#karl urban imagine

[storiesforallfandoms]

can't get too close ~ billy butcher;the boys

word count: 3939

request?: no

description: in which they have feelings for one another, but he's afraid to admit it after losing his wife. instead, he decides to sabotage her dates, and she's tired of it

pairing: billy butcher x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of becca's death, a bit of angst, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Everyone in The Boys knew how Butcher felt about (Y/N). Hell, anyone with eyes knew. He was absolutely enamored with her, and she felt the same about him.

But, in true Butcher fashion, he was fucking up a good thing.

See, Butcher loved (Y/N), but before her he loved Becca. And even though he finally had closure on Becca, that closure came in the form of losing her. He was still hurting from her death when (Y/N) came along and took his breath away. He felt guilty at first for what he felt for (Y/N), but then that guilt quickly turned to realization that he couldn't have her. Not unless he wanted to put her in danger of Butcher's greatest enemy; Homelander.

That didn't stop him from making it so that no one else could have (Y/N) either.

Not that being a member of The Boys left much time for dates anyways, but on the rare times (Y/N) was able to get a date, they either mysteriously cancel last minute, or the date would go so terribly that there was definitely not going to be another one. She'd be getting frustrated with dating if she didn't know it was Butcher sabotaging everything for her.

(Y/N) wanted to go off on him for this. She wanted to tell him to either man up and take her out, or to leave her the fuck alone. She even thought about leaving The Boys and going far, far away, where Butcher would never find her and never fuck with her life again.

But Annie had other ideas.

(Y/N) was going undercover at a Vought event as an investor. The goal was to try and plant a bug on the new Vought CEO, Ashley Barrett. She wasn't as intimidating as Stan Edgar, according to Annie, so she should be easy to bug. Since (Y/N) was relatively new to the team, they figured it was safest for her to go into the event undercover, with Annie there in her Starlight persona as back up, and the rest of the tam listening from their van across the street.

Annie had picked out an outfit for (Y/N) to wear: a black, satin dress that hugged her body, had spaghetti straps and a V neck that showed off her cleavage, and a slit on the front for a little tasteful leg action.

Annie was beaming as she and (Y/N) looked at (Y/N) in the dress. "Oh yeah, he's going to want to tear this off you the second he sees you."

(Y/N) had to admit, she looked hot. Butcher was definitely going to think the same.

"Hey, are you guys ready to - whoa."

Hughie was at the door, staring at (Y/N) with wide eyes. She and Annie shared a smile before Annie spoke up, "Yes Hughie?"

He seemed to snap out of his trance upon hearing his girlfriend's voice. "We're ready to go."

"I'm ready," (Y/N) said. To Annie she asked, "When will you be there?"

"I have to go back to the Tower to get changed, then Homelander wants all of us to arrive together. I should be there shortly after you arrive."

(Y/N) nodded. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then went to follow Hughie out of the room.

All eyes were on her the moment she stepped out of the room. Kimiko was giving her the same smile Annie had, while the men were all looking at her the same way Hughie had. But the only person (Y/N) cared about was Butcher, who was letting his eyes rake over her body, from top to bottom then back up again. She felt a little pride rising in her and mentally reminded herself to thank Annie for the dress.

"We have to get going," M.M. said, finally breaking the moment between (Y/N) and Butcher. "The event is starting, and you don't want to be too fashionably late."

They piled into the van, sans Annie, and drove towards the event location. They went over the plan once more, but (Y/N) was only half paying attention. She kept glancing at Butcher. He had been silent the entire time, and he looked like he was trying hard not to look back at her.

They dropped her off a little ways away from the event so it didn't look suspicious if anyone saw her getting out of the van. She walked up to the event, nervousness finally setting in. What if the security saw through her fake ID? What if they found the bug in her clutch? What if one of the Supes saw her and somehow recognized her as a member of The Boys? The "what if"s were swirling in her head as she stepped up to the security and handed them her fake ID. She held back a sigh of relief as the security passed it back and waved her in.

"I'm in," she whispered to the mic she had been given to keep in contact with the others.

"Great. Barrett should be there by now. All you have to do is get access to her phone and plant the bug," M.M. said.

"Simple," (Y/N) muttered, sarcastically.

She surveyed the area until she found the familiar face she was looking for. Ashley was in conversation with another investor. She was smiling and nodding, but it was clear she wanted to get away from there as soon as possible.

"Eyes on Barrett," she said.

After some time, Ashley excused herself and started to walk towards (Y/N). She started reaching for her phone, which gave (Y/N) an idea.

"I'm going in."

She started towards Ashley. Ashley was distracted, so she didn't see (Y/N) moving close enough for the two of them to collide. As planned, the phone fell to the floor. (Y/N) quickly covered it with her foot.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry!" she said. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

Ashley sighed in frustration, but plastered on a smile. "It's fine. No harm done."

She started walking away, not realizing she had left her phone. (Y/N) picked it up and slipped the bug from her clutch. Luckily, Ashley's phone case slipped easily from her phone, and (Y/N) was able to plant the bug in a few seconds flat. She put the phone case back in place and turned to where Ashley was still walking away.

"Wait!" she called. "You dropped your phone!"

