you, Lockwood, truly, but that doesn't mean we'll ever be friends again. Now, I'm going home."

"Please don't go." His voice is a little shaky. It's the most emotion you've seen from him other than that fake smile he gives to the press. "Please, I'll do better."

You shake your head. Then, wordlessly, you turn and make your silent, miserable trek home.

#lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #george karim #lucy carlyle #fanfiction #x reader #givemea-dam-break

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elliethesuperfruitlover · 5 months

Text

Fu the Family Friend

A/N: happy new year everyone! I started this september/october (i forgor) and found the motivation to finish it up. my lord i cant wait for the archivist model to drop.....

I want to preface this by saying I'm writing this fictional piece of work based off of a fictional character/liver. This does not reflect any sort of reality, nor does this reflect what Fulgur is like irl, etc. etc.

(I'm writing Fuu-chan as Archivist and not Legatus purely for How I Imagine Him purposes. And yes i know this outfit is legatus but just imagine archivist being his large sexy self in a pink shirt and leather pants with his hair pulled back mmk.)

CW: beeg tall man, nerdy talk, oral sex (fem! receiving)

Tag List: @super-unpredictable98, @jozstankovich, @rubberbutt69

Ding Dong

"Welcome Mr. Ovid! It's so good to see you!" you heard from the couch, turning your attention to the front door. Your parents had informed you that there would be a guest coming in to stay in the Air BNB they own for a few weeks, but you had limited reaction to it. The most they'll be is a mild inconvenience for when I need a place to decompress.

"It's good to have a change of scenery. And plus, the more I can learn about different cities, the better I'll be at my job." he spoke smoothly, with a little chuckle at the end of his sentence.

My lord, what a voice he has. You whisper to yourself, standing up to get a closer look.

Peeking from behind the wall, you observe the new person. He's.....oh no he's handsome. He has a tall build, with a dangerously soft looking tummy and long silver hair that's pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. He has a kind looking face, with stubble matching his hair color. There seems to be a red and black collar around his neck (Oh yeah, they did mention he's a cyborg.) and hands to match.

"Oh, hey there. Didn't notice you at first." he looked up at you (holy fuck, he has pretty eyes too), and went to shake your hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Ovid." you stuttered, his hand warmer than you thought it would be.

"Oh, please call me Fulgur, Mr. Ovid makes me feel old." one of his hands went behind his head to awkwardly scratch his neck, and he looks away.

You nod in agreement and stand to the side as he continues talking to your parents. The way he spoke about his job ("It helps me stay in touch with what I lost, y'know. That way I can look back at everything in the future and not feel this pit of guilt from not knowing or remembering."), how he talked about his dog back home ("Oh, he's a very big boy. But very gentle. Trained and everything." as he shows them pictures of a very large, and very happy looking Caucasian shepherd.), honestly just listening to him talk was enough for you.

"Oh honey, would you show Mr. Ovid his room, we've gotta go handle dinner." your parents shout from the front door, closing it right as you respond.

"Uhh, you can follow me. Your room isn't up 10 flights of stairs or across an ominous bog. It's right to the left." you instruct, pointing in the general upstairs direction.

"So....the right or the left."

"Right to the......okay gotcha. It's to the left." you mutter before mentally facepalming as he walks into the room and sets his bags down. Now that's certainly a way to make a fuckin' impression. Being horrifically unclear. "I'll leave you to get settled, just let me know if you need anything."

You walk back to the couch, sitting in front of the television. Whatever was playing took your focus for all of half a second before drifting to....him. It's been a hot minute since someone actually caught your attention. Even if he is a little...older. It's just by a few years. And for all you know, he could be happily married....or not even-

CRASH

"Uh, you good in there?' you ask, standing in the doorframe to his room.

"Yeah, I was just trying to get the window open and some stuff fell." he chuckled awkwardly and backed away from the wall. Surrounding him were a few books from the shelf above the windowsill, and the window sat half open. Easy fix, you say to yourself before walking over and taking a firm hold on the handle for the latch.

"It's ok. I've accidentally been a little too rough with it before, you just gotta lift it up and pull at the same time. It's all about being gentle." the window slots into place and locks.

Fulgur giggles from behind you, shoulders lightly shaking at the accidental innuendo. Ah, so that's his sense of humor. "I'll have you know that joke was purely incidental. It just slips out sometimes."

"Oh does it?" he replies, breaking out into fuller laughter, wheezing in a kettle like fashion. That deeply entertains you, as how could a man built like that let out such a charming noise as a laugh.

"You like how I laugh?" he stutters out, finally catching his breath. Shit, I said that out loud.

"It's cute. Almost the opposite of what I expected from someone so built." you say, bulking your shoulders up to imitate his form.

"How am I built?" an unreadable glint shines in his eye.

"Like a beefcake. A big British beefcake."

He hums and gets the residual laughs out before putting the books back on the shelf. You sit on the ottoman in the corner of the room and listen to him talk while he gets his travel bags unpacked. He really is an interesting person. From his friends back home (apparently demons, dragons, and aliens do actually exist) to how he talks about his job. Apparently keeping the world's history and books preserved is a much more hard job than you imagined.

"It's difficult, but a very rewarding job. Makes me feel like I'm doing good to help things exist for longer. Let everyone after me observe things just as they were." a small smile appears on his face and you feel a sense of relaxation wash over you. Hmm...he's nice.

