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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 2 years

Text

Our Future

Frenchie Masterlist

Summary: After a mission ended really badly, Frenchie realized the more he kept his feelings for you a secret, the more time he lost. And with that fucked up, bloody life, there’s no time to lose.

Word count: 1751

Requested by: @cactuwus

Pairing: Male!Reader x Frenchie

Warning: mention of exploding person, blood, washing blood away, anger, swearing, Frenchie being super sweet

A/n: Tumblr ate my draft, so I’m glad I wrote this on Drive instead lol! Sorry for any mistakes, this wasn’t proofreaded!

Feedbacks are always appreciated!!

Frenchie loved you.

He loved everything about you.

It didn’t matter if you had the most twisted up, fucked up past and that you would probably never be ready to talk about it. But if, in any case, you would want to talk, he would be there to listen. He would listen without judgment, because he would understand.

Frenchie was in love with you.

With your present and the future he could have with you. That perfect, normal life he could have if his past didn’t fuck him up in the head so much. If he wasn’t in a quest to kill super heros, with a bunch of abrutis sanguinaires that only thought about blood and revenge.

What he could have with you… He dreamed about it every night. If the days were violent and bloody, his nights were filled with the smell of grass that just got cut on a sunny afternoon. A cold beer waiting for the man that just mowed the law. An apple pie baking in the oven. Soft kisses. How the light would enter the kitchen, reflecting on his stupid collection of glass animals that were displayed on the table. How he would welcome you in the house with only kindness, love and…

The nights always ended the same. Frenchie woke up. And he woke up alone and cold in a makeshift, uncomfortable bed… Alone.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Because even if he wasn’t with The Boys, with you in the gang… He was still fucked up. His own past was fucked up. His whole personality was a mess. He was a mess.

The dream, the future he dreamed of with you was impossible. How could you want him? A man that was so fucked up? With a past filled with fucked up things? With drugs, death, guns and blood? You would never want his past or a future with him.

It was the reason he took the present as a gift. Everyday. Satisfied with the time spent with you.

Frenchie was okay with that. He wouldn’t make your life worse by being more present, and he wouldn’t mess up your future like he messed up everything in the past. The present moment was enough.

Until it wasn’t. Until it went wrong. Until that mission Butcher had assigned to him and you.

Until you could have died again.

Until he saw that person explode right in front of him, and until he pictured you getting killed.

Until Frenchie realized… Present had a limit, it had an expiration date. Fuck the past. Fuck the world. Fuck The Boys and fuck the Supes. Fuck it if you didn’t love him back. He would tell you.

“Mon ami, s'il te plait."

The blood was covering every inch of your body. Skin red and sticky, clothes stuck to the limbs, hair disgusting, the smell was so bad, all you wanted to do was go to the bathroom and take an endless shower and look at the water turning red until it turned transparent again. Until it washed away that other sin.

The mission was simple, and yet, someone ended up exploding, limbs, head, body, everything, right on you. That person was a witness that was supposed to give you and Frenchie important information to catch a Supe, or at least, make his life a living hell.

But it went wrong. Because everything always goes wrong.

“Shut the fuck up Frenchie! I don’t want to hear it, hear you “je te l’avais dit”!” You exploded the moment Frenchie tried to talk to you. It wasn’t the time. Anger was boiling inside of you, strong, impossible to calm down. You had it. The proof. The person that would help you get down another fucking supe.

“Y/n, please,” Frenchie insisted, and you felt his hand grab your wrist. His grip was soft, you could have easily slipped out without any problem, but something inside of you wanted to keep that touch on you. Somehow it calmed you down ever so slightly, enough to keep your ideas in place and not lose your fucking mind. “Please, just… You can go shower first, then we can talk about it, okay?”

“And for what,” you muttered, your teeth grinding together as you clenched your jaw too hard. Turning your head towards him, you met his gaze. Brown eyes were staring back at yours, messy brows furrowed in concern and in sadness. “Stop fucking looking at me with those fucking eyes,” you ended up taking your hand back rather roughly, only to see his eyes get even sadder.

Before he could answer, you were gone in the shower.

The place you were staying in had a limited amount of hot water, but you didn’t care if you took it all. Frenchie could wash himself in the sink, for all you cared…

That was the problem. Another thing that made you so fucking angry.

You cared about him, that frenchman that kept pissing you off with his kindness. You knew he wanted to do good, make you feel better… And his fucking sad puppy eyes made you feel bad when it didn’t work. His voice, his words, they triggered something inside of you, memories of a past that wasn’t always gory and violent. Memories you treasured, and to never lose them, you buried them. Just like a treasure. After years, you forgot about them, until you met The Boys. Until you met him.

You loved Frenchie.

You didn’t care about his fucked up past. It was fine if he never talked about it, like, ever. Or if he only felt comfortable talking about it to Kimiko. You knew those two were closed, she was even teaching him her language. They understood each other, and you were sure talking about his pain helped him somehow.

Did you wish it was you? Yeah. Of course.

But that was selfish.

His every being made you want a future. A normal life. A too green lawn, white fences, a black door. White house with dark green roof and matching window pane. A boring neighborhood where nothing ever happens.

A deck with long chairs, maybe even a pool.

Just a normal, fucking loving house with the man you loved.

You so don’t care if he was a boy. Being gay wasn’t something you were hiding after all, even though you never talked about it.

You were in love with him. Simply. In all the chaos and the violence, you fell in love with him.

When you left the shower, the water had run cold for a long while, and you did feel bad for leaving none to Frenchie. Cause you cared. You cared, and thinking about seeing him again once you would be out of the shower calmed you down. Once dressed, you exited the bathroom, only to find him indeed washing himself in the sink. He was done with his hair, still dripping on his naked torso, and turned his head when he heard you walk in.

“Y/n, I need to tell you something,” he said. Anger and annoyance build up inside of you again when his voice woke up those stupid buterflies in your stomach. Hope. Like somehow, just being with him would make everything better.

“What’s up,” you muttered, detaching your eyes from his now clean and still wet, perfect torso. You couldn’t keep staring, he would notice.

“Je t’aime.”

Lifting your head, you looked at him. Right in the eyes. Sadness wasn’t occupying the most part anymore, now, there was something else bathing in his irises.

You didn’t know much French. And to be honest, him switching all the time could give you lots of headaches and it was so annoying. But there was no denying what he just said, even if it was in a language you didn’t know much. With just his gaze, you understood.

Frenchie stepped closer to you, his mouth parting, probably ready to repeat what he just said but in English, but you didn’t let him. Because you didn’t need it. There had been enough time losing, enough death, enough blood shed. Losing a second more talking about it or fighting or trying to understand would only be lost time. And you refused to have any more seconds lost.

So, when he confessed his feelings, when you heard the words, the only thing you could do was answer, but not with words. Pressing your mouth to those plump lips you dreamed of kissing since you met him, you reciprocated his feelings.

No words were needed, you weren’t much of a talker anyway. Really hated the whole chick flick talks people usually have in those circumstances. I love you. I love you too. Bla bla.

Frenchie didn’t waste a single second and kissed back, his hands already on your cheeks. His body pressed to yours and you tried to be impossibly closer to him, holding him like your life depended on it. And it did, you depended on him, you always did. As he was the reason you woke up in the mornings, the only motivation you had to get on with your day. The sanity you needed.

“I take that as a “I know what je t’aime means”?” Frenchie smiled softly as he pressed his forehead to yours, breaking the kiss to breathe. His soft, warm breath tickled your skin. Both your chests were heaving, breathing fast because of the kiss and the moment.

“I had no idea what it meant,” you answered, closing your eyes. Just taking the moment in, bathing in the present. That present that you could now really see as a future. And it didn’t matter if the grass wasn’t green. If the fences weren’t white. If the neighborhood wasn’t boring. As long as it was with him, wherever you would go… It would be your future. “I just knew.”

You didn’t see it since your eyes were still closed, but you knew the Frenchman enough to picture it in your head. The smile that stretched even wider at what you just said, happiness warming up his face with all of his feelings. Frenchie was someone that was very strong with his emotions. It would be warm or cold or burning, he let them out. You were the opposite, keeping them all inside. Hated talking about feelings, even less showing them.

But he knew that, he didn’t need to hear the words to know.

He loved you just as you were. His present, his future.

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @b3autyfuldisast3r @eevvvaa @fictional-affairs @wickedinspirations @awkward-and-indecisive

The Dudes taglist: @cactuwus

#frenchie #the boys frenchie #frenchie x you #frenchie x reader #the boys #the boys fanfiction #the boys fanfiction frenchie #the boys frenchie x reader #the boys frenchie x reader oneshot #male!reader #the boys frenchie fanfic #the boys frenchie x male!reader #the boys male!reader #love confession

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geminiwritten · 1 year

Text

undercover ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you have to go undercover as butcher’s wife to vought’s annual supe celebration - prompt (that i don’t remember where i saw it, i’m sorry!): “I bet you one hundred dollars that you’re hard right now.” *he stands up and drops $100 on the table*

notes: i wrote this in one day and you can tell!!! it’s so rushed, i’m so sorry, but also i’m just hot for this man and refuse to stop??? let me know what you think!

warnings: swearing, very small alcohol consumption, very light smut, and a bit of harassment from an unwelcome dude

word count: 6496

“You have a thing for Butcher?” Hughie gasps, the apartment door swinging open as he steps inside.

Annie’s eyes grow wide, her hand covering her mouth to try and hide her cheeky smile. You scowl at her before turning to Hughie, his face a comical mixture of disgust and amusement.

“What have I said about eavesdropping on movie night, Hubert?” you demand, calling him by the stupid nickname you know he hates.

He rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I texted Annie to say I was on my way home. It’s not my fault you’re practically shouting about the fact that you want to fu-”

“Hughie,” Annie giggles, “be careful.”

“Hey,” he says, turning to her, “I’m just repeating what I heard.”

You hold your face in your hands and groan, sinking back into the soft couch cushions and praying that they might open up and swallow you into a different dimension.

“I’m sorry,” Annie sighs, “I honestly just lost track of time.”

Hughie drops his keys and wallet on the kitchen bench alongside two plastic bags that wreak of cheap Chinese food. Your stomach grumbles at the smell, and you reluctantly pull yourself off the couch before dragging your feet toward the kitchen.

“So,” Hughie says with a grin, “how long has this been going on then?”

“Nothing is going on,” you state, “and it’s certainly none of your business.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone,” he begins helping you unpack the bags of food, “besides, I had a sneaking suspicion. You do kind of look at him like-”

You pull a butterknife out of the draw and point it at him, “Like what?”

He freezes, his hands flying up on either side of his head in surrender.

Annie laughs again, “Okay, you two, cut it out.”

You put the knife down and retrieve three full sets of cutlery before setting a stack of bowls beside the containers of food. Hughie serves himself first before Annie fills her own bowl and you last, already shovelling mouthfuls of noodles into your mouth as you move back toward the couch.

“You know,” Hughie says between mouthfuls, “if you wanted to talk about it, I might be able to help.”

You scoff, “Yeah? How?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, talk to him.”

“And say what?” you drop your fork into your bowl, mocking Hughie’s voice as you say, “Hey Butcher, do you think Y/N is hot, because I know she dreams about fucking you.”

He scowls at you, “I can be subtle.”

Annie giggles, hiding her face behind her bowl as Hughie casts his glare toward her.

“I appreciate your concern, Hughie,” you say, “but I think I’ll just stick to fantasising about him in the shower.”

His expression morphs into disgust as he begins choking on his mouthful of food, his face turning bright red. Annie’s laughter fills the room, and you join her while Hughie struggles to compose himself.

To your surprise, and relief, Hughie agrees to keep your little secret to himself. He doesn’t even make a stupid face the next day when the three of you arrive at the boys’ current hideout, finding MM, Frenchie, Kimiko, and the man himself huddled around the dining room table.

“Righ’ on time,” Butcher says with a grin, “let’s get to it, then.”

You knew he was excited about this next mission, if you could call it that. Everyone was, in fact, because thanks to Annie’s excellent intel, you were all attending Vought’s annual ball. A night of celebration to thank the mighty Supes for keeping the streets safe, or as Butcher liked to call it, Vought’s annual wank-fest.

“Your invitations are all sorted,” Annie says, pulling a small handful of envelopes out of her bag. “Hughie came up with all your aliases, so please stick to them, or you’ll be kicked out in a heartbeat. Security is tough at this thing, and there’ll be no talking yourselves out of a bad situation.”

She looks pointedly at Butcher, but his smirk only widens.

“Frenchie,” Hughie says, “you’re going as a member of the tech team, so you’ll be behind the scenes and keeping an eye on the cameras for anything suspicious.”

Frenchie rubs his hands together excitedly, taking the envelope from Annie and tearing it open.

“Monsieur Felipe Lavigne, senior security technician,” he announces, reading the ID card aloud.

“MM and Kimiko, you’ll be with me,” Hughie goes on, “we’ll be posing as press on behalf of the city council. There’s a huge group of council members and associates, so all we have to do is blend in.”

MM takes two envelopes and passes one to Kimiko.

Hughie turns to you, “I originally had you listed as press too, but then decided it might be smart to double down on Butcher’s alias, give him another level of cover, you know?”

You frown, tilting your head sceptically as he hands you and Butcher an envelope each.

“You’ll be attending as prospective stakeholders, invited by corporate to bask in the glory of Vought in the hopes that you’ll invest in their cause,” Hughie explains. “An affluent couple from upstate New York, recently immigrated from Britain after growing bored of your rich English lifestyle.”

You’re almost positive your brows have reached your hairline as you stare at the envelope in your hands, your trembling fingers struggling to pull the ID badge out.

“Brooklyn Williams,” you read aloud.

Annie shoots Hughie a look, promising that he would be paying for this later, and you realise that he must have made this decision in the past twelve hours without consulting her.

“William Williams,” Butcher says, frowning at Hughie, “really?”

Despite being the target of several unhappy stares, Hughie chuckles.

Frenchie snickers too, “At least you will not forget it, eh?”

“Smart move, Hughie,” MM speaks up, “Butcher is the one most likely to be caught, but with Y/N in tow, he might think twice about putting himself in danger.”

Butcher rolls his eyes, “Do none of you ‘ave any faith in me?”

Hughie, Frenchie, and MM respond in unison, “No.”

The seven of you spend the next two hours going over the details of your aliases and the agenda of the function. It’s going to be a huge event, which meant little risk of actually running into Homelander or anyone who might recognise any of you. Annie won’t be able to help on the night, being one of the spotlight attendees, but that isn’t what’s was making you nervous. You’re going to have to spend a good five hours pretending to be married to Butcher, the one man you desperately want and the one man you were trying very hard not to fall in love with.

After what feels like forever, Frenchie announces that he is going to get dinner and Annie bids you all goodbye to check in at Vought tower. Hughie sets his laptop up at the desk in the corner of the lounge room while MM excuses himself for his nightly facetime call with Janine.

Kimiko turns to you, signing a question about what you were all going to wear on the night.

“Annie helped me organise some things,” you reply, gesturing toward the suitcase by the door. “You should try it on now, and if you don’t like it we can find something else.”

You know Kimiko isn’t a fan of cocktail attire, and you definitely didn’t want her walking into the dragon’s den worrying about the way she looked or if she’d be able to fight should the need arise.

“What ‘bout me, love?” Butcher asks, his signature smirk curling the corner of his lips.

Your cheeks burn under his gaze, “You don’t get a choice, you’ll be wearing a suit.”

He chuckles, “I do love a stubborn woman, must’ve been why I married you.”

Your pulse thrums in your ears, and you fail to think of a sarcastic retort, instead turning away in the hopes that he hasn’t already noticed the bright colour in your cheeks.

Kimiko drops the case on its back with a thud, unzipping it quickly and throwing it open to pull out each of the bagged costumes. There are four suits of various styles with varying accessories, and two dresses. She stands holding the one labelled with her name, dragging the zip right down the middle and revealing the soft black fabric of her dress. It isn’t quite full length, hemmed just below the knee in a pencil skirt style and devoid of any embellishments. A simple black dress with long sleeves, fitted but flexible.

She grins, signing to you that it is perfect and thanking you for not putting her in anything ridiculous.

“We chose two pairs of shoes too,” you say, “in case you don’t want to wear the heels.”

Butcher strides toward the suitcase and picks up the last bag, but you follow him, quickly snatching it out of his hands before he can pull the zip.

“My dress can wait until the night,” you hold it behind your back for good measure, “I’m still not sure about it.”

He quirks one brow, “You’re not wearin’ latex, are ya?”

You roll your eyes before turning on your heel, taking your dress into your room and tucking it into the back of your closet. You fall back on your bed, your chest rising and falling with deep breaths as you try to calm your erratic pulse. It’s just one night, you can hold it together for one night, right?

The next two days pass in a blur of preparations and planning, and before you know it, you’re staring at the dress hanging in your closet with a towel wrapped around your body. Your hair is clean and curled, pulled into a half up do with twisted gold pins creating the illusion of diadem just below the crown of your head. You took a little longer to do your makeup than usual, out of practice in the art of winged eyeliner and false lashes, but in the end, you were proud. Now, the dress.

Your fingers are numb as you pull the zipper down, revealing the red silk material of the gown that Annie convinced you would be a good idea. You blame her for this just as much as Hughie.

“Come on, Y/N,” MM calls through your bedroom door, “we have to go.”

You sigh and throw your towel aside, hurriedly pulling the dress off its hanger. The material is cool against your skin, sliding easily over your curves and fitting your body like a tailor-made glove. You twist awkwardly to secure the zip before turning to the mirror.

The dress is floor length, a few inches of the red silk pooling at your feet, with a long slit reaching scandalously up to your left hip. The straps are about an inch thick, and the neck cowled, showcasing your breasts and the perfect amount cleavage. The silk hugs your torso, and you’re a little startled at just how good you feel in this dress.

Another knock at the door has you rushing to slip into your beige heels, and you check that your underwear are pulled high enough to not be seen in the slit of the dress before opening the door. MM’s jaw drops.

“Holy shit, Y/N.”

You blush, “Thanks.”

Being the gentleman he is, he tears his eyes away from you, offering you his arm with a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

In the lounge room, Kimiko is helping Frenchie with his tie and Hughie is struggling to secure his suspenders to his trousers. Your breath catches when your eyes land on Butcher, dressed in a classic and perfectly fitted black tux. He has even trimmed his beard and styled his hair, still a little dishevelled but holy shit, does the sight of him make your mouth water.

“Damn,” Hughie says when he sees you, “nice dress.”

“Nice suspenders.”

He chuckles, “Are we ready?”

Butcher turns to you, his jaw going slack and his eyes dark. Your chest squeezes, your lungs struggling to draw enough breath as your head spins from the lack of oxygen.

“Ready,” MM says beside you.

“Good,” Hughie tucks his ID badge into his shirt pocket, “I’ve organised two cars, one for Y/N and Butcher, and the other for the rest of us. Once we’re there, we can’t slip up, keep your masks up and don’t even look at anyone you think might recognise you.”

You check your small black clutch for your ID badge and phone.

“Earpieces are too risky tonight,” he continues, “so keep your phones on you, and if one of us is out, we all abort.”