Ashley turned on her heel as (Y/N) rushed to her to give her her phone. "God, thank you. I would've been so fucked if I lost this."

(Y/N) smiled and nodded. When Ashley walked away, she finally let her body relax. "Bug is planted."

"You work fast, mon amie," Frenchie commented.

"Well, Annie was right when she said Ashley was easier than Stan Edgar would've been." (Y/N) grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server. "I'll miss around and socialize for a bit to keep up the ruse, then I'll be out."

She downed the champagne and placed the empty glass on a nearby table.

"Whoa, slow down there. The night is still young."

(Y/N) jumped. Suddenly, stood beside her was a handsome young man, smiling a dazzling smile at her. He seemed to be just another investor, so she let herself relax just a little.

"I don't intend to be here long, so may as well take advantage of the free champagne while I can," she responded.

"I don't blame you. These things are all the same; sucking off Vought while they suck off their own heroes, then giving them money to do it again. I only come here because they have the finest scotch and the best food."

"I haven't gotten to try either yet."

"Well, let me introduce you to the best shit you've ever tasted."

He extended a hand to (Y/N). She knew it was potentially dangerous to let this go any further. Who knows how connected this guy was to Vought, and if she stayed for too long, she risked getting spotted by Homelander and having him figure out her true identity. But, she'd be lying if she said she didn't think this man was extremely attractive. And really, who was it going to hurt if she flirted with him for a bit? Worse case scenario, he gave her his number and she never actually called him. Best case scenario, she'd be waking up in his bed the next morning.

So, she took his hand. His smile was bright enough to light up the room as he led her towards the refreshments table.

"My name is Dan, by the way," he told her.

"Maggie," she responded, giving him the fake name they had agreed on when making her fake ID. If she was never going to see him again, may as well make sure he couldn't actually find her.

"(Y/N), what are you doing?" came a voice through her earpiece.

It took her just a second to realize it was Butcher.

When Dan turned away, she turned to whisper into her mic, "Having a bit of fun."

"No way, get out of there," Butcher commanded. "Don't let yourself be seen, it's too dangerous."

Instead of listening, she switched off her ear piece and put it into her clutch before Dan turned back to her.

"So," he said, "here is the spread."

"Spread" was almost an understatement. There was more food laid out than (Y/N) could ever dream of seeing in her life. It was almost insulting when she realized how many homeless and starving people Vought could be feeding with this amount of food, but they would probably toss the remains in the garbage at the end of the night. Almost, because right now all she wanted was to dig into that food.

"Can I get you anything from the bar?" Dan asked. "Maybe some of that scotch I mentioned?"

"No offense, Dan, but I would prefer to be with you if you're getting me a drink from the bar," she said. "A girl can't be too careful."

Dan chuckled and shrugged. "Hey, I can't be mad at that. There are plenty of creeps here, even in a room with the Earth's mightiest heroes."

Yeah, and the leader of that team is one of the worst, (Y/N) thought to herself. The irony.

They decided to get a plate each before (Y/N) followed Dan to the bar. They ordered a drink each, then took their servings to a nearby table that was empty.

"If only I brought a bigger purse," (Y/N) said. "I'd be taking some of that food home with me."

Dan laughed. "If I thought it would clear security, I'd bring a duffle bag for that reason. I mean, it's all being bought with our money anyways, right? We should be allowed to take as much home with us as we want to."

"Most people don't realize that this is where investor money is really going to," she said. "They think it's just going to the Supes to make sure they can save the day, but why would Supes need that shit? They have fucking powers. Money isn't going to make them any more or less super."

Dan picked up his glass and held it out to her. "Amen to that."

They tapped their glasses and took a sip together. (Y/N) had to admit, Dan was right. This was some of the finest scotch she had ever tasted, and usually she didn't like scotch at all.

"Do you ever wonder why we come to this shit when we don't even believe in it?" Dan asked.

(Y/N) tried not to meet his eye as she responded, "This is my first time."

It wasn't a total lie, but she was sure he would see right through her ruse if she looked at him.

"This is my third, and I'll tell you, it doesn't live up to any of the hype around it," he said. "I had a business partner the last two years, but he quit after last year's and no one else wanted to come tonight. I thought this thing was going to be unbearable on my own."

"I guess it's lucky you met me then."

His dazzling smile returned, taking (Y/N)'s breath away. "Very lucky."

It wouldn't be hard to convince Dan to leave the event early. That was definitely a positive, because (Y/N) didn't want to be here long after The Seven had arrived, which would probably be any minute now. She figured she would finish the drink that Dan was nice enough to buy for her, then she'd make the move to ask Dan to bring her back to his place. A little lean forward, letting the cleavage do it's thing, maybe brush her leg against his for good measure too. She knew he would definitely agree in a heartbeat.

But her plans were foiled when Dan glanced over her shoulder and his eyes suddenly went wide. (Y/N)'s brows knitted together in confusion before she looked over her shoulder and nearly choked at the sight.

Billy Butcher was storming through a Vought event, right towards the two of them.

"C'mon," he said to her, grabbing her arm and trying to yank her from her seat. "We're leaving."

"Hey buddy, let go of the lady," Dan said, standing from his seat.

"You stay the fuck out of this," Butcher growled.