"We're back! And brought pizza!" your parents yell from the front door.

Both of your stomachs rumble at the sound of that, and you both head downstairs. The setup is simple. Three pizzas, cheese, pepperoni, and-

"Oh, Hawaiian! I actually enjoy pineapple on pizza." he mutters, gleefully getting a paper plate and starting on his meal.

Dinner flows smoothly up to a point, up until Fulgur takes his jacket off. He revealed his arms, and he put a fist on his chin, listening to your parents talk about their upcoming trip out of town. All you could focus on was his stubble. The line of his neck and his hands... You start wondering what they'd feel like. Holding them in your own. Wrapped around your waist. Maybe even groping you from behind. Lost in your own thoughts, you find that he's been looking at you.

Ah shit. You cough and shake your head of the images of him over you, standing up.

"Let me get your trash." you offer, looking down instead of at him. If you had, you would've noticed a faint dusting of pink across his cheeks, going to his neck and ears when you bend over to get another trash bag. After washing your hands and sitting back down, you two sit in silence for a few more moments, and he almost says something, but is cut off by your parents announcing their departure.

"See you later. You sure you're not coming with us back to the house? Your room and bed are there, y'know?" they humor you, waiting for you at the door.

"I'm good. Just gonna make sure our guest is totally settled in." you reply nonchalantly, almost surprising yourself. Fu-chan turns towards you, a confused look on his face, but you don't notice...again.

You finally settle in front of the TV, Fu-chan joining you on the couch. Silence surrounds the two of you, and a good chunk of time passes before it cuts to a commercial. You stretch from your spot, neglecting your nightly "turn on the porch light" duties, as your parents handled that when they left. Your mind drifts to Fu-chan again. And everything you'd want this archivist to do to you. Your thighs cross and you zone out, shaking your leg. You only come to when Fulgur taps your shoulder, asking you a question.

"You good there? You look like you're distracted. And your leg's shaking...and they're crossed. And you've got your hand between your thighs," he crosses his arms, a smirk settling on his face. He sighs before continuing. "are you thinkin' of me? Because between how you look now and the stretching and you wanting to stay with me to "make sure I get settled in". I can't help but let my mind wander to what you want to get up to."

"And what if I am? Am I not allowed to think about your hands? Or what you look like tied up? How your stubble feels on my neck?" you look directly in his eyes and something in them flickers.

"Oh? So you have been thinking about me." he moves to get on top of you, slotting a leg between your thighs. You shiver at the contact.

"Just kiss me." you internally cheer and scream that it actually worked, and that you're about to have a lot of explaining to do as to why you stayed for the night, as well as the morning at the guest house.

With that, he surges forward and catches your lips with his own. One of his hands moves to the back of your neck, and you melt into the contact. He moans into the kiss and deepens it, letting you onto his lap. The hand that isn't on your neck is holding you still, fingers spread across your ribs. You break away from him and bite the spot where his neck and shoulder meet.

Fu-chan groans at that and does the same with your neck, hair tickling your skin. You grind against his thigh, the sensation of his cynets pressing against you seep into your brain. He sucks a bruise onto your neck and rubs his thumb over it, putting pressure on the spot. You suck in a breath of air, pushing him off you.

"Let's take this upstairs. I don't want my parents complaining about stains on the couch." and with that, you both get up, stumbling a little. The two of you practically run to his room, shedding clothes as soon as he closes the door.

You push him onto the bed and straddle him, dragging your hands along his toned chest and abs. God, his tits. You grope them, gasping at how soft they actually are, despite their appearance. You also pinch one of his nipples, delighting in the way he gasps at the feeling. You continue until he's red in the face, almost embarrassed at how close he was just from one half of his (enormous) chest being fondled.

"Mmm. Let me touch you. Don't wanna finish like this." he whines, gently flipping the two of you.

He takes a wide berth at your body from his position, hands squeezing and caressing along the way. What his fingers skip, his lips follow with kisses, trailing from between your breasts to right where you've been wanting him since he moaned over that damn pineapple pizza. With each descending kiss, your breath quickened, almost to a gasp. It didn't help that he was keeping direct eye contact with you, staring half lidded and full of lust. He gently flips the two of you,

He lightly nips at your thighs, rubbing his stubbly cheeks against the sensitive skin. His arms make their way around your thighs, fingers gently digging into the plush flesh.

"You're so beautiful like this. Gasping. Waiting for me to touch you. Makes me want to take my time just to see you fully come apart." he hums at the end, and settles in between your thighs. He takes a deep breath and groans afterwards, hips canting into the sheets.

Fulgur places a wet, open mouthed kiss to your clothed mound, followed by a much more pointed one, dead on your clit. Your hips involuntarily thrusted up, and his face remained in the same spot, letting you grind against him. He untangled his right arm from your thigh, and began making an outline of your lips with his fingers, teasing around where you wanted them. He gently pushed a knuckle in through your panties and you groaned, desperate for him to take them off. He continued for a few more moments before acquiescing, taking tender care not to yank them off your feet.

"Hmmm, what do we have here?" he whispers, breath tickling your mound. Fulgur gently spread you open with his fingers, smiling in an almost pervish manner when you clenched at nothing. He stuck his tongue out, giving your cunt a wide lick, ending at your clit. He repeated the action before sucking on it, tongue caressing the underside. Your head flops to the side, overcome with the feeling of finally, finally, someone getting it right.