Kimiko checks her own purse and the boys check their pockets before you all shuffle out the door. Hughie, MM, Frenchie, and Kimiko exit the building first, leaving you and Butcher alone in the lobby.

“You ready, sweethear’?” he asks, gazing at you with the same dark eyes as before.

You nod, “As I’ll ever be.”

After a minute, you exit the apartment and climb into the awaiting car. Butcher greets the driver as the car pulls away from the curb, and you take the chance to pull your phone out, typing out a quick message to Hughie.

‘I’m going to kill you.’

Your phone pings before you can put it away, and you quickly turn it to silent before reading his reply.

‘You’re welcome ;)’

A warm hand on your bare legs startles you, the heat sinking into your blood and making it sizzle through your veins.

“You sure you’re alrigh’?” Butcher asks.

“Yeah,” you mutter, “just nervous.”

His thumb rubs soft circles on your thigh, sending shockwaves of desire right to your core.

“Nothin’ to be worried ‘bout, love, I’ve got you.”

Your eyes almost roll back in your head at the sound of his deep voice. He truly does not know how much he does have you, all of you.

“Thanks, Billy,” you whisper, your voice unsteady.

His eyes don’t leave you for the duration of car ride, and your pulse refuses to settle. Anxiety and desire tangle in your stomach, twisting it into loops and winding the knot in your core even tighter than it already was.

Eventually, the car stops, and you both thank the driver before climbing out. You’re not at the main entrance of the building, but there is still a ridiculous number of security guards standing around, and barriers preventing anyone without an invitation from getting within twenty feet of the door. Butcher wraps an arm around your waist to guide you forward, his warmth shielding you from the cold night air.

“By the way,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you look fuckin’ delectable in that dress.”

Another wave of heat washes through your veins, and it takes every ounce of focus for you to not stumble up the walkway. Two security guards step forward as you both flash your ID badges.

“Mr. and Mrs. Williams,” the guard in front of Butcher says, scanning the barcodes on the badges, “welcome to Vought tower.”

The security guard in front of you is younger than the other, his blonde hair slicked back and his mouth etched into a sleazy smirk as his eyes rake up and down your body. He winks as he steps aside, and Butcher notices, his expression twisting into a scowl.

Just as you reach the doors, Butcher’s hand slips from your waist to your ass, squeezing it as he dips down and plants a hot kiss against your neck.

“Fuckin’ perve,” he mutters, before guiding you through the doors and down the corridor.

Your mouth is dry and your knees wobbly, but you move with practice and manage to appear cool and collected as you step into the huge event room. It’s extravagantly decorated with drapes of sheer fabric hanging from the high ceilings and a huge crystal chandelier in the centre. There are dozens of round tables, all set with fine silver-wear and obnoxious centrepieces made of red and white roses.

“Nice to know where all our money will be going if we decide to invest, darlin’,” Butcher says with a cheeky grin.

You giggle, letting him guide you through the clusters of elegantly dressed attendees toward where you assumed your table would be. You don’t remember ever finding out that piece of information, but you assume either Hughie or Annie told Butcher while you were still reeling about having to play ‘happy couple’ with him.

You listen carefully to snippets of conversations as you pass, waiting for anything interesting to catch your attention. Butcher stops at an empty table and pulls out a chair, you smile in thanks before taking a seat, quickly shuffling forward to avoid flashing everyone due to the ridiculously high split in your dress. Butcher notices though, chuckling to himself as he takes the chair beside you.

Before you can speak, he places a hand on your bare leg and squeezes, knocking every thought right out of your head.

You gasp, “I-It’s hot in here, is it hot in here?”

“I think that’s jus’ you, sweethear’,” he replies with a wink.

The room quickly fills with guests, conversations growing louder and drowning out the soft music playing over the speakers. Eventually, a woman takes the stage and the room falls quiet, listening to her lengthy introduction about how grateful Vought were for this night and how wonderful it is to be able to celebrate America’s finest superheroes. You can barely hear her though, your ears filled with the thrum of your pulse as Butcher’s fingers draw patterns on your leg. Your core aches, and you shift in your seat only to feel the dampness between your legs.

When the room erupts into applause, Butcher’s hand freezes, and you turn to see Homelander striding onto the stage, his hair blinding beneath the bright spotlight.

“Hey,” you whisper, placing a hand on top of Butcher’s, “you okay?”

He turns to you and his scowl relaxes, a soft smile pulling on his lips. “Yeah,” he replies, “I’m good.”

You slip your other hand beneath his, praying that he doesn’t notice how sweaty your palms are as you play with his fingers beneath the table. Although you had started in the hopes of calming him, you find your own sense of relaxation in his touch, focusing on the feeling of his skin as Homelander drawls on about Vought and The Seven.

After what feels like an eternity, he finishes his speech and the room cheers again. The woman returns to the microphone to announce the first course of food before music and conversation fills the air, and you turn your attention toward the centre of the table. Butcher grips your hand as you attempt to move it, entwining his fingers with yours and only allowing one of your hands free.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you two at one of these events before,” the woman beside you says.

She’s older but extremely elegant, with a pendant around her neck that you don’t doubt costs more money than you’ll ever get to see in your bank account.

“We’re new in town,” you reply, your voice very slightly lilted, “just moved from London’s east end, actually.”

“How charming,” she places a hand against her pendant, “I’m Lucille, and this is my husband, Jack.”

The podgy man beside her nods, his cheeks and nose bright red as he guzzles from his glass of champagne.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you say, “I’m Brooklyn, and this is my husband, William.”

You cast a glance at Butcher, only to find his eyes already locked on you, sparkling under the soft yellow lights. He has dopey smile on his lips and an emotion you can’t discern floating behind his gaze. Your stomach flips.

“You do make a charming, if you don’t mind my saying,” Lucille says.

You nod, your cheeks tingling with warmth, “Thank you.”

“So,” her husband, Jack, speaks up, his voice gruff, “what brings you here?”

You wait a beat for Butcher to reply, but he only watches you with that same expression.

“To be totally honest with you, I’m not sure,” you reply with a half-hearted laugh, “we have been thinking about investing, but I do wonder why a company of this immensity even needs investors.”

Jack chuckles, “You’ve got that right, seems greedy, doesn’t it?”

Lucille frowns at her husband before turning back to you, “We don’t do it for them, we do it for our grandkids, for their future. In the hopes that they will have a future, a safe one. This world is a nasty place.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” you sigh.

She nods, “That’s why it’s important to protect what you love, and hold on to it.”

Butcher’s hand squeezes yours, making your heart thump violently within your chest. You turn to him and meet his eyes, the fire in your veins blazing with a new intensity and heating every inch of your skin.

“I-If you’ll excuse me,” you stammer, pushing your chair back, “I need to use the bathroom.”

Butcher nods as you stand, and you can hear Lucille strike up new conversation while you weave between the tables toward the exit. Fresh air fills your lungs the moment you reach the foyer, and you pull your phone out of your bag, finding Hughie’s contact name with trembling fingers.

‘If I survive tonight, I WILL kill you.’

You hit send and turn toward the bathroom, almost stumbling when you see the same blonde security guard who had been stationed at the doors.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, his slimy smirk loading the question with innuendo.

“I’m okay,” you reply, “thank you.”

He steps forward before you can move, “You sure? You look a little flustered. Perhaps a step outside might help? It does get awfully hot in here.”

The first spark of fear rattles up your spine.

“I appreciate that, but I just need to use the restroom,” you say.

His smirk doesn’t falter, “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I’d be more than happy to escort you. Can’t have a stunning woman such as yourself wandering the streets alone.”

You force a polite smile onto your face as you step around him and hurry down the corridor toward the bathrooms. With one subtle glance over your shoulder, you see him watching, still standing at the end of the hall looking almost predatory.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, turning sharply into the first stall.

You close the toilet lid and sit on top if it, holding your head in your hands and counting your breaths. After a minute of trying to wrangle your wild thoughts, you decide that Butcher is either a fantastic actor or… in love with you. Your heart aches to agree with the latter, but your brain fights for reason, reminding you that you’re in an incredibly sensitive situation and he is only acting like this to keep up the façade.

You sigh and stand up, panic piercing your chest when you remember the pushy security guard waiting for you in the foyer. You find your phone again, tapping on Butcher’s name and quickly typing out a message.

‘Don’t freak out, I’m totally fine, but I need you to come get me. Foyer.’

You count to thirty before exiting the stall and washing your hands, pleasantly surprised by your reflection in the mirror, aside from the deep red splashed across your cheeks. You walk calmly out of the bathroom and down the corridor, ignoring the spike in your pulse when you see the back of the security guard still standing there.

He turns around at the sound of your footsteps, a smirk curling his lips. “Hey gorgeous, are you-”

“There you are,” Butcher calls, striding toward you.

He wraps an arm around your waist, his hand splayed across your lower back as he presses your body against his. You don’t have time to respond before his lips capture yours. Your knees almost buckle, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as his mouth moves against yours and your mind goes completely blank.

He pulls back ever so slightly, his forehead still touching yours as he whispers, “I missed you.”

The feeling that bubbles in your chest makes your heart want to explode.

“Better get back in there,” he says, carefully releasing you.

You nod, unable to summon a single word as he looks at you like that, his pupils blown and his lips swollen from the kiss. He takes one of your hands in his and pulls you toward the doors before casting a menacing scowl over his shoulder at the security guard.

“Did he touch you?” he asks, his voice low.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Good.”

“Wait,” you tug on his hand before he can walk through the doors.

He frowns as you pull him to the side, into an alcove beneath the grand stairs that lead up to the private rooms above the event hall. He doesn’t resist when you press him against the wall, your hands on his chest and your body covering his. You look up at him through your thick lashes, and you can feel a soft groan rumble through his chest.

“I’m not sure we were convincing enough,” you whisper, before surging up and pressing your lips against his.

His hands hold the back of your head as he tilts his own to deepen the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips and making you whimper. Your ears fill with the erratic thrum of your heart and the soft moans from the man in front of you, making you forget about everything that isn’t him. The fire rushing through your veins collects at your core, burning with need and making you clench as his hands wander down your back to cup your ass.

Time loses all meaning as you tangle your limbs with his, your body throbbing almost painfully. You have to stop yourself from clawing at his clothes, every desire within you craving to tear his suit apart and absolutely devour him.

Eventually, your lungs begin to burn, and the short gasps between kisses aren’t enough to appease them, so you pull away. His pupils are huge, consuming almost all of the colour in his eyes as he studies your face with a small smile.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs.

You open your mouth to tell him the same when someone clears their throat, and you both snap toward the sound. Hughie is standing a few feet away, his ID badge now on a lanyard around his neck and a notebook in his hand. His face looks pained, struggling to contain what would be a hysterical laugh if you weren’t all supposed to be undercover.

You stumble back from Butcher with wide eyes, your mouth trying to form words but no sound comes out.

Butcher straightens his jacket and clears his throat, “Sorry, mate, as you were.”

Hughie takes a deep breath and turns toward the room, and you have to commend him for his self-control.

Butcher looks down at you, “D’you think that was convincing enough?”

You giggle, “Maybe a little too convincing.”

He smirks and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping at the smeared lipstick. You know you must look like a wreck, your makeup smudged and your face blotchy and red, but you don’t care.

“Better get back in there before you get me arrested for public indecency,” he says, taking your hand in his.

You laugh again as he leads you back into the room, guiding you through the throngs of people and toward your table. Lucille greets you with a smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she surveys your flustered state. Butcher sits and shuffles his chair closer to yours before placing a hand on your thigh, much higher than where it was before.

“It’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it?” Lucille whispers to you.

You frown, “What is?”

“That love and passion,” she replies with a grin. “He just adores you, I can tell. Don’t ever let go of what you two have, it’s rare.”

You try to hide your smile, but it’s almost impossible. “I won’t.”

You’re not sure what you’ve missed but you assume it was Annie’s speech as the chatter around you is filled mostly with her name. The woman from before returns to the stage to rave some more, though you don’t bother trying to pay attention. Butcher is watching you with hungry eyes, filling your head with filthy thoughts and absolutely soaking your panties.

“So, Mrs. Williams,” he says, his voice low, “got any plans after this?”

“Not really,” you reply, “but I do think there’s a toy in the top drawer of my dresser calling my name.”

He swallows thickly, “Is that so?”

You nod, “I’m feeling a little wound up.”

“Perhaps I could help you unwind,” he whispers, “think I’d do a better job than that fuckin’ toy.”

“That’s a bold statement, are you sure?”

His fingers dig into your thighs with enough pressure to bruise, making your whole body jolt.

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure.”

His hand slides up your thigh and you part your legs instinctively.

He smirks, “Good girl, so responsive.”

The burning in your core pulses, sending white hot waves of desire up your spine to cloud your mind. His fingers brush the crotch of your panties, barely a touch but enough to make you sigh softly.

“You’re soaked,” he whispers, “so ready for my c-”

Cheers erupt throughout the room, drowning out his voice and startling you out of your stupor. His hand slides back down your leg and his smirk breaks into a devilish grin when you look at him with a scowl.

“Sorry, love,” he says as he retrieves his phone from his jacket pocket.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, drawing steady breaths and trying to focus on anything but the man beside you. He chuckles at his phone before tucking it back into his pocket.

“Was that your mistress?” you tease.

He raises his brows, “Is that jealousy I’m hearin’?”

You slide your hand up his thigh, stopping just below his crotch to squeeze.

“You tell me, do I have anything to be jealous of?”

His voice is almost a groan, “Never.”

“Good.”

You slide your hand over his crotch, relishing in the way his whole body tenses before you pull back and fold your hands in your own lap. He sighs and takes a generous gulp from his glass of champagne, grimacing at the taste before leaning toward you with an arm over the back of your chair.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that?”

You turn to him, your face barely an inch from his, “Oh, baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

He leans back in his chair, his jaw tense but his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You fond of that dress?” he asks casually.

“This old thing? Nah.”

He nods once, “Good, because I’m goin’ to fuckin’ destroy it.”

The woman sitting on his other side chokes on her mouthful of champagne, casting an abhorrent glare toward the two of you before completely turning her back. You have to swallow your laughter, averting your gaze to your lap as Butcher chuckles quietly.

You feel your purse vibrate at the same time that Butcher reaches for his pocket. You pull your phone out and check the messages, finding several from Hughie.

‘We’re here to WORK, not fornicate.’

‘I just spent five minutes laughing to myself in the toilet.’

‘The shows closing soon, we should leave before the crowds. Unless you and Butcher are busy ;)’

“D’you think you can make it out of here without your knees bucklin’, love?” Butcher asks with a smirk.

You tuck your phone away and twist in your chair so that your legs are toward him, parting them slowly. The red silk slides against your skin and the split opens with your legs. Butcher’s gaze drops, his whole face turning red as his eyes grow wide.

“I bet you a hundred dollars that you’re rock hard right now,” you whisper, leaning forward.

His jaw twitches as his gaze moves to your chest, and you smirk before twisting toward Lucille.

“We’re going to duck out before the masses, but it was lovely meeting you,” you say, “and best wishes to your grandkids. They’re lucky to have such incredible grandparents.”

She smiles at you, her eyes watery, “It was lovely meeting you too, dear.”

Her husband grumbles a farewell and you smile politely at the rest of the table who you hadn’t bothered to meet before turning back to Butcher expectantly. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the way he shifts in his seat.

“Pleasure meeting you,” he nods toward Lucille and Jack.

He pushes his chair back and stands up, drawing a hand out of his pocket and dropping two fifty dollar bills onto the table before stepping back. A grin breaks across your face as you snatch the money and stand up, taking Butcher’s outstretched hand and letting him lead you out of the room. You almost stumble at the pace at which he drags you through the crowds, not stopping until you’re through the foyer, out the doors, and a good distance from the building’s entrance.

“You owe me,” he growls, yanking on your wrist so that you fall into his arms.

“Take whatever you want,” you whisper, “I’m all yours.”

Another rumble vibrates through his chest, and the knot of anticipation in your stomach twists tighter.

“Good, you’re here,” Hughie calls, his feet slapping against the pavement as he jogs toward you.

Butcher’s hold goes slack, and you take a reluctant step away from him as MM and Kimiko follow a few paces behind Hughie. The cold air nips at your bare skin, making you shiver.

“Where’s Frenchie?” MM asks.

“On his way,” Hughie replies with his phone in his hand, “and the car is close.”

You startle at the feeling of material falling around your shoulders, and glance up as Butcher steps in front of you, his arms guiding his blazer over your trembling body. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him through your thick lashes as his lips curl into a soft smile. He moves back to stand at your side and wraps one arm around you, pulling you against side.

Hughie’s grin is so wide you want to slap it off his face.

“Not a word,” Butcher mutters.

Hughie chuckles, “I didn’t say anything.”

MM is clearly amused, and even Kimiko is giggling when Frenchie comes jogging up behind them.

“Did I miss something?” he asks, his brows raised as he looks from Butcher to you.

“Car’s here,” Hughie announces, and you all step toward the curb.

Hughie climbs in the front seat and greets the driver before texting rapidly on his phone, no doubt messaging Annie to let her know you were all safe and heading home. Kimiko and Frenchie shuffle toward the back of the van, and MM grumbles when neither you nor Butcher volunteer to join them. He squeezes between the two of them on the backseat before Butcher helps you into the van, and you take the single seat behind the passenger as Butcher falls into the last seat behind the driver.

You shrink into his jacket, enveloping yourself in his scent and relishing the warmth that his body had left behind. His eyes don’t leave you for the duration of the trip, studying your face, lingering on your lips, and moving up and down your body over and over again.

The drive feels much longer than it should, but the car finally pulls up outside your apartment block and you all pile out. Frenchie begins rambling about pieces of information he overheard, and MM fills in some of the gaps with snippets that he picked up in the press crowd. You almost feel guilty that you did nothing but dry hump Butcher and chat with an elderly rich woman, but that guilt washes away the moment you step inside the apartment.

“Bed, now,” Butcher tells you, tugging you by your hand toward the master bedroom.

“Y/N,” Hughie calls before you can disappear, “I thought your bedroom was that way.”

You turn to him with a frown, finding that stupid boyish grin stretched across his lips as the rest of the room watches you with amused faces.

“I’m not going to sleep, Hughie,” you say, before turning to Butcher, “I’m not tired.”

You catch a glimpse of his disgusted expression before you turn and rush into Butcher’s bedroom, followed closely by the man himself. His hand catches the collar the jacket and pulls it off of you as you step toward the bed.

“Not tired?” he asks, starting on the top button of his shirt.

You sit on the edge of the bed and kick your heels off. “Not at all.”

“Good.”

In two strides, he’s right in front of you, using his knee to nudge your legs apart so he can stand between them. His eyes trace up your bare leg, stopping where the red material reveals an inch of your black panties, and he sighs.

“So,” you say, leaning back with your hands on the bed, “what do I owe you?”

His self-control snaps and his hands yank at the opening of his shirt, ripping the rest of the buttons apart before he shrugs it off his shoulders. He straddles your hips and pushes you back, his lips assaulting your neck as you writhe beneath him.

