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bluemerakis · 11 days ago

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This is so cute 😭❤️

as a butcher x reader request.. maybe the reader gets a hand on one of those god-awful hawaiian shirts butcher has? Between the blood sweat & tears that man goes through, (those shirts) must be soft as hell LMAO

dearest anon, i absolutely loved this request! i haven't watched the boys in a hot minute, but nonetheless i had so much fun writing this <3 not proof-read yet tho!

PAIRING. billy butcher x genderneutral!reader

WARNINGS. fluff, light sexual tension, mentions of blood

MASTERLIST

You know you're getting yourself in trouble.

To be honest, you've been around the boys for long enough to know they aren't much for sharing — definitely not when it comes to personal items, the only reminder of the normalcy their lives once had before shit hit the fan and everything went down the drain.

While Hughie is much more forgiving if you sneakily borrow his soap once or twice a month, Frenchie insists that you don't touch any of his things without asking first and then, after a lot of persuasion and perhaps a drink or two, he'll lend you whatever you need of him at the moment.

Marvin is a whole other story though — like stepping through a field of mines, you avoid his belongs as if they're the sole source of every deadly disease the world has ever seen, don't even think about laying a hand on any of his items scattered around the hide-out unless it's absolutely necessary. And even then, you're bound to calculate whether the risk of triggering a full-blown panic attack or getting yelled at for three hours or more is worth the risk.

So, naturally, you respect this unspoken rule and try to inhabit as little space as possible in this even smaller shithole you've grown accustomed to call your home. Though today, you simply lack the strength to keep your hands to yourself considering the circumstances under which you stumble through the door.

And look, you don't want to cross any lines, really, but one glance at your bag in the corner that functions as a make-shift closet tells you everything need to know — the clothes you're wearing are the only clean ones you had left before you went on that mission and now, they almost look worse than your other belongings.

Blood stains the fabric of your shirt and your pants display a few burn marks thanks to none other than Frenchie who decided to blow up a bomb too close to your body one too many times in the last few hours. So, you are left with two options: accept your cruel fate and live in those singed clothes until you're able to do laundry or break a bunch of fuckin' rules and get your hands on a clean shirt and a nice pair of pants.

For a moment, you ponder over every possibility, weighing out the outcome that might hit you once anyone finds out you've stolen their clothes before you settle on a decision.

Fuck it, you're too tired to give a shit about a stolen shirt.

The mission has been draining, so utterly exhausting that you can feel the weight of it in the depths of your bones as you strip off your blood-stained shirt and turn towards the pile of laundry draped over the couch in favor of finding anything you can deem clean enough to wear for the rest of the day.

The ache in your limbs only worsens when you begin to rummage through the clothes, desperate to find something that feels soft and forgiving on your bruised skin, carelessly flinging shredded pieces of fabric and torn shirts over your shoulder until your fingers brush against what could only be described as a fashion monstrosity.

Hesitantly, you pull it out of the pile and hold it up.

Yep, definitely one of Butcher's infamous Hawaiian shirts — a cacophony of neon flowers against a bright blue background that burns itself into your retinas.

Is it hideous? Yes, but perhaps that is part of the charm.

Curiously, you run your fingers over the washed-out colors - the scent of gunpowder and cigarette smoke still lingers on the fabric, faint and familiar, but so undeniably comforting. It's well-worn and the cotton feels incredibly soft, almost buttery against your skin that you can't help but press the shirt to your cheek and inhale softly.

Between whatever battles Butcher has dragged this shirt through and his constant laundering (or the lack of it), it seems to have settled into that certain kind of lived-in softness only years of wear could achieve.

Without a second thought, you tug it over your shoulders and fasten a couple of the buttons, the oversized fit nearly swallowing you whole. The shirt falls past your hips and nearly reaches your knees, but you decide it's enough to lounge around in the hide-out while your own clothes get washed.

"Blimey, didn't peg you as a walking fashion disaster," Butcher chuckles behind you, low and dark, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. "Thought you had better taste."

"Oh, please," you shoot back, rolling your eyes at him, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You're not sure where this confidence comes from, can't even explain why there isn't the usual heat of embarrassment flushing your cheeks despite the pounding of your heart. "We both know I look way better in this thing than you do."

A low chuckle rumbles through his chest as his gaze roams over the sight of you nearly drowning in his shirt. "Guess it’s about time someone put it to good use, eh?"

“Maybe. But I’m keeping it now; it’s way too comfortable.”

"You do what you gotta do, love," he replies with a smirk, dangerously sharp and amused at the same time, though his gaze seems to soften just a fraction. His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, pinching the soft fabric between his fingers before he throws around your body and pulls you into his side. "But don't get too attached — 's my lucky shirt, that one."

"This thing? Lucky?" You ask hesitantly, a flush tinging your cheeks when you realize how close he actually is. Your reply causes him to smile, a twitch of his lips that you would have surely missed if you didn't turn your head to look up at him in time. It's a strange sight, you have to admit that, watching Butcher's features relax into something akin to peace, though it passes in an blink of an eye.

"Well, it's never done me wrong yet, princess." Slowly, he leans down, his voice dropping just enough to cause your knees to buckle. "And if it’s on you, reckon it’s bound to keep workin’ its magic, eh?"

#bluemerakis recs ᝰ.ᐟ #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x reader #butcher x reader

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bluemerakis · 1 month ago

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Good GAWD brb getting his name tattooed on mah cooch #just got owned

It Will Come Back

Billy Butcher x Reader

“Don’t you hear me howling babe?”

Content: unprotected sex, lil bit of fingering and hair pulling, Feral Butcher nailing reader against the wall- enough said.

All that he could think of was you.

The way that you had consumed his being, his desire for you never faulted and god, was he in deep.

Pacing back and forth, his eyes on the counter focused on the black screen of his phone. He needed you, craved the presence and taste of you.

Stopping in his obsessive motions, “fuck it…” he mumbles to himself and takes his phone in his hand.

Billy typed at his keyboard, your name blaring at him on the top of the screen.

Billy: you home right now?

You: yeah I am, you okay?

Billy: need you, now.

He felt the familiar strain in his jeans, the mere thought of you making him harder than you would ever imagine as he anticipated your reply.

The flick in his wrist turned faster than the speed of sound as he felt his phone vibrate, indicating your response.

The words ‘Come over x’ paired with a lewd photo of you in your bathroom mirror- cladded in only a matching bra and underwear set made him groan softly at the sight of you, The image burned into his pupils. He didn’t think twice to grab his keys and race out the door to crawl back to you.

His knuckles turned white from the grip on the steering wheel, weaving in and out of traffic and filtering out the angered beeps of horns from other members of the public.

Butcher did not give a fuck.

Billy could see your apartment come into view, his Cadillac pulling up to the curb with an abrupt holt- parking and striding to your door.

His knuckles rapped on the wood, his impatience filling him to the brim as he waited for you to answer. As soon as he heard the soft click of the handle his eyes averted to your figure before him- still cladded with the matching lingerie set but with the added silky dressing gown, making the tent in his jeans all the more tighter.

Pushing past you he slammed the door shut behind him, turning to face you. His eyes turned black with desire, raking over the way you stood there mirroring his lustful gaze.

Billy couldn’t wait any longer- without saying a word he paced toward you and took you by the waist, backing you up against the nearest wall.

His lips attached to yours, pushing his tongue past your lips almost too desperately. The shared groan of relief you both gave to each other- finally being able to satisfy the craving of each other’s taste.

“Too many fuckin’ clothes…” he grumbled as he pulled away from your mouth, tugging on the knot that held your robe together and pulling it off your shoulders and looking down at you once more.

A low growl left his lips, a predatory glint in his eyes as he ripped off your underwear in one swift motion.

“Billy!” You gasped watching his toss the now broken material to the floor.

“You’ll be right, you got plenty of ‘em…” he whispered trailing his fingers around your hips before dipping his fingers between your thighs, feeling your warm, slick cunt on his digits.

“F-fuck…” you breathed out, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you savoured his touch.

He groaned as he coated his fingers with your essence, dipping them inside you slowly and pumping them in and out, hearing your soft breathy moans in his ear.

“God love I need you, I need to fuck you- now.” He practically howled as he withdrew his digits from you, sucking the wetness off his middle and index fingers.

“Turn around and bend over f’me…” he commanded, watching you comply.

Billy reached for his belt buckle, undoing the flimsy bit of leather until it loosened enough for him to unbutton his faded jeans, pushing them and his briefs down enough so his hard cock could spring free, twitching as it stood at attention.

You turned your head around to look at him, watching him as he pulled your hips close to his- his hard length in his hand as he stroked it softly, guiding himself to line up with your pussy.

The head of his cock ran up and down against your delicate folds, bumping your clit and feeling your body jolt as if you had been shocked by electricity. In a swift and steady motion, he sunk himself into you- a desperate growl erupted from his chest.

“Oh billy…” you panted, feeling him pump in and out of you and slowly picking up the pace. The grip he had on your hips was firm, enough to leave bruises.

His hips collided into yours with fervour, the slapping sounds of skin and groans filling the hallway of your home.

Billy brought his hand and laced his fingers through your hair, tugging your head back.

“I’m fuckin’ addicted to ya, this pussy belongs to me…” he growled in your ear biting down on your earlobe, earning a strangled gasp from your lips.

He could feel his orgasm bubbling inside him; short pants and deep, sloppy thrusts as he rubbed on your clit- feeling your walls pulsate around him as you too reached your peach.

You called out his name, feeling your thighs shaking from the shocks of your orgasm and feeling Billy’s cock pulsate and coat your walls with his cum, groaning in your ear as he came down from his high.

Slowly pulling out of you, he turned you back around - bringing you in for another deep kiss. He wanted more, craved for more of you.

“I ain’t done with you yet…” he breathed out as he pulled away from your lips.

“We’re gonna ‘ave a long night sweetheart…”

#bluemerakis recs ᝰ.ᐟ #billy butcher #the boys #billy butcher brainrot go brr

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bluemerakis · 3 months ago

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Good good I need to inhale every line etched into his being

hello billy butcher enthusiasts AGAIN ‼️

#bluemerakis recs ᝰ.ᐟ #billy butcher #artwork #the boys #screaming #william butcher

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bluemerakis · 3 months ago

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I WANT TO INHALE THIS WRITING HOLY SHIT

NO FEELINGS - ch. 1

a billy butcher x reader story

years after a wild love in 90s London, Butcher runs into his past flame at that same grimy Nevada steakhouse he’d told Hughie about. Where he’d wanted to go with Len since they were lads. Tension, unspoken history, and unresolved feelings simmer as both grapple with what they've become.