Fulgur seemed to get more enthusiastic about your pleasure, his hips and damn that ass thrusting against the sheets. He was drunk off the feeling of you surrounding him. His eyes were closed and his glasses were foggy and askew. He moaned into you when you thrusted upwards, and when his mouth wasn't busy pleasuring you, it was spitting out praises that left you speechless. "You taste so fucking good." " I bet it feels good, huh." "Let me know how I'm making you feel." "I can't wait til I'm buried in you." Each one more encouraging than the last.

You were almost delirious by the time you noticed he added a second finger, tongue paying special attention to your clit. His fingers were slow at first, scissoring you open, but crooked and sped up to match your hips. You could barely think straight, barely registering the sounds coming from your own mouth. There was a moment where he hit a spot behind your pelvis, while simultaneously sucking on your clit and you yanked his hair, back arched.

"Right there, Fu-chan! Please!" you begged, eyes half open. He doubled down on his efforts, finding the right rhythm between your hips grinding against him and his fingers. You began letting out tiny "ah, ah, ah" noises, and you felt almost ill at the onset of this feeling.

"Don't worry baby, I got you. Just let go." he whispered, before closing his lips around your clit completely, his silver hair spread across your belly. Your body seizes up and you feel an overwhelming burst of pleasure curl in your stomach before it crests, leaving you limp. Fu-chan continues, albeit a bit slower, both his hands and his hips coming to a complete stop once you'd caught your breath.

"You alright there?" you ask, gently carding your fingers through his hair.

"Peachy." he says, moving his head so you can see his flushed face. His glasses remained off balance and his hair stuck to his forehead. The parts of his neck you can see are pink and dotted with the bite you gave him earlier.

After a few minutes of relaxing, he slowly gets up, legs shaky, and grabs the washcloth from the guest bathroom. He cleans your thighs, then your stomach, and you nod off for a moment when he walks back. You both get under the covers, the slight chill from the open window making goosebumps on your skin.

"One more question." he whispers, hands wrapped around your middle, thumb rubbing shapes into your skin.

"Yeah?"

"How do you like your eggs?"

Oh, he better stay here for the next 6 months.

Masterlist

#fulgur ovid x reader #fulgur ovid smut #pls be nice

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cthulhu-with-a-fez · 1 year

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Hey how do u know if u wanna be a boy in a cis way or a trans way? I’m a girl btw

alright so i'm gonna preface this by saying that i'm... probably not the best authority on What Makes A Man(TM), considering that i'm not one, and that no answer i give is going to catch every relevant topical nuance? but i know i've talked a bit in the tags about my personal blend of cis+ gender-woogity, so i'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that's what you're asking about!

it got pretty long, so i put it under the cut :D

there's two ways i tend to approach my assessment of my gender, which for purposes of this ask let's call "diagnostic" and "diegetic".

the diagnostic approach is more or less what it sounds like - comparing and contrasting what i understand gender to be, denotatively and connotatively and culturally, with what my sense of my own gender is, and trying to figure out what feels closest to me and why. this has been influenced pretty heavily by two posts i've seen floating around over the years but can't for the life of me find right now.

one of them is just a quote to the effect of "consistently wishing you were a different gender is a pretty strong indicator of being that gender." and it makes sense, right? human intuition, gut feeling like that, is made of a million little deductions about the world relative to yourself that you don't consciously process all of, but which make themselves known however they can. if you're a girl but you keep finding yourself thinking "man, i wish i was a boy," that might be your brain doing behind-the-scenes pattern recognition about being a boy and trying to flag your attention towards it.

which isn't to say that it's an infallible tell, gut feelings are not always correct, let alone accurate! even when they are, you're getting, like. fortune cookie amounts of information about things that might require thesis paper amounts. but that's where you have to take a level in metacognition and think about why you think about or respond to something the way you do. or, to quote discworld,

“First Thoughts are the everyday thoughts. Everyone has those. Second Thoughts are the thoughts you think about the way you think. People who enjoy thinking have those. Third Thoughts are thoughts that watch the world and think all by themselves. They’re rare, and often troublesome. Listening to them is part of witchcraft.”

― Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

figuring out the why of your own responses is good for tons of non-gender-related reasons, but it's especially helpful with those kind of vague but persistent I Feel A Way About This thoughts. if you're a girl and you keep thinking "man, i wish i were a boy", there's a lot of reasons you might think that! for legit gender reasons, yeah, but it might also be "i wish i were a boy because their clothes look better" or "i wish i were a boy because then i wouldn't get cat-called" or "because they get paid more" or "because no one assumes they can't pick up heavy things" or more. some of them are aesthetic things, some of them are cultural misogyny things, all of them are relevant and valid! but it also makes it a little harder to tell how heavily gender-weighted they are in general - you can be mad about the pay gap and and explore a more masculine silhouette while still robustly being a woman.