"Butcher, what the fuck are you doing?!" (Y/N) whisper-shouted at him.

"I'm gettin' you out of here before you get yourself hurt," he responded.

"I am fine."

But Butcher wasn't listening. He grabbed her arm again and pulled her to stand. (Y/N) looked back at Dan, wishing she could somehow explain to him, but it was no use. Butcher was dragging her away, Dan watching with a bewildered expression on his face before he disappeared behind a crowd of people.

The security looked at each other then back at (Y/N) in concern as Butcher towed her past them. There was no use in getting their help. She was sure Butcher was about to murder anyone who stood in his way of getting her out of there.

"Let go of me you fucking prick!" she snapped, finally yanking her arm free of him. "You could've blown the entire goddamn operation!"

"Get in the van," he hissed at her.

She was tempted to refuse, to turn around and run back into the event to find Dan and beg him to take her home with him. But she knew that would only cause a scene, and the last thing any of them needed was someone from Vought recognizing Butcher and ruining their entire plan.

So, she got into the van. She climbed into the back and sat between Hughie and Kimiko. Hughie was looking at her with sympathy, while Kimiko took her hand and allowed (Y/N) to put her head on her shoulder.

"Tell Annie I'm with you guys," she told Hughie. He nodded and took his phone out to do just that.

The ride back to their office was silent and tense. (Y/N) could feel the anger bubbling up inside of her, but she wasn't about to let it out now. The rest of the team didn't do anything to her. She was sure they had tried to stop Butcher from storming in there, because anyone with a functioning brain knew that was a stupid fucking idea. Butcher was the outlet to her anger, and he was the one who was going to get the brunt of it eventually.

When they got back, they all went their separate ways without another word. (Y/N) told everyone she had to go back to the office to get something, but none of them really believed her. They knew she needed to let out some steam, and they were going to let her do just that.

She took the elevator up to their office. She was alone at first, which she was grateful for. She didn't think she could handle being in such a small space with Butcher by themselves. She may end up stopping the elevator and killing him with her bare hands. But it wasn't long after she stepped out of the elevator that it went back down to the first floor and picked up Butcher, bringing him back up into the room with her.

And she was waiting for him. The moment he stepped out, he was met with the sting of a slap across his cheek.

"You're a goddamn idiot," she hissed.

"I was trying to stop ya from gettin' yourself hurt, or worse," he argued.

"No you weren't, Butcher! Don't give me that fucking bullshit! You were fucking upset that I was flirting with another guy, so you had to break it up. Don't think that I don't know that's what you've been doing to all my dates for months now."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She scoffed. "Oh yeah, right. I guess I'm just talking out of my ass about the fact that every date I've gone on for nearly a year now has ended terribly, or hasn't gone ahead at all."

"Maybe you're just goin' out with the wrong blokes."

(Y/N) buried her head in her hands and let out a frustrated groan. "I'm so sick of this, Billy. I'm sick of you ruining everything for me!"

That seemed to be enough to leave Butcher speechless, so she carried on.

"I thought we had something, or that we could have something. But you never made a move. And it killed me that you didn't, but I wasn't going to push anything if that's not how you felt. I tried to move on, but goddammit it you won't fucking let me! You're always prying on my dates, somehow threatening them into cancelling or making sure the date goes horribly wrong. If a man so much as looks at me, you make it your life mission to ruin him. And I'm so sick and tired of it! If you have feelings for me, just fucking tell me! Otherwise, leave me the fuck alone!"

"I can't!" Butcher snapped, startling her with his raised voice.

"What do you mean you can't?"

And for the first time since she had met him, (Y/N) saw Billy Butcher show an emotion other than anger and cockiness; vulnerability.

"I can't just tell you how I feel," he responded, "because if I do, you might get hurt. Or worse."

"Hurt by who?"

He gave her a look that answered the question for her.

She almost laughed, but managed to stop herself. "Butcher, I'm already a part of The Boys. What I did tonight put me in more danger than being your girlfriend ever would."

"No," Butcher said, shaking his head. "That's not true, is it? Because if I tell you how I feel, if we decided to make this an official thing between us, and he found out? You'd be his next target. There's no place you could go that would truly protect you, because he'd make it his life mission to find you."

He was telling the truth, and (Y/N) knew it. If there was one person in the world that Homelander wanted to hurt the most, it was Butcher. He didn't want to kill Butcher, because that would mean he no longer had an adversary. No, Homelander wanted to mess with Butcher. He wanted to hurt him again and again, to dig the knife in and keep turning it. He did it with Becca first, now with Ryan.

And if he ever found out about (Y/N), she would be his next target.

She stepped towards Butcher, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"What if I'm not afraid?"

Butcher scoffed. "Come off it."

"I'm serious! What if I'm not afraid of Homelander?"

"I'd say you're fuckin' stupid."

"Maybe I am! But I'd put it all at risk to be with you. You wanna know why? Because I know that you would protect me. You wouldn't let him within ten yards of me without standing in his way."

He scoffed. "Yeah, like I did with Becca?"

"Hey." She took his chin in her hand. "Becca was not your fault. You didn't know what happened to her until after she went missing, and then you tried for years to find her. Even when everyone else gave up on her, you didn't. And then you found her. You would've gotten her away from him if it weren't for Stormfront."