(A/N): this is just a short little vague introduction. feedback is appreciated as always—let me know what you think! and if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just drop a comment. thank you for the support, i cannot wait to get really started on this. prelude chapter set in 90s london soon…

Butcher slid into the worn leather booth of the topless steakhouse, the place he’d told Hughie about. The one he’d always wanted to visit with Lenny. He wasn't sure what drove him here now, maybe the weight of unfinished promises, or the itch of an unfinished life, maybe a celebration for finally having the key to end this all. Kessler—his ever-present darker conscience—sneered from across the table, leaning back like he owned the place.

“Celebratin', are we? Makin’ a toast to not being a dead man... yet?" Kessler’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Maybe crack a cold one open to that virus, eh? Damn good reason to have a drink.”

Butcher ignored him, waving down the waitress instead. The place smelled of grease, burnt meat, and the faint, familiar scent of desperation—Nevada in all its glory. The steakhouse was a dive. Dim lights, gaudy neon signs, waitresses in barely-there outfits serving patrons who barely looked alive. It felt appropriate, a place where he could fade into the noise and booze.

His mind kept drifting back to Lenny, to the promises they made as boys. But Lenny was long gone, and Butcher was still here. Breathing. Existing. Barely.

“What’s the point, mate?” Kessler drawled, a smug grin tugging at his lip. “You’ve come this far, might as well end it on a high note. Wipe ‘em all out—‘every last one’ like ya said, whoever’s left. Ain’t no room for savin’ the day, Billy. That ain’t you.”

Butcher lit a cigarette, ignoring the imaginary weight of Kessler's presence. He hadn’t come to make decisions tonight—he just needed a moment to exist outside the war he was fighting, the war inside himself.

That’s when the waitress appeared. He barely looked up from his drink as she spoke. A raspy, tired voice offered him a menu, but it wasn’t her voice that caught him—it was the ink on her arm.

There, on her inner upper arm, was a faded “Never Mind the Bollocks” tattoo. The same damn Sex Pistols tattoo he’d drunkenly convinced the girl who he’d thought would be the love of his life to get years ago in London.

The memories hit him like a punch in the gut.

🇬🇧 London, 1990s 🇬🇧

They’d met at some dive punk show, a dingy pub filled with misfits, and she had been the loudest voice in the room. She wasn’t British, that much was clear. Her accent, her defiance—everything about her screamed rebellion. She’d saved for years just to get to London, to live the life she’d always dreamed of. But the reality was different. Money was tighter, dreams crumbled under the weight of the city’s indifference, and the romantic notion of freedom faded with every job rejection and overpriced rent.

Butcher had been drawn to her fire—an American girl with grungy style and stubborn resolve. She reminded him of himself. Bold. Fearless. But unlike him, she still had a dream. That dream had kept her going.

They’d spent nights stumbling through the streets of Camden, getting drunk on cheap lager, ranting about the world’s injustices. And then one night, after too many drinks and too many laughs, he’d dragged her to a tattoo parlor.

“Go on then, love, don’t be a priss, get the ink. Bollocks to it,” he’d slurred. And she had. The tattoo was a reminder of their wild nights, of a time when the world felt theirs to conquer.

But then Lenny had died. His world crumbled. Butcher became a ghost of himself. He stopped answering her calls. Stopped showing up. Not because he didn’t love her—but because the weight of grief suffocated any connection he’d had to the world, to her. Seasons faded, savings ran out, friend groups grew apart and suddenly she was back in the states, no sign of his presence or existence in sight but the small reminder of what they had, or rather, what could’ve been, on her left arm.

He looked up at her now, and something in his chest tightened. She didn’t recognize him—not immediately. He looked different. Older. Weathered. And she? She’d aged too, but there was still a flicker of that fire behind her eyes, dulled perhaps, but not gone.

Butcher felt Kessler smirking at him from across the table, his voice low and mocking. “Well, well... Looks like fate’s a real bastard, huh? Fancy seeing her here. What’s next, a reunion? Gonna sweep her off her feet again? You ain’t that guy anymore, Billy. We both know it”

He wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

The waitress set his drink down, her expression neutral, maybe a little bored. But her eyes lingered on him for a second too long. Butcher’s gut twisted. Did she know? Or was it just a flicker of memory, a hint of recognition buried beneath the years?

He offered her a smirk. “Nice ink.”

she cocks her head back, taking a long deep breath, knowing he’s likely noticed by now as much as she didn’t want him to. she’d spent so long trying to erase him from my memory, she felt so foolish for letting myself fall so deeply in love with him all those years ago. she rests her hand on her hip and adjust the very thin white tank top they had her working in, thank god no one had tipped me enough to take it off yet, this place was fucking dehumanizing. even more embarrassing to see butcher here after all these years, she never thought she’d see him again, thought they’d be separated by continent for the rest of time. Her eyes flashed, but she didn’t bite. “Old mistake,” she said, her voice clipped, as if daring him to say more.

“Looks like she remembers,” Kessler snickered in his head.

Butcher leaned back, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. “Aren’t we all just walkin’ mistakes?” He said with a deep sigh.

She didn’t answer, just shot him a look��a look with all the bitter undertones he deserved. But she didn’t say a word, and as she walked away, he could feel the weight of the past settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Last thing she wants is to hear from you again man” Kessler’s voice taunted in his ear.

Maybe. But for the first time in years, Butcher wasn’t sure he wanted to.

She walked away, heart pounding. She knew. God, she knew the moment she saw him. Those goddamn eyes and stupid cocky wide smirk she’d fallen for all those years ago. The snarky demeanor that kept her going until one day he was gone. The way his eyes widened when he saw the tattoo was a dead giveaway, but it was the way he carried himself—the same stoicism, the same haunted look behind those eyes. Billy Butcher, of course. Great.

She’d spent years trying to forget. And now here he was, like some ghost from the past, sitting in the sleaziest steakhouse in Nevada, looking like death warmed over. Part of her wanted to slap him, to scream at him for leaving, for abandoning her without a word after Lenny’s death. But she knew she had gotten too attached. It’d been what, a year together? How dumb of her to think or believe that it would’ve ever been more than a fling. She had to come back to America eventually, they both knew the jig would be up soon, she just hadn’t expected it to end so abruptly.

So instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat, wiped the grimy table next to his, and said nothing.

This wasn’t London. She wasn’t the girl she used to be. She’d been young, stupid, and hopelessly in love. Now she was just... tired. Working for tips in a place that smelled like old beer and regret, serving men who didn’t care enough to look her in the eye. This was what her life had come to. And seeing Butcher again only twisted the knife deeper.

But no. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d hurt her. Not yet. Not ever.

Butcher watched her walk away, a strange heaviness settling over him. The memories of London were sharp, but the reality in front of him was sharper. She’d changed. So had he.

“So what now?” Kessler whispered. “Stick around? See if you can fuck things up again? You’re real good at that, ain’t ya?”

Maybe. But something in him, something deep and stubborn, made him want to stay. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was something worse. Whatever it was, Butcher wasn’t leaving Nevada. Not yet.

He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, his eyes following her as she disappeared into the back. Whatever had brought him here tonight—fate, coincidence, or just bad fucking luck—he wasn’t walking away from it.

Not this time.

current tags: @sickforbillybutcher

#bluemerakis recs ᝰ.ᐟ #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #what the fuck!!!

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bluemerakis · 3 months ago

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This is so cute omg 😭😭😭❤️

You get hurt in a fight and are unconscious for days. Billy doesn’t leave your side, holds your hand and talks to you. When you wake up, he’s right there and he actually cries and admits he’s in love with you.

😭😭😭😭

That dreaded fight replayed in Butchers mind like a movie as he sat by your unconscious side in the hospital bed.

The scene of Black Noir striking down on you in the split second you showed vulnerability, the awful sounds of your cries as your body hit the hard surface of the concrete ground, your sentience slipping into the darkness.

Butcher never left your side since that day, sitting in the uncomfortable chair next to your bed- hoping, even praying that you would make it out of this mess. For four days he didn’t leave that hospital, glaring at anyone who dared tell him to take a break.

“You’ve always been a tough one, love.” He whispered, his calloused hand intertwined with yours. “You’ve beaten the odds before, don’t make this the only exception.” His thumb ran over your delicate knuckles.

The room was quiet, except for the occasional electronic noise of the machines hooked up to you.

“Remember when we took down Translucent? Bloody hell you were on fire that day, so fuckin’ strong…” he continued to look at you, his heart aching at the sight of your battered, fragile body. “Strong enough to fight through this yeah? I know you can…”

He recalled stories with you, his voice shaky with emotion- hoping that you’d somehow hear him. He spoke of how your presence warmed up his cold being, someone he looked forward to seeing everyday.

“Y’know it’s bloody stupid…” he continued, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “God I’m so in love with ya, it hurts. I can’t do this life with ya in it…”

Butcher pressed his lips onto your knuckles gently, wishing he could turn back time so he could have been there to get you safe.

Another day broke as the sunrise beamed from between the white blinds in your dark room, creating a soft glow over the thin white sheets that covered you. Butchers had fallen asleep from exhaustion, but his hand still encapsulated yours.

A sudden stir within you began to awake you, the sound of your heart monitor starting to quicken.

Butcher awoke as soon as the sound hit his ears, looking over you as the flicker of hope within him grew stronger.

Your eyelids fluttered and you fingers moved, blinking as you woke up to your unfamiliar surroundings and trying your best to focus. When the blurry haze slipped from your eyesight, the first thing you saw was Billy’s face.

“Billy…” you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper. Butcher couldn’t help but let his tears fall from his eyes- a shaky sigh of relief fell from his chest.

“You scared the bloody hell outta me…”

“I’m sorry…” you whispered, squeezing the hand that he held in his. His tough facade had broken.

“I thought I was gonna lose ya, you mean too much to me I can’t-“ he choked on his words, pausing to take a breath as he looked at you- seeing that soft smile you managed to crack, making his heart swell.

As his tears fell on his rugged cheeks, he spoke up again.

“I love you, sweetheart. I’m so in love with you…”

His confession hung in the air between you, vulnerability in his gaze. You felt a rush of emotion, warmth flooding your chest as you processed his words.

You removed the hand that was help by his and brought it up, brushing away the tears tracing his cheeks.

“I-i love you too, Billy, so much…”

His heart soared, chuckling through his tears as he leaned forward slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I ain’t letting ya go, never again.

#bluemerakis recs ᝰ.ᐟ #billy butcher #the boys

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bluemerakis · 3 months ago

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BLUSHING & CACKLING 😭

Last Night's...Noises

Summary: Groupchat complains about Butcher and F! Reader being extremely loud the previous night.

Warnings: Language as much. Mentions of s!X. Cocky Butcher.

Please respect my work. Don’t copy, translate or claim them as yours. Not on this website or another. All Rights Are Reserved.

Big Masterlist | The Boys Masterlist

#bluemerakis recs ᝰ.ᐟ #billy butcher x reader #karl urban x reader

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bluemerakis · 7 days ago

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Hun… my heart 😭😭😭 this is an absolute masterpiece. I literally ADORE the way you write him!! Pls tag me in any and everything you write 🙏

Twist

A Billy Butcher pov fic.