(though, pro tip about the clothes? regardless of your genderfeel, men's section jeans are where it's at. huge pockets. not made of tissue paper. sized with actual waist/inseam measurements instead of a random number revealed to a women's fashion exec in a vision. cannot recommend them strongly enough. have pocket. be free.)

that brings us to the second post that i regrettably can't find, and another excellent diagnostic tool!

it was a comment written by a trans man in a longer thread about gender identity, talking about something that helped him distinguish between 'cultural misogyny sucks' thoughts and 'i am not a woman' thoughts. he definitely explained it more eloquently, but his rule of thumb was "would this upset me if it happened to me, but not to a female friend?"

for example, if someone holds the door for a girl and calls her "ma'am," all courteous manners, that would probably not be an issue for most women! but if you aren't a woman, or you're starting to not feel like one, it might not feel so comfortable an interaction.

i've learned to use that as a baseline for a problem management system for "i wish i was..." thoughts like those - it really does help to distinguish between external circumstance thoughts wearing a gender envy hat vs actual gender envy thoughts hiding under an external-circumstance hat, especially when there's multiple confounding factors involved. for example, let's go back to the clothes thing for a second!

i've always had a bit of a contentious relationship with clothes shopping, which in hindsight was a combination of personal aesthetic, sensory issues, body image issues, and gender issues. trying to develop my aesthetic was hard, especially back when "department store girls' section" was my only real choice and the best i ever hoped for was a grudging least-worst option just to get it over with. this has since changed! i have experienced presentation euphoria! i have a style now that feels comfortable and makes me happy! but it was a steep climb to get there until i learned how to identify what made the least-worst option least worst and move closer to it.

sometimes it's easy, like "this fabric is soft but the color is hideous" so find a different color, or "it's too tight across the chest because it was designed for someone skinny" so try a different size, or "this is just blatantly not-my-aesthetic" so move on. but sometimes it's "i'm getting steadily more upset trying to find a dress that i don't hate on my body despite them looking and feeling just fine on the hanger," and that one's a little tougher.

because on one hand, part of it really was the body image issues. i don't need to shop plus-size, but there's still something really disheartening about basically every retail outlet's 'normal' size range heavily implying that i'm only barely thin enough to be worth catering to, you know? fatphobia in the fashion industry is a whole different other conversation that we're not having right now, but it heavily contributed to some non-gender-related body dysphoria that's played first-chair tuba in my brain for a long time.

but on the other hand, looking at myself in a mirror wearing a dress and really hating it wasn't entirely about my body in a dress - it was also about my body in a dress. it didn't really click until a good friend of mine invited me to be in their wedding party, and said "we're not doing bridesmaid's dresses, just bridal party colors, wear whatever you feel most comfortable in as long as it matches!" and i spent ten seconds mentally gearing up for another godawful harrowing misery gauntlet of dress shopping -

and then stopped. because.

if i can wear something comfortable.

and a dress isn't.

...... what if i wore a suit?

and lo, i went to men's wearhouse and got slacks and a vest and a buttondown and a tie and it was amazing. i feel so fucking good in that outfit, i feel handsome and classy and confident in a way i literally never once in my life have felt while wearing a dress.

most of the time, people want things or don't-want things for a whole blend of reasons, and if there's one reason yelling loudest (hello, body-dysphoria tuba) it's often hard to tell what the rest of the factors are. but it's really, genuinely worth it to try and figure it out, even if you have to dig through a big old lump of stress and misery to get there - understanding yourself better and accepting what you find will only ever lead to quality-of-life improvements. sometimes it's as simple as refining your aesthetic some more, realizing "i can do better than grudging least-worst options" and navigating towards a wardrobe that you actually like!

but sometimes, it's realizing that your clothes don't make you feel good in the first place because they're expecting a kind of gender performance out of you that you can't comfortably give.

and that's where the "diegetic" part of my self-analysis kicks in.

the definition of "diegetic" is (of sound in a movie, television program, etc.) occurring within the context of the story and able to be heard by the characters. the score of a movie is non-diegetic, whereas the song playing on the radio during a driving scene is. how does this relate to my gender, you might ask?

well... perception.

i can be on as many levels of Advanced Gendermancy as i want, but that's all non-diegetic. myself as i am, occurring within the context of existing in public and able to be seen by the other people out there living life? i'm gonna get perceived as a gender, and i'm gonna get perceived as "girl," with maybe an addition of "... queer?" when i feel like making a statement with flannels. and that's okay with me. it's not a hardship to have people assume i'm a girl, because yeah, i'm a girl! ish! mostly! girl-lite, girl-as-default, noncommittal-wiggly-hand-gesture rounding-down-to-the-closest-answer girl.

but the thing is, i'm a carpenter. blue-collar union carpenter. women comprise... i think 2% of the construction workforce in my area. which means that just by existing on-site, i'm making all the guys remember that the gender binary exists because there's now a "them" for them to be an "us" about. i get called "miss kelly" like that's my whole name by the guys from my company who know me, and i get called "young lady" by guys from other companies who don't, and it's all very respectful and courteous, but... i don't want it. what i want is access to the "we're literally all men here so it doesn't even matter that we're men" gender space they have without me, which i can't have, because i am diegetically female in a male-dominated field. and if gender is a fluid, i'm a water balloon deforming under pressure, because the more frequently i get Gendered on-site - even when everyone's been nothing but polite about it, and certainly not intending any insult! - the more stressed-out i get in the same direction as wearing dresses made me feel. it's too much, too constrictive of an expectation that i do not meet, and i don't like it, and you know what helps?