There were tears forming in his eyes, but (Y/N) could see he was trying so hard not to cry in front of her.

"I can't let that happen to you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I can't handle losing you, too."

"You won't."

"You can't promise that."

"And you can't promise I won't lose you. Especially when you're doing stupid shit like barging into a Vought event that is armed to the teeth with guards, and is hosting the entire Seven who would mostly kill you if Homelander gave the order."

Butcher chuckled. "Okay, that was definitely a stupid thing of me to do."

(Y/N) looked at him with faux shock. "Hold on, did the Billy Butcher just admit he was wrong? Someone call the press!"

His laugh sounded like music to her ears. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, the walls finally dropping between them.

"I don't think I could ever forgive myself if something happened to you because of me," he admitted.

"Well then, good thing it won't be your fault," she said. "If anything, it'll be mine. I was the one stupid enough to fall in love with you."

"Yeah, I've got to say, not a smart one on your part."

She giggled and leaned into him. Taking her lead, Butcher leaned closer and closed the space between them. When his lips touched hers, it was like fireworks were going off around them. Months of waiting for this moment, and it definitely turned out to be everything she expected. She wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing her fingers to run through his dark hair. He was holding her so close to him, as if afraid that she would disappear if he let go. But she wasn't going anywhere, and that was a promise she intended on keeping.

When they finally broke apart, Butcher eyed her again. She finally remembered then that she was still in the black dress.

"I can't believe you were going to go home with that cunt," he said.

"He bought me fancy alcohol and made me feel desired," she responded with an innocent shrug. "Can you blame a girl?"

"Yes I can, because he was a right twat and didn't deserve to be the one to take this dress off of ya."

"Because that's your job?"

And just like that, the signature Butcher grin was back on his face. That stupid fucking grin, oh how she loved it.

"Well, I wasn't going to say it outright, but now that you've mentioned it yourself."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and kissed Butcher again. "Then take me back to your place so you can take it off of me."

She exclaimed as Butcher suddenly picked her up and started carrying her to the elevator. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Too late!"

#billy butcher #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x reader #karl urban #karl urban x reader #karl urban imagine #the boys #the boys imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[yourmomxx]

SPOILERS for THE BOYS SEASON 3 part1 without context:

#the boys #the boys season 3 #the boys season 3 spoilers #the boys prime #amazon prime original #billy butcher #soldier boy #the boys imagine #karl urban #jensen ackles #Karl urban imagine #jensen ackles imagine #hughie campbell #hughie campbell imagine #the deep #homelander #black noir #jack quaid #anthony starr #kimiko #frenchie #mothers milk #starlight #annie january #erin moriarty #chace crawford

[piratesfromspace]

Poison (Billy Butcher x Reader)

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Reader

!! Spoilers for The Boys Season 3, episode 2 !! I’m interrupting my Top Gun mania to write for The Boys. I wrote this while on withdrawal from painkiller/AD and it turned out more angsty than I intended, but I’m pretty proud of this piece. Hope you’ll like it! TW: mention of death and alcohol, smut, p in v sex, kinda rough sex, angst, age gap, Reader is female and younger than Butcher but definitely of age (in her 20s or 30s)

MASTERLIST

Butcher had - has - many vices. Addictions come easy to him. But sex is not one of them. Not since he lost his wife. The first time at least. Now he doesn’t even have the hope of finding her alive. He knows she’s dead, she won’t come back. He can’t decide if it’s worse or not than being in the limbo of maybe.

Her death has dug a new hole in his heart. In his already flimsy ethics. He just doesn’t care anymore about what happens to him, he has decided to follow his instincts - all of them, even the lower ones. It’s a death wish and a hedonistic impulse all wrapped into one. Into his sick mind. Into his oh so very mortal body.

The last remnants of compound V are running in his veins. The green poison is temporary - but it’s a poison nonetheless. He hates every minute of it. It enhances everything: his strength, his senses, his wit, but also his darkness, his impulsiveness, his ugly desires. He has one hour left before withdrawal, maybe two. And his mission is done. He found the supe he was looking for, he had squeezed the answers out of him, and then he had killed him. There is blood on his shoes, on the lapel of his ragged jacket. He can still smell it, and it’s driving him crazy. All this power at the tip of his fingers, and nowhere to put it. No more supes to smash to a pulp. He’s growing restless. Frustrated. He needs an outlet.

And then he runs into her when he gets back to the safe house. He knows her somehow. She’s a friend of a friend of Frenchie. She helped them once or twice. Or they helped her? He’s not sure but he remembers her because she looked pretty and young and out of her depth. Not the kind of girl who would usually hang around the likes of Frenchie and Chérie. She had been kind to Kimiko, when most people act afraid or like she doesn’t exist. She was different in a way he couldn’t really describe. She also had been nice to him. Flirty even, if he must believe MM’s taunt. She had looked at him like he wasn’t the monster he is, and he had been unsettled for a second. If he weren’t trying to lie to himself, he would recognize she reminded him of Becca.

It’s dark outside - he has lost track of time. All he knows is the feeling of power pulsing under his skin. And the girl, she smiles at him, she asks where the others are, she offers some food she brought back just for them. She still looks pretty. Still looks out of place in this rundown basement.