Tissues at the ready...

NSFW below the cut - MDNI

Words: 1,771

Tags: @babyfri3dric3 @dumpy-little-nobody

_____

It's a bloody miracle - supermarket's dead, for once. No screamin' kids, no pensioners 'avin’ a barney over the last tin o'custard. Just me, me basket, and a list o'shite I can’t be arsed t'buy. Bread. Milk. Whiskey. The usual bollocks.

I’m by the biscuits, tossin’ up between 'obnobs and bourbons when I see ya. Strollin' down the aisle, clear as day, pushin’ a trolley like you just stepped out the life we 'ad together and into some domestic fuckin’ fantasy.

And you ain't alone. There’s a kid wiv yer. A boy, ‘bout three, maybe four. Dark 'air, big eyes, and I swear to Christ - he’s a bloody photocopy of me.

Me blood goes cold. Can’t move, can’t breathe - I just stand there like some prize twat, starin’.

You clock me. Yer face does this wide-eyed panic fing, like a fox cornered by a pack o'dogs. “Billy,” ya say, gobsmacked.

I nod atcha, casual-like, even though me 'eart’s bangin’ like a fuckin’ drum. I glance at the kid, then back at you. "Who's this little bloke, then?"

You 'esitate - a bit too long, if ya ask me - then put yer 'and on 'is shoulder, all protective. Like you’re expectin’ me t'kick off. "This is Oliver," you say. "Oliver - say hello to Mummy's... old friend."

Old friend, my arse.

I crouch down, meet the kid’s eyes. E’s lookin’ at me like he’s sizin' me up, and bugger me, it's like me own bloody face is starin’ back at me. "Alright, Oliver?" I say. "I’m Billy. Nice t'meet ya, mate."

The kid nods, all shy-like, and grabs 'old of yer leg. And before I can ask another bleedin’ question, yer mutterin’ some excuse about bein’ in an 'urry and haulin’ the kid off.

But it's too late to run now, love. I know he's mine.

I fuckin' know.

-----

I coulda left it there. Shoulda, really. But you know me - can’t leave well enough alone, can I?

So I drop me basket right there, leave some poor sod to restock the 'obnobs, and I follow ya. I keep me distance, mind. Stay outta sight. Ain’t tryin’ to scare ya - just... I dunno. Just wanna know where you're takin’ 'im.

Ya lead me to this little 'ouse on the edge o'town. Curtains drawn, toys littered in the garden. You get the kid inside, shut the door, and that’s that.

I stand there for a bit, feelin’ like a right cunt. Should I knock? Walk away? What the fuck ya s'posed t'say to a woman who walked out on ya years ago wivout bovverin' to tell ya she was up the duff? Or that she'd dropped yer sprog?

-----

Didn’t sleep a bloody wink that night, did I. Nah. Tossin’, turnin’, replayin’ the 'ole fing in me 'ead.

Oliver’s face, your panic. That gut-punch of realisin’ I got a kid. My kid. Couldn’t shake it.

By the time the sun came up though, I’d made me decision.

I’m back at yer door before I’ve even 'ad me morning cuppa, knockin’ loud enough to wake the dead.

You answer in yer dressing gown, 'air a mess, lookin’ like ya just rolled outta bed. “Billy,” ya say, pissed off. “How the fuck did you find me?”

I shove me hands in me pockets, tryna look casual. “We need to talk.”

You sigh, step aside, and let me in. The 'ouse is nice enough - small, but cosy. There’s toys everywhere: blocks, cars, some dinosaur wiv one leg missin'. But no sign of Oliver.

“Oliver’s mine, ain’t he?” I say - no point pissin' about, is there.

You stiffen. “Billy—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me. I seen 'im. E’s me all over. Ain’t no denying it.”

Yer shoulders sag, and ya look at the floor. “Yes,” you finally fuckin' admit. “He’s yours.”

The room tilts. I grab the back of the sofa to steady meself. “Bloody hell.”

I should be angry. Furious. But all I feel is this weird, 'eavy mix o'pride and terror. I’ve got a son. A son.

“Why didn’t ya fuckin' tell me?” I ask, me voice low.

“Because you’re you, Billy."

That stings, but I can’t argue. You ain't wrong. My life’s a fuckin' mess, and it’s no place for a kid. Told meself that a thousand times since I met 'im yesterday. But the need to see 'im again just won't fuck off.

“Look, I can't just walk away, alright - not wivout... I dunno. Seeing 'im. Properly, I mean.”

“Billy, I don’t—”

“I ain't asking for much,” I cut in “I just... I just wanna meet 'im properly. That’s all.”

Then a little voice pipes up.

“Mummy?”

We both turn. Oliver’s standin’ in the doorway in 'is pyjamas, rubbin’ 'is eyes.

You soften instantly. “It’s okay, baby. Go back to bed.”

But 'e don’t. 'E just stands there, lookin’ at me.

“'Ello again, Ollie,” I say, crouchin’ down to 'is level. “Sorry if we woke ya., mate”

He don’t say anyfin, just keeps starin’ at me wiv those big brown eyes.

You sigh, running yer 'and through yer hair. “Fine,” you whisper “You can see him. For a little while. But he doesn’t know who you are, Billy. He’s too young to understand.”

I nod. “Fair enough.”

-----

I never thought I’d be 'ere. Never thought I’d be playin’ bloody games wiv a kid. I mean, I’ve been in worse places, yeah, but this… this is summink else.

Oliver’s sittin’ on the floor, this scrappy little toy truck in his 'ands, lookin' up at me like I’m some sorta mystery he’s tryna solve. Me - Billy Butcher - the last fing a kid like 'im should be dealin' with.

“So, you like trucks, ay?” I ask, squattin' down beside 'im, tryna make me voice sound less like a bloody crook. Can’t be talkin’ all gruff and growlin' at the poor lad, can I?

Oliver looks up, eyes big as saucers, 'is little 'ands gripping the truck like it’s 'is best mate. “Yeah! It goes vroom vroom!” 'e says, 'is voice 'igh-pitched, full of excitement.

I blink at 'im, a bit taken aback. Kid's got more energy than a bloody power station.

I chuckle, leanin' back on me 'eels. "Yeah, I can see that. Goes fast, does it?" I’ve no idea why I’m askin'. I couldn’t care less about toy bloody trucks, but somethin’ about the way 'e says it, so eager, like it's the most important fing in the world—fuckin'ell, it almost makes me wanna play along.

“Yeah!” he nods so 'ard, I’m 'alf expectin’ 'is little 'ead to fall off. “And when it goes fast, it boom boom!” He slams the truck down on the ground, makin’ it bounce.

“Boom boom, ay?” I laugh, a proper one this time, catchin’ myself off guard. Ain't 'eard a sound like that in years. Can’t even remember the last time I genuinely laughed.

The kid grins, lookin’ up at me wiv that hopeful look, like 'e’s waitin’ for me to join in on the fun. I’ve never been good at playin’ games wiv kids, 'specially not after what 'appened with me own bloody family. But 'ere I am, messin' about with some toy truck, tryna figure out 'ow t'not screw this up.

"Alright then," I say, takin’ the truck from 'is 'ands. "Show me how it's done, mate."

Oliver giggles, 'is little face scrunched up in concentration as he starts tappin’ 'is 'ands on the floor, making engine noises. Vroom, vroom, boom boom!

I can't 'elp but smile. It’s awkward as fuck, but I’m damn well tryin'. Maybe I’m not so bad at this after all. Don’t matter that I don’t know the first fing about toys, or that I ain't got a clue what the 'ell I’m doin’. What matters is the look on the kid’s face, the way 'is eyes light up every time I play along.

"Oi, kid, I fink your truck’s got more power than mine," I tease, pushin’ the toy truck across the floor with a bit too much enthusiasm, makin' it slide all the way to the other side of the room.

Oliver looks at me with wide eyes, 'is mouth open in awe. “Really?”

I give'im a little smirk. "Yeah. Faster than a bloody Formula One car, that is. Your truck's a bit of a monster."

E’s noddin’, 'is mop of black hair bouncin’ wiv every movement. “It is! It's the fastest in the world!” 'is words tumble out like he’s tryna convince me. 'E really believes it. And that’s somethin’, innit? Kid’s got imagination, that’s for sure.

“Right, right,” I mutter, noddin’ along, but then I get a bloody idea. "Tell you what, Oliver. How ‘bout you race your truck against my truck? Let’s see oo’s faster."

I rummage through me pockets, pullin’ out me old lighter. It ain’t much, but it’s a novelty car one, wiv wheels, so I push it across the floor wiv a cheeky grin. "It’s not as flashy as yours, but I reckon it’s got a bit o'speed in it."

Oliver’s eyes go wide, and before I know it, 'e’s on his knees, eagerly makin’ little engine noises again. "Ready, set, go!"

We both push our 'trucks' across the floor, and I can’t 'elp but laugh as e’s all serious about it. Kid’s givin' it his all, makin’ these wild noises, and I’m just pushin’ a bloody lighter, tryin’ to make 'im think I’m into it as much as 'e is.

But then, just as we’re about to finish the race, 'e lets out a loud yell and scoops up both trucks, clutchin' 'em to 'is chest like 'e’s won the Grand Prix. “I win! I win!”

I raise me hands in defeat, laughin' despite meself. "Yeah, yeah, you’re the fastest, kid. I give up. You’ve beat me."

E beams up at me, so proud of 'imself that 'e can’t even sit still. “I’m the best racer ever!”

I can’t stop smilin’ at 'im, watchin' 'im prance about like a little king. For a second, just a second, I forget I'm me. Forget what a fuckin' mess me life is. I’m just… 'ere. Wiv 'im. Wiv Oliver. My boy.

“Yeah, mate, you are,” I say, me voice quieter than usual, a little softer. "You’re a bloody star, you are."

And that’s the fing, innit? There’s summink about this little lad that gets t'me, summink I can’t shake. I know I said I just wanted to meet 'im, but I’ll be damned if I can just let 'im go now.

That kid deserves a far better man than me for a dad.

But for 'im, I’ll bloody try to be that better man.

#bluemerakis recs ᝰ.ᐟ #billy butcher #billy butcher fanfic #billy butcher x you #billy butcher the boys #the boys billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher pov

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bluemerakis · 4 days ago

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This is so cute!! I need this Billy asap 🥹 wonderful work bby!

Okay, here it is, a one shot fic, I said I would write for Karl as Santa from Violent Night, but I went with Billy Butcher, (For a change, it is a Alternate Universe from The Boys) I hope you all like it. I absolutely enjoyed writing it. And a massive thank you to @enchantedflameandflower for editing this for me. You are a literally angel 😇 (Yes, I did create the picture myself)

A Christmas Fairytale in New York (Billy Butcher x reader, and Terror makes a appearance)

“It was Christmas Eve babe, In the drunk tank…”

‘Fairytale of New York’ is playing in the background on the old jukebox stuffed in the corner of your old haunt ‘The Proud Raven.’