chasing masculine presentation a little harder to make up for it.

being seen and Gendered masculinely, even if it's a little more than i would normally want, feels good because it's balancing the pH of my gender fluid again, and getting to have that is entirely dependent on someone else perceiving you and acting on that perception.

so that's part of it as well, beyond any interior exploration you can do. it isn't just about what you feel like, which is certainly important - it's also about the way people treat you relative to what you feel like. and it's hard, it's really really hard, to figure out what's right for you in that balance, especially if you don't know what's wrong in the first place.

it's like being blindfolded on a beach and told to find wheat grains scattered in the sand by touch alone. you know there's something good out there but not where it is or how to find it, only that you don't have it, and if you find wheat at all it's mixed in with so much sand you can hardly taste it anyway. if you're lucky, you bump into someone who's gone through it already who can take the blindfold off and show you how to sift for wheat instead of just eating a handful of sand and hoping, and that makes it easier, but for every one person like that there's a hundred more who've never had to try to pick wheat out of sand and can't tell the difference anyhow who think you're just not trying hard enough to live off of the """wheat""" you've been given.

i can't really tell you what it feels like to want to be a boy, because i'm not a boy and i don't really want to be? but i can tell you how i worked out the gender that i've got right now, and i hope it helps you anyway.

#answered asks by cwaf #anon asks by cwaf #advanced gendermancy #i'm obviously not trying to Speak For The Trans Community(TM) here i'm just one person trying my best to articulate some stuff #but these are the things that have impacted my gender exploration the hardest #so i hope they're useful tools for you too!#i can't take credit for the sand vs wheat analogy because my datemate came up with it but they said i could use it here #if you do some thinking and discover that you *do* want to be a boy there's a ton of trans resources out there!!#there's a whole community who'd be happy to help guide you if you reach out to them for advice #but this is what i've got for you right now

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maygrcnt · 1 month

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Hey, sorry to come into your inbox like this I just saw something regarding buck and his dating life and I wanted to talk to you about it as I feel like you have pretty (neutral?) view point on his relationships overall. Essentially, the OP was saying how Buck isn’t off his “hamster wheel” in terms of getting into relationships, everyone’s just saying that he is “off the hamster wheel” just because he’s with a guy when this relationship with Tommy is no different than his past relationships with women. (Basically saying people are misogynistic when they say Tommy is a better LI than some of his others). They go on to give these three reasons in to show how that he isn’t off his hamster wheel: “he spent an entire episode acting like an insane person and had no idea of what or who he wanted until tommy kissed him. he had no intention of reaching out to tommy again until eddie literally had to tell him to (twice!). and he's already jumped in head-first by inviting tommy to maddie and chim's wedding before they've even had a single successful date.” Now! Listen. does this fandom have a misogyny issue? yes, especially with buck and eddie’s LI and maybe some people favor Tommy bc of their misogyny but I wouldn’t argue that suggesting Tommy is a better LI than most is inherently misogynistic or at all. Now that that’s out of the way, I find the OP’s reasoning incredibly flawed and reductive - and frankly, dismissive of Buck’s agency and thinking. The “he spent an entire episode acting like an insane person who had no idea what…” This to me is just a wild take because the whole premise of buck acting that way was to show his self discovery? Buck wasn’t consciously aware about this part of himself until the very end of the episode where everything fell into place. The whole point was that he couldn’t explain his feelings or even understand what they truly were. Do I agree with every writing decision in that episode? No I wish they had Buck apologise to Eddie on screen but I think comparing the way Buck was acting in that episode to how he’s been in the past when getting a girl is so different. Next, the “he had no intention to reach out to tommy until Eddie said something.” Um? What? it’s like they missed the part where he said he can’t stop thinking about him but feels like he made an idiot of himself? And again. Are they forgetting that this is all very new for him? Tommy told Buck that he doesn’t think Buck’s ready and I do believe a part of Buck felt that way. It’s not an easy thing to navigate and sometimes you need the encouragement. Idk it feels weird to me personally because they’re acting like Buck lacks any and all agency and had no part in the decision. Even if Eddie said to reach out doesn’t mean Buck had to or 100% would’ve. It was a conscious decision on his part. There’s also different layers to reaching out to Tommy vs reaching out a girl because he was in the midst of discovering this part of his identity. The last point they made is possibly the most logical one and everyone can agree to disagree on the quickness and seriousness of taking someone you recently met as a date to a wedding (at the end of the day, it’s a show!) but overall, I wanna say that Tommy being a guy does absolutely make this situation different. Buck has never been with a man and although his bisexuality has always been a part of him, it’s only something he started to navigate recently. Something he became aware of recently so of course he’s not going to have every single thing figured out. I’m personally neutral on buckyommy as I feel we have to see more of them to really form my opinion but to act like the set up for them is putting buck back on a hamster wheel is just something I do not agree with especially not with the reasons the poster gave. Sorry for giving you so much to read but would love to hear your take on this

okay first of all thanks for putting this in my inbox i think it’s a really interesting discussion. i wanna preface by saying thanks for feeling like im a neutral voice, i feel like im very open and honest that i am not a multishipper and buddie is my ride or die, but i genuinely love general discussion and conversation about the show regardless so i rly hope i never come across as like unwilling to consider things that go against my own personal wants. i want to try my best to give my thoughts here coming from bucks character only and not let buddie thoughts influence it but sorry if i slip there lol