“You said, I could take whatever fuckin’ I want,” he mutters against your skin.

You only moan in response and he sinks his teeth into your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise before soothing it with his tongue.

“I’m gon’a take all of you,” he growls, “but first-”

He sits back suddenly, his fingers making quick work of his belt and the fastenings of his trousers.

“I made a promise to this dress,” he finishes, before gripping the material on either side of the slit and ripping it.

You gasp as the silk falls loose around your body, tearing right up to the neck and cleaving the dress apart entirely. His eyes rake over your bare skin as he licks his lips and drops onto his hands to hover over you, grinding his hips down and eliciting another moan from your mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he sighs, “you’re gon’a kill me with those pretty noises, sweethear’.”

“Butcher,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I need you.”

His elbows buckle and his body falls on top of yours as his lips capture yours in a searing kiss.

“You have me,” he murmurs against your mouth, “you’ve got all of me.”

END.

#billy butcher #the boys #billy butcher x reader #butcher x reader #karl urban #one shot #oneshot #homelander #hughie campbell #starlight #mm #mothers milk #frenchie #kimiko #the female #fanfic #fanfiction

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cute-bag-of-bones · 10 months

Text

Can't Trust A Supe

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Masterlist

Part 1: "Uncle" Billy

Part 2: Ma Petite Poulette

Part 3: I'm scared

Part 4: You Got My Eyes

Part 5: No Running Away

Part 6: Angel Face

Part 7: Skin

Part 8: Pen and Paper

Part 9: Get Well Soon

Part 10: Blind

Part 11: Blush

Part 12: Homelander Apology

Part 13: Pepper Spray

Part 14: Milk

#billy butcher #homelander #the boys #fanfic #hughie campbell #oc stuff #frenchie #mothers milk #the female #slight yandere #yandere homelander #platonic yandere

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mayfieldss · 9 months

Note

Hello! I have a headcanon request for Frenchie! This is a but of a "suggestive" ask so if its to "smutty" please delete it!!! Can I request reader out of the absolute blue just slapping his ass, like reader and him are in the "hideout"? (Idk what to call where they stay) alone and he's walking past her and she just does it 😭😭

I am SOO sorry. I didn't see the fact that you wanted these in headcannons until after i wrote the full thing. (Also, I can't remember what to call where they stay either)

Unexpected - Frenchie

Content Warnings; language, sexual innuendos.

Being in the bunker 24.7 isn't fun. It's dark and bland, and after a while, there is very little to do. The people are just as tiring, and while they aren't exactly boring, frustration can grow when trapped and in wait for freedom.

"I'm hungry." It's something you've said repeatedly for multiple days in a row, and you would die for a proper meal that didn't consist of packaged chips and canned food.

"We know, Mon Coeur." Frenchie is hard at work on some kind of invention, though he would love to make you something. He wished he had the freedom and ingredients to make you something substantial, though he doesn't have much considering how long you've been down here. MM had gone on a food run an hour ago, and he had yet to come back with anything worth chewing.

Frenchie moves toward you, with the intention of shifting past the couch to the TV, but something stops him, something startling. He doesn't entirely register what's happened until he turns back to you, your hands cupping your mouth as if you are just as shocked by what you've done.

"Did you just..." He's unsure how to go about this, and he's sure you'd just slapped his arse as he walked by.

"I'm so sorry." There's a small shocked chuckle in your words, nerves creeping within the tone as the silence settles between you both.

Frenchie thinks it over before moving back toward you, pulling you to your feet from the couch. "As confused as that has made me, I do not entirely mind." He's smiling just a little, your hands within his own, and you think he might kiss you if given the chance. He's thought about it, but he won't. Not yet.

Frenchie finds it all humerous, though, how the boredom of being trapped so hopelessly in the bunker can bring small hints of possible romance to the surface. For now, you'll have to wait and see.

#frenchie the boys x reader #frenchie the boys #frenchie fanfiction #frenchie the boys fanfiction #frenchie the boys fanfic #the boys #the boys fanfic #the boys fanfiction #the boys tv #the boys x reader #the boys imagine #the boys imagines #frenchie imagines #frenchie imagine #frenchie headcannons #fanfiction

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eclecticqueennerd · 10 months

Text

Confessions

*An AU but not too far off from what we are familiar with. Becca doesn’t exist and Reader has a secret that she hasn’t told anyone. This is my first fanfic on Tumblr.*

Triggers: r*pe, a*ortion, mild violence, confession, angst, alcohol consumption, language

Part 1

Everyone filed into the dirty, musky hideout exhausted from today’s mission. The intel was shit and wasn’t enough to take down Homelander or Vought. As Frenchie, Kimiko, MM went into their assigned rooms, Hughie bid everyone goodbye before heading to his apartment with Annie. Butcher stomped over to the kitchen table and began skimming through multiple manilla folders that lay sprawled out. As the minutes ticked by, you could tell by the expression on Butchers face that he was getting progressively angry, his fists slamming on the kitchen table confirmed it. You approached him and placed a hand on this shoulder. He turned around and the eyes filled with fury softened as soon as they peered into yours. You saw there was a sizeable gash around the outer arch of his left eyebrow, blood trickling down his face.

“What the hell! Where did you get that?” you asked him, gently grabbing his face, and taking a closer look. Butcher just shrugged and replied,

“One of them cunts had a knife. Didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Well looks like you need stiches. Sit.”

“I’m not a fuckin dog y/n. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Sit!” You raised your voice while looking as sternly as you could while pointing to the chair next to the kitchen table. Butcher plopped down and began pouting, crossing his arms over his chest. You walked over to the cabinets above the fridge and pulled out a first aid kit. Walking back over, you pulled out gloves, suture, a small bottle of iodine, a pair of needle holders and a forcep. Grabbing a paper towel located on the table, you clean the wound with iodine and begin suturing. Butcher let out a hiss.

“Fuckin hell could you be more careful? Fuckin hurts.”

“Don’t be such a baby. I’m sure you’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure those small hands are capable of being a lot softer than what your doin’ now luv.”

“Butcher I am being as soft as I can be. You should count yourself lucky it didn’t get any closer to your eye.” You said as you continued suturing.

Before joining The Boys, you were an officer in the United States Army as a Field Surgeon, so you knew the ins and outs of the human body. You joined The Boys after Grace Mallory found you sobbing and cradling your dead husband in a back alley after a supe brutally killed him. You were only 3 days back home from a yearlong deployment. Grace knew how to play into your hatred towards the supes, and that’s how you ended up with the motley crew. You got along with everyone but the person you got along most with was Billy Butcher, and dare you say he was gentler with you than others. The shared hatred the two of you had for supes and the lengths you would go to extract your revenge is what made the pair of you a match made in heaven. A match which neither of you confessed your feelings towards the other. Butcher opened to you about his past when he trusted no one else. He told you about his abusive father and the great lengths he would go to protect his little brother, Lenny. He told you how Homelander killed Lenny and that he hopes to take down those cunts in the tower.

You finished the last stitch and placed the utensils onto the kitchen table. You wiped up the remaining blood on Butchers face, hands shaking as you went. Butcher uncrossed his arms and watched your every step. You removed the latex gloves and inspected your handiwork, as gently as you could turning his head slightly.

“There. All better now. Now don’t pick at it otherwise you’ll have an ugly scar on this beautiful mug.” You flirt halfheartedly. Butcher reached his hands out and wrapped them around yours. Your focus went from the fixed skin to his soft hazel eyes. Your heart began to thud in your chest as you grew more nervous.

“Why you shakin’ luv? You weren’t hurt me.” Butcher spoke softly. You stood like that, eyes locked, for what felt like forever, inching closer and closer. Butcher then snaked one of his hands behind your head and leaned forward. He closed his eyes and started to pucker his lips for a kiss.

What could have been a romantic moment that confirmed the mutual feelings, turned into full panic mode. You promptly pulled back and placed the tips of your fingers on Butchers lips, pushing him away. Butcher’s eyes went wide, and he dropped his hands.

“I thought the feeling was mutual. Sorry.” You could hear the disappointment in his voice as his eyes dropped to the floor. Your heart broke.

“I’m not good enough for you.” You replied quickly. Butcher’s eyes went as big as dinner plates as he again made eye contact with you.

“What? Where’d you get that idea? It’s me not good enough for you.”

“No… no Butcher I’m not good enough for you.”

“What’s gotcha thinkin’ this hm?” You almost spilled your guts right then and there. But what you were about to tell him, you knew he needed a drink or two or three or the whole damn bottle. You went to grab 2 glasses and a bottle of whiskey. You approached Butcher and handed him an empty glass. Then you poured the whiskey into the glasses and promptly drank yours. Butcher looked at you suspiciously as he sipped his drink. You poured yourself another one.

“You’ll want to drink that before I tell you what I’m about to tell you.” Butcher knocked back the glass and set it on the table. You refilled it and gave him an expectant look. After the second glass of whiskey was consumed, you took a deep breath and confessed.

“I’m a supe.” Butcher paused. He narrowed his eyes and said menacingly,

“You wha?”

“I’ll start from the beginning. You remember that time when Homelander kidnapped me?” You were practically vibrating with nerves in the chair across from Butcher. If it were anyone else, you’re almost certain Butcher would have blown up and placed a bullet in their head.

“Yeah. Just about one of the worst days of me life.”

“We’ll he took me to the tower and kept me in the lab under heavy watch. He said that he wanted to punish you for coming after him, after Vought. At first, I thought that he was going to kill me, but he… they… injected me with Compound V.” Butcher was silent as he stared at the table, digesting what you were telling him.

“He kept me there for a few days to make sure that my vitals were okay, and that I wasn’t going to die. He then took me to this cabin in the woods. While there he got into his head that he was going to keep me to breed the ‘best superhuman’. He… he kept…” you trailed off as flashbacks to Homelander forcing himself on you came flooding into your memory. You continued,

“He raped me. Multiple times. He left one day for a meeting in the tower and left me alone. I was still guarded but they must’ve been new hires cuz they fought like shit. When I finally found my opening, I escaped. I have no idea how long time passed but it felt like eternity. I couldn’t go to you. I was afraid you’d hate me for what I became. I hate myself for what I am. I went to Grace, and she took mercy on me. She took me under her wing and kept me hidden in the compound outside New York. There, I found out I was pregnant.” Butcher started bobbing his leg up and down while brushing his beard. He then said gruffly,

“And the baby?”

“Gone. Had it removed as soon as I knew. I actually made it so I can’t any children… with anyone.” Butcher’s eyes met yours. His eyes were filled with fury.

“You told me you were gone training. You lied to me.”

“I did train once my body recovered. I learned what my abilities are and how to keep them in check. You gotta believe me, I wanted to tell you, but I was scared of what you would do. Please… Billy.” You reached a handout to his and he yanked his body away from yours.

“Who else knows?!” Butcher roared.

“Just you and Grace.” A long silence fell between the two of you. Butcher then grabbed the bottle of whiskey and stormed out of the hideout. Tears began filling your eyes as your heart sank into your stomach. This man you were incredibly close with, had feelings for, would give your life for, just walked out on you. MM and Frenchie came out of their rooms to investigate what was going on. They spotted you curled up on the chair, weeping. Frenchie rushed towards you and placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Mon cher what is wrong?” MM approached the table and sat down in the place Butcher left open. You wiped the tears from your face and looked at the two men. You need to tell them, you thought.

“What did that asshole do?” MM asked you. You took a shaky but deep breath.

“I told him… I’m a supe.” Both MM and Frenchie exchanged looks. MM then grabbed your hand and said,

“Go on.”

#billy butcher #frenchie #mothers milk #the boys #fanfic #the boys amazon #billy butcher x reader #karl urban

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zepskies · 2 days

Note

hi ♡ can i request Soldier Boy finding out female!reader had something with Frenchie? Like years before meeting him 👀

You requested this a million years ago (July), but I was finally able to get to this one. Look out for a new Soldier Boy imagine in the near future! 😉

Imagine: Ben getting jealous over your past relationship with Frenchie.

[Edit]: This is out now!

Read the imagine here.

#ask me stuff #Soldier Boy imagine #coming soon!#reader request #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #Frenchie #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys fanfic #the boys tv #the boys amazon #zepskies answers

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syrma-sensei · 11 months

Text

• Soldier Boy:

→ Different World, Different Words.

→ Rugrats, Pool, and Grilling Techniques.

→ Bad Mouth.

→ Home.

→ Hot Under The Helmet.

→ Hush Hush Behind The Shield.

#the boys masterlist #butcher the boys #kimiko the boys #frenchie the boys #the boys #the boys fanfiction #the boys fic #the boys fanfic #the boys fandom #billy butcher the boys #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy x you #soldier boy #starlight #hughie campbell #mother's milk #homelander

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ichorai · 2 years

Text

nina cried power ; frenchie.

track one of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; frenchie x gn!reader

synopsis ; he calls you a plethora of endearing french nicknames, but you call him an asshole.

words ; 1.9k

themes ; angst, fluff, mild action

warnings / includes ; profanity, kissing, blood and injuries, near death experiences and emotional constipation <3 a bunch of french pet names, frenchie is lovesick, reader is part of the boys gang, the rest of the members are mentioned, hughie and reader are also mentioned to be close friends

main masterlist.

The rag between your teeth tasted disgusting. Sweat and grime and flecks of blood stained the once-white fabric—which had come from Frenchie’s own shirt he tore to shreds to bind your wounds. You bit down harder, tongue retracting further down your throat in hazy revulsion, groaning in pain when you felt his hands all over your abdomen, doused with your dark ichor, his expression heavy-set with frantic concern.

“Hold still, mon amour,” he said, brows drawing together when you ignored him completely, roaring obscenities behind the fabric and thrashed even harder. What a fucking asshole. Memories of the first time you met Frenchie flashed behind your eyelids—he had stuck a gun beneath your jaw with a snarl and the rest was history. A complete one-eighty to his expression now. “HUGHIE, HOLD THEM DOWN!” he screamed, completely strung-up.

Faintly, you registered another pair of hands pinning you to the cold tiles of the floor, and your friend’s stuttering melded into the cavernous cacophony ringing in your ears. It felt as if a fire was eating you alive, trying to crawl its way from inside out. Your skin was hot, nearly scalding to the touch.

You still couldn’t really remember what happened.

Supes… there were supes there. One moment you were helping M.M. reload his gun, and the next, half a dozen quills were sticking out of your abdomen, dripping with strange green liquid you’d come to learn was venom. You were going to die, weren’t you?

Frenchie had screamed your name—you couldn’t remember the last time he called you that. See, he always referred to you with endearing french nicknames that you really didn’t care for (lies, you were quite fond of his silly little pet names). You, however, called him an asshole. Sometimes affectionate, and most of the time, you really meant it.

But not this time.

Instead, you glanced at him with mild confusion, before looking down at your stomach, then back up at him. “Frenchie…?” you asked quietly, before collapsing to the ground.

The car ride back to base was painful. Butcher drove like a madman, and Hughie was sweating bullets in the passenger seat, constantly glancing back at you writhing in the backseats. Frenchie had situated you so your head was in his lap as he crooned reassurances that you couldn’t even hear.

God, everything was so dark. So loud. You wanted to claw at Frenchie’s arms and tell him that you hated him. Or that you loved him. Either would work. Damn it, the venom was messing with your mind.

And that’s how you ended up with Frenchie’s shirt shoved between your teeth as you screamed bloody murder, calling him a bastard as he dug his fingers into the sloppy mess that was your stomach, muttering apologies over and over and over again.

“STOP!” you wailed, kicking at his knee when the agony tore you apart, tears streaking lines through the dirt on your cheeks. “You fuck—fucking asshole!”

He didn’t stop.

If he did, you’d die. You weren’t a Supe, no matter how tough you presented yourself to be. Ironically enough, your utility belt clipped around your waist was shoved lower so he could work on your wounds, various sharp blades pressing dangerously against your back.

You had passed out from the pain at one point, going limp in his hold, which sent him into another frenzy. He snapped at Butcher with a fiery rage he’d never shown him before when the man offered to give you some temp V to speed up your healing.

It took hours until he was done. You’d lost a lot of blood, but he managed to staunch it enough—it was messy, but it’d do. The red slick still left a part-sticky, part-dried residue over the skin of his hands, but he didn’t bother to wash it off. He refused to leave your side. So there he sat, shirtless and filthy, pressing kisses to the side of your sweaty head. It wasn’t often that he cried, but he cried for you. He didn’t even care that M.M. and Kimiko were sending him concerned glances.

He just wanted you to be alright.

It was reassuring to see your chest rise and fall rhythmically. “Come back to me, mon chou. Come back.”

You woke up with a start. The first thing you registered was the thirst. Your throat was barren of any moisture, so you croaked out a raspy, garbled noise, barely loud enough to alert Frenchie who had passed out with his head propped on your shoulder.

He sprang upwards, eyes flying wide open and lips parted as he cradled your face. The calluses of his fingers felt rough on your cheeks, and normally you would’ve grumbled at him, tell him to bugger off in true Butcher-like fashion, but all that came out was a quiet rumble of temporary relief.

“Wa… er,” you hacked out, grimacing at the scratchiness of your voice.

“I’ll get you water, ma puce, I’ll be right back,” he rushed to say, chapped lips coming forward to hastily slant over your forehead. “Don’t move.”

You had half the mind to chuckle at that. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to.

He disappeared through the door, and you suddenly felt cold without his presence. A tremor spidered up your spine. The pain in your abdomen was still there, now dulled to a faint throbbing. You realized that your bandages were far cleaner than when you had passed out, face clean and free of dirt.

A queer sort of sadness wrapped its dark palm over your heart. Frenchie took good care of you.

M.M. appeared by the doorway, wearing a mildly guilty expression.

“Hey,” he said, ambling closer. “How you feeling, kiddo?”

You lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug.

Gingerly rubbing the back of his head, M.M. whistled out a long exhale. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault you’re hurt. And you saved my life. Thank you. Frenchie definitely gave me a mouthful when you were asleep.”

You allowed for a small grin to play at the corner of your lips.

“He never left your side, you know,” M.M. mumbled. “He really cares about you. Loves you, even.”

After a considerably lengthy silence, you cracked open your mouth to hoarsely whisper out, “He’s an asshole.”

M.M. regarded you with a quirked brow. “And you aren’t? Come on. The two of you are perfect for each other.”

“He doesn’t love me,” you said in a small voice, staring at a particularly interesting spot on the floor. “He loves the idea of me, but not me.”

“What?”

The sound of that French accent by the door made your heart drop down to your stomach. Your eyes shot up to see Frenchie holding a glass of water, staring at you with an expression that so clearly read anguish.

M.M. pursed his lips awkwardly and sent you one last nod before doggedly bowing his head and striding out. Frenchie didn’t acknowledge him, gaze glued on you, shuffling forward and holding out the glass.

You made to take it from him, but he merely tutted, using his free hand to lift your chin and raise the cup to your lips. If you weren’t so desperately impatient, you would’ve protested. Just this one. This one time, you’d let him take care of you.

The water was heaven on your tongue. You gulped down so quickly that you nearly cried with relief, droplets falling from the corner of your mouth and meandering down your jaw.