Proud, it wasn’t anymore. The floorboards creak with each step and sometimes crumble a little underfoot as they are riddled with woodworm. The door got stuck on occasion to the point where patrons would have to kick it open. The windows are cracked to the point where one strong gust of wind could potentially put them through. The light flickers with the old wiring, occasionally causing sparks to come out where the lightbulbs are screwed. And all of this because the owner couldn’t be bothered to do a big makeover.

Christmas lights with several bulbs blown out are haphazardly thrown up around the pub, and a very sad looking Christmas tree that hardly any branches on it, not much tinsel, and like 4 or 5 baubles, stands in the corner by the fireplace. There isn’t even a star or angel on top,

You sit at the bar on an old uncomfortable stool, nursing a glass of whiskey that had gone warm with the ice long melted away. There isn’t even condensation clinging to the glass anymore. You sigh, knocking back the rest of it, and signalling to the bartender for another, who takes your glass and starts refilling.

You look around the pub - all the regulars are there. Old Chet sits in the corner of the bar with his buddy, Otis. They are roughly in their early 70s, already drunk off their faces. They’ve probably been in here since it opened, but they never bothered you, only asking if you’re okay. Mildred and Betty, who are in their late 60s, are in the corner by the fireplace and the tree, probably chatting on how to get Old Chet and Otis’s attention. Arthur and Olive who are in their late 50s are in the other corner, arguing about if their children are coming over this year.

And then there is a newcomer, a middle-aged man, probably in his 40s, if the greying in his black hair, which comes down to just past his neck and his beard, gives anything away. He’s sitting right at the other end of the bar, in a Santa suit, looking bored and frustrated out of his mind.

He caught your attention immediately when he walked into the pub, and you found yourself looking at him multiple times during the evening. The bartender puts your drink down in front of you, and you nod in thanks, already lifting it to your lips and taking a long sip of it, relishing in the coldness of it. You know this will be your last drink of the night, so you’re going to savour it as long as possible.

The next few minutes pass by slowly with ‘Fairytale of New York’ fading out and Santa Baby replacing it, which you tune out. The next thing you know you feel someone sit down beside you, and looking up and you see the new guy sitting beside you with his pint of beer.

“‘Ello, name’s Billy,” he says with a sort of raspiness to his voice, probably from years of drinking and smoking, which you find really attractive.

“Hello,” you say, also giving your name.

“Saw you checkin’ me out quite a few times since I walked in here,” he says, looking down at you.

You gulp, blushing wildly. “I couldn’t help it…you look really handsome,” you say, taking another quick drink.

He lets out a low chuckle. “Even in this Santa suit?” he asks.

“Yeah, even in the suit,” you say, blushing. “But, I’d like to get to know the man beneath.”

“Oh, would you now, love? ” he asks, leaning closer to you.

“Yeah, I would,” you answer, looking into his hazel eyes, which seem to have the Christmas lights sparkling in them.

“Would you like to sit at a table?” he asks.

“Of course.” You get up from the bar and move towards a table in the corner, and you both take a seat beside one another.

“Ya know I’m old enough to be your daddy, love,” he says, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m 37, Billy, what about you?” you ask.

“Oh, alright, that’s not too bad then, I’m 47,” he replies.

“No way, I would have put you at least in your early 40s,” you say in shock.

“That’s nice of you, love. Now, what’s a woman like you doing in a place like this?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink,

“This is my old haunt. Used to come here when I was old enough to drink, but the new owner doesn’t care about this place anymore, not like the old owner. They passed away a few years ago now. It used be the best pub in town, hence the name, ‘The Proud Raven.’ Not anymore, more like ‘The Sad Raven,’” you explain.

“Alright, but I feel like there’s another reason you’re here.”

“You’re right. There is another reason why I’m here. But…I don’t think I want to disclose that information just yet.” You take another big gulp of your drink,

“Don’t blame ya, love, but we have all the time in the world,” he says.

“Yeah, we do, what about you? What’s a man like you doing in a place like this? Thought you would be home with your wife and children, not talking to a stranger like me,” you ask, already wincing at your words, when you see the look on his face at the mention of a wife.

“Don’t have a wife no more, she divorced me a couple of months ago, ran off with a slightly younger man. We didn’t have any kids together,” he says, knocking back the rest of his beer.

“I’m so sorry, Billy. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You gently lay your hand on his forearm, and he covers your hand with his.

“It’s alright love, not your fault.” He squeezes your hand, looking into your eyes deeply,

“It’s her loss, I couldn’t imagine letting you go at all,” you whisper, squeezing his forearm.

He lets out a small smile. “Thanks, love.”

“I found out that my ex was cheating on me for our entire relationship with his colleague from work. Only found out about it a month ago, and that’s why I’m here,” you say, looking down at your hands.

“It’s his loss, I couldn’t imagine letting you go at all,” he repeats your words from earlier.

You look up at him and see the sincereness in his eyes and smile, “Can I ask why the Santa suit?”

“Yeah, you can. It’s a little side gig that goes along with my actual job. Someone is picked to dress up as Santa every year and for some odd reason I always get picked,” he says with a sad expression,

“What’s wrong, Billy?” You move slightly closer to him until you’re on the edge of your seat.

“Nothin’ really, it’s just that every year I notice that there are fewer kids and it makes me feel slightly sad, that they don’t seem to believe in Santa. I think that the parents are gettin’ lazier and not wantin’ to do the Christmas magic, you know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean.” You can’t help but feel your heart break into a million pieces for him. Then you get an idea, which maybe really forward of you, to help him cheer up.

You stand up, removing your hand from his, and gently taking a seat in Billy’s lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and he gives you a puzzled look, wrapping his arms around your waist so you don’t fall off.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Can I tell you what I want for Christmas, Santa?” you ask and you see his eyes light up in amusement.

“Of course you can, but aren’t you a little old to be believin’ in Santa?” he asks, his voice dropping a couple of octaves.

“No, not really. I still believe in you. I thank my parents and grandparents for that. Yes, I did get picked on in school because of it, but I don’t care,” you smile brightly.

He gives you a bright smile back. “That’s good of your parents and grandparents. But I’m sorry for those who picked on you in school. If you give me their names, I’ll make sure to drop off a load of coal to them.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “Oh, Santa, it’s okay, I’ve forgiven them, but not forgotten them.”

“That’s good of you. Now, tell Santa what you would like for Christmas?” He leans his head down slightly close to yours.

You think for a little bit then say, “What I want for Christmas is to find someone that I can truly fall in love with, and vice versa. And for my new friend Billy to be happy and find love as well.”

“Well, I can’t help with anyone fallin’ in love or bringin’ them happiness, but I don’t think your new friend and yourself will have far to look for that,” he says, looking into your eyes.

“Thank you for listening to me, Santa.” You lean forward and kiss his cheek.

“You’re welcome, love,” he says, still holding you and his voice returning to normal. “Do you wanna get out of here? Maybe go for a walk around the park?”

“I would love that, Billy.” you say, getting up off his lap, and rummaging through your purse for some money.

“Don’t worry, love, I got it,” Billy throws a couple of 20s on the bar top to pay for both of your drinks.

“Thank you, Billy,” you say, making your way out of the pub with him.

You walk with him into the local park and take a gentle stroll around it. He pulls you into his side tightly when a group of rowdy young men in their 20s walk past the both of you.

“Billy, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, love,” he answers.

“You said that the dressing up as Santa was a side gig to go along with your actual job, I’m curious what your actual job is?” you ask, looking up at him,

“I work for the government,” he says, looking down at you. He escorts you to a bench and you both sit down.

“Wow, that’s cool,” you answer, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“What do you do, love?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“I’m an English professor in the local college.”

“That’s amazing, but I can imagine it being hard some days.” He pulls you closer when he feels you shivering slightly.

“Some days are hard, but it’s worth it,” you say, snuggling into him.

You and Billy sit there for another hour happily, chatting about little things, like what hobbies you have, favourite food to eat and what you like to do on the weekend. You look at the time and see it’s half past 9.

“I better make my way home,” you say, standing and stretching a little.

Billy follows suit, standing up as well. “Let me walk you home, love.”

“Oh, Billy, you don’t have too,” you answer, looking up at him.

“I know, but it wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t. I want to know if you get home safe.”.

“Okay, Billy,” you smile walking towards where you live.

After a good 20 minute walk, you both arrive at your house and stand outside the front door.

“Thank you for walking me home, Billy, and I really enjoyed tonight. I would love if I could see you again?” you ask, feeling hopeful.

“You’re welcome, love, and I also enjoyed tonight. Same here, I want to see you again.”

“Can I have your phone, please?”

He nods, and takes his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it for you before passing it to you. You gently take it and quickly enter your phone number before ringing your phone from his, so you have his number. You pass back his phone, which he quickly pockets.

“Now, I have your number and you have mine,” you say, looking up at him.

“Thanks, love,” he smiles, before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him, “Can I kiss you, love?”

“You don’t even have to ask, Billy,” you answer, wrapping your arms around his neck and closing your eyes, gently leaning up and kissing him. He quickly returns the kiss, gently opening your lips with his, and letting your tongues meet together. You hold onto him tighter, relishing in the feel of his beard against your cheeks and chin and moving your hands into his hair. You both feel the fireworks throughout the kiss. After a couple minutes of kissing, Billy gently pulls back from you, giving you little kisses on your lips.

“I have to go now, love, got to get up early for work in the mornin’,” he whispers against your lips.

You let out a small whimper, hugging him close. “Okay, Billy.”

“Hey, love, look at me,” he says gently.

You look up at him, “Yeah?”

“We will see each other soon, and we have each other’s number, so we can talk most of the night, when we aren’t workin’, yeah?”

“Yeah, you are right,” you answer.

“That’s my girl. Now, go on inside, so you don’t catch a cold,” he says.

You blush when he calls you his girl. “Okay, Billy.” You give him another tight hug which he returns and kisses the top of your head.

“Goodbye, Billy, see you soon,” you say, reluctantly letting him go and stepping towards your door.

“Goodbye, love, and yes, I will see you soon,” he says, watching you go inside and making sure you are safe, before turning around and heading his way home.

You rest against the door once you enter your home and the door has been locked, letting out a small squeal of excitement at the prospect of starting a relationship with Billy.

-6 months later-

You are walking Terror in the park, Billy’s English Bulldog, that he asked you to look after a month ago, while Billy had to go away for a small mission for the CIA. You didn’t mind looking after Terror, he was such a good boy and just like his owner, he has become extremely protective of you.

You smile down at Terror, walking him a little further before sitting down in the grass with him and grab a bowl and a bottle of water out of the bag. You fill up the bowl for him to drink. You happily stroke Terror as you reminisce over the last 6 months since you met Billy.