second of all if op of the post mentioned here sees this pls know that this isn’t a personal attack i just like the points that are brought up and i want to give my own take on them! putting under a cut because it got … long

so in terms of the hamster wheel, i think it’s quite disingenuous to the character to say that this relationship is another rinse and repeat. i know as much as we want to claim that being with a same sex partner is no different or has the same implications as buck being with women, it just doesn’t. that’s the simple truth, the fact that he’s trying something new with a man is different and every factor that would normally be considered a part of the evan buckley hamster wheel is now being seen in an entirely different lens because of the factor that it’s a man. his entire world is truly different now, and that’s not to say a queer relationship always has to change someone’s life but it did for evan buckley and this is evident by oliver saying in the zach sang interview that this storyline has quite literally been the endpoint to the six season long arc of buck trying to find what was missing from his life. like it’s a big deal and we don’t have to pretend it’s not.

when it comes to the jealousy, it’s true that this isn’t unlike buck (201, 304, and 408 come to mind as examples of buck doing this in platonic, work, and then romantic way respectively) i don’t think it’s something characteristic of why his relationships don’t work. this is something that is a character trait of buck that we’re finally getting into working on and reasoning with through the relationship with tommy but i truly do t think it’s something that has been the reason his past romances don’t work. abby left because abby is abby, ali set a boundary for her own mental health, natalia was barely there. the only thing i would consider to be bucks irrational jealousy leading to the downfall of his relationship is him kissing lucy but even then there was a lot more going on (cough eddie leaving the 118 but i promised i wouldn’t go buddie mode).

it’s genuinely hard for me to neutrally explain why i think buck didn’t reach out to tommy before eddie told him to but, i think it comes down to the fact that when tommy told him he “wasn’t ready” it very much scooped at an insecure part of buck that believed he was too much for people and buck needed reassurance from someone who’s opinion he really valued to let him know that hey you’re not too much you just have to let people get to know you, and eddie pushed him to be willing to let tommy get to know him.

and then in terms of jumping into things too quickly… i don’t even consider that to be a part of the evan buckley hamster wheel if im so honest. i dont even like to consider abby as part of the hamster wheel discussion because if we’re honest that relationship, from a storytelling perspective was more used to characterize abby than it was buck (bucks storyline is more about the absense of abby after she leavesthan the presence of her during the relationship). ali helped him buy a place but they had been seeing each other for ~six months at that point (i think because most current fans binged season two they forget there was a genuinely large gap between their first date and the loft), and she wasn’t even actually moving in lol, that’s so reasonable to me. with taylor the asking her to move in was crazy and awful of him but NOT because of the timing. at this point they’d had an on again off again thing going for YEARS. it was bad because of the reason. brother was pretending to love her and then kissed another woman and was still gonna let her move in. THAT is why that storyline was shit, not cus of the timing.

PLUS it’s not weird to ask someone to a wedding as a second date. ESPECIALLY not when your date is already friends with half the fucking guests lmao. like i feel like maybe im weird but this specific talking point doesn’t make sense to me. it’s a big deal because buck is essentially coming out to everyone in his world, that’s why it’s big, not because it’s “too fast” for a relationship.

overall, i think this is the exact opposite of the hamster wheel. Buck is putting himself in an uncomfortable situation and seeking out something that makes him feel GOOD, seeking a person who understands who and what he is rather than someone who has to learn to live with his life. a lot of people say that tommy is there to make buck “ready” to date eddie, and while i find this problematic in a few ways when it comes to the sexuality aspect of it, i don’t think it’s entirely untrue from an emotional perspective. if this thing with tommy doesn’t end well, then at least buck now knows he deserves someone who can love him wholly and will have a better understanding of what love looks like for him (regardless of if he see that with eddie or not)

i hope this was interesting and what you were wanting to read anon, thanks for the interesting discussion <3

#911 abc #evan buckley #anon tag

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chrisevansdaughter · 1 year

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What about Luna in some AU tackling teen pregnancy maybe? How would her and Chris deal with it?

Welcome to my first event for my sleepover event! This first request is something I haven’t done before so I just want to preface that it did take a lot of thought to be comfortable with this, but @f10werfae is an absolute angel. It’s slightly different to the ask but I hope you all enjoy this sleepover event! - K 🩵

Part of the Luna Grey Evans Verse

positive lines

Warnings: Talk of pregnancy, teen pregnancy, fear of being abandoned, panic, crying, anxiety.

Guest appearance form Uncle Scott and toby 🩵

Am I a disappointment? Will he be mad? Will dad disown me?

That’s all that was spiralling found in Luna’s head, she’s pregnant those positive lines staring deep into her eyes like they’re trying to burn and stay forever.

All she can hear is the shouting of her heart pounding in her head, the unthinkable she ever would would happen has.

She was pregnant.

They were careful, they thought her body couldn’t handle pregnancy. Her uterus too hostile but in some fucked up way apparently the unthinkable can still happen.

Happiness hit her like a train on a track, but coming towards her was the suffocating anxiety and unsettling sadness of no turning back. Something that should be the happiest moment of a females life. Her brain was telling her to run so she did with the test in hand and all the evidence to her uncles house.