“Slowly, slowly, mon trésor,” he crooned, before placing the glass down. There was a tender look to his eye that you misliked. Asshole. “Good?”

“Good,” you croaked. A frown molded over your visage.

“What was that about, mon amour?” he asked, sitting on the mattress. “You think I don’t love you? Why on earth would you think that?”

When you refused to meet his eyes, Frenchie slotted his palm beneath your chin once again, gently running his thumb over your jaw until you reluctantly moved your irises to meet his.

“There you are. Bonjour, mon chou.”

“Hey, asshole.”

Much to your chagrin, Frenchie threw his head back and laughed. It was a genuine laugh, full-chested and lively.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much. I don’t know what else to tell you. I don’t know how to get you to believe me.”

You wanted to believe him so badly. Was it because you loved him, too? Or was it because you just wanted any love?

“Then show me.” The words were soft—so quiet it was near indiscernible.

Initially, there was a beat of shocked silence. Then, Frenchie didn’t waste any time leaning forward and kissing you gently, enveloping your lips with his own. He cradled your jaw with shaking fingers, nose slotted against yours so that it brushed your cheek when he angled his head to the side. It was so slow, so soft, so very warm that you nearly crumbled into a million pieces under his touch.

He kissed like it was the last time he’d ever be able to do so. His brows furrowed in concentration, as if this was his one and only chance to show you just how much he adored you.

When you finally broke away, you had a palm pressed against his bare chest. He knocked his forehead against yours affectionately, a pleased grin playing on his lips.

“Do you believe me now?” he asked. Before even giving you the chance to reply, he swooped back down to kiss you again. “And now?”

“You’re annoying, you know that?” you replied easily, though with a fond smile etched over your mouth. A sudden wave of bashfulness tumbled over you. You tilted your head slightly, averting your gaze once more. “Thank you. For saving my life. I could’ve died if it weren’t for you.”

He waved your sentiment away. “Bah, I didn’t do much. I cried—and I nearly pissed my pants. I was afraid you’d… you…” The words died on his tongue. He didn’t have the heart to finish his sentence.

“I’m okay,” you susurrated, leaning forward so that his nose bumped into yours. “Thanks to you. I owe you one, asshole. I owe you big time.”

“You don’t owe me anything, mon ange. I just need to know that you’re alright,” he whispered, lips only a hair's breadth away from yours—

Before Butcher sauntered in with his stupidly loud voice.

“Honeymoon’s over, you cunts!” he announced with his incredibly thick accent. Frenchie looked as if he was ready to commit homicide, and you could only muffle a snort of amusement, patting his bare shoulders in mock sympathy. The bearded man saluted you with a roguish leer. “Y/N, glad to see you’re back in tip-top shape. Hughie’s been a nervous little bird ever since you went down.” You most definitely weren’t in tip-top shape, but you supplied him with a forced smile that was far too wide to be deemed natural. It was nice to hear that your old friend was worried for you, though.

Butcher clapped his hands together. "We’ve got some business to attend to."

#frenchie x reader #the boys fanfiction #the boys frenchie x reader #frenchie drabbles #the boys drabble #frenchie angst #the boys angst #frenchie fluff #the boys fluff #the boys fanfic #frenchie fanfic #frenchie fanfiction #the boys headcanons #the boys scenarios #frenchie headcanons #frenchie scenarios #the boys frenchie #the boys frenchie fanfiction #the boys

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cheynovak · 3 months

Text

Family business: Part 1

Billy Butcher & Sarah Butcher x Soldier boy

Warnings: Age difference, cursing, violence, smut, 16+, ... it's the boys... what not

Side note: English isn’t my first language.

Words: 5900

Sarah is Billy Butcher’s daughter from a previous relationship. He did not raise her, on the contrary, when he found out that her mother was pregnant, he fled to the army. Butcher felt too young to care for a child, afraid to follow in his father's footsteps. But Sarah's mother wanted to keep the child. In the first 5 years he sended her postcards on her birthday with a little bit of money in it. But when he never got a responce he stopped. Years later Billy’s and Sarah’s paths cross when they search for the weapon that killed Soldier boy only to find the supe himself, who seems to have an special interest in Sarah.

*Might not follows the original “the boys” timeline*

----

Sarah woke up in a shitty New York apartment, she looked outside the dirty window, it was a nice sunny day but all she could think of was how horrible she felt doing this job. The CIA needed some unknown people for some shitty job when they couldn’t keep get their hands dirty. And that was one thing she had no trouble with.

She took a quick shower before throwing on some old rock band shirt with a grey skinny jeans and black doc martens. Before she got out the door, she took her old black leather jacket and keys. Once outside she took the metro to the CIA headquarters where she had to meet with Susan Raynor. Sarah walked around in the big city thinking how much she hated this place, she could wait to get back overseas.

Sarah presented herself to Suzan, “Mrs Raynor? I’m Sarah, Sarah Turner, my boss sends me to... take care of an inconvenience for you.” she said shaking her hand. “Ah yes miss Turner. Take a seat. Where waiting for my other associate before I can inform you about your task.” She said with a disapproved look at her. “You might like the man, British too.” Sarah looked with smiled like she had a toothache. “Yeah well, all Brits get along ay.”

“Sorry kept you waiting luv, traffic.” Sarah heard a familiar accent behind her. She looked up, looking at the man, she could have sworn she recognised him. “Who’s this?” He asked Suzan without looking at Sarah. “Butcher meet Turner, Turner, Butcher. Your new partner.” - “Since when do you give me partners and tasks Suzan?” - “Since we need you to go to Russia and find out what killed soldier boy, what killed him can kill Homelander, but I don’t trust you, so I arranged backup.” - “I don’t need a fucking babysitter, no offence luv.” He said to her swiftly. “Take it or leave it.” Suzan told him.

Suzan Raynor explained all the resources Sarah had, and talked about their mission, the boys could be included, but only Sarah could call in for progress with her directly. Once dismissed Sarah and Billy stepped out the room. “So, Butcher...” Sarah asked “Billy Butcher?” He turned around. ”You know me sweetheart?” - Sarah’s heart dropped “By reputation” she felt sick to her stomach, but the fact that he didn’t recognise her last name made it easier on her.

Sarah met the boys, MM, Frenchy and Hughie seemed nice fellas. But she couldn’t help to feel troubled, they planned the trip to Russia, she noticed both MM and Frenchie were trained, Hughie on the other hand seemed like a beat-up puppy. Butcher started to go over the plan one last time. “We enter here...” Sarah couldn't help but to roll her eyes at him. “I’m sorry luv is there anything you want to say.” - “Yes, that is a fuck bad idea. I bet ya that these doors will be guarded by at least a dozen soldiers, unless you can hocus-pocus your arse through them, we need a new route.” - “Well excuse me for my language darlin but, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think. I’ve been doing this since you were in bloody diapers.” Yeah, diapers you never had to touch you fuck. Sarah though.

She kept her mouth closed and loaded in her duffel bag feeling pissed, she really wanted to put Butcher in his place, but she knew it would compromise the mission. She heard Frenchy talk to Hughie. “She gives off, Lara Croft vibes, no? Spicy lady.” he joked. “Yeah, well two English alfa’s, I hope it will work out.” the skinny kid answered. Sarah saw Butcher put away some green liquids put away. “What is that?” She asked him.

“None of ya business sweety.” he answered. “None of my business...” she repeated fierce. “If I need to go out there in Russia risking my ass, I need to know what shit you're taking.” Walking over to Butchers bag taking out everything until she found the temp V. “What is this shit?” - “Oi, give that back you little cunt.” - “No fucking way asshole, tell me what is this shit you’re taking.” - “Give it back or I’ll take something from you.” - “You sound like a fucking child Butcher.”

Butcher grabbed your bag throwing it all out on the floor, he saw a picture falling out. ”What’s this?” He said while picking it up. Sarah saw his face getting pale as he looked at your mother in the photo. It was an old picture, taken when you were 7 maybe 8 years old, on a vacation in France, Sarah sitting next to her mother on a bench at the sea. He looked back at you locking eyes still holding the picture in his hands. Sarah walked over snapping it out of his hands. “That is my dead mother you fuck. If you ever touch this again, I'll kill ya, understood.” Billy nodded slowly.

He didn’t ask, she didn’t spoke. They both got back to preparing their bags. But Sarah could feel his eyes lingering on her. On the flight to Russia, they sat apart. Sarah chose the seat next to Frenchie and MM. Sarah deliberately chose to bring headphones, so she didn’t have to interact to much with the boys. “What happened?” Hughie asked Butcher referring to the incident back home. “I knew her mother, we used to date back in the days. I had no idea she passed away.”

Once landed Billy planned to rest at the motel first before digging around the foreign lab.

Butcher handed out the keys, “not you, not yet, we need to talk.” He said to Sarah. They walked to his room. “What?” she asked like a spoiled teenager who was about to get a preach. “Your mother, when... how did she die?” - “Oh no, don’t pretend like you care.” She snapped at him. Billy frowned “If you really cared about her, if you really cared about us, you would have never left.” She yelled at him. “So do us all a fucking favour and pretend you don’t know her, cause that is what I will do when this shit show is fucking over. Pretend I never met you.”

Sarah walked out the door, Billy followed her. “Sarah... SARAH stop.” She stopped but didn’t face him. She could feel the tears in her eyes burn, not knowing why this hurt her so much, she never knew him. “Sarah, I wasn’t ready to be a father, for fuck sake I was 19 years old. Your mom insisted on keeping it.” - “IT?! Keeping IT?! She burst not saying anything anymore before taking another breath “I don’t need to know your sob story Butcher.” she turned around. “You didn’t want a child, I don’t want you in my life, let just focus on the job and get it done, ok.” Sarah took her key and went to bed.

The next morning everyone gathered at the parking lot looking terrified. ”What happened?” Frenchie asked arriving last. “Raynor, got executed last night. Her brains blown up, Annie just texted me.” Hughie said. “That means someone may know were here.” Butcher added. “No time to waste then.” Sarah said walking to the rented car.

Sarah woke up in the red lighted room at the lab. “What happened? WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!” she yelled at Hughie standing in front of her, covering her eyes. “I eh, pushed you aside during the attack, you bumped your head.” Billy kneeled in front of you. “Are you ok, luv?” - “Yeah yeah, I'm fine.” you said while lifting yourself up, grabbing for is arm as you felt a little dizzy. “Still not a reason to be naked though!” she pointed at Hugh, looking around. “What’s this?”

Sarah opened an old container, smoke came out, Billy pulled her back, behind him, once they saw a man walking out. She looked in him up and down, turning to Hughie whispering. ”He has a reason to be naked.”

“Soldier boy.” Butcher mumbled, making Sarah look back at the man. At first, she thought he was looking at Butcher but when the smoke cleared, she saw his green eyes were locked on her. Her breath and heart stopped. “No way, he’s alive?” she looked at Billy who looked shocked at her.

After Soldier boy blasted his way out of there, you all hurried back to the states, trying to take care of Kimiko.

“Well, there is no reason for me to stay here.” Sarah announced. Billy looked shocked, “The fuck you mean. There is a fucking ancient supe out there and you are leaving? - “What do you want me to do? Buy a fucking flute and whistle until he comes to us like a dog?” - “He blew up midtown, we need to do something.” Hughie begged. “Guys even if I wanted, I have a fucking concussion, my shoulder is hurt and there is no fucking way I’m taking that shit you injected yourself with.”

“Then wait here.” Billy said, “Heal and if you still decide on leaving, I’ll buy you a ticket.” Sarah though about it for a second, healing before the long travel wasn’t a bad idea. “Fine.”

Not long after they agreed to that Billy texted her, “meet me at this address ASAP.”

Sarah walked up to an old cheap motel. She knocked on the door, Hughie answered, letting her in. She immediately saw Soldier boy snoring a line of cocaine before he looked her up and down. She never felt nervous when a man checked her out, hell she even used her body every now and then to get what she needed or wanted, but the way he looked at her made her head spin and her heart race.

Billy walked over to you, tilting your head back looking in your eyes. “How do you feel?” Sarah slapped his hand away. ”Stop fathering me.” Hughie and Ben exchanged a look. She nodded to Soldier Boy, “You found him.” - “Yeah, well Hughie and I need to take care of somethings, we need you to stay with him.” Billy smiled at her. “Really? Babysitting?” she answered. “Babysitting, taking care of the elders, whatever you want to call it.” He said pushing Hughie out the door.

Sarah felt the awkward silence, “Well, coffee?” she asked walking to the small kitchen not waiting for his response. “You were there in Russia, weren’t you?” He asked following her. “Eh yeah” - “You got me out.” She turned to him leaning on the counter. “It was a team effort.” he nodded still looking in her eyes like he was searching for something.

As time got by, Ben seemed to like Sarah better than the rest of the boys. And Sarah decided to stay for a while. There was this unspoken bond between her and Ben, both outsiders taking care of their past, in different ways but still. At this point Billy only thrusted Hughie to tell the truth about Sarah. But Ben noticed the similarities pretty early on.

Ben started the conversation after seeing Sarah walking to the bathroom, Billy was sitting next to him watching tv. "You know, I wanted some rugrats of my own... couple of little boys." Billy looked at him, “With Countess. But not everything always goes the way we want right?” Billy didn’t answer. “Does she know?” - “Yeah.” - “You didn’t raise her?” - “No.” - And that’s why the tension is so bad between you two?” - “She thinks I left her mother because I didn't love her, I loved her I didn’t want to be a father, she wanted the child, what choice did I have.”

“You could have grown a pair of balls and taken care of your child and woman.” He said bluntly taking a smoke, walking towards the window, he saw Sarah standing in the door, slightly smiling at him. He knew she heard him, even though it wasn’t his intention. “Billy, Frenchie just texted, he needs you at the lab.” He got up looked over at you, nodded before leaving with a sigh.

“Thank you.” Sarah said walking closer to Ben. “For what?” He said smiling. “Putting him in his place.” - ”I just don’t think he sees you for what you are.” - “And that is?” Sarah asked still walking closer, her eyes met his. “A tall, beautiful young woman, gorgeous big dark eyes, who is stubborn, fierce, smart, a firecracker.”

“And you can tell all that from what, a week knowing me?” She looked up at Ben. Even though she was 5ft11, he stood taller than her looking down in her eyes. “I’ve known that since I set a foot out of that container.” Ben’s hand moved to the back of her black hair and the back of her neck. He looked at her lips before slowly closing the space between them.

His movement stopped abrupt when the door opened, he looked over her shoulder. Hughie walked in. “Good you’re here.” Sarah said still standing close to Ben. “I’m going training, I found a private room I could rent at the gym.” She left Ben standing there. Fucking cock blocker, he thought looking mad at Hughie. “Oh, besides I found ourselves a house instead of this motel room.” She said turning back in the door. “I’m tired of sleeping on a couch.”

Sarah, Ben, Frenchie and Kimiko moved in almost permanently, although Billy dropped by every day to check on Ben, but secretly he wanted to get to know Sarah. Frenchie seemed to be the only one to notice the tension between Ben and Sarah. He stood a little to close, was way more friendly with her than with the others. Accidently bumped into her in the kitchen. She would lay her hand on his shoulder when walking past him at the table, bending over to pick things of the floor, not caring he’d look at her cleavage or ass.

Sarah was a very structured woman, even in the middle of this shit show she turned the basement into a small training room. She seemed to be the only one using it, not understanding how all of them stayed in shape without training. One day Hughie asked her to show her some tricks. “I’ve seen you fight in Russia, even without temp V you really know how to handle yourself.” She looked shocked. “Eh yeah, sure I’m heading down now.” Ben couldn’t help but to laugh, “I want to see this.” As he followed them.

Even though Hughie did his best she and Ben could see martial arts aren’t his thing. “Come on kid, tired already?” Ben joked leaning on the railing of stairs looking over them. “Don’t listen to him.” Sarah spoke, “Not all of us are granted with a supe boost. Besides, the right technic will take down anyone.” Hughie smiled soft but knew he never would be cut out for that. “Is that so?” Ben huffed “Fine, do it.” - “What?” Sarah looked at the supe walking down. “Take me down, I’ll even make it interesting. If you can get me on my knees, I'll take you on a date.” Sarah laughed “Oh Ben, how did you know that was my dream.” Answering over dramatic sarcastic. “What if I can’t.” - “You get on your knees for me... in private.” He said moving his thumb over her lip.

“Sarah don’t.” Hughie said afraid he would take advantage of her. “Agreed, just to wipe that smirk of your face.” she said taking a step closer. She had miss calculated him physically, all though she knew he was build firm, she had no idea that her hits and kicks would be brushed off so easily. Ben never hit her back, all he did was block and push her aside. Sarah was out of breath. “Giving up yet?” Ben teased not a drop of sweat on his face. “Never!” She yelled when kicking his chest.

“Oi! What the fuck is going on.” Butcher yelled running down the wooden stairs with Frenchie. “Sarah and Ben are... training.” Hughie answered. “Ough.” Sarah let out a grunt falling on her knees when Ben tackled her. “Oh princess, sitting on your knees already? Thought that was the deal, after the fight.”

Butcher looked at Hughie “Deal? What deal Hughie?” - “Sarah made a deal that if she doesn’t get Soldier Boy on his knees she had to... get... on eh, hers for him.” - “WHAT?! Hey fucking cunt!” Butcher yelled running down the stairs. “The fuck are you planning mate?” Ben looked over Sarah’s shoulder at him unbothered.

Without hesitation Sarah got up and kicked Ben in his face now that he was distracted. Making him step backwards, losing his balance, falling on one knee. “Mon dieux, a little Jean Claude Vandamme in the house eh!” Frencie laughed hitting Hughie’s shoulder. Ben looked up at her, entirely surprised. Sarah stood there, towering over him, with a wide grin holding out her hand. Ben took her hand pulling him off his knee. “A deal is a deal.” Ben said standing to close to her. “Don’t worry, just the look on your face, that was all I needed.” Sarah said not backing down, almost chest against chest.

“No, no, NO! Get back, you get away from her!” Butcher pulled on Sarah’s shoulder demanding her to step back looking at him. “Oh, don’t act like you fucking care.” She said walking away. Butcher looked at Ben “Stubborn, like her father.” he said patting Butcher's shoulder before following Sarah up the stairs. “Father?” Frenchie asked. Billy’s face said enough, “Sarah is mademoiselle Charcutier? No! That is not possible.” - “It is.” Was all Butcher replied.

Later that night, Kimiko wanted to watch singing in the rain. To everyone’s surprise, Ben didn’t complain. All four watched the movie. Until Sarah heard her phone ring in the kitchen. She got up to see who the caller was. It was her boss back in the UK. He had been calling to see if she was still alive and or working the case. She didn’t noticed Ben got up until she felt the warmth of his body behind her.

“How long?” He asked placing his hands on her hips. She felt the heat rising in her body. “How long what?” She asked. “How long are you going to keep teasing me woman.” She felt his lips brush over her shoulder.

Frenchie looked over at the kitchen seeing Ben covering Sarah’s body. But she didn’t seem to mind it as he watched her head fall back against his shoulder, her hand moving back, fingers tugging Soldier Boys hair.