You can’t help, but think back to the first week after you met him. He took you on the most romantic dates all week, to the nicest restaurants, to the cinema or simple picnics in the park.

Then you begin to reminisce about the last couple of months, smiling at the memories of how you and Billy took every chance to see one another, even if it was for five minutes.

You pack away the dog bowl and bottle of water, before zipping the bag back up. You sigh sadly, missing Billy so much, and wondering if he is safe. Sensing this, Terror nudges your hand with his nose. You smile, stroking his back and he sits in your lap, snuggling into you. “I know, Terror, I miss him too,” you say, cuddling him and burying your face into his fur.

What you don’t see is Billy making his way towards you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers. He knew that you were in the park because you sent him a quick message saying you were taking Terror for a walk in the park.

Billy smiles, seeing his one favourite person and his one favourite dog, cuddling on the grass. Billy lets out a low whistle that only Terror knows. Terror looks around before finally spotting Billy and runs his way over to him happily. Billy kneels down, stroking the hell out of him.

You look up really confused when you feel Terror move out of your lap. You go to call him back and that’s when you spot Billy, kneeling down stroking his dog. You scramble to your feet, grabbing the bag, and running towards Billy.

Billy looks up at seeing you run to him, and he quickly stands up with the bouquet of flowers. He catches you as you jump into his arms and gently spins around with you, feeling you wrap your arms around his neck, and crying into it.

“‘Ello, love,” he says, holding you tight to his chest.

“Billy, you’re back, you were suppose to message,” you say, removing your head from his neck, still with tears clinging to your cheeks.

“I know, love, but I couldn’t help but want to surprise you,” he says, gently setting you on the ground. “Here, these are for you,” he says passing you the flowers.

“Oh, Billy, they are beautiful,” you say, taking a quick sniff of them. You grab hold of the lapel of his iconic coat and bring him down to kiss, which he happily returns. He kisses you passionately back and he pulls back first, but keeps his forehead on yours.

“Not as beautiful as you, love. I have missed you, messagin’ you and FaceTimin’ you wasn’t enough,” he says.

“I’ve missed you too and you’re right about messaging and FaceTiming not being enough,” you snuggle into his chest happily.

Billy smiles when you snuggle into his chest. “How’s my man been?” he asks.

You chuckle. “He’s been really good. Some days, you know he has missed you the most, so I gave him one of your Hawaiian shirts to help him, and he is so like you.”

“That’s good. I bet you have been wearin’ one of my shirts as well, and what do you mean he’s like me?” he asks, looking down at you.

“I definitely have been wearing one of your shirts. What I mean is, is that he is getting protective of me, like you,” you answer.

“That’s me old man. I’m glad that he’s protectin’ you,” he says, kissing your forehead.

You giggle, still clinging to Billy. “Missed you so much, Billy. I was worried you weren’t going to come back to us.”

“I missed you too, love, so much. I will always come back to the both of you, and that’s why I put you down as my designated next of kin on my CIA form, so if anything happens to me, you deserve to know,” he says, looking deeply into your eyes.

“Oh, Billy,” you whisper, tearing up badly.

“Cause if I am being truthful, I love you so much. Realised when I was away for the mission,” he says.

“I love you so much too, Billy,” you whimper, starting to cry again, kissing him desperately, and he returns it, kissing you back just as desperately.

After a few minutes, you pull back wiping your eyes and when you look at Billy, you can see he has shed a few of his own tears.

“Let’s go home, love,” he says, bending and picking up Terror’s lead, and then wrapping his arm around you shoulder, while you snuggle into his side.

“Sounds good.” You walk with him out of the park. “Do you know what, Billy?”

“What, love?” he asks, looking down at you.

“Santa was right, all those months ago,” you chuckle.

Billy lets out a rare belly laugh, which you love. “That Santa was certainly a very wise man, love.”

Tags: @bohemianblasphemy @billybutcherrtrash @jynx15 @karlurbanism @deana1245 @bluemerakis

#bluemerakis recs ᝰ.ᐟ #billy butcher #billy butcher x you

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bluemerakis · 27 days ago

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Oh this found me at the right time bc I’m just falling back into my Rick phase 😵‍💫

omg hi bestie !! i would love a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie for rick grimes please ! 🍪

── S1!RICK GRIMES ୨ৎ

since you didn't do a specific season ('m only on s2 anyways) or au i chose to do s1!grimes. rick cheats (i don't condone cheating at all).

— SFW

rick who sometimes zones out in atlanta when you, him and andrea were on duty watching the glass door, thinking about when he found you taking shelter in his home, you often having to tap in back into reality. "rick, rick—" you would say as more walkers game to bang onto the glass was hanging on by a thread. "it's fine, they can't get you." he said reassuringly, not yet anyways.

you had waited anxiously for rick to get back when he said he was taking glenn to go hide amongst the walkers. it was very, gorey. he had dragged a dead walker and chopped it up more to go and use the insides to be a walker. the group waited up on the rooftop, watching them move past the group of walkers, dealing with merle's scream to let him out of the cuffs in the background. the sound of thunder made you even more anxious, knowing they were screwed as it started to pour rain.

the next time you had contact with him, he had stole an moving truck, you had sat back pressed against his seat, not wanting to move as he drove the group back to where the camp was. it was sad really, t-dog had dropped the handcuff key, causing him to have to leave merle. but at least glenn was happy, speeding down the highway back to camp with the siren from when rick broke the window was still going.

when rick finally got the moving truck to the camp site, the others collectively got out, then they called for you and rick to come out of the truck. as soon as he got out, he laid eyes on his son, carl, who they immediately ran to each other. lori, his wife he had told you about when you and him were traveling on the horse to the city. you stood off to the side, avoiding eye contact with the new people.

that night, you sat beside rick at the campfire as he talked about how he woke up and how to felt. until lori had asked you "what's your story?" you responded with, "not important, but anyways." you were closed off, like you had always been. you were a tad bit more open with rick, but not a lot.

— NSFW

you were a very pretty young lady, so whenever rick found the free time, he'd sneak off into the forest to jerk off to the thought of you, until you caught him one time. you had stopped in your tracks, and rick awkwardly held his cock in his hand. "fuck—" he cursed under his breath. "—don't tell anyone." he said breathlessly as you walked closer. you looked at him, asking him with your eyes before you got down on your knees. you pushed your mouth around his cock, your head bobbing up and down as you used one of your hands to place what you couldn't fit in your mouth. he knew it was wrong, but it felt so good your mouth felt so good around his length. when he came, the seed gushed into your mouth, the smell strong of come filling your senses.

the next time you and rick hooked up, the both of you took it to different measures. he was busy hunting, and you were looking for him, he had scared the shit out of you when he reappeared, pushing you softly down onto the leaves. "we have a little time." he whispered, pushing his jeans down then his boxers as you pulled your pants down as well, than your underwear. rick caved you in, his forearms resting beside your head as he rutted into you, your body moving with every rut into your tight hole.

#bluemerakis recs ᝰ.ᐟ #twd #rick grimes

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bluemerakis · 7 days ago

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Oh my god Lily 😭 MY GROIN IS ON 🔥🔥

Comfortable?

Billy Butcher x fem!reader

A massive thank you to @enchantedflameandflower for the inspo <3

Contains: one bed trope, butcher and reader being dumb and liking each other, reader wearing Butchers Hawaiian shirt to bed,unprotected sex, poorly written smut!!!

The latest mission had been a major bust.

Infiltrating Vought Tower was either going to end in success or failure, unfortunately the latter being the result.

An alarm had been tripped, all thanks to Hughie losing his footing trying to be quiet. The Boys barely got away as Homelander was hot on their trail, but ultimately losing them as the group split up in hiding.

Butcher and yourself managed to disappear, taking the Cadillac and running off to the rural outskirts of town.

The car ride was silent- trying to find somewhere to lay low for God knows how long.

“You alright?” Butcher asked lowly, breaking the silence gazing at you as you came down from your adrenaline rush. You gave him a quick nod before peering out of the car window- keeping a lookout for any danger that could approach us.

He eyeballed you, seeing the anxiety in your fidgety behaviour as he reached out to tentatively pat your shoulder. “Don’t have to be on alert, we’re okay yeah?” He reassured you, giving it a slight squeeze.

His touch- however innocent it was- made your skin prick up in goosebumps.

…..

“Sweetie we all see it, it’s not a bad thing! You both like each other… you should do something about it.” Annie nudged you with her elbow as you shared a bottle of liquor together.

“I’ve seen the way Butcher looks at you, he doesn’t look at anyone else like that.”

You just scoffed, taking another swig of the burning liquid. “Fuck no, Annie- I don’t like him like that, absolutely not, nuh uh.”

It was as if Annie was talking to a brick wall, but she’s not one to back down easily as she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t say I didn’t tell you so… you both will see it eventually.”

……

As you looked back at him- he gave a half hearted smile, before clearing his throat and turning his attention back to the road, his hand on your shoulder moving back to the steering wheel.

“What’re we gonna do now?” You broke the silence once again.

“Next motel we come across, we’ll set up in there. I have a feelin’ we will be there for a few days.”

A few days.

Another nod of acknowledgment from you and the car fell silent again, the heavy sense of unknown tension hovering over you both.

The evening sky started to show, the horizon sporting its warm glow as the sun began to set over the picturesque landscape as the Cadillac pulled into the motel car park.

The building was outdated - broken bricks that had been painted over with chipped white paint and graffiti, broken glass and lost items on the concrete.

“This is-“ you tried to say a positive thing about the place.

“A shithole. But it’s better than nothin’. Let’s see if we can get some rooms.” Butcher shut his car door and carried himself over to reception, you quickly following behind him.

The reception desk was furnished with ripped up pamphlets about activities and tours, all of which were dating back to the 80s as you read them.

“Can I help you?” The receptionist was far from enthusiastic, not bothering to look up from the computer from her online shopping session.

“Two rooms please… best ya got in the place.” He requested, giving his signature smirk.

“Only have one room available.” She replied, their gaze falling on the two of you.

Your eyes widened, the blood rushed to your cheeks.

“Nah that ain’t gonna work-“

“It’s the one room or fuck off.” The lady pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a drag, exhaling the smoke into the stale air.

Butcher took a deep breath, scrunching his eyes closed in frustration before turning to you. Your flushed cheeks were obvious to him, but he didn’t bring attention to them.

“You right with sharin’, love?” He grumbled, sending a tight lipped smile your way.

“Y-yeah, fine- it’s fine.” You nodded, swaying back and forth on the balls of your feet.

The receptionist slammed the key on the counter.

“I hope you enjoy your stay.” She mumbled sarcastically, Billy taking the keys and muttering ‘Cunt’ under his breath before gesturing you to follow him to when you will both be staying.

Billy’s hand fumbled with the keys, opening the creaky wooden door to reveal the plain, cigarette smoke stained walls with paintings hung crookedly, a brown two seater couch with faded leather and another door leading to the bathroom- but it was clean and simple, all that you both needed.