Are you okay? You look like you just snorted a kilo of cocaine. She quips, and he chuckles because her french accent makes everything she says sound so damn cute. Is that blood? Are you hurt? She adds when she gets closer, and he can see the faint freckles on her nose, the way her eyes grow big and concerned under her long lashes. Her hands find his chest, she wants to soothe him, to understand and to cure. The compound V is still thrumming in his body. He still has all this energy to spare. He doesn’t know how to cure that, until her lips fall on his.

It’s kind of a blur - experimental drugs will do that to you - but he’s now pressing her against the wall, kissing her senseless. He buries his face into her neck, getting drunk on her smell, something sweet and girlish, until he rucks her mini skirt up her thighs and drags his fingers against her clothed cunt. The fabric of her panty is damp, and he swears he can also smell this. He’s rock hard in his jeans, already leaking, like he’s a freaking teenager again. He snatches the fabric aside and gathers her slick before pressing circles into her little clit. She gasps and pants and it makes his ego swell. She grabs his arms as he pushes her even more against the wall, and he has to step back, let her breathe because he just forgot for a moment that he could crush her in a blink if he wanted to.

Please, Butcher She begs. He hates that she has to call him by this name, but it’s the only one she has for him. Still, he’s more than happy to comply, and to finally open his fly. He notices the way she tenses when she sees him. He’s never been this hard, this big, full of his drug-enhanced blood. He keeps his fingers on her clit, rubbing slow as he breaches her. He has to remind her to breathe and relax before he starts moving. He’s holding her, driving her up against the concrete. He can do that without breaking a sweat, without worrying his bad elbow will give out. She weighs nothing in his arms, it’s like carrying a cloud. She feels hot, scorching hot and tight and wet around his cock. He grinds his hips carefully, he wants to stay in control, to make it good for her, even though the green shit in his veins commands him to go fast and hard. Top take, to rip open, to not worry about the consequences.

**

She had always found him kinda hot. She finds everyone kinda hot actually, that’s her problem. But the first time she saw him, with his stupid grin and jerky attitude contrasting with his rugged appearance, she knew she was doomed. Butcher, two syllables that don’t try to sugar coat who he is. It’s not a hyperbole either. He has that violent aura, that assured bravado dipped in a very dark sense of humour. He also has the body count - in the very literal sense - to back it up. Everything about him screams danger, and the stories she heard should raise a thousand red flags. But she decided that he was too handsome to dwell on such consideration. It was actually part of the appeal. Her survival instinct was already fucked up, another dubious choice in her so called romantic life wouldn’t make a difference in the mess that was her existence.

The concrete wall is unforgiving for her back. She’s deliciously split open on his cock, pinned there with nowhere to go. He had swept her clean off her feet effortlessly. He looked buffed anyway, but she was not ready for this. Something was wrong with him. He was too quiet. There was a faint glimpse of too bright orange-y light in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He seemed on edge, ready to take on the world and to burst into tears at the same time. She wanted to help, as always.

He moves slowly, filling her so well, one of his hands between her legs, touching her where she needs it. Calloused fingertips on her tender flesh, the pressure perfect. It’s surprising because she thought he would be way rougher than he is - and she would have been happy with that. She could have dealt with the manhandling, and the quick fuck with no tomorrow. It would have been the perfect way to flush him out of her system. The almost-tenderness he’s displaying, the care, yet basic enough, he’s putting into this - she’s not sure she can process. She peers up at him with half hooded eyes, and he looks on the verge of crying. She surges forward, kissing his lips, drinking whatever sorrow is bothering him. She wants to help, as always.

***

Butcher keeps fucking her through the kiss, he licks into her mouth with a renewed hunger. She tastes like bubblegum and vodka, and it makes perfect sense with the rest of her. He tries to forget the sudden realisation she was the first girl he was sleeping with since Becca’s death. It had hit him from nowhere. Compound V has the nasty side effect of making you believe you’re unstoppable - that is until something you can’t break with your bare hands, like emotion or memory, comes back to bite you in the ass.

Butcher… butcher! She calls him back to reality. A pang of guilt crosses his face when he notices the way she’s huddled harshly between the wall and him, the thin tank top she’s wearing not enough to cushion the soft skin of her back from the hard concrete.

He mutters an apology and he carries her to the old couch below the dirty window. She’s still so light in his arms, she feels unreal. A ghost. An elaborate hallucination. Maybe he’s slowly losing his mind because of the greenish liquid sloshing in his skull. The only thing convincing him she’s somewhat true is her warmth, her smell, the soft noises she makes. It’s crazy how being a supe sharpens his senses until he can pick up the smell of her sweat under her perfume, of her wet cunt, until he can hear the slightest hitch in her breathing, the thump of her heart speeding up when he pushes inside her again.

Soft moans fill the room again as he rocks gently against her. Her hands are buried in his hair, grabbing at the luscious locks. She tugs at his scalp, bites his bottom lip, and snaps her own hips to take him further. He smiles against her neck as he understands what she needs.

‘You fancy it rougher, luv?   He whispers, voice hoarse with this heavy accent of his. She nods greedily. What a pretty dirty little thing you are He acknowledges, a hand collaring her neck, and her pussy clenches on his cock at this.