“Am I teasing you? I had no idea.” She flirted. “Tell me Ben, if you feel like I tease you too much, why didn’t you ever make move.” - “Your fucking friends are cock blockers.” he growls, while he softly bit the flesh in your neck with his teeth. His hands moved up to her breast, kneading them over her shirt. “I don’t know how long I can wait before I rip your clothes off and take you right in front of everyone.” Sarah turned around facing Ben. “Is that a promise?”

Ben looked shocked at her comeback, but his surprise turned into lust really quick. Lifting her on the kitchen table, kissing her like a hungry man.

Sarah looked over his shoulder, Kimiko and Frenchy were still focussed on the tv. Ben’s lips were on her neck again. She pushed him back, he looked confused. Sarah slipped past Ben walking back to the couch. She saw Frenchie looking up at her, she answered him with a wink before sitting down.

Later that night she heard a soft knock, Sarah expected Ben, knowing him, he didn’t want to give up just yet. But to her surprise she saw Kimiko on the other end. “Hi.” She let her in.

Kimiko heard what happened and wanted to know more about her family and Butcher. So, she told her everything, how she was raised by her single mom, that she lost her at 15 due to cancer. After wandering around for months a group of private contracters had found her and trained her. She owns them everything.

The man who took her is was now the boss, Sarah even told her that she was ditching his calls because for some reason she wanted to get to know Butcher. God forbit she would ever say that to him. “Soldier boy?” she typed. ”What about him?” - “You like him?” -”Yeah, well we get along, I guess where friends of some sort.” - “ He looks at you like he wants to be more than friends.” - “Oh no, he is like that with ever woman.” Sarah answered feeling her cheeks blush. -” Not with Annie or me. Frenchie says so too! He saw you two in the kitchen...” - “I don’t know. He... does something to me, I feel like I can’t thrust myself around him.” she confessed.

Kimiko enjoyed the girl talk she had with Sarah, and so did she. “Talk soon?” Sarah asked while letting Kimiko out the door, she smiled and nodded quick. Sarah looked at the clock 2am. Damn, time to hit the sack. She thought changing into her pyjama, well actually a tank top and panties.

Sarah heard a knock “Forget something Kimi?”She asked opening the door.

Ben looked down at her, “Hi.” was all he said. “Ben... What are you...” He didn’t let her finish. “ I heard you talk to...” he pointed his thumb behind at him, trying to remember her name. But when he looked down at her, he could see she wasn’t wearing much. Making him forget all he wanted to say. “Yes?” Sarah asked trying to bring him back, but instead he walked in. “Fuck this.” He crashed his lips on to hers, pulling her body to his with one hand under her shirt and the other covering her ass.

Sarah felt like she had to fight this, but the more she felt his lips on her the more she felt addicted. Uncontuesly she moved her hands over his chest, over his shoulders, pulling him closer to her body. Ben found the back of her legs lifting her up, carrying her to her bed, laying her down undernead him. He looked at her for a second.”Fuck you’re beautiful, can’t believe that cavemen is your father.” - “Can we please not talk about him now?” She kissed and bit his neck.

Ben’s hands moved under her shirt, lifting it over her head. Fingers teasing her nipples while his mouth was sucking and kissing the flesh of her breasts. She couldn’t help but to moan at his touch. Ben felt her hand moving to his head, pushing him down to her panties. He grinned “So bossy” while kissing her hip. “You like it.” she teased back.”I saw it in your eyes when I kicked your ass.” Ben didn’t answer with words, but he did with his tongue against her slit. “Fuck.... Ben!” Sarah moaned tugging at the sheets beside her.

Ben heard her breath getting faster, her body arching for more friction. He place one hand over her hips while the other pushed his fingers inside her. "Fuck sweetheart, I wanted to taste you the minute I laid my eye on you.” He said between sucking at her clit and licking. Sarah felt the coil in her stomach grow. “Oh Ben... don’t stop!” She whimpered. After her high she looked at Ben while he wiped his mouth with the back of his hands.

Sarah wrapped her legs around him, turning him on his back. Her mouth on his, her tongue touching his, tasting herself. Grinding on his coverd cock a few times before lifting herself taking her hand down between their bodies. Ben moaned in her mouth when her hand got down to push down his trainers a little to stroke him. Ben grabbed her hair in his hand when she moved herself down.

Sarah tugged Ben’s pants further down, taking it all the way off together with his underwear. Placing herself on her knees between his legs. She hears him chuckle. “What?” she asked. “Looks like I have you on your knees afterall.” Sarah smacked his thigh but smiled at the same time, Ben could see the lust in her eyes when she kissed and stroke his thighs, hips, ... everywhere exept where he wanted her te most. “Stop teasing princess.” He groaned.

“So needy” she teased sitting back up, Ben looked confused. “Really?” She climbed on top of him smiling. “Your big mouth will get you in trouble, handsome.” She grinded against him while she whispered in his ear. “Had you just kept it shut, I might have sucked you so hard, so long till you came in my mouth.” Ben gripped on her thighs she knew it would leave marks, but she didn’t mind. “Oh, so she likes control?” - “You have no idea.” She said, holding his cock steady for her to sink down on.

Sarah’s head fall back, sitting straight on his lap, Ben saw her face when he filled her up. “Fuck.” was all he could moan. Her hands hold her steady on his chest while she rode him. His hands over her breasts to her neck before he sat up kissing her shoulders, neck, breasts...

Ben pushed her over, her head towards the foot end of the bed. Wrapping her knees over his hips, while he took her wrist in his hands and pulled them over her head. Sarah felt his thrusts getting harder and faster. His cock pushing against that one spot inside her that made her scream his name. “Fuck... Ben! Harder... fuck me harder ... please.” - “Say it again.”

“Fuck... Me... Harder.” she begged out of breath. Ben placed his hands over her throat not entirely kneading but holding her in place, while thrusting harder in her. “I’m going to ruin you for any other man you will ever fuck.” He whispered in her ear.” - “I don’t want anyone else.... fuck... Ben, I only want you.” She managed to say between breaths while she came on his cock, her orgasm never felt this good before. Not long after Ben came too.

Fuck Sarah though staring at the ceiling after coming down from her high. “Maybe a little late, but please tell me you’re on birth control?” Ben said looking over at her. “Heh? Eh yeah, I am.” she answered not mentioning she forgot to take it a couple of nights in a row. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick.” She said jumping up putting on a pair of shorts and her top leaving Ben in her bed.

Sarah ran to the kitchen, starting to throw out everything in her purse trying to find those damn pills, she got nervous. “Looking for something?” She heard Butcher getting in by the back door, putting the lights on. “You’re up late. Need a hand?” - “No, no, I got it.” She said relieved. Taking the pill with a glass of water. “What are you doing here?” She looked at the man. “I couldn't sleep found myself walking here.” He looked at the packaging “Good you take those.” Sarah huffed “Yeah, would not what to put unwanted children on this earth now would we.” She said walking past Butcher. “Sarah...” - “Goodnight.” She quickly said before she had to hear him apologise again.

Ben was still in her bed. “That took long enough.” She crawled in the bed next to him, kissing his lips without saying a word. But he could see she was upset, she hugged him, his steady heartbeat made her fall asleep quickly.

The next morning, she woke up to the sound of clashing pots and pans in the kitchen. When she wanted to move, she could feel Ben’s arm still wrapped around her, spooning. Sarah had moved during the night, but Ben still seemed to hold on to her.

His heavy breathing came to an abrupt stop. “Goodmorning” she said smiling at him softy. “Hmm.” was all he said snuggling closer to the spot between her neck and shoulder. “God, you smell amazing.” he said still sounding sleepy. “We need to get up.” - “Do we?” he asked with a hint of mischief in his voice. Sarah could feel his hand move down, tugging her shorts aside. “I think we still have some unfinished business.”

Sarah felt his dick pushing against her while his hand was making sure she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Without much though she started to copy his behaviour teasing and playing with him. When their breaths got heavier, he moved her shorts down lifting her leg up a little so he could take without moving too much. One hand on her hip while the other held her close to him, wrapped around her breast holding her body close to his.

Ben took her hand and placed it in between her hips, holding his hand over hers. “You feel that?” he moaned “That is where I belong. Deep inside you.” Sarah kissed his lips in return. “Fuck Ben, promise me you’ll fuck me every night.” - “And every morning.” he said kissing the spot behind her ear. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re pregnant.” Shit that didn’t supposed to sound so hot. She though.

After their morning “work out” they both entered the kitchen, seeing literary everyone sitting or standing there. They all stared at the two of them. Kimiko smiled at Sarah, already knowing what had happened. Since she saw Ben sneaking to her room after she left.

“Mornin” she said in unison with Butcher. Ben couldn’t help but to laugh, he couldn’t believe still not everyone saw the resemblance.

*A couple of weeks later*

Today was the day they wanted to take down Homelander. Everyone was preparing but Sarah felt ill, walking to the bathroom she couldn’t help but to overhear a conversation between MM and Frenchie about some gas that could take down Ben. But she decided not to tell him, so he could focus on Homelander. Over these past few weeks they became closer. He shared how he felt about Homelander being his son. “If they just told me. I would have given my seat up.” He had told her somewhere between their passionate nights and open conversations afterwards.

Things got heavy at the Vought tower. Ben tried to hurt Homelander by saying the few words his father ever said to him. ”Being a fucking disappointment.” He tried to turn the conversation to Butcher and Sarah. “So, this is Sarah. Well, sweetheart wish I could say you look like you mother.” - “Fuck you.” - “How are you feeling? Not to nauseous I hope?” He grinned. Sarah looked confused at him, but when he looked at her stomach and back up at her, she realised she was late.

“Congratulations Butcher. Or should I say grandad.” Sarah felt Butchers eyes on her, but all she could do was stare at Homelander, unbelievable she had to find out like this. When Meave placed her hand on her shoulder, she snapped out of the shock, looking between Butcher and Ben. Butcher followed her eyes to Ben. Ben already attacked Homelander, but Ryan defended his father.

When Ben tried to get Ryan and Homelander out of his way Butcher blasted him a crossed the room.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ben said getting up.

“Not the kid.”

“Oh, I thought you said blood didn’t matter. Thought that was the whole fucking point”

“He’s my wife’s son.” Ben looked shocked, seeing Sarah’s eyes grow big. “What!?”

“You leave the mother of your child, YOUR CHILD but you will defend this kid? WHY?” Sarah yelled hitting Butcher in the chest. Homelander heard everything that she said before Maeve hit him. Ben stopped you “Go find the others. I’ll take care of this.” - “I can help.” - “No, I need you to be save.” He said while he kissed the temple of her head. “Go, I got this.” Butcher looked at them realising what was going on.

Sarah ran through the entire building finding Hughie at the control room. She looked at the monitor how everyone attacked Ben. “How, wait why is he the villain in all this?” Sarah saw how Annie reloaded, she ran as fast as she could back to them, she saw how MM held the gas over Ben’s mouth. Ben’s chest was glowing. “I’m not... going back in that... fucking box!”

“MM stop! STOP he will kill everyone!” She felt Maeve running past her. Ben looked at her when she pushed him through the window. Sarah ran after them. “NO!” She fell to her knees, covering her eyes when Ben’s radiation exploded. She looked over her shoulder, everyone was shocked. Butcher laying there on the floor covered in blood.

*After the fight*

Sarah and Butcher were brought to the same hospital. The doctor confirmed her pregnancy. Butcher got a warning never use temp V again or it would get him killed. The drive home was quiet. Once home he spoke to her.

“Sarah, can we talk?”

“It’s late Butcher, I really want to go to bed.”

“It’s important.”

“Fine.” She sighs, taking a seat at the kitchen table copying him.

“I really don’t know where to start but, I never wanted to leave you, luv.” He looked at her with sincere eyes. “I sent you postcards for your birthday, and Christmas and wrote letters, hoping your mother would tell me about you.” Billy saw the tears forming in her eyes. “I didn’t want to be the monster my father was. Didn’t mean I didn’t want to know you...” He paused a second “I want to get to know you and be there for your baby.”

Sarah got up with tears in her eyes “Well thank you for sharing that. Goodnight Butcher.”

She got to her room, falling on to her bed, tears started to fall. After some time she heard her phone buzz. Number unknown.

She picked up “Hello?”

“Sarah? It’s me.”

“Homelander” she recognised his voice.

“We need to talk...”

-----

Part 2 soon : Homelander contacted Sarah, trying to form a front against Butcher, promising her, her child will be save. "Family comes first" He said.

-----

I hope you guys like it! I have a idea for part 2 BUT, Love to hear what you think should happen!

Definitely check out my masterlist!

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piratesfromspace · 2 years

Text

Forget (Frenchie x Reader)

Pairing: Serge ‘Frenchie’ x Reader

!! Light spoilers for The Boys Season 3 !! A filthy drabble for Frenchie, and what he does when he needs to forget TW: mention of blood, smut, p in v sex, dom/sub relationship (Sub!Frenchie), talk of oral sex, angst

MASTERLIST

“More” his voice is strained, the column of his neck deliciously exposed. Her teeth sink into his skin, and he hiss in response.

“Shhh my sweet boy is greedy tonight” she smiles, “but that’s okay, I got you mon chéri, I’ll give you what you want in the end, don’t worry”.

She moves her hips slowly, riding him at a lazy rhythm. His shoulders are straining from his bound hands behind his back. She used the large leather cuffs tonight, she was being merciful. She knew what he needed. She always knows.

Everything had gone to shit, his life an endless stream of broken glass and broken bones. Of blood and gasoline. He’s fucking tired. He came to her to forget about it for a minute. At least in here, he was giving up control willingly, and the collar and leash he was wearing were real. Not the invisible chain so many yanked him by outside of this room. Nina. Butcher. For them he was nothing more than a guard dog. But for his girl? For his girl, he was a very good boy.

She sinks down on him once more, way too slow for his taste. But it’s for his own good, all he has to do is sit there with her in his lap and take it like a good boy. He drifts slowly into another space, focusing only on the softness of the leather and the wet warmth of her cunt around his leaking cock. The faint pain in his arms. The heavy collar on his neck, the familiar and comforting weight of it circling his throat. From time to time, she tugs on it, bringing his attention back to her when he is too far gone into his head. She ushers simple commands in her warm voice, guiding him, praising him. He’s going crazy with the slow pace, but it’s a kind of dreamy madness he loves so much.

“You’re doing so good, baby. You can come if you want, whenever you’re ready.” she whispers, her nails tracing delicate patterns on his chest, down his abs. He lets out a whimper, a sound so unlike his tough persona, but he feels no shame, he’s way past that now. “You’re being so good for me, maybe I’ll let you eat me out after that, mmh? I could sit on your pretty face, would you like that?” she gives a hard tug on his collar, and he comes like this, mouth parted around a silent cry. She can see the pink of his tongue, and she decides that what she chose next is definitely a good idea.

#the boys season 3 #the boys #the boys fanfic #the boys fanfiction #frenchie fanfiction #frenchie x reader #frenchie x you #Female reader #reader insert #serge frenchie #serge the boys #frenchie the boys #frenchie imagine #frenchie drabble #the boys imagine #the boys drabble #tomer capon #tomer capon imagine

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wildyonderwillows · 2 years

Text

The Red Dress

Relationship: Billy Butcher x Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.9k+ Warnings: Explicit language, sexual content, and alcohol consumption Summary: Fourth of July Weekend had more than just fireworks.

Fourth of July weekend was the break you were hoping for. The weather was nice, hot but not terribly so, and most importantly, there was no mention or talk of Vought for the whole day. As much as you enjoyed taking those bastards down, it was nice to have a break, even if it was for a short time. And if that break consisted of a nice barbeque prepared by MM at his home, then so be it. Well, the party was held at Monique’s house but she was away with her parents with Janine for the weekend so you weren’t entirely sure if you and all of the boys were allowed to be here, but it wasn’t your concern. Besides, you knew MM probably asked for her permission, whether she agreed or not was what you were mainly unsure of.

Regardless, you were simply happy to relax, have some drinks, good food, and watch the fireworks. You even bought a new dress for the occasion since it wasn’t like your wardrobe was that nice and work appropriate, so to speak. The dress you bought was red which was not only perfect for the holiday but for the weather as well. It was light, flowy, had a nice neckline and with it being off the shoulder, it was the perfect blend of dressy-casual. The hem of the dress rested about midthigh which you found to be the perfect length.

Possibly, you were a tad overdressed since everyone else was probably in shorts and a t-shirt of some kind, but you didn’t care. You were comfy and happy the way you were. You gave yourself a quick once-over in the bathroom mirror, going in there originally to use the bathroom but got distracted by your own reflection and the need for sunblock. Normally, you didn’t care about UV protection but you were a bit exposed and didn’t want to be the color of your dress by the end of the night. Luckily for you, Monique had some in one of the bathroom drawers and you applied it generously to all the exposed parts of your body before leaving the bathroom.

As soon as you entered the hallway, you could immediately smell the smokiness of the grill and it made your stomach growl, awakening your hunger. You made your way through the house to the backyard to get a peek at what MM was cooking.

The sun shone brightly and you wished you brought a pair of sunglasses, but instead you shielded your eyes with your hand like a visor and walked over to the grill. You saw uncooked patties and hot dogs already splayed out in a neat order but before you could get any closer, MM stepped in front of you. He had on a white shirt and shorts, all hidden behind a very bright red apron, bright enough that it almost matched your dress.

“No peeking,” MM warned lightly, holding up a spatula in the air. You sighed with slight frustration, mainly because you were hungry and wanted an update on when the food would be ready, but you trusted MM and his cooking skills wholeheartedly.

“How much longer then?”

“At least another hour. It would go by faster but Frenchie is insisting on making some bread since he didn’t buy buns like I asked him to.” MM shook his head, frustrated.

“Do you want me to go out and buy some?” You didn’t care, as long as you could eat quicker.

“Only if you want to, (Y/N). But if you’re going to go, take Butcher and Hughie with you. They’re in the garage, probably vandalizing Todd’s car.” MM’s face turned up at the mention of Todd, Monique’s new boyfriend who you assumed was spending the weekend with them. He was a scrawny dude who did give you weird vibes, but as long as Monique was happy, you kept your thoughts to yourself as did MM, for now.

With a small wave, you made your way towards the garage to in fact find Butcher, who was gazing into the small fridge that was placed right by the parked car. “Where’s Hughie?” You asked and Butcher jumped at the question, cursing as he banged his head on the fridge ceiling.

“Christ (Y/N).” Butcher grumbled as he rubbed the spot on his head he just hit, slamming the fridge shut before his eyes landed on you. “Well, ain’t ya look like a patriotic princess,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes at him, not wanting to comment on how he was wearing the ugliest patterned Hawaiian shirt you had ever seen. It was a salmon color with bright yellow flowers and pineapple scattered across it.

“I need your keys,” you replied, ignoring his comment as well as the way Butcher was looking at you with that sheepish smile plastered on his face. “MM needs bread.”