That was until you both realised there was only one bed.

“I’m on the couch, you take the bed.” He pushed past you and placed his things on an arm chair in the corner.

“No, don’t worry I’ll do the couch-“

“Don’t be fuckin’ daft, I ain’t lettin’ ya sleep on the couch. I’ll be right.”

You wouldn’t back down, looking at the bed- it was big enough for the both of you, and you weren’t gonna let him have an uncomfortable nights sleep on an old couch with broken springs in it.

“We can share…” you offered quietly, which caused Billy to freeze as he unpacked. His brown eyes flickered between the bed and you. Something stirred in his gut about sharing with you that he couldn’t put his finger on.

“Alright, just don’t think any funny business yeah?” He teased, thinking it would ease the tension between them but it made the air even thicker around the room.

“Ha, wouldn’t dream of it!” You replied, mentally facepalming at how cringeworthy you sounded- the room becoming quiet and awkward.

“I’m… gonna shower, I’ll be back in a moment.” You went to your pack, trying to find a shirt that you had kept spare - to no avail.

“Shit- fucking shit.” You muttered, sighing frustratedly. “I haven’t got anything to change into…”

Billy chuckled, going through his bag and pulling out one of his spare Hawaiian shirts he always kept on him, adorned with tropical flowers.

“Have this love, just don’t be gettin’ shit all over it.” He joked.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna-“

“Don’t be an idiot, just take the fuckin shirt.”

He was final in his words, raising his brows as he waiting for you to take the it from his hand- which you did, muttering a quick thank you and bee lining to the bathroom.

His eyes followed you, the thoughts of how you’d look in his shirt when you’d come out of that room made him anxious, excited even- thinking of your wet hair draped on your shoulders, the material of his shirt hanging off your shoulders, barely covering your-

Get it together Butcher…

He mentally chastised himself, not allowing himself to think like that about you- but it was so fucking hard not to as he started to wind down for the evening, kicking off his shoes and removing his jeans, leaving him in his boxer shorts and shirt- moving to lay on one side of the bed; trying to distract his mind with whatever was playing on the TV.

The feel of the hot soapy water on your skin was what you needed after the long day, feeling the dirt and stress melt off your body as the shower cascaded down.

You couldn’t help but this of the man in that room next to you, imagining the possibilities of what the night could bring- thinking of his strong hands gripping you-

No. No.

As you finished up in the shower and dried yourself off, you draped butchers shirt over your torso and buttoned it up, pulling up your underwear and turning to check yourself out in the mirror.

It was soft, the length of it falling just below your ass- it smelt distinctly like him and it drove you insane.

Your hand reached the handle, the door squeaking open to see Billy laying on the bed as his head swung to the sound of the door hinges.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he muttered, his eyes running over your form, drinking in how you looked in his shirt.

god it was gonna be hard for him to keep his hands off you.

You looked at him from across the way, feeling that same tension from before starting to thicken the air again.

“Thank you again…” you muttered, making your way to the bed and lying down next to him.

He grumbled in response, trying not let his eyes linger over you for too long.

The two of you sat in awkward silence, your eyes glued to the tv as you both tried to squash down the ringing desire that overrode your thoughts.

His eyes however kept glancing at you, completely mesmerised by how you looked in his clothes.

“You comfortable?” He remarked quietly, a different contrast to what you were used to with him. You nodded, smiling at him as you turned to acknowledge him as he returned a soft smile.

You couldn’t take it, the weird tension was too much to have it continue like this.

You moved your leg to touch his just that little bit- to feel his warmth, to let him know that you felt how he did. His body tensed up, exhaling a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

Billy relaxed as he felt the warmth of your thigh, his large palm hesitantly hovering over your skin before placing it gently on you- his calloused hand a stark contrast to your soft skin. His touch caused your skin to prickle, goosebumps raising up as he started to slowly move it along your thigh, a shaky breath escaping his lips as he glanced at you.

“Y/N…” he breathed out, causing you to swivel your head up to see his eyes at the sound of your name.

“Yeah?”

The distance between you both was agonising, so close yet so far; your hunger for each other was too strong as the string of restraint began to break.

His eyes averted to your plush lips, watching you mirror his actions.

“Fuck…” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Fuck indeed…” you replied, your lips just ghosting over his- making him breathe out in a fluster.

“We shouldn’t be doing this-“ you whispered back, feeling his hot breath on your face.

“But if we don’t I’m going to go crazy…” Billy cut you off, bringing his hand from your thigh to your face.

A few moments passed of just staring at each other with unbearable lust, before that string of restraint snapped- Billy muttering “fuck it” under his breath before pressing his lips on yours, pulling you toward him so he could hold you in his lap.

Pulling you up so you could straddle his hips, the kiss never broke- your tongues and teeth clashing in a fiery embrace.

Soft moans filling the room as his hands roamed your thighs, moving them up to grip and spanking your ass, the sound echoing off the walls.

“Fuck Billy…” you moaned into his mouth from his hands impact, causing him to chuckle.

“Oh you liked that didn’t ya?” He bit your bottom lip playfully before doing it again, coaxing the same reaction from you.

Your hands pulled at his hair as you slowly grinned against his hardened clothed cock, earning a groan from him.

“Bloody hell sweetheart, if I don’t fuck ya now I’m gonna explode…” he chuckled lowly, pressing his lips against your neck- sucking down on yours sensitive skin.

“God please- please fuck me…” you whined desperately, going to remove his shirt off of your body.

“Nuh uh- leave that on.” He protested, pushing you on your back, splayed out on the mattress beneath him as he moved to sit on his knees above you.

He looked at you below him- your kiss bitten lips and hair splayed on the mattress beneath you.

“You are a sight for sore eyes love…” he smirked, hooking his fingers to pull down your underwear- flinging them to the floor as he took in the sight of your glistening core. Billy licked his lips in anticipation, dragging his fingers along your cunt.

“Billy… please I need to feel you.” you whispered breathlessly, your hips rocking against his digits. “So desperate huh?” He grinned, pulling his fingers away from you and sucking your wetness off of them.

“So sweet… and all mine.” He growled, pulling his boxers down to reveal his hard cock, spitting in his palm and pumping his hand along his length, grunting at the pleasure.

Your mouth fell open at the sight and his possessive words, watching as he spread your thighs further apart, shuffling in closer to drag his length along your sopping cunt, enlisting a moan from your lips.

“Can’t wait to fuck this sweet pussy…” he leaned down to whisper in your ear, hearing your whiney moans as he teases your entrance before filling you up deliciously, pushing himself inside you with a groan.

“Oh fuck Billy!” You moaned, gripping onto his shoulders as you adjusted to the sensation. Billy slowly moves his hips against yours, listening as he heard your soft gasps, little whimpers as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

“God you feel fuckin’ incredible…” he praised, watching your face contort in pleasured expressions.

One of your hands grappled onto his back, digging your nails into the blades of his shoulders- your other hand reaching down to rub your swollen clit, making the sensation all the more satisfying as he continued his unfaltering pace, the slapping of skin and the sinful moans bounced off the walls. “D-don’t stop- oh my god…”

He groaned at how good you felt, looked and sounded - his senses in overdrive as he came close to his peak, his cock twitching inside you, feeling your silky walls pulsating around him.

“G-gonna cum- fuck…”

After a few final thrusts, his head fell forward and his face screwed up as he came deep inside your cunt, a deep growl erupting deep from his chest.

Your orgasm washed over you, crying out his name and digging your nails further into his skin, your thighs quivering as you came down from your high.

Billy looked down at your flustered, perfectly flustered features- leaning down to kiss your pouted lips.

“You have-“ he took a breath, chuckling softly. “No idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that… with ya.”

You looked up at him, letting out a quiet giggle. “Me too, shit I’ve been missing out on that?” You smiled at him, making his heart flutter.

“That is just the tip of the iceberg love, and we have all night to make up for it…” he teased, placing another kiss to your lips- knowing that it was going to be an eventful evening.

#bluemerakis recs ᝰ.ᐟ #lily ⋆·˚ ༘ *#billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #karl urban

129 notes · View notes

bluemerakis · 13 days ago

Text

Okay, I finally had time to settle down and give this piece a proper read and AHH I’m obsessed!! I absolutely adore the storyline and the reader’s spunk, and Negan’s portrayal is to die for! The writing is also really beautiful and flows so nicely—I love!! Can’t wait for part 2 🤭

WHERE YOUR LOYALTIES LIE.

negan smith x fem!reader

word count. 5.0k

summary. negan’s been trying to worm his way into your heart. but ever since the line-up, your hatred towards him and everything he stands for will prove tricky.

notes. enemies to lovers(ish), reader really hates negan (maybe lol), slight angst, flirting, swearing, descriptions of violence, s7!negan, 7x01, negan yapping

gif by sweeetestcurse & divider by enchanthings

There was a burning ache in your muscles despite the coolness of the night’s chill, but the desperate sense of urgency to safely get Maggie to the Hilltop prevented you from stopping anytime soon. Your head was gradually spiraling, the panic clouding your thoughts, but you forced yourself to sharpen your senses and remain calm. You couldn't afford to fail them.

With every opportunity that had come your way, you had proven yourself trustworthy to take charge of directions — scouting abandoned pharmacies, grocery stores, water tanks. You always found something useful. You weren’t even asking for much this time.

Just this once, just this once, you prayed you’d lose the Saviors and Maggie would be granted safe passage to the Hilltop. You glanced at the map in your hands, but the night refused to aid you in your vision.

“C’mon!” You urged the rest of them following behind. “If we continue north we should—”

You froze in your tracks, suddenly hearing the sounds of eerie whistling coming from all directions. A cold sweat trickled down your forehead, and the small hairs on the back of your neck stood. They were onto us.

“Go. Go!” Rick shouted, picking up the pace and taking the front lead.

Just this once, and you had failed. In less than a minute, you were all like deers caught in the headlights. You were surrounded. There were way too many men for any of you to take on. It would be foolish to do so. The whistling only intensified, and your stomach lurched at the thought of what end awaited you and your friends.

The Saviors stripped everybody of their weapons and had them drop to their knees. The harsh gravel and dirt painfully grazed through the material of your jeans, but you knew you still had to endure what was coming next. Something far worse.

“Alright! We got a full boat. Let’s meet the man.”

From the very moment he stepped out of the trailer, that night proved to be the worst day of your life.

Everyone fell silent. Negan held an air of arrogance as he confronted Rick, before introducing his “new world order”. Bullshit. This was all bullshit.

“I’m gonna beat the holy hell out of one of you.”

Your eyes locked onto his figure as he swaggered across the group. The way he spoke so casually of such a savage idea cemented your hatred for the man. As Negan eyed who would be on the receiving end of his bat, he caught your piercing gaze. The next thing you knew, he was sauntering over towards you.