A grunt escapes his lips, something feral, almost victorious, as he feels the last surge of cursed power coursing through his body.

#the boys #the boys season 3 #the boys fanfic #the boys imagine #the boys fanfiction #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x ofc #billy butcher x you #no y/n #karl urban imagine #karl urban fanfiction #frenchie fanfiction #the boys butcher #butcher x reader #compound v

[chaotic-iguana]

desperate | billy butcher x reader

a little something in spirit of kinktober and my delirium. lmk what you think. nsfw below the cut. mostly denial/teasing.

“fuckin’ look at you, doll.” butcher flashes you a shit-eating grin before reaching up to pinch your nipples between his thumb and forefingers harshly, rumbling a chuckle at the whimper it draws from you. you’re all splayed out for him with your hands tied to headboard above, thighs wrenched open by his shoulders; skin hot and flushed under his touch. he’s told you to stay still twice already but you can’t, not when he’s been leaving featherlight brushes on your skin for��hours and cruelly laughing at every sound that comes from your mouth, smiling at the way your hips buck in his hold- 

and then he’s leaning in just to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to your sternum, beard stinging against your sensitive skin, jaw working to nip and bite until your tears are falling and he’s pulling back with a mocking tut, eyes twinkling.

“all these pretty tears just f’me, love?” your frantic nod makes him raise a brow, hand coming down to swat the inside of your thigh - the impact shooting straight to your poor, neglected cunt. 

“use y’words, chatterbox.” 

his tone makes you want to curl in on yourself, because he knows you’re too far gone to form words right now, too far gone to think about anything beyond the fact that you need him and that you might actually die if he stops touching you. but you know butcher, and you know how mean he really is - he’ll keep you writhing on the bed for hours to fix your attitude if he doesn’t hear an answer now; uncaring of the fact that you’re barely grasping at thoughts and completely fucking gone. and like the devil, you  he starts rubbing circles into the juncture of your thighs while you struggle to answer him.

“y-yes, da-butcher. ‘m cr-crying for y-you.” he hums, and suddenly runs a knuckle through your folds, making you keen, tears sticking to your lashes. 

“yes, who?” bastard. he knows you can never bring yourself to say it - not even if it rests on the tip of your tongue every time - and despite yourself, you bite your tongue and shake your head, hiccuping. 

“oh we’re being shy now? fuck me, honey, where was this when i had my cock in your ass?” his hands rest just above where you need him now, thumbs stroking your abdomen in careful, downward brushes. your back arches into the touch, hips chasing him even when he pulls his hands away, and then you’re sobbing in earnest. 

another tut, dripping with condescension. “no more cryin’. tell me what you want, baby.” and you’re gasping another breath and gulping air, wrists straining against the rope before stammering out another response, too delirious with your need to register what you were saying. 

“need you to t-touch me, d-daddy, please.” he shuffles up, gripping your chin to turn it towards him before capturing your lips in his, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. his thumb presses gently on your buzzing clit, making you jolt with surprise. you blink at him, frowning. he’d never cave this quickly. 

until- he’s reaching down to plant a kiss to your forehead, smoothing over your hair before nuzzling against your cheek. 

“gotta give my pretty girl what she needs, don’t i? 

masterlist

taglist: @bastardmandennis and @amanitacowboy (no one else would be into the boys i think) love u both @imherefordeanandbones

@cafekitsune’s divider.

#billy butcher fanfic #billy butcher x reader smut #billy butcher smut #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x you #butcher x reader #the boys x you #the boys fanfic #the boys tv #the boys amazon #the boys rp #karl urban

[anundyingfidelity]

BLOOD, SWEAT & TEARS — Billy Butcher, Soldier Boy

Summary: A normal night where Butcher and his new pal, Soldier Boy, fuck just their stress out with a new toy, you.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x female reader x Soldier Boy

Word count: 1.5k.

Warnings: porn without plot, dom!butcher, dom!ben, one thought of dub-con but not really, double penetration, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, unsafe sex (creampie and switching holes basically don't do it, this is just porn), squirting, dirty talk, blowjobs, facial, degradation (usage of whore, slut, etc.), cumplay, some dacryphilia, choking, hair pulling, blood, mentions of violence, Ben and Butcher being kinda jerks, normal misogyny coming from SB, some ego competition, hints to aftercare.

Notes: You already know english is not my main language, not betad and barely revised, lol sorry for the mistakes in here. The amount of horniness I have for these two I swear is not fucking normal. Normally I'd apologize for writing this, but I'm ovulating.

the boys/jackles tags: @k-slla

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

A pair of rough hands held your legs open. Your empty pussy was throbing as Butcher knelt between your thighs rubbing the tip of his cock against your cunt.

You gasped, the man behind you spreading you further for his new team mate to get better access while he fucked your ass senseless. His cock reaching all the right spots. You moaned loudly, almost screaming when Butcher finally pushed inside you. Soldier Boy never seemed to cease his insane thrusts from behind.

"Luv, you're so fucking tight," Butcher grinned, your walls engulfing him perfectly.