“Frenchie on that with Kimiko.” Butcher kept staring at you, not even looking into your eyes as he spoke. “I need beer anyway, this house is dryer than a camel’s vagina.” You made a weird face at the reference, but Butcher didn’t seem to care since he was still staring at your dress.

“Butcher,” you snapped his name and he finally met your eyes. “Where’s Hughie?”

“In the front with Starlight and my beer.” You nodded in understanding, sensing Butcher’s frustration about the lack of alcohol in his system. He brushed past you and you followed him out of the garage and to his car. As soon as you two got in, Butcher started the car and you cranked up the AC. “Hot are ya?”

You shrugged, looking out the window to see Hughie and Annie laughing together which made you smile. “Just like the breeze.” You crossed one leg over the other which allowed for more air to hit your thigh, which also caught Butcher’s eye again. “Aren’t you going to drive?” You asked him, seeming to snap him out of whatever trance he was in as he began to back the car out.

The drive to the closest store was no more than ten minutes, but you felt like it took forever. You seemed to get stuck at every red light and of course, the streets were flooded with cars all trying to get to their holiday destination. It was annoying, to say the least, but Butcher seemed fine since he kept staring at you.

“What?” You seethed at him, your hunger starting to get the best of you. “Why do you keep looking at me?”

Butcher shook his head, his eyes going back to the road with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Your dress is short.”

“It’s like ninety degrees out.” You did pull the hem of your dress down a little, but it still sprang up and rested right above your knee. “And you don’t have to look, Butcher,” you added, which made him scoff.

“Hard not to.” Butcher glanced at you again before continuing to drive once the light turned green. “I can nearly see your knickers.”

“No you can’t!” You exclaimed, knowing perfectly well you picked the best underwear, which was also red, for this dress with the purpose for it to not be seen. “You’re just being a creep, that’s all.” Butcher shrugged in response, not making any further comments as you finally got through traffic and arrived at the store.

Once parked, you two headed off inside and went separate ways. You got two packages of hamburger and hot dog buns since you weren’t sure how many MM wanted or how many others were going to eat so you decided to play it safe. You then made your way over to the alcohol aisle, finding Butcher with a whole cart of beer, vodka, and spiked lemonade.

“It’s a barbeque, not a frat party.” You shook your head at him as you set the buns down on top of all the alcohol he was buying.

“I got water too.” Butcher lazily gestured to the small case of water buried underneath all of the alcohol. “Do ya want something else then, sweetheart, while we’re here? Maybe more fabric shrinker for that dress of yours, yeah?” You replied to his comment with an eye roll, starting to walk down the aisles with Butcher and the cart trailing behind you.

You were leading Butcher to the checkout since you were eager to get out of here and eat, but of course, the bakery section was right next to the checkout lanes and you knew it wouldn’t hurt to just look.

All of the pastries displayed were all very patriotic looking as well as delicious. You picked up the largest box of cupcakes you saw and put it in the cart, which Butcher made a face at.

“Why are they that red?” Butcher turned his nose up as he inspected the cupcakes. “You Americans and your food dye.”

“Your loss,” you nearly sang as you went to the self checkout section. You picked up the little scanner and hit all the barcodes of everything since you didn’t want to take everything out of the cart and repack it; Butcher handed you some cash to pay.

Heading back to the car, you let Butcher pack the trunk with all the booze he bought and you took the cupcakes with you to the front seat. You knew you should probably wait until you were back to dig into them, but you weren’t sure how long it would be till you ate and you were too hungry to wait.

The plastic container opened with a pop and the smell of sweetness hit your nose immediately. Right as you were about to pick up a cupcake, Butcher got in the car which took your attention away.

“Ya really gonna eat those?”

“Yeah,” you replied like it was obvious as you picked up the cupcake nearest to you. It was red velvet, artificially dyed as Butcher pointed out earlier but you didn’t care, frosted with white buttercream and blue star sprinkles. You peeled back the cupcake liner and took a bite, savoring it as you satisfied your hunger. “Want one?” You asked Butcher once you swallowed, seeming he was still looking at you. Butcher shook his head, sneaking glances at you as you continued to eat the cupcake on the drive back.

When you arrived back at the house, Hughie helped unload the trunk along with Annie and you all tried to fit as many beverages in the fridge as possible. It would have been smart to have a cooler but the thought of buying one at the store slipped your mind.

With everything put away, you got another update on the food from MM which was another hour. Well, it turned out while you and Butcher were at the store, Frenchie got mad at MM for getting store-bought buns and MM was away from the grill which meant everything he was cooking got burned. Luckily he had more, but you took it upon yourself to go ahead and grab another cupcake.

You scanned the kitchen fridge for some water to wash it down with, but you only found alcohol. You sighed as you stared at your uneaten cupcake, heading off to the garage where you found Butcher again along with Hughie, both chatting about something. You excused your way through, heading into the smaller fridge and grabbing a water.

“Where did you get that?” Hughie asked once you were in a better view, his eyes on the cupcake.

“Kitchen.” Hughie smiled at you in thanks, heading off to the kitchen rather giddy as you set your water down and started on your second cupcake. Before you could take a bite, Butcher grabbed it from you. “Hey!”

“Just wanna bite, see what’s so good about them.” He said casually as you tried to get the cupcake back. Butcher didn’t eat it as delicately as you did, seeming to take a bite of all frosting before handing it back to you. “Had better.” Great, just what you needed: a Butcher demolished cupcake you didn’t even want anymore.

You set the cupcake down beside the fridge, taking a swig of your water while Butcher continued to drink his beer, his eyes still on you. “You gotta stop looking at me,” you told him after about thirty seconds too long of just awkward silence.

“Don’t flatter yourself, looking at the cupcake.” You gave him a weird look, watching as Butcher walked towards you and set his beer down next to the cupcake before picking it up. “Not gonna finish it?”

“Not with your germs on it, no.”

Butcher seemed amused by your comment as he smiled slyly. “I didn’t touch this side.” Butcher rotated the cupcake to the side that was intact. “All yours.” You looked up at him, seeing his eyes were hungry but you weren’t sure if it was due to the food anymore. Butcher was definitely acting a little…off today, and you weren’t entirely sure why.

Maybe it was you or your outfit, really. It was the first time you wore something remotely girly in a while and maybe Butcher was seeing you in a new light? You weren’t entirely sure but in all honesty, you didn’t seem to mind either. You were flattered by the attention and Butcher wasn’t unattractive, he just got on your nerves, a lot. But what if that was his way of flirting?

You didn’t know and you couldn’t stay in your thoughts for long since Butcher was probably expecting you to do at least something instead of stand there like a damn idiot. So you did. You decided to test your theory and took a swipe of frosting with your finger and slowly sucked it clean.

“Rest is yours.” You broke the silence, but Butcher’s gaze remained on you.

“Rather eat somethin’ else if it’s alright with you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how forward he was being. “Subtlety is certainly not your strong suit, huh?”

“Says the one in the short dress.” Butcher mentioned your outfit choice again as he stepped closer to you. You had no choice but to move back a little, your back resting against the counter now. “I think you wore that purposefully.”

You scoffed, astonished. “You weren’t on my mind at all when I got this.” Honestly, he wasn’t. You got this dress because you liked it, not to give Butcher any satisfaction. “I don’t even like you like that.”

Butcher cocked an eyebrow. “Really? Not even after all these months of being around each other?” He set the cupcake down on the counter, hesitating what to do with his hands before setting them down on the counter as well, placing them on either side of you as he leaned closer to you.

“Definitely not.”

“Kiss me then and prove it.”

You barked out a laugh. “Fuck no.” You couldn’t hide the fact that your cheeks were heating up but you really hoped it wasn’t as noticeable as you thought it was . Maybe you should kiss Butcher, mainly just to shut him up, fuck with him, and most importantly, prove him wrong. “Wouldn’t want you getting the wrong impression.”

Butcher smiled, flashing those bright whites of his. “And what impression would that be?”

“That I like you.”

“Dontcha?” You shook your head and Butcher tsked as he shook his head, leaning even closer to you. “Not even a lil bit?” You shook your head again, taking in a breath as you realized how close his face was to yours. “Then one kiss should be nothing then, yeah?” You could smell the beer on his breath, masked with the sweetness of the cupcake.

Before you could respond, Butcher’s hand was on your cheek, the sensation did give you butterflies but you’re convinced you would feel them if it was anyone’s hand, and his lips were on yours. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, in all honesty, maybe a chaste kiss at most, but no, Butcher was milking this out. His kissed you deeply and seemed to intend for you to feel that kiss all the way down to your fucking core.

And shit, you did.

His lips were soft and his mustache surprisingly didn’t irritate you as much as you thought it would either. It was a nice kiss-Hell, probably one of the best you had in a while but you weren’t about to indulge Butcher in that. You sure as fuck weren’t going to kiss him back either since that would just prove him and his dumb theory right which you weren’t going to do. So you let him pull away first and let his hand linger on your cheek for a second longer than it should, and you let him stare at you with a flabbergasted look on his face as if he thought kissing you would change something.

Butcher’s thumb traced over your bottom lip before he dropped his hand down to his side. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. Again, you did like the sensation of Butcher touching your face, but perhaps you were touch deprived and enjoyed the new feeling.

Butcher hummed, seeming surprised and a little…disappointed. “Well,” he smiled, masking if anything was wrong, “sorry for misreading things.” With that, he grabbed his beer and left you alone in the garage, trying to wrap your head around what the fuck just happened.

Your eyes went to the cupcake still on the counter which you tossed on your way out of the garage. You made your way outside where everyone was gathered by the grill, thankful the food was finally ready. With a hamburger perfectly assembled on your flimsy plastic plate, you headed back inside and sat at the dining table across from Annie, who was eating two hot dogs.

You took a glance outside to see Butcher was out there along with the other boys and Kimiko was back inside now too, sitting next to you. She had two hamburgers on her plate, smiling eagerly down at her food. You watched the door to the backyard closely for about a minute, making sure no one else came inside before turning back to them.

“Butcher kissed me.”

Annie nearly choked on the bite she was chewing and Kimiko giggled. “What?!” Annie exclaimed after a couple of coughs, her eyes going wide. “When? Today?” You nodded, rehashing the whole story to Annie and Kimiko, leaving out the sexual remarks Butcher made of course. “And you just walked away? Like it was nothing?”

“Yeah?” You answered, a little confused. “What else would I have done? Butcher’s just fucking with me.”

“Or he could actually like you,” Annie countered and you shook your head, not believing it.

“If he did, then why now? All because of the dress?”

Annie shrugged, taking another bite of her food before speaking again. “Maybe he finally got around to doing something about it. Not like we have a bunch of free time.” Kimiko nodded in agreement to her and now you felt even more confused.

You could think of countless times you were alone with Butcher and he never mentioned any of this to you let alone let on the fact that he possibly liked you either. Maybe Annie was right and it wasn’t the perfect time to discuss anything personal like that but why did Butcher wait so long?

You shook your head at yourself, not wanting to think or overthink about this right now. Whatever was going on with Butcher could wait until tomorrow.

Or so you thought.

Butcher seemed to be avoiding you for the rest of the evening which you didn’t think much of at first but then you thought he was purposefully going out of his way to not be near you. Maybe he did like you and was being a big baby about you not kissing him back or whatever but it was starting to get on your nerves. You thought it was rude and childish and thought the best way was to confront Butcher but you weren’t sure how.

Well, luckily for you, Frenchie decided to shoot off some fireworks and realized he didn’t have enough to last through the whole night, but MM informed him there was more in the garage which Butcher volunteered to get. And well, you went with him since it was the perfect opportunity to talk to him again and figure out what was going on with him.

He didn’t speak to you when you two went into the garage and went behind the car to look for some while you stayed by the door, making sure to close it. You scanned the shelves above you to see the shelf closest to the ceiling had a giant cardboard box labeled FIREWORKS resting out of your reach.

“Found them!” You called to Butcher, hearing some rustling behind you till he was right next to you. You pointed at the box and Butcher reached up to grab the box, holding it against his chest and frowning as he looked into it.

“Fucking empty.” He sounded frustrated as he let the box drop to the floor, the sound making a small echo as it fell onto the cement that lined the garage floor. Butcher stomped off over to the fridge, grabbing himself another beer. He managed to get the cap off by banging it on the counter which was quite impressive honestly, but he seemed to be fuming as he gulped down his beer.

“Did I piss you off or something?” You blurted out the thought on your mind, wishing you didn’t say that but it was too late now.

“No.” Butcher replied without even looking at you, keeping his eyes focused on Todd’s car in front of him, nursing his beer. Yeah, that was a real fucking believable “no”.

You ran a hand through your hair, unsure of what to say. A part of you was starting to think maybe Annie was right: Butcher liked you and you rejected him in a way. He was not taking the rejection well but in all honesty, you did think Butcher was just trying to mess with you because that was what he did. You never really thought of Butcher liking you either, let alone how you felt about that or about Butcher.

Maybe Butcher’s flirting was actual flirting and you were just an idiot. Well, there was only one way to find out.

With Butcher still sulking or whatever he’d like to call it, you walked over to him, unnoticed until you spoke again. “Gee Butch, I would’ve kissed you back if I knew you were going to be such a baby about it.” Yeah, that would do it.

Butcher’s eyes snapped to you and you smiled at him rather innocently. He set his beer down behind him and turned to face you, arms crossed. “I wouldn’t have kissed you in the first place if I knew you were gonna follow me around like some little puppy dog the whole night.”

You huffed in amusement. “All I wanted was to talk to you since you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Well love, what else was I supposed to do, huh? Kiss that pretty face of yours? Or how about showing ya how much I like you and that dress of yours, hm?” So maybe Annie was right…But before you could think on it more, you got distracted by how close Butcher’s face was to yours again. “But that’s not what you wanted sweetheart, was it? So maybe I am avoiding ya, unless you proved me right and changed your mind?”

“You’re not right.” Was all you could say because you didn’t want to give Butcher the satisfaction, not yet at least.

“Then why did you follow me? Clearly me not talking to ya must’ve hit some nerve, huh?”

“Because it’s rude and-”

“That the only reason?” Fuck, you hated what game Butcher was playing since you knew you were going to lose. “Or maybe you can’t stand the thought of me not giving you an ounce of attention?”

“I am not needy,” you laughed in disbelief.

“Never said you are.” A smile formed on Butcher’s face but it was rather wicked. “All I’m saying (Y/N) is you couldn’t stand me never lookin’ at you again or expressing how insanely attracted I am to you, can you? You can roll your eyes all ya want but I know you want me.”

Butcher uncrossed his arms to grab your hands, guiding them to wrap around his neck. Once they were secured there, he grabbed you by the hips and hoisted you up onto the counter. His hands moved down to the hem of your dress, his fingers tracing the exposed skin of your thighs, teasingly.

“If you want me to stop,” Butcher leaned in closer and you felt his hands push up the hem of your dress ever so slightly, “tell me.” You didn’t say anything, continuing to stare at Butcher and that shit-eating grin he now had on his face as his lips were nearing yours. “Last chance.” You sat up a little straighter and spread your legs so that they were wrapped around Butcher. “Fucking knew-”

You pulled him into a kiss before he could finish that statement, feeling him smile against the kiss. He kissed you back quickly, as if wanted to make sure that if you pulled away again, he would at least get in another kiss. You had no intention of pulling away and it seemed neither did Butcher. His hands kept moving further up your thighs and you began to unbutton that shirt of his, running your hand along his chest hairs before making your way down to his abdomen. His skin was smooth and muscled, feeling nice against your hand, but you halted when you got to the waistline of his shorts.

Part of you wanted to just go all in, but you decided to tease him a bit. You moved your hand to the front of his shorts, palming his cock through the fabric. Butcher broke out of the kiss and locked eyes with you, an eyebrow raised as if he was saying “Two can play at this game.”

Whatever game you were playing with Butcher, he was winning.

Your dress was now pulled up to your waistline, exposing the red underwear Butcher claimed he could see earlier. He had his finger hooked around the front, moving it up and down the fabric with his knuckle moving against your clit. You panted quietly, not wanting to draw attention to what you two were doing.

Butcher began kissing and nipping at your neck as he continued to tease you while your hands fumbled with the zipper of his shorts, wanting to feel more of him. “You first,” Butcher whispered in your ear as he guided your hands away from his shorts. You weren’t sure what Butcher meant but got the idea when he placed himself in between your thighs. “Still don’t like me, hm?” He smirked as he noticed the visible wet stain in your panties. He ran his tongue over the front of your panties, nearly feeling his tongue against your clit. You couldn’t help but let a moan escape, hearing it echo in the garage.

Your hands found their way into Butcher’s hair, practically digging your nails into his scalp as he pushed your underwear aside and began to lick your clit. Your head fell back and you closed your eyes, savoring the feeling as you didn’t want it to end. At least you found a better use for Butcher’s mouth because fuck was he good at this. It was like he already had you all figured out and he had been doing this to you for years. You couldn’t control what words spilled out of your mouth at this point but Butcher didn’t care. He licked you like that damn frosting on the cupcake, licking it all till there was none left just like he was licking you until you came. Butcher, of course, milked out every bit of that before pulling away, leaving you breathless and panting.

“Much better than a cupcake.” You wanted to roll your eyes at him but all you could do was smile and let him kiss you again.

Once you had come down from your orgasm, you resumed your attention to Butcher’s cock. He didn’t stop you this time when you got his shorts down and broke out of the kiss when you finally wrapped your hand around his cock. He was already so slicked with precum that it didn’t take him long to finish either but fuck, you couldn’t wait to do this again with him.

Butcher cupped your face with his hands and kissed you rather sweetly before pulling away. He came back seconds later with a rag, poured some water on it from one of the bottles in the fridge, and cleaned you up. He tossed the rag to the side when he was done and helped you off the counter before hiking his shorts up and buttoning his shirt.

“You gotta admit, (Y/N), you have to like me just a little bit.” You shrugged nonchalantly, letting Butcher take your hand as you two walked out of the garage.

“Maybe just a little bit,” you agreed with a giggle and Butcher gave you a kiss on the forehead before you two walked outside to join everyone else again.

“I take it there were no fireworks?” Hughie asked, a knowing look on his face.

“They made their own, petit Hughie, can’t you tell?” Frenchie snickered which made everyone laugh, except Butcher.

“Oh fuck off you lot.” Butcher spat but you could see the smile he was holding back which made you smile even more.

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #the boys fanfiction #billy butcher fanfic #the boys #billy butcher #reader #hughie campbell #annie january #mothers milk #frenchie #kimiko #one shot

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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 2 years

Note

hello chère it's me again, with so many feels from the last episode of The Boys, can i ask for a movie night with Frenchie, Kimiko and Cherie, us all cuddling under a big blanket with pillows everywhere, feeling safe and happy? god i just want them to be happy for once, is that too much to ask? 😭 thank you and keep up the great work, you're awesome!

Stay

Summary: After what Little Nina did to them, Frenchie, Kimiko and Cherie are left hurt and tired. As none of them can sleep, you stay with them.

Pairing: None, but hints of Frenchie x GnReader

Word Count: 771

Warning: Mention of violence, injuries and PTSD.

A/n: Happens after Frenchie, Cherry and Kimiko’s kidnapping by Little Nina in season 3. No pronoun used for the reader. Sorry it took so long… Hope you like it!