Negan crouched down to your level. “Well, aren’t you the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” You weren’t obliged to talk, and you certainly wouldn’t start if a gun was pointed at your head to do so. All you knew was that you wanted to end this man right here in front of you.

He took in your appearance, his expression evidently amazed to see someone so well-kept even in the apocalypse. Your eyes remained cold, staring back at the man before you. Your teeth clenched and your fists tightened, as if to prevent yourself from doing anything that would only get you in deeper trouble.

From the corner of his eye, Negan noticed a piece of paper sticking out awkwardly in your pocket. “What’s this?”

He reached for the paper, unfolding its squares to reveal a map. It was crammed with notes and markings, practically making it such that no one could understand what was written except you. However, it was obvious that the red triangles marked on certain points were where the Saviors had previously blocked the routes. Green circles showed the routes you had instructed Eugene to drive through in an attempt to fool them.

“You’re the scout,” Negan chuckled, “and a smart one, I see. Gotta hand it to ya, I’m impressed you managed to outrun my people this long. This must be a disappointing end for you. Appreciate the effort, though!”

He stood up, carelessly dropping the map to the ground. “I think Lucille here would agree with me that a pretty head like yours is far too valuable.”

Negan sighed as he ran a hand down his face, seemingly tormented by the decision of whose head he should bash. Unbelievable.

His twisted game of “Eeny Meeny Miny Moe” didn’t last long enough as you had desperately hoped. You would never forget the look on his face. He bore no trace of remorse, only a wide grin to show how much he was enjoying himself as he repeatedly bashed your friends’ brains out.

The sight was sickening. Abraham and Glenn lay motionless, no longer recognisable under the pool of blood and brains. All you saw was red. This world had already taken away a lot from you. Yet, it was not until now that you felt such anger at the injustice before you, only to be so helpless and unable to do anything about it. For the first time, there was a bloodlust bubbling inside you. You swore on that day — that when the time was right — you’d kill Negan.

“Open up, Ricky!” Negan banged his bat on the gates of Alexandria. “Don’t have all day.”

If he stood any longer, the scorching sun threatened to soil his favourite leather jacket with sweat. He glanced around his surroundings; nothing but the mindless chirp of birds and insects, and cars modified with pikes parked around the entrance to keep the walkers at bay.

Then, Negan looked up, and a teasing smile played at the corners of his lips. He found you standing on the makeshift watchtower, your arms crossed and resting on top of the wall. He noticed the scowl you wore on your face, the same one you’ve been giving him ever since his first visit. C’mon, has nothing changed? While it had always bugged him, he chose to ignore it again.

His grin widened as he motioned to the gates. “Wanna get that for me, darlin’?”

For a moment, you made no response. The men around him wore blank stares, fully equipped with guns and almost ready to kill anything or anyone that went out of line. The heavy vehicles were practically blocking the other side of the road, and it seemed as if there was nowhere left to run or escape. Nothing ever changes. You inhaled the humid air once more, before forcing yourself to comply as you climbed down and swung open the gates.

Negan automatically stepped in. He resumed his cheery attitude, showing off his pearly whites. “Did you miss me? ‘Cause I sure missed you. I’ll be honest, I was gettin’ a little tired of seeing that ass-kisser— uh, what’s his name? Oh, right! Spencer. Yeah. I’m just surprised to see you answering the door this time, but I sure love the development!”

You remained silent, folding your arms as you looked at him blankly. His overbearing smugness and knack of talking your ear off had you internally seething.

“What? No ‘hello’, ‘how ya doing’, ‘you look smokin’ hot in that jacket’?” Negan laughed at his own joke, but was becoming displeased by your stone-cold attitude. God, you were a piece of work. He reflexively swung his bat across his shoulder, trying again, “I don’t need to instill some manners in you, now do I?”

His behaviour irked you immensely, but you managed to utter back a syllable. “Hi.”

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” he chuckled in response.

“Leave her alone.”

Negan turned towards the direction of where the voice had come from, and saw Rick making his way towards him. His bloodshot eyes indicated a lack of sleep, and his solemn expression only showed how tormented he was by the situation Alexandria was in. If Negan, being the person that he was, even noticed how worn out Rick looked, he chose to ignore it.

“Ah, Rick! Glad you made it to the party. Just the man I wanted to see.”

”You’re a day early.”

“I know, I know. But listen…” Negan patted his shoulder, a gesture of pretentious goodwill. “With good people like yours, I ought to raise the standards a lot more, don’t you think? Hey— don’t give me that look. It’s a compliment. So take it.”

He then turned towards his men, signalling for them to move out. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road. Finders keepers!”

Rick’s posture visibly stiffened as the Saviors started making their way around the houses. Negan rubbed his hands eagerly, almost like a child excited to unwrap his Christmas present.

“Now, let’s see what you’ve got for me!” he said, referring to the pantry.

“But we—”

“Lead the way!”

You and Rick exchanged worried glances.

“Aw, no… This just won’t do,” he sighed, looking disappointedly at a lone box filled with a couple of cans.

“Negan, please—”

“We said half of your supplies to make it simple, but I still decide how much we take. But shit—” he huffed out a laugh, “I get nothing, you get nothing. The math doesn’t work out. This is just pathetic.”

The journal dropped onto the floor, landing with a thud loud enough to keep you, Rick and Olivia on edge. The box was all there was. Ever since the arrival of the Saviors, it was as if your luck had run out. For weeks, everybody had been scrambling to search the vicinity for more supplies, but the rations only depleted each time you returned home with nothing.

Just this morning, it had seemed you hit the jackpot finding that truck out in the open. That was, until a herd was approaching, and you didn’t manage to unload in time. What was worse, the Saviors had decided to show up banging on the gates not even a day later.

Negan pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out a sigh as he approached Rick, far too close for comfort. “I do not like this underperformance of yours. Hell, I praised you in front of all my men, high standards and all!”

“If you would just listen—”

“Do I need to teach you another lesson, Rick? Are you gonna let yourself— your people, go through all of that shit again?”

Tired of Negan running his mouth, you intervened. “That box was from a truck we found today. There were more, but a herd was coming. We left it behind.”

Negan paused for a moment, turning towards you. His expression instantly changed, and now it seemed everything was all sunshine and rainbows again.

“Huh, why didn’t you just say so?” He smiled.

You didn’t let him talk, asshole.

“You all thank your lucky stars. Lucille here— she’s not workin’ up an appetite today,” he said, leaning on his bat. “So you’re short on those boxes, fine. But I still want my offerings today. Herd should’ve passed by now. Shouldn’t take you too long if you send one of your people out there now, right?”

There was a silence that followed. Negan knitted his eyebrows as he watched the three of you share uncomfortable looks.

“What? Don’t look at me like that.”

You frowned, starting to move out of the pantry. “I’ll do it.”

Rick was quick to slow you down. “It’s only been an hour, that herd could still be nearby.”

“I made the mistake of attracting them. It was my fault to begin with.”

“No, it’s too dangerous—”

“I’ll come with you,” Negan suddenly said. His dark brown eyes crinkled in delight, and he smirked at the thought of his own suggestion. “See to it that you come back in one piece, if it makes your leader here feel better.”

If he had been attempting to get on your nerves all along, it was working wonderfully. The visits from the Saviors were only for a short, albeit painful period of time, but it was one that you could still tolerate. But being so close to their leader for that long and out in the open? There was no way you’d be able to keep your sanity.

“Let’s call it a date while we’re at it,” Negan added teasingly.

It was taking everything in you to stop yourself from giving him a tight slap in the face. You exhaled sharply, only glaring at him. Too bothered to say your goodbyes, you turned on your heel, making your way towards the gates as fast as you could. Unfortunately, Negan caught up with you from behind.

“Woah— slow down there, missy!” He grabbed your arm, but you jerked away from his hold. You stopped in your tracks as Negan continued, “Not taking the car?”

“It’s just two miles east. I’m walking,” you seethed. “If you can’t handle that distance, that’s not my problem. I’m not wasting gas for you.”

“Ouch! Now that’s just cruel.” He placed a hand on his heart, feigning his hurt. “We can take mine, then.”

“No. I’m not going anywhere near your property. It’s walk, or leave me alone.”

That didn’t seem to dissuade Negan. He proceeded to follow your lead, making an effort to catch up with your unusually fast pace. He would be caught lying if he said he wasn’t feeling all giddy inside to finally be spending time alone with you.

For the first mile there was silence. Only the sound of your boots crushing the leaves that had fallen to the ground, and the occasional growl of walkers stumbling your way. The latter was always brought to a swift end.

To your left, between the thick trunks of the trees, you noticed a swarm of floating heads. You squinted to realise that it was a formation of a herd. Fortunately, you were separated from those walkers by a far distance, and their heads seemed to be facing in the opposite direction. It wasn’t much to be worried about. You just had to tread cautiously and stay low. Negan, however, wasn’t as bothered.

“You tryin’ to kill me or something?” He suddenly spoke. “Out here, in the woods, where no one can see us? That’s kinda romantic, actually. Honestly, I dig it.”

You gritted your teeth, suddenly aware of the weight of the gun tucked under your shirt, and the dagger attached to your belt. You weighed the options in your head:

Shoot Negan with the gun, attract the herd to your direction and get yourself killed. Shoot Negan with the gun, return home to a massacre of your people and get yourself killed by the Saviors. Use your dagger to inflict a silent death, return home to a massacre of your people and get yourself killed by the Saviors. That was all assuming taking him down wouldn’t be much of a struggle. Fantastic options.

There was a spring in his step as Negan trailed behind, and his bat rested against his shoulder. “Darlin’, I did not say yes to this little date of ours just to hear nothing from you. Let’s get to know each other.”

You only forced a reply back to shut his idea down. “I don’t want to know anything about you.”

“You’re extra prickly today,” Negan dramatically sighed, but was quick to replace his dissatisfaction with his signature grin. “Not many get to know me personally. Not even my right-hand man. Some say I talk like a vulgar schoolboy that their mother didn’t spank the shit out of for that. But I’m a man of nuance, and quite the charmer, so I’ve been told. You are in for something special.”

Your eyes narrowed, and your irritation stopped you in your tracks. You circled around to face Negan, and hissed, “You waltz in. You kill my friends. You take our weapons and you take our food. What else is left to know?”

Negan raised a finger. “Uh, what you just described are the consequences of your own actions.” He huffed out a laugh, before his expression turned a little more serious. “You got arrogant. I had to step in and shut that shit down. I mean— did you think you were just gonna get away, especially after what you did to my outpost?”

“Because you’re terrorising other communities!”

“You gunned down a shit-ton of my men!”

“So ask yourself— why did we?” You snapped, your frustration boiling over. “Whose consequences of their own actions was that? Oh right, yours!”

There was a pause. Negan scoffed as he ran a hand down his face. He wasn’t used to someone so audacious, talking back to him like that. Normally, that would carry some form of punishment. Back home, it would’ve been the iron. But for you? No, you were different.