They both soon set up a rhythm, one pushing in while the other almost slide out of your hole. Each stroke of their massive cocks inside you exploded something you never felt before. It was a new kind of spark eliciting from the deepest places, and you wanted to come undone there, over and over, forever, between their strong bodies.

"Oh, fuck! Yes right there, god!" you growled, screamed, and cried out incoherences as the two men continued fucking you to bliss.

A layer of sweat covered your skin and you rolled your eyes back, the familiar knot on your belly building up yet again. You didn't have an idea of how much time had passed since you arrived back to the dirty motel. All three of you arrived covered in blood, dirt and the weight of murder, and you still let them take you and you welcomed them the same way. You let them have fun with you however they pleased.

The last thing you remembered from that night was coming back from a mission. Your aching body begging for a shower and good sleep, but Butcher and the new supe found other ways to take their own stress out. You doubted at first. Of course you didn't know it could feel this good. They left bite marks all over your neck, nipped your tits, spanked your thighs open for their mouths to devour you while the other fucked your throat until tears streamed down your cheeks.

They continued bruising and marking your skin. Like a canvas, they left their prints, covering your flesh with different colors all over and used your mouth and pussy as they fucking wanted, granting access to the other, spreading your legs, manhandling you all over the disgusting, shitty room. Then Soldier Boy had the idea of using your ass, just for him, and at first, you were fucking scared. It was all too much. But once he had you ready and stretched enough with his fingers, you quickly fell for his rough touch and his dick, which was as huge as his ego. He was fucking addictive. Both were, in fact, fucking you amazingly hard.

One of Ben's hand wrapped around your neck, climax reaching its peak as Butcher rubbed your clit with his thumb. Your walls clenched around both of them and the vulgar sound of your pussy filled the place along with their skin hitting yours.

"Little slut, gonna cum for us?" Ben said, voice full of lust, pressing your back against his bare chest. You clenched again, his dark chuckle enhanced heaven down your cunt.

Wetness increased between your legs, and you moaned. Louder than ever. The whole place might already know what was happening in the room, but neither Ben or Billy made you shut up. In fact, they wanted you to scream your lungs out.

"Oh, she's definitely gonna cum," Butcher followed, a smirk on his lips. "C'mon sweetheart, don't be shy. Give us one more."

"I-I feel like- fuck!" with a loud cry you squirted all over them, their dicks sliding out of your holes. Shit, that was the harderst you came for the night.

Immediately you tried to close your shaky legs, but Butcher's hands held you in place, pussy clenching around nothing as your fluids coated their hard lenghts and thighs.

"Fucking hell. I'm gonna break you, sugar," Ben hissed, taking your legs and fixing your position on top of him, sliding you down his dick, but this time he claimed your pussy, pistoning in and out of you without any mercy. Even if your body still trembled and you were so fucking overstimulated. You moaned.

Butcher tskd as he watched you, tears streaming down your face and lost in pleassure. "That was mine, pal."

"Yeah, I don't give a fuck- Jesus, she's fucking tight!" Ben hoarsed.

He didn't care about Butcher, he just wanted to fuck you until you passed out and his name was the only thing on your mind.

You whimpered softly. "Please, please," you were getting there again, under the brunette man's dark eyes as the soldier fucked you insane.

But before you reached that sweet peak again, Ben pulled out of you. His strenght forced you to bend over the matress on your hands and knees, Butcher positioned himself right in front of your face. It was so fast and they moved quickly, like a dance already choreographed between them to take advantage of all you got to give.

"Open wide, baby" Butcher ordered. You complied happily, letting his cock touch the back of your throat smoothly.

Ben's rough hands gripped your hips, down your ass, giving a spank on one of your cheeks, making you jump slightly. He grabbed your ass cheeks spreading them to expose your hole, the tip of his cock teased your ass until he slid in a swift motion. You whimpered with your mouth stuffed. He filled you up perfectly and you fucking loved it.

"Such a good cumslut, taking my cock so fucking well," Ben praised, voice husky. He roughly gripped your hair, forcing yourself down more around Butcher's shaft. You gagged, he smirked. "Might just keep you around as my little, personal fuckdoll."

"Fuck- easy there, mate," Butcher warned, as you worked your tongue and lips on his cock as much as you could. "We have another deal, remember?"

Ben smirked cockily at him as you clenched around his cock. You let out a moan muffled by Butcher fucking your mouth. Both their thrusts harder than ever. "Still, I don't give a shit."

Ben's gaze admired you, hands on your hips, as he watched himself shoving into your hole. "You're gonna fucking cum again, you dirty little bitch," he ordered.

"Mmm..." You nodded as best as you could with the twitching cock on your mouth.

Butcher suddenly pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva leaked down your lips to the tip of his cock. He kept your head in place as much as he could and jerked himself off with his other hand. He came with a hard groan all over your pretty face. His white seed painted your cheeks, lips and your tongue sticking out as you shut your eyes.

"Bloody hell, don't you look ravishing," Butcher whispered darkly. His thumb collected his cum, now mixed with your tears and a small stain of dry blood on your face. He dragged it to your lips so you could taste it. Your plump lips closed around his finger with a moan.

"Insatiable slut, just how I like them," Ben hissed, pulling out of your asshole, making you whimper. "Now, I'm gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy."