You had been looking for them for hours.

Kimiko had just woken up from her coma, her injuries still very present as her powers were gone. She was supposed to stay in her room for a few more days, so when you stopped by to see how she was doing, expecting to see Frenchie with her since he wasn’t leaving her side anymore, your heart stopped beating when you saw the room empty.

Panic quickly swept through your body as you called out for them, searching every hallway of the hospital and asking doctors and nurses if anyone had seen them. But nothing, they just… Vanished. And the panic turned to pure fear when you found Frenchie's phone by the coffee machine.

Something happened to them.

You searched for a few more hours, walking the streets of the city, checking the hideouts the Boys used. Calling and asking the people they usually hung out with.

You were considering calling the police to report them missing, even if you knew they didn’t want the police involved no matter what, when you returned to the Boys' headquarters. But then, the door was left ajar and there were whispers coming from inside, so you switched your phone for your gun. You entered, ready to defend yourself against the intruder, but nothing prepared you for what you found.

“Oh God, what the fuck happened to you?!”

Frenchie, Kimiko and Cherie were sitting on the couch, pressed against each other. Wounds streaked across their faces, dried blood creating abstract patterns on their skin.

None of your three friends told you in detail what had happened. But after mentioning just one name, you didn't need to know more. Little Nina.

Fuck. You were going to kill that bitch.

“S'il te plaît,” a weak and slightly shaky voice stopped you as you were about to leave to find the one who dared hurt your friends. You turned to Frenchie.

Kimiko had her head resting against his shoulder and Cherie laid on the other side, her eyes slowly closing as fatigue overcame her. She was forcing herself to stay awake though. They all were. And you could understand why.

"Okay, I'll stay," you whispered. You couldn’t leave them, not when they didn't want to be left alone after what had happened. And none of them would be able to defend themselves if they were being attacked again.

None of them would be able to sleep peacefully.

Cherie sat up as you settled between her and Frenchie. Immediately, the young woman surrounded your body with her arms, like if she didn't hold you tight enough, you would fly away and disappear. Kimiko put her hand on yours and you squeezed it gently. Your eyes met Frenchie's. Exhausted. Scared. But also relieved.

“What about we watch a movie,” you suggested, taking the remote to open the television. There was nothing really interesting, but anything would do. Simply listening to a sound other than that of the city. Something to drown the memories of what happened… Memories that appeared as soon as someone closed their eyes. Eventually, you stumbled across a High School Musical marathon and decided to let that movie play.

Kimiko, who loved musicals, stretched a small smile as she saw the characters sing on the screen. You heard Frenchie sigh softly, suddenly calmer now that he could put his attention on something other than emptiness. And Cherie was whispering the lyrics to the songs, it was clearly a movie she watched many times in her youth.

A blanket over your bodies made the couch even more comfortable. Quickly, Cherie’s voice fell silent, replaced by soft snorings. Kimiko’s eyes closed and she fell asleep with a shy smile at the corner of her lips.

Frenchie was the last one to fall asleep. But you could see, he was still forcing his eyes to stay open, softly gasping the moment he was about to fall asleep. Noticing he still seemed on edge, you softly placed your hand on his arm. He turned his head towards you slowly to not wake up Kimiko that was sleeping against his shoulder.

“I’m there. I’m not leaving. You can rest, okay?”

A tired smile stretched his lips as Troy Bolton sang that catchy song with Gabriella on screen.

“Merci...”

Frenchie fought sleep for a couple of seconds more and then, his eyes closed and his head fell on your shoulder.

While around you, your friends were asleep, you stayed awake. There were two more films after all, and then you had to watch over them.

You knew they would do the same for you.

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @b3autyfuldisast3r @eevvvaa @fictional-affairs @wickedinspirations @awkward-and-indecisive @cryptichobbit

#the boys frenchie #frenchie x reader #frenchie x you #the boys fanfiction #the boys hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #the boys kimiko #the boys cherie #the boys season 3 #the boys frenchie x reader oneshot #the boys frenchie x reader #the boys frenchie fanfic #the boys oneshot #the boys fluff #the boys angst

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geminiwritten · 1 year

Text

hot dream ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you fall asleep in butcher’s sweater and have a rather steamy dream, not realising that everyone heard you moaning butcher’s name in your sleep

notes: this is so bad, and it makes me so sad because i was so excited to write it, but work has been so blegh that i just feel like i failed??? i don’t know, it’s definitely not my best writing, but it’s something! hope y’all can still enjoy!

warnings: swearing, google-translated french, some very incorrect chemistry, and a tiny bit of smut (i’m working myself up to actually writing it, i promise!)

^ the sweater

word count: 4691

“It’s fucking cold in here,” you say, rubbing your arms as you step into the living room.

Frenchie and Kimiko are curled up under a blanket on the couch, and Butcher is lounging on the single seat sofa with his feet propped on top of the coffee table. You know MM is on his way back from Monique’s house with spare clothes and comforters, but you also know how caught up he can get when he spends time with Janine.

“You do not have a jumper?” Frenchie asks.

You shake your head, “The last sweatshirt I had was burnt to a crisp two weeks ago.”

New York City is quickly falling into winter, the air turning crisp and heavy clouds rolling overhead as news channels warn about impending snow within the week.

Kimiko looks up at you and wriggles her arms out of the blanket to sign an apology, gesturing to the jumper she wears as the only one she has.

Butcher sighs and pushes himself off the sofa, “I’ve got somethin’.”

The tiny butterflies in your stomach flitter to life, bouncing around excitedly at the thought of wearing Butcher’s clothing. You move a hand from your arm to your stomach and curse the stupid giddiness that this man aroused within you. It’s ridiculous, really, and just a stupid crush, but he never fails to elicit some sort of irritating physical reaction within your body every time he speaks.

He disappears into the main bedroom for a moment before remerging with a black garment in hand. “Here,” he says, handing it to you, “don’t get it burnt though, it’s my favourite.”

You give him a cheeky smile, “I make no promises.”

Your fingers brush his as you take the sweater from his hand, and his eyes capture yours in a stare you cannot break. His lip quirks into that gorgeous smirk you’ve come to enjoy so much, sending those stupid butterflies into a frenzy before he turns back toward the sofa.

You release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding and with numb fingers, find the bottom of the sweatshirt before pulling it over your head. His scent hits you like a truck, rushing through your nose and burning all the way to your lungs. Your chest squeezes around your erratic heart, your ribs aching as they struggle to contain the throbbing muscle. It feels like you’ve been punched in the sternum, and your limbs feel like jelly wrapped in the soft material saturated by his scent.

You know this sweater almost too well, having admired him in it countless times. It’s a little too big on you, but on him, it’s perfect. The thick material hugs his shoulders and fits his torso in the most delicious way. It’s ridiculous that he can make something as plain as this sweater look downright sinful.

“Better?” Butcher asks, his eyes sparkling with a mischief that makes you wonder what he knows.

You nod, “Much.”

Kimiko shuffles over on the couch so that you can squeeze between her and the arm, the side closest to Butcher. You try to focus on the lame action film playing on the television, but the smell of the jumper clouds your mind, and you can feel Butcher’s gaze wandering over to you every few seconds. You want to say something, but every string of words that come to mind are laced with innuendo and teasing, and although you’re very fond of flirting with this man, you’re not sure you can handle it in your current state.

The sun is well below the horizon by the time MM arrives back, his arms full of blankets and second-hand clothing. Kimiko takes two jumpers and a blanket before seeing herself off to bed, and MM does the same shortly after. Frenchie throws another blanket over himself and invites you to share his warmth while Butcher remains on the single sofa with nothing but his trench coat. After almost three movies, your eyelids begin to droop, and you let your head fall onto Frenchie’s shoulder as sleep slowly consumes you.

You startle awake, your mind swirling with images of Butcher. You can still see him hovering over you, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, and his wicked grin as he settles between your thighs. Heat pulses between your legs at the fading memory, and your skin feels like it’s on fire, phantom touches lingering in the shape of Butcher’s hands on your hips, your breasts, your throat.

You have to blink a few times before the living room comes into focus, bright light flooding the space through the drawn curtains as dust mites float through the air. The blankets covering you suddenly feel like they weigh a tonne, and you have to throw them off your sweaty body before you pass out.

“Good morning, mon petit rayon de soleil,” Frenchie greets you, sitting in the sofa where you last consciously saw Butcher.

“Hey,” you mumble as you sit up.

His grin is wide and cheeky, “Did you have a good sleep?”

“It was okay,” you reply, rubbing your neck, “as good as it gets on this old couch.”

“I did not have the heart to wake you,” he says, “you looked so peaceful and were… humming so contently.”

You frown sceptically, “Okay…”

MM is in the kitchen, standing at the stove with a goofy smile as he watches the eggs in the pan cook.

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten,” Frenchie responds.

“What?” you demand, “You let me sleep for that long? Don’t we have things to do today?”

MM chuckles, “We didn’t want to wake you, as Frenchie said, you were so content.”

Spikes of panic begin prickling your skin and your eyes dart from Frenchie to MM, searching their impish faces for any sign of what could be making them so smug.

“Where’s Butcher?”

“Monsieur Charcutier had to excuse himself,” Frenchie says, “but he is awake.”

MM serves the eggs onto two plates and carries them over to the table where Kimiko is sat. She grins at him before digging in to her breakfast, and your own stomach begins to rumble.

“I suppose I will get my own,” Frenchie sighs, pushing himself off the sofa and walking toward the kitchen.

“I’ll have some too,” you call after him, “thanks, Frenchie.”

He smirks at you with the carton of eggs in hand, “Anything for you, mon amour. How do you like your eggs?”

“Hard boiled,” MM replies before you can, snickering as he takes a bite of toast.

Frenchie giggles too, and he quickly turns toward the stove to avoid your dubious stare.

“What the fuck are you two on this morning?”

They don’t respond as their laughter continues to bubble. Frenchie waves a hand dismissively, still refusing to look at you, before placing a pot and a pan on top of the stove.

“I prefer fried,” you mutter, still frowning.

He nods and moves the pot back into the cupboard just as the doors to the main bedroom creak open. Butcher steps out in faded jeans and yet another hideous Hawaiian shirt with only three of the lower buttons fastened. His hair is a complete mess and his cheeks flushed red; he looks as if he’d just sprinted several blocks.

“You’re awake,” he states.

You nod, “So are you.”

He chuckles, “Been awake for a couple’a hours, love.”

MM is struggling with his breakfast, his laughter refusing to subside though he does his best to quell it, his whole face turning red. Frenchie has turned his back to you completely now, but you can still see his shoulders shaking as he giggles into his hand.

“Did I miss something?” you ask Butcher as he falls into the single sofa.

His smirk just as devilish as Frenchie’s, “Nothin’ at all, in fact, I think it’s me who missed somethin’.”

“Okay,” you sigh, “you’re all being weird, and I’m incredibly sweaty, so I’m going to shower.”

“Breakfast will be ready for you when you return, mon amour,” Frenchie says, “take your time cleaning your- uh, humidité.”

Butcher chuckles as another wave of mirth hits MM, and he begins to choke on his mouthful of food. You roll your eyes before turning on your heel and stomping toward the bathroom, leaving them to their stupidity.

The cold air nips at your bare skin as you strip in the bathroom, carefully laying Butcher’s sweater on the vanity before stepping under the warm shower spray. You take your time washing your hair and scrubbing your body, hazy flashes of hot touches and wet kisses invading your mind as you close your eyes and let the water soak your skin. By the time you shut the shower off, you’re thoroughly clean and a little dizzy with desire. You dry off before wrapping the towel around your body and gathering your clothes to dash across the hall toward your bedroom.

You can’t help glancing in the direction of the living room when you step out, your eyes locking with Butcher’s dark gaze for the split second it takes you to reach your room. Your pulse is thrumming at a ridiculous pace as you unwrap the towel and turn toward your dresser. You slip on a fresh pair of panties and jeans, and turn to the sweater you’d tossed on your bed. Your stomach grumbles impatiently while you procrastinate, and you curse quietly to yourself before slipping the sweater over your head without anything underneath.

The living room wreaks of burnt toast when you remerge from your bedroom, and Frenchie is swearing at the toaster in such fast French, you can’t possibly try to understand it.

“Did you ruin my breakfast?” you ask, walking past Butcher and leaning your hip on the kitchen bench.

“I did not ruin anything,” Frenchie says with a frown, “this good for nothing piece of shit machine did.”

You can feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of your head and you know it’s Butcher, but you refuse to turn around, instead joining Frenchie in the kitchen to take over the toaster. After a few minutes of patience, the toast pops perfectly grilled and you place two pieces on each of your plates before Frenchie tops it with eggs.

“So,” MM says when you and Frenchie join him at the table, “what’s today’s plan?”

“We need to go back to the old safe house,” Frenchie replies.

“The basement,” you note between bites of toast.

He nods, “We need to gather anything we left behind that might be useful. I am running out of materials and I know we left a stash of ammunition there.”

“Who’s to say it isn’t already gone?” MM queries.

Frenchie shrugs, “We do not know, but it is worth a try.”

You want to point out that it isn’t really necessary for all of you to go, but you know that will only end in an argument, so you focus on finishing your breakfast. Once you’re all done, MM collects the empty plates and begins washing up while the rest of you go to gather your things.

You pack a small crossbody bag with your phone and keys before tucking a sheathed dagger into the back of your jeans, just in case. When you step back into the living room, Frenchie and MM are waiting by the door, whispering and giggling about something until they see you approach. You want to demand they let you in on whatever stupid joke you’d missed out on this morning, but Butcher’s heavy footsteps capture your attention before you can speak.

“Righ’ then, lads,” he says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat, “let’s get on with it.”

Your gaze lingers on his lips as he speaks before trailing down his neck and bare chest, finding a mere two more buttons fastened than before. Heat rises to your cheeks, creeping all the way up to the tips of your ears as your mouth begins to water and another blurry image of Butcher fills your mind. You see him on his knees before you, looking up with hungry eyes and parted lips, murmuring something filthy that doesn’t quite reach your ears.

You gasp, blinking rapidly to return to reality and finding three curious faces staring back at you.

“Are you okay?” Frenchie asks.

You nod, “I’m good, let’s go.”

You step between him and MM and walk out the door first, turning down the hall without bothering to wait. They’re giggling again by the time they catch up to you in the lobby, and even Butcher is wearing an amused smirk. He winks as he walks past you, pulling his car keys from his pocket before holding the front door open for the rest of you. Unlike every other time you’ve all been walking toward the car, no one calls shot gun. Frenchie simply opens the back door for Kimiko to slide in before he does, and MM follows without a single complaint.

You look at Butcher, “What the fuck?”

He shrugs, but his smirk is still saturated with amusement and the glint in his eyes tells you that this has something to do with whatever they were all being so smug about.

“You’re all pissing me off today,” you sigh, before walking around the car to the passenger’s side.

You’re not upset about getting the front seat, nor are you annoyed that you get to sit beside Butcher and practically drool over him while he has to pay attention to the road. You are, however, beginning to panic about what it is that they’re not telling you.

The drive isn’t long, and you spend most of it watching Butcher’s hands on the wheel, fantasising about how they would feel caressing every inch of your skin. It almost feels like a memory as you picture his fingers digging into your hips or wrapped gently around your throat, and you can feel your body growing hot within the thick material of his sweater. You practically fall out of the car when it finally stops, gasping for cool air and willing your mind to focus on the task at hand.

Frenchie leads the way down a narrow alley and pushes open the familiar metal door before the rest of you follow him into the dark, damp corridor of what used to be your hide out. You all stay silent for a few minutes, creeping around and checking for any unusual activity or signs that the place might be bugged or trapped. It’s definitely been ransacked, but there are thin films of dust blanketing almost every surface which indicates that whoever was looking in here had given up a long time ago.

“Okay,” Frenchie speaks up once deciding that you’re safe, “let’s see what we’ve got left.”

You split up and wander around the huge, open basement. There are two curtain dividers sectioning the space into what you used as ‘bedrooms’, and a single chipped, wooden door leading to the tiny bathroom at the very back. MM goes in there first, rummaging around for half a minute before declaring it empty.

“Is there anything in particular that we’re looking for?” you ask, turning to Frenchie, “Because there’s a lot of crap in here, and as much as I’d love for you all to rummage through my old underwear drawer, maybe we should-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Frenchie and Butcher take off, abandoning the shelves they were searching and knocking one of the curtain dividers over as they scramble toward the old dresser you used to use.

“Hey!” you shout, your eyes growing wide as you hurry after them.

They’re giggling like maniacs as they wrench the drawers open one by one, tossing out the few items of clothing that still remained in there before realising that there was, in fact, no underwear left behind.

“I was joking,” you say, “fucking pervs.”

Frenchie chuckles, “Can you blame us, mon amour?”

“Yes!”

MM is snickering in the small kitchenette as he picks through the lower cupboards one by one. As much as you want to enjoy the rare light-heartedness within the group right now, you can’t stop wondering why the hell they were all in such a giddy mood. Are they all high?

“Alrigh’ you lot,” Butcher says, running a hand through his dishevelled hair as his laughter subsides, “stop messin’ about, we’ve got a job to do.”

You roll your eyes and trudge toward where MM is, starting on the top cupboards of the small kitchen while they begin opening old crates and suitcases. Frenchie starts a pile by the stairs, stacking up anything he finds that might be useful or too valuable to abandon. There isn’t much, but there are still a couple of cases of ammunition and packets of powders that you know are combustible in some way.

“Wait!” Frenchie shouts suddenly, crouching beside an electrical socket. “Be careful. Somebody has shorted the wiring, intentionally or not, I do not know, but do not touch the outlets or anything still plugged in.”

You slowly retract your hand from beside the rusty old microwave. “What will happen?”

“You will probably be electrocuted.”

“Good to know,” Butcher sighs.

You all return to your ransacking with cautious hands and watchful eyes, skirting around anything electrical or made of metal. When you approach the refrigerator, you can hear a soft, crackling hum, and MM looks at you with wide eyes. It was never a reliable machine, but now it is most definitely a death trap.

You continue your search through the cupboards, knocking half-full packets of rice and flour off the shelves as you stretch up onto your toes to see inside. This job is probably better suited to someone with more of a height advantage, but you’ve always been stubborn, so you don’t bother asking for help.

The cupboard above the sink, adjacent to the stove – you always thought it was stupid to put the sink right beside the stove – reveals a cluster of cleaning products. You reach as far as you can, straining your arms to reach the bottles on the top shelf and groaning at the tension in your body.

Behind you, MM mimics the noise, only louder, “Ungh.”

You hear Frenchie snicker, “No, no, it was more like, mmmh.”

Your fingertips scrape the bottle closest to the front of the cupboard and you huff in frustration.

“Nngh,” MM groans again.

“Ahhh,” Frenchie moans loudly, before dissolving into another fit of giggles.

Determined to ignore them, you try to stretch up even further. Your back aches but your fingers find the bottle once again, scratching at it in an attempt to get it to move.

MM sighs seductively, “Ohh, yeah.”

“Mmm, Butcher,” Frenchie gasps.