It had been clear since the line-up; he couldn’t bring himself to lay a finger on you. Even those threats meant nothing. He wouldn’t ever lift his bat. But why? Well, you were resourceful, and he played at the possibility of having you on his side. But that wasn’t quite all. No, there was another underlying reason that he just couldn’t articulate yet.

Negan shooed away those thoughts to prevent himself from becoming distracted. He tried again, but his habit of being unsparing quickly drowned out any sense of trying empathy.

“Listen, I get why you’re still takin’ this a little too hard. Those two friends of yours? That was personal. I get it. But I did what I did because I had to. And I don’t see any other group of ours but you bunch whining. My advice? It’s about time you move on, and get shit done.”

You shook your head profusely. “No— no. You did what you did, because you chose to. Not because you had to. And for that, you’re a fucking asshole.”

You turned away, deliberately walking faster to keep a distance between you and Negan. Just by the mention of that night, you were hit with a frustrating combination of anger and sadness as you replayed the events in your head. Refusing to look behind, you continued walking for a while, until you reached the open road.

“Truck’s out there,” you called out. “We’ll circle around back to Alexandria.”

“Great! Plenty more time for us to chat,” Negan sarcastically replied.

If there was at least one thing that prevented this day from becoming worse, it was that the contents of the truck were still perfectly intact, just as you had left it.

The sight of those boxes filled with canned foods seemed to have boosted Negan’s mood. As you were hot-wiring the truck, like Rosita had taught you to, he was talking your damn ear off. Something about making spaghetti with those famed brands of canned tomato sauce.

Despite how aggravating he was, and how much you wanted to sew his mouth shut, you finished the job and settled into the driver’s seat. Negan took his place beside you, and you drove off immediately. Finally.

By then, the tension from that moment in the woods had dissipated, and the somewhat peaceful drive back home allowed you to numb your thoughts. But ‘peaceful’ carried a different meaning for Negan. He was all toothy smiles, persisting in his efforts to make a conversation with you.

Negan leaned forward from his seat, eagerly trying to catch your eyes that refused to depart from the road ahead. He tried sincerely, “You know, I was serious when I said I wanted to get to know you. You’re smart, hot—”

“Enough,” you scowled. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

Negan audibly sighed. “Look, if you’re still upset about what I said or what I did—”

“I don’t care about what you have to say.”

He thought for a moment, leaving you with just a few seconds of precious silence. Then, his eyes crinkled in excitement as he continued, “I’m gonna make it up to you. How ‘bout that? Next visit, I’ll bring you flowers. The most gorgeous ones you can find growing in this fucked-up world. Hell, it’s gonna become a new aphrodisiac.”

You grimaced at the thought. “I don’t want your flowers. I’m allergic.”

It was obvious that you were lying. Negan chuckled in response. “Geez, you really hate me that much?”

“Yes.”

“How can I possibly change your mind?”

“You can’t.” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “You won’t.”

“I beg to disagree. I’m a hit with the ladies.”

“Shut up.”

“Really? Not even if I bring you flowers every week?”

“No.”

“Not even if I bring you a box of chocolates?”

“No.”

“Not even if I do this?”

He hooked his fingers under your chin, forcing you to turn away from the road and look at him. You didn’t understand what he was trying to achieve. But for a split second, you saw it. Fuck, why did he have to have such a strikingly good pair of puppy eyes? You wanted to look away, but you almost couldn’t. That was, until you saw his eyes flickering to your lips, and he dared to lean in closer.

Your eyes darted to the side. The road had cut to a turn, sharp enough to create a blind spot — and the same herd of walkers from the woods awaited your path.

“NEGAN!” You shouted, desperately swerving the truck in the opposite direction. You shut your eyes, bracing for impact as the vehicle smashed into the thick trunk of a tree.

A thick grey smoke now emitted from the engine, clouding your view of the outside world. There was a ringing in your ears, but it was gradually replaced by the familiar growl of walkers, and it only grew louder. Fuck.

The airbag had deployed in time, and it was deflating shortly after its use. Shaken from the collision, you felt your heart pounding furiously, and you fought to regain control of your breathing rate. Now was not the time to be paralysed with fear.

You turned to the man that had caused all this.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” You cursed.

Negan ignored your question, answering with his own. “You alright?”

His eyes roamed all over you, and for a moment you felt the concern and worry etched on his face, ensuring that you weren’t injured. It was a miracle neither of you were. You weren’t used to that look, and neither did you like it, but strangely something inside you started to soften.

A hand suddenly slammed against the side window, making you jump. To your horror, more hands started to claw against the window in the thick veil of smoke.

“Fuck, we’re trapped.”

Blood pounded in your ears. You frantically searched around every nook and cranny of the truck, desperate to find some way to escape. But with every second, you were losing hope. Your mind raced wildly to come up with something. Anything.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.

Just then, an idea flickered in your head. Without a second thought, you acted and drew your gun, ceaselessly shooting at the front glass until it fell into shards.

You tore away from your seat, climbing over the dashboard and out of the now broken window. Behind you, you saw Negan following suit. You helped yourself to stand on the hood of the truck, but your situation was still dire as walkers swarmed around the vehicle, clawing at your feet. Great, now what?

“You hid that gun from me?” You heard Negan ask. He was swinging his bat at a couple of walkers below. “I made it clear we’re takin’ all of ‘em.”

You gave him an exasperated look. “Really? You want to do this now?”

This fucking guy. Why does he have to be so—? No, you refused to pay any more attention to him. You turned your focus away as you evaluated your situation again. You could climb further back to the top of the truck? No, you’d still wound up trapped, and no amount of bullets you had left could take on an army of walkers.

By then, most of the smoke had dissipated or risen higher in the air. Your surroundings had become much clearer, although it was an even uglier sight. You glanced at the tree that the truck had collided into, when you noticed a thick, sturdy branch extending from its trunk. A second idea suddenly planted in your head. You chewed on your lower lip. It’s worth a shot.

You nudged Negan by his shoulder, pointing towards the tree branch. You shot at a few walkers obstructing the front, before you made a dash towards the tree. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you leaped forward, and you grasped tightly onto the branch. Pain seared through your muscles as you pulled at your strength, but you managed to haul yourself up the tree. You breathed heavily as sweat trickled down your forehead.

Negan followed behind, but just as he gripped onto the branch, the walkers swarmed around him, tugging at his ankles. Almost reflexively, you latched onto his arms. Wait. You gathered your remaining strength to help him up, but to no avail. Wait. With Lucille clutched in his hand, and the walkers forcing his weight down, his grip was loosening, and your muscles strained achingly.

WAIT! What the fuck were you doing?

This was it. This was his fate. The Saviors would no longer have their formidable leader. You could put an end to living in misery. You could get justice for Abraham and Glenn. This was what you wanted all along, right? So let go. Let go!

…Why couldn’t you let go?

It was always supposed to be the living versus the dead. Not the living versus the living. In all the times you stumbled across someone who needed help, you jumped in to save them. Even if it meant risking your own life. Who they were or where they had come from didn’t matter. It was all the same; they were just people wanting to survive in a world that had risen against them. But Negan? No, he was different. He doesn’t deserve to—

“Y/N.”

He called your name, tearing you away from your thoughts. For the second time, you locked into his eyes. There was a silent, but almost desperate plea for you to do something. Conflict stirred within you. But he… he’s killed— Fuck it!

With the gun in your hand, you strained your arm to aim below him. The bullets pierced the heads of several walkers, instantly freeing their hold of Negan. In one swift motion, he was able to pull himself up the tree.

You both paused, catching your breath. What did you just do? You saved him. Negan. He caught your gaze. This time, he was looking at you almost differently. Almost out of… admiration?

The sound of walkers brought you back to your situation. You darted your eyes below, and you spotted an opening, just inches away from the ravenous herd of walkers.

“C’mon!”

You both leaped down. The fallen leaves may have softened the blow, but you still felt the impact as you hit the ground. You might’ve inflicted a few bruises or scratches here and there, but you’d survive. Besides, adrenaline dampened the pain, and you quickly got up to your feet.

Your mind urged you to run, but you suddenly remembered what you had come for. Fuck, the cans! There was nothing left back home. You were going to starve if the Saviors took that lone box, and who knew when you’d find proper food again. You had to try, or die trying.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

You heard Negan shouting behind you. Ignoring him, you fired the last of your bullets at the walkers staggering closer to you. You drew out your dagger, bringing it down onto the next batch. Negan’s eyes widened at the realization.

“Forget ‘em, let’s go!”

There was an audible squelch as you raised the dagger.

“NO! I have to go back—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about those damn boxes!” Negan latched onto your arm, forcing you to turn and look at him. “We get out of here, NOW!”

His grip remained on your arm as you both sprinted through the trees, not once looking back.

When you finally pulled up at the gates of Alexandria, both of your clothes were soaked with sweat and soiled with dirt. Negan walked over to Simon, calling him to round up his people. You saw your friends gathered at the front, relief replacing their worried looks as they ran over to hug you.

Rick subsequently approached you. “What happened? What took so long? Are you hurt?” He frantically asked. Then, his expression turned grim. “Did he— Did he do anything—”

“No. No. We just— got ambushed by a herd, so we had to take a detour,” you explained, disappointment written on your face. “I didn’t get the boxes.”

“Doesn’t matter, ‘s long as you’re safe.” Rick pulled you into a hug.

Behind him, someone cleared his throat. Rick pulled away, and for a second, his stare challenged the man’s own. A smirk, however, had no trouble returning to Negan. He brought a hand down Rick’s shoulder.

“Guess what, Ricky? I’m feeling extra generous today. I’m lettin’ you off the hook this time. You get to keep your shit. I mean, how else are you gonna work for me if you’re all dead?” He joked.

Negan practically shoved Rick aside, and as the latter walked away, he turned to you. His passive-aggressiveness was suddenly replaced with a tone of sincerity.

“Just wanna thank you. You know, for what you did.”

You frowned. “I didn’t do it for you.” Did you? You had yet to figure that out. “If I came back without you, your people would have killed us.”

“They would,” Negan managed a chuckle. “Still, I’m grateful you did that.”

A beat.

Suddenly, he reached forward to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Boldly, he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “So, same place, same time again?”

Instead of moving away, you drew closer. “Fuck off, Negan.”

notes. so, this was actually gonna be a one-shot, but the moments i wanted to write kinda exceeded so i’m planning on a part two! dw there’ll be more romance, but also r/s struggles and angst with negan, bc this gorgeous man can’t just get away like that after doing so much damage 😭 but who knows, my commitment level towards multi-chapter fics deteriorates easily, so we’ll see! thank you for stopping by :’)

#bluemerakis recs ᝰ.ᐟ #negan smith #negan smith x reader #the walking dead #twd negan #the walking dead negan #negan fanfiction

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