Luna couldn’t face her dad right now, she didn’t even know if she ever could with this news; she thought Scott would be the rational one in this situation. She needed someone.

Just anyone, because by the end of this her dad in her brain could possibly not be her dad anymore.

Panting she knocks on her uncles door in tears, test in hand ready to break all over again.

“Luns, what - what’s wrong? Come here sunshine” Scott pulls her close concerned at what has his niece so worked up. “Hey sweetie, let’s go sit down Toby is here let’s just go calm down hmm and we can talk okay. He gives her the best reassuring sense he can while his mind runs at a million miles an hour trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

Then the penny drops.

Luna had placed something on the coffee table, he knows what it is without even having told to fully process what it was.

The blue capped, white stick stared back at him.. it makes him think of all those times he’d sit and wait with his anxious sisters for the most beautiful thing to become a reality.

Scott looked back at his niece, who was in a ball next to Toby - with great endearment. She was safe so how could’ve this happened but he’s not one to judge.

“Lou, you wanna talk about it?” He whispered coming in closer to comfort her using her favourite name he has for her.

All she can bring herself to say is “he’s going to hate me, he won’t love me anymore.” A small broken voice vocalised. He didn’t even have to ask who “he” was Scott’s stomach dropped twisting in despair for Luna. His Lou.

Hugging her tighter into his chest, he’ll say the same promise he’s always said.

“Listen to me Lou he won’t hate you - she squirmed in disagreement; I promise he’ll understand. He will, your dad is the most understanding person ever besides me of course.” Letting out a breathy laugh as he says it making Luna start to giggle too.

“Lou you know why he’ll understand?” He asked

“Why scotty, why will he” she tiredly questions

“Because he was the one who supported aunt Shanna when it happened to her.” The look on Luna’s face was the look of someone who was confused but not because of her aunt but because she’d never expected that specifically. She started to cry again.

“Hey I’m serious though Lou - he moves to wipe her tears away with the pads of his thumbs - he would, because grandma was confused and just couldn’t understand why it happened to her so early. But he was there though it all to support her even when she didn’t believe she could herself. He did it for her, he’d do it for you no questions asked. He loves you Luna, we all do.” He finished talking and kissed her on the nose to calm her more like he would when she was a baby; it worked then and it still does.

“Really?” Luna blurted out

“Really Lou, I promise. Pinky promise” Scott finished holding his pinky out.

An hour later, Chris had come over to Scott’s to get Luna. He knew she was there and he knew Luna wanted to tell him something.

That something he had no clue about.

“Bubba, what did you want to talk about?“ he questioned with a slight tilt of his head like the golden retriever he is.

“So you know Brandon, and how we are active and very protective” she whispered scared of what was going to happen. Scott squeezed her hand to let her know it was okay to continue. “Well I thought I missed my period because of how weird they are and sometimes they don’t appear, but I didn’t think much of it until my stomach felt weird, like I would be really tired and nauseous all the time. I thought it was my other meds but I took a test just because we are active and well….” She took a deep breath she was about to change the whole dynamic.

“Positive lines appeared. Bright positive lines” she starts to cry again. Chris stared in confusion but in pure joy and concern. Hell he was nervous but Luna was ten times worse right now. She just needed her dad.

“Sweet girl, it’s okay - she stared in disbelief Scott was right. - I promise we’ll get though this together whatever happens. - he says that knowing her endometriosis could hinder this situation - I take it Scott told you the story about aunt Shanna? He asked his beautiful girl.

“Mhmhm” that’s all Luna had the energy to reply with whilst she was essentially cocooned into Chris’ chest.

So you know, I love you always. We’re gonna get though this together as a family alright, do you wanna go get some curly fries and have a movie night in my bed?” Chris knew she’d say yes, it was her comfort and right now she needed all the comfort she could get.

“Yeah, thanks dad I love you” Luna replied smiling slightly at him

“I love you sunshine”.

I’m not saying I’ll ever do something like this again but it’s not completely off the table, I hope you guys enjoy this. Not only because it’s my first post of my sleepover but it’s my first proper post in months. Thank you to all who have stayed around whilst I’ve essentially ghosted my blog not because I wanted to but because I’m an adult with a life and a very adult job. I know i don’t have to explain myself but if you guys have any questions please don’t hesitate to ask! Also please send in an ask if you want to be added to the tag list not only for this but any of my other posts!

I can’t thank you all enough, enjoy 🩵

@f10werfae @haleybr @chrisevansonly @dumb-fawkin-bitch @alyswritings @sheetsonfire @thatsamericasass24 @sarahrogersevans @velvetcloxds @writersblog20 @kaeissupergae @lilacevans @buckybarnesandmarvel @anotherfuckingmarvelfanaccount @mcuamerica @haleyhunwritess @youre-amazing-say-it @worksby-d @haleyhunlibrary @nana1000night @angelbabydoll28 @angelbaby-fics @imyourbratzdoll @jessybarnes @buckymcbuckbarnesmainblogs @buckymcbuckbarnes @reginaphalange2403 @positivelyholland @ace-of-gay @i-spaced-sorry @astrorogers @comfortcap @bucky-fricking-barnes @hulkstacos @tgarrett26 @avenging-fandoms @just-dreaming-marvel

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thefreakydeaky · 10 months

Text

You're No Good (Part 6)

Negan Smith x Reader

Various TWD Characters x Reader

Modern au

Summary: Your husband came up with a way to keep you away from trouble but trouble just won't stay away from you.