Your stomach drops and you lose your balance, stumbling as you whirl around to face them. “What the fuck?”

Frenchie giggles as he meets your stare, “Oops.”

The bottle from the top shelf of the cupboard falls forward and knocks your shoulder, popping the cap off. The liquid inside spills all over your chest just as realisation hits you.

“That’s what all this has been about?!” you exclaim, “you heard me having a fucking sex dream and instead of waking me up, you listened?”

MM can’t stop laughing, with one hand holding his stomach while the other supports his body against the old dining room table. You’ve never seen this man so flustered, and if you weren’t so embarrassed, you might have enjoyed seeing him so overwhelmed with laughter.

Frenchie, however, has gone completely pale, stepping forward with a petrified expression. “Y/N, listen-”

“No,” you snap, “I won’t listen! You are such a-”

“Y/N!” he shouts, “do not move.”

The room falls silent and panic ripples through your body.

“Please, mon amour, stay still,” he pleads as he hurries toward you.

He steps carefully around the puddles on the floor before reaching down to pick up the now empty bottle. He studies the label for less than a second before looking back at you with panicked eyes.

“You need to take off your jumper, now.”

You frown, “What? Why?”

“This is isopropyl alcohol,” he says, “it is highly flammable. If anything in this place so much as sparks, it will catch fire and if the vapours ignite, this whole building could explode.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, looking down at the soaked front of Butcher’s sweater.

Frenchie turns to MM, “Get something, get a bag, and get ready to go.”

You remain still as your pulse quickens, “Frenchie.”

“Butcher,” he says, “you and Kimiko start taking things up the stairs, do not come over here.”

Butcher frowns, “Like hell I’m leavin’ her.”

“Frenchie,” you repeat.

“I will get her out, okay? Just take what we’ve got and let’s get out.”

“I don’t give a fuck about this crap,” Butcher argues, “I care about her, and I’m not leavin’ ‘til I know she’s safe.”

“Frenchie!” you exclaim, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

The room falls quiet once again, and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks as each of them turn to you with curious eyes.

“Nothin’?” Butcher asks, fighting the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Nothing,” you reply.

Despite the situation, Frenchie is the first to snicker.

“Come ‘ere,” Butcher says, “slowly.”

You step carefully out of the kitchen, avoiding every surface as your boots squelch against the wet floor. Once you’re in front of him, he shrugs off his coat and gestures for you to remove the sweater. Your heart pounds as you turn your back to him, and he holds his jacket up to shield you, though not quite high enough to block his own view. You hold your breath and pull the sweater up, squeezing your eyes shut as it slips over your head. You can feel his breath on your back as soon as it’s bare, and a whole different kind of heat rushes through you.

He drops his coat around your shoulders and you quickly hug it against your chest. His scent envelops you, even more so than it had with the sweater, and your nerves begin to ease almost immediately.

“Give it to me,” Frenchie says, holding a plastic bag open toward you.

You drop the sweater in and he ties it off.

“Let’s go.”

MM, Kimiko, and Butcher grab what they can before you all ascend the stairs. You hurry through the corridor and out into the alley, not stopping until you’re all safe inside the car.

“Did you get any on your pants, mon amour?” Frenchie asks.

You push the bottom of Butcher’s jacket off your legs to inspect. “Only a little.”

“It will not damage the clothing, but we should wash everything right away.”

You nod before glancing toward Butcher. His face is a mixture of concern and mischief, his eyes struggling to watch the road instead of you, sitting beside him and wrapped in his favourite coat.

“Should we tell someone about that situation back there?” MM pipes up.

“I will call somebody to clean it up,” Frenchie replies.

It isn’t long before you’re all quietly climbing out of the car and carrying your finds up to the apartment. Everyone kicks their shoes off at the door, per Frenchie’s instructions, and begins sorting through the bags and boxes of old materials and equipment.

Frenchie turns to you, “Give me your jeans.”

“Right now?”

He nods and you sigh, deciding not to argue. You turn away from them and open the coat, quickly unbuttoning your jeans and slipping them off before wrapping yourself back up. When you turn back around, he’s adorning that same silly grin that he’d been wearing all morning.

“Is this how it started in your dream?”

You roll your eyes and shove your jeans into his outstretched hand. “Just because you kind of saved my life, doesn’t mean I’m not still annoyed at you.”

He giggles as he takes your clothes and walks down the hall to the laundry.

“In his defence,” Butcher smirks, “I told ‘em not to wake you.”

“You what?”

He steps toward you and shrugs, “I liked hearin’ those pretty little noises you were makin’.”

The butterflies in your stomach burst to life and your pulse begins to race.

He leans forward as he whispers, “Liked it a little too much.”

You suddenly remember what Frenchie had said this morning when you asked where Butcher was: ‘Monsieur Charcutier had to excuse himself’.

“Now,” Butcher clears his throat, “you gon’a give me my coat back before you spill somethin’ else on it?”

You raise your brows, “You want it back right now? Right here?”

He glances over his shoulder toward MM and Kimiko before turning back to you, “Maybe not righ’ here.”

You step around him and walk through the kitchen toward the main bedroom, avoiding MM’s eyes as you pass the dining room table. You don’t bother closing the doors behind you, because sure enough, a pair of heavy footsteps follow closely behind. The door clicks shut and you turn around to look at Butcher. You let your eyes wander over his body, your mouth watering as you follow the collar of his shirt down his bare chest where the top buttons lay open.

“I’m not gon’a lie,” he says, his hungry gaze pinning you to the floor, “as much as I fuckin’ loved hearin’ you whisper my name… I can’t wait to make you scream it.”

His words punch you in the chest, knocking all the air from your legs as heat pools between your legs.

“Now, love,” he steps forward, “can I ‘ave my coat back?”

Your fingers tremble as you grip the lapels of the jacket, moving your shoulders so the material falls off before you open it up and let it drop to the floor. He draws one sharp breath, his eyes growing wide as they move up and down your body, devouring every inch of it as if he’s never seen anything so perfect.

He closes the distance between you and wraps his hands around your waist, fingertips digging into the flesh of your back with bruising pressure.

“D’you know how hard I came to the thought of you this morning?” he murmurs.

You can’t do anything but stare back at him, your lips aching to taste him, all of him.

“So fuckin’ hard,” he whispers before capturing your mouth with his.

You moan as you melt against him, your arms wrapping around his neck and your fingers tangling through his hair as he claims your mouth. His hands squeeze your waist and pull you closer, pressing your naked body against him. The friction of his shirt against your nipples makes you gasp, and he takes advantage of your open mouth, sliding his tongue past your lips.

“Can’t fuckin’ imagine,” he mumbles against your mouth, “how hard I’m gon’a come with you on my cock.”

The ball of tension throbbing below your stomach explodes, and you use all of your strength to push him back toward the bed. He chuckles as he falls back, his hand catching your wrist to pull you down on top of him.

“Tell me ‘bout your dream, love,” he says as you hover over him, “where was I?”

You plant an open-mouthed kiss on his collarbone before biting down and making him groan.

“You were everywhere,” you whisper against his skin, “marking me, claiming me.”

He moans again as you grind your hips down, the friction of his jeans sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

“I don’t fuckin’ need to claim you,” he growls, his hands holding your hips as he thrusts up, “you’re already mine.”

He lifts you up enough to flip you onto your back, his body moving with yours and settling between your legs as he hovers over you. He dips down, his lips finding your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin before biting down hard. You moan loudly, and quickly smack a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

“I don’t think so, love,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pinning it to the bed, “I said, I wan’a hear you fuckin’ scream.”

END.

#billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #butcher x reader #karl urban #the boys #homelander #hughie campbell #frenchie #mm #mothers milk #the female #kimiko #karl urban x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #oneshot

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cute-bag-of-bones · 10 months

Text

Can't Trust A Supe

Part 4: You Got My Eyes

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions a graphic death, kidnapping, threats of killing.

Homelander flipped a switch on the wall and the room was illuminated. It was some kind of kid's bedroom. The whole room looked vaguely Homelander-ish. Dark blue walls and crimson rug in front of a doll house modeled after the vought tower. It was hellish, I propped myself up on my elbow to get a better look around the room. The bed I was laying on had a Homelander comforter draped over it.

"Nice room right? It used to be a study but we have to make sacrifices for the ones we care about." He came over and sat down on the edge of the bed as he spoke. I quickly moved to the corner of the bed furthest from him and tucked my knees close to my chest. Did he say he cared about me? What the actual fuck is happening.

"Where am I?" I say quickly before he can speak again. He tilted his head to the side then gave me what I can only describe as a serial killer's smile.

"Simone, you're home." He put a hand on my knee. I think he was trying to comfort me or grab me. I wasn't sure but either way I didn't want it. I scurried off the bed and tripped over an A-train action figure.

catching myself I grab onto the desk chair that I subsequently lifted to my chest like I was a lion tamer. Homelander stood up from the bed and approached me with his hands out like he was trying to show he wasn't trying to hurt Me.

"How the fuck do you know my name!"

"I took your ID from your wallet when that walking skid mark tried to rob you. I knew I recognized your face. The fact it was such a horrible fake ID also clued me in." He grabbed the chair by its leg and set it down. I pressed myself against the wall. I was desperate to get away from him. I didn't understand what he was saying to me.

"Homelander please please don't kill me. I was a kid, I didn't even see anything. I was like 7! I haven't told anyone anything you don't have to kill me or do whatever this all is. You'll never see me again, please just let me go!" It was begging but at this point I was willing to grovel at his feet if it meant I had a chance of getting out of here in one piece. He knew who my mother was, who my dad was. He was trying to tie up loose ends.

He looked almost offended. He shook his head as he looked at me up and down.

"When I saw you I thought I was seeing a ghost. You look so much like Diana." He whispered the last part like it was just meant for his ears. He grabbed me by my chin and rested his thumb on the dimple in my chin. He rubbed it gently. "One major difference, she didn't have this cleft chin." He took a deep breath and pulled his hand away from me. He tried to look in my eyes but I was trying everything in my very limited power to stop that from happening. "Do you know who I am?"

"Homelander?" I wasn't sure what he was asking. Of course I knew who he was. I had planned to kill him for most of my life. His lips curled up slightly as if just hearing his own name made him happy.

"I'm your father Simone." The words hit me like a ton of bricks. It was like the air was knocked out of me. He was insane.

"Get away from me. Get away, you are crazy!" I get progressively louder as the sentence continues. I climbed up on the desk that was pushed up against the wall, blocking my path to the door and jumped off of it but he grabbed my ankle and pulled me back over to him. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me a bit.

"Don't do that, don't run, listen to me. I thought I was crazy too! But I'm sure of it. You have my chin! And powers. Your mother and I always dreamed about having kids together!" His grip tightened and began to hurt. "She never told me she was pregnant, that's why she left me. She was scared! Scared of what Vaught might try to do to you." He had this whole elaborate delusion planned out. He stared at me for a few seconds as his breathing evened out and he calmed down. He let go of my shoulders and I fell to the ground. Tears finally started to rolled down my cheeks. I knew he was wrong. I just wasn't sure how to go about telling him that.

"I don't have your powers." I say sheepishly from the ground. He took a deep breath and smiled.

"Oh sure you do." He said as he turned and walked out for a second only to return seconds after. He was holding the envelope Billy had given to me. "It says right here." He thumbed through the files inside until he found the paper he needed. "Anatomy kinesis. That doesn't really roll off the tongue but your mom was always the more literal one between us two. She never had any sense of poetry." He held the paper down so I could see it. "You have X-ray vision, so do I. Sure you aren't strong or fast but you got my eyes." He said with a laugh. "I saw them. Last night, Your eyes glowed. I mean yeah they glowed blue but I don't know too much about supe inherited traits. No one does. " I shook my head and looked down. He was a fucking idiot. A delusional one at that.

"That's hardly evidence, you're grasping at straws Homelander." His upper lip twitched a little as he looked down at me. He grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me off my feet to meet him eye to eye. I was forced to stare into his cold dead eyes.

"Do you know how I killed your adopted father? I took this hand and I shoved it down his throat until I felt his jaw snap and his esophagus tear open." He smiled wide as I saw a soft blue light shine against his face. Not long after, I was looking through his body and everyone else's on every floor of Vaught tower. Hundreds of bodies all moving at once. "There it is, you've got daddy's eyes." He cooed. I could see a small red light form behind his eyes. I calmed down and let my vision go back to normal. Homelander's eyes were glowing red. It was like he was trying to show me up or something. Seeing them glow like that took me right back to that day. I could see his heat vision slicing through walls and people all the same as the ground broke beneath me.

"Let go of me! You are a monster a fucking psychotic killer!" I screamed as I twisted and kicked. He let me drop to the floor.

"I was hoping this could be a happy moment for us but I see your mother and Alphonse poisoned you against me very early on. I won't give up though I promise you that. You will learn to love me as much as I love you!" He screamed so loud the window in the room shook. I crawled under the desk and cowered there until I heard his footsteps leave. He slammed the door behind him and things fell from the shelves.

I poked my head out to make sure he was really gone. I couldn't do anything other than cry. He didn't seem like he wanted me dead but this was almost worse. Why wouldn't he just get a blood test done? He could have had it taken when I was still passed out. None of this made any sense. Grabbing the desk I pull myself up. It was only then I realized I had bandages on most of my finger tips. I pulled one off carefully, they were all sore. My fingernail was gone and left behind was the soft bloody skin underneath. I must have ripped my own nails off when I was trying to get away from him. I knew he was strong but I didn't think his skin was so strong my nails would bend and break clean off. I guess I was lucky my fingertips didn't break. I would have to be more careful in the future. I'm as strong as the average man but that's still nothing compared to him.

I stared into the back of my hand as I tried to make the nails grow faster. The keratin in the quick of my nail bed was tricky to make grow just like hair. It's a long and tedious process. A cut was simply, make the blood clot then have the cells replicate quickly till the wound is closed. Keratin was more hands on. Once I got it going I put the bandage back over it. I figured I better conserve my energy.

The glass in the window was bulletproof and thick. The door wasn't locked but I knew he'd be out there. I wasn't under any illusion. He was probably watching me. My every move from trying to get the window to open to the breaks I was taking to cry. My shoulders were killing me. I pulled my sleeve up to see a big bruised handprint. He was unhinged and didn't seem to know his strength.

What was he doing? Did he want me to go out there? The room didn't have a bathroom, no food or water. I couldn't stay here forever. Does he know I need to eat? It had been almost a day since I had food. I would have had a full meal if I knew I was going to be held prisoner in Homelander Disneyland.

The smell of food filled my nostrils. Was this on purpose? Was he trying to lure me out? I tried to ignore it. I sat at the desk and laid my head down on my arms.

The door opened behind me and I jumped to my feet.

"Foods here, it took longer than expected." He said as he left the door wide open for me. He just walked away. I took a few steps out slowly and looked around. The room I was in was at the end of the hall and looked directly into the living room. It looked like the founding fathers exploded all over the walls. American flags and eagles were all over. It was so clean I could see my own reflection in the hardwood floor as I walked down the hall. He was sitting at a small table that looked out over a huge window. Chinese takeout boxes were littering the counters.

"You need to eat?" I asked as I walked cautiously to the table. There was a plate made for me complete with training chopsticks. He slurped up some chow mein before wiping his mouth on a napkin.

"Of course I eat what a stupid question. Sit down." He says as he points to the chair across from him. I hesitate for a moment until he kicked the leg of the empty chair, making it jut out from under the round table. I jump from the sudden sound and sit down in it quickly. He gave me a wide smile before returning to his food. I wasn't sure if I should trust the food. I guess if he was going to kill me he'd want to do it with his bare hands so food was probably the only safe thing in this apartment. I grabbed the training chopsticks and started to eat.

My eyes wander back around the room. It was really odd. The paintings, the gold colored furniture. It all seems fake. I wonder if he actually lived here.

"So how is it?" He asked as he leaned back and watched me eat.

"Oh um it's great." I say in between bites.

"Good good." He paused for a second to suck his teeth. "also If you try to kill me again I won't kill you but I'll make you wish I had." He says it so casually. I thought I'd get whiplash from how quickly he changed the subject. I'm taken so off guard the food gets stuck in my throat. I start to cough as he stares at me with his arms crossed. I manage to swallow the food and look at him surprised. "Keep those eyes to yourself missy. I'll forgive you this once because you didn't know I was your dad but if it happens again I'll be very upset." He could switch between a cold detached tone and a strict one so quickly. I just nod, scared anything I say will get me in trouble. He didn't seem satisfied. "Well don't you have anything to say to me young lady?" I looked around the room as if the answer would be written on the walls. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Say you're sorry Simone. Say I'm sorry for trying to kill you and scratch you."

"Oh um I'm sorry for trying to kill you and scratch you, h-homelander." I sink down in the chair a bit. It felt humiliating to comply so easily but I think this was nice Homelander, I didn't want to make him angry again.

"Good girl, see mutual respect." He says as he takes a spring roll from my plate and eats it. I didn't hear an apology from him but he probably didn't think he needed to give one.

Dinner was surprisingly uneventful. He didn't seem like he was in any kind of rush to do anything. After dinner he kicked his feet up on his coffee table and leaned back like he might fall asleep. I thought it was odd he kept the suit on the whole time but a lot of things are odd about him. I stayed at my seat at the table.

"Who's Uncle Billy?" He asked with his eyes closed. It was like a stab in the chest. I had forgotten all about them. Did Hughie ever get a hold of them? Did they come looking? Did he find them?

"I um I don't-"

"Don't fucking lie to me." He hummed. "I saw the name and number on the envelope with the files. He gave them to you?" He didn't budge from his relaxed position on the couch as he interrogated me.

"No no he was an old man from the last shelter I was staying at. He was a sweet old guy. It was the only paper I had so he wrote it down on it." The lie seemed believable enough. Homelander opened one eye and looked at me with it. It was the side eye from hell.

"Really? I called it. No one answered." I began to sweat and I could only guess he could hear my pulse elevate. I took a deep breath and tried to keep myself calm.

"Weird, I called it last week. Maybe his phone got shut off." It was a perfect lie. No way to fact check. An untraceable burner phone. Thank God for Billy's clearly valid paranoia.

"You're not going to talk to him anymore. Old men are perverts." He said as he closed his eyes again.

"Of course." I had evaded suspicion this time. What am I going to do if bily and his crew come sniffing around?

"Say you want to go for a ride? I wanna introduce you to someone I'm close to." Homelander said as he sat up and clapped his hands against his thighs. His unpredictable nature was getting to me more than it should.

"I was actually hoping to go lay down." I say in a quiet voice scared I'd upset him. He looked at me with one of his unreadable expressions that I was starting to get used to. Then he smiled and shook his head no

"No, I want you to meet her right now." He said in a fake sweet voice. He grabbed my arm and pushed the table out of the way and opened the window. It was a straight drop down at least 50 stores. I pulled back from the edge but his tight grip stopped me from getting too far. He grabbed me and took flight out the window.

#the boys series #billy butcher #homelander #the boys #fanfic #hughie campbell #oc stuff #frenchie #mothers milk #the female #platonic homelander #yandere homelander

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