Warnings: diet dr. angst, fluff, smut-lite

You tried not to fixate on getting Negan to talk about the Shane thing. If he wasn't ready then it wasn't fair of you to push him. The horrible moment played in your mind again and again however and you had to live everyday knowing you were the reason Negan was so hurt. Your husband had been trying to act as though everything was back to normal, but his smile was half hearted and he was less talkitive than usual.

One morning, as you were stewing over the situation you received a text from Rick Grimes. It was an invitation for coffee. You perked up in an instant. It was just the distraction you needed. You showered and changed into a black pair of shorts and a pink striped shirt. You added champagne colored earrings and a pair of tan sandles and you were ready.

The apartment complex you arrived at was new and upperscale than any you had been to before. The roofs of the buildings had terracota shingles on them and the outer walls seemed freshly painted. The pool was large and looked clean. You parked in an unmarked spot and made your way to the building Rick's text message had directed you to.

You stood waiting outside his door for a few minutes before he opened.

"Hi, How are you?" He said in greeting before he pulled you in for a hug.

"Hey," You replied nervously. "Thank you for inviting me over."

Rick stepped back and let you in.

"Did you have any trouble finding the place?" He gestured toward the round glass topped kitchen table.

You took a seat.

"Not at all. You gave great directions."

He had a coffee station off to the side of the kitchen. Picking up two k cups, he brought them over to you.

"I've got salted caramel mocha and regular."

You picked the caramel option.

"So, how're things?"

You tried to contain the sigh that wanted to be released.

"Things are...going fine. Really." You lied.

"Mhmm..." He grabbed a mug and placed it under the spout. "I think, you're forgettin' that even if we were only together for a short time, I got to know you pretty well."

"You don't want to hear about it. Trust me." You said morosley.

He shook his head.

"If you don't wanna talk about it, I'll understand, but something's tellin' me you do."

You let out a sigh.

"Okay, but please try to keep an open mind." You prefaced. Then you started at the beginning telling him how sleeping with him had effected your relationship with Negan. You told him about Negan being unable to shake the idea that you would be unfaithful again and how it was Negan's idea and solution that you have an open relationship.

Rick listened as he served the coffee and sat across from you. You couldn't tell if he was judging you or not from his facial expression.

You told him about Shane. How you had ended up meeting him at the hotel and how he'd been angry when he found out you were married. You described the scene Shane had created at The Tap and How Negan had been off ever since.

"That's, damn. I never would have thought Negan would go for something like that."

"I didn't either." You sighed.

"I'm surprised he didn't react to the things that guy said to him."

"I was too, honestly." You took a sip of the coffee he had made you. "But it might be because he's been with other people too and it's not exactly the same thing, but twice now I've been contacted by women he's slept with. They think he's seeing them behind my back."

Rick took your hand in his.

"That can't be easy to deal with."

"It's not, but it's what I agreed to." You looked down at your manicured nails on the glass table top.

"I'm so sorry that you have to go through that."

"Thank you for saying so." You squeezed his hand.

You spoke of many things. He told you about Carl and what he was up to. He told you about the divorce and how horrible it had been. He told you about his job now, he was on the city counsel. You shared with him how you had come to hate working in the history museum, the politics involved in the job and how when Negan had gotten a promotion at work he then made more than enough to make up for your paycheck and so you had resigned.

Before you knew it you had been there two hours. It seemed inpolite to stay any longer. You made your excuses and got ready to go.

Rick went to the door, unlocked and opened it for you.

"It was great seeing you again." He moved forward as if to hug you, but you found yourselves lip to lip instead.

You both chuckled at the accident. When he leaned in next, his hand cupped your jaw and he kissed you with intent. His mouth moved in sync with yours. His tongue slipped passed your lips and into your mouth. The two met and caressed. Then you gently broke apart.

"I'd like to get together again. If you want to?" He posed.

"Yes, I would like to." You agreed.

You thought about the kiss you shared with Rick for the next two weeks. You weren't usually like this, but when it came to Rick Grimes you were infatuated. The kind of infatuation you hadn't experienced since high school. You texted him asking when you could see him again and made a date for the following week.

This time, meer seconds after he opened the door, he guided your body to him, his arm around your middle. You went into his arms, waiting breathlessly for his kiss.

It was like a dream, you mused on your way home. He was intuitive, he knew what you wanted before you could ask for it. His touch was gentle. He had fucked you slowly, sensuously. With one leg hiked high, your ankle by his ear he had thrust passed your wet lips and into your vagina.

His thick cock had you stretching around him. His hand was at your breast, fingers strumming your nipple. Your hands were all over his chest, feeling him, clawing at him when he hit a particular sweet spot inside of you. The sounds his love making had pulled from your throat were a testimony to the pleasure you experienced.

When you lay in each others arms, he told you how much he loved hearing you moan. You gently kissed the pink lines you had left on his shoulders and pecs. There was an exciting chemistry between you different than you felt with any of the other lovers you had taken.You enjoyed being in the warm afterglow so much you almost lingered too long.

#negan x reader #negan smith x reader #rick grimes x reader #twd x reader #you're no good

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