He rubbed the tip of his dick on your slit and entered slowly. You felt every inch stretching you out and he slammed into you brutally, he was so fucking close. You could feel it. It surprised you how much they actually endured, their stamina was endless and you lost count of how many times they made you cum already. And yet, you felt that precious sensation anew, soft walls clenching repeatedly around him.

"C'mon whore," Ben gripped on your hair, pulling your back against his muscular chest, taking both your wrists with his other hand. "Cum around my cock."

Your cunt pulsed, he grunted. And you came, again, with shaky legs, shaky breath and the sight of a naked Butcher, who already had taken a seat on the couch in front of the bed. Your orgasm triggered Ben's, and he filled you up completely. You cried out when his fingers found your clit, the grip on your hair long gone now. He continued fucking his cum inside you, balls deep, until he started to soften inside you. His thrusts slowed down little by little.

Ben finally pulled out, letting go of your wrists and you collapsed on your hands and knees on the mattress. He spread out your pussy with his fingers and admired his white cum dripping out of you.

"Well, that was a fucking ride," he smiled. His middle finger wiped his seed and forced it back inside your pulsing cunt. "Fuck, where do you find these kind of women?"

Butcher shrugged. "I have my contacts."

"I'm still here, y'know," you breathed out, rolling on your back.

Ben hovered over your tired figure. Messy hair, cheeks stained with Butcher's cum, teary eyes, and some dry blood spots decorated your face. They did break you and put you back into pieces. He was damn proud of that. He leaned down and sucked into the skin of your neck. You moaned, your fingers tangled on his scalp as his lips carressed your neck, his beard burning on your soft skin.

"Ben, I'm tired," you said, and he stopped his kisses. He shared a suspicious look with Butcher and then locked his lustful green eyes with yours.

The supe winked at you. "Later, doll."

You rolled your eyes and heard Butcher standing up.

"Gonna prepare you a bath, luv," he said as he disappeared inside the bathroom. "Have to take good care of ya."

#soldier boy smut #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy imagines #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy x you #soldier boy fanfiction #billy butcher smut #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x female reader #billy butcher imagines #billy butcher x you #billy butcher imagine #soldier boy/ben #the boys tv #the boys amazon #the boys fanfiction #soldier boy x reader x billy butcher #jensen ackles #karl urban

[geminiwritten]

i’m yours ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

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

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

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

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

word count: 5315

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kimiko signs again, and you watch her to listen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She points at the sofa.

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

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

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

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

“Care to elaborate?” MM presses.

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

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

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

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

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

“You slept with a Supe?” MM gasps.

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, “What?”

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

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

“Are you hungry?”

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

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

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

You nod, “My favourite socks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry?”

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

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

“Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

“Hey,” you murmur.

He frowns, “Are you okay?”

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

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

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

He steps forward, “So, did you-”

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

“Butcher,” you say, “what the fuck?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Butcher, calm down, he’s-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You gon’a answer me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look like shit,” he grunts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

MM steps forward, “What happened?”

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you have my fucking phone bugged?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, shit,” Frenchie murmurs.

“Maybe I just needed a fucking break.”

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

Butcher sighs, “Go shower.”

“What?”

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

You frown, “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs, “I’m tryin’ to help.”

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

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

“Fuck,” he mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You need to shower.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All yours.”

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

“Show me who I belong to.”

END.

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

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Innocent (Billy Butcher)

Description: Y/N is the youngest members of the boys and has no experience so Billy wants to change that.

Warning: Smut, Age Gap

Word Count: 1,362k

She was the youngest member of The Boys, 24 years old. She didn’t have much sexual experience but damn sure had a lot of other experiences. Most 24 year olds have sexual experience and won’t have the experience she has. That experience was taking down what the world called “Heroes” but in reality were villains. Y/N never got around to the normal things in life, her whole life she’s been running from Vought. She was also wanted, like the rest of them so that didn’t help much.

When the time comes to relax and joke, she’s the victim. With her being the youngest and most innocent one all the jokes aimed at her. She wasn’t hurt by them, she just rolled her eyes. Hughie never really made fun of her, never felt the need too. It was Frenchie and MM that loved to tease her at any given moment. Billy sometimes teased her but not as much as the other two.

He found her adorable but not in a puppy type of way. He wanted to pound her into his mattress with his dick. Nobody else knew or had the idea because he was smart. He never got caught staring at her with those dark, lustful eyes that ate her up, or the groans he’d keep in his throat when she walked around in barely anything. He never thought he’d fall for another woman after Becca. But Y/N surprised him. She was sweet and not easily offended. She never pissed him off or made him want to kill her like the others do.

She was perfect in his eyes. Except one thing, She had no idea what she did to him when she woke up and walked in the living room with just a shirt and panties. A shirt that barely covered her ass. It was hard to restrain himself when she did that. It was like she was doing it on purpose. Which she wasn’t but it really made him think. The others were still asleep so that gave him time to check out her perfect little body without being caught. He eyed her like she was his prey and he was getting ready to pounce any second. She was making eggs for herself and Billy, like she did most mornings.

She never noticed him staring at her which was a good thing for him. “Okay it’s all done.” She said, snapping him out of his thoughts. He grabbed the plate from her and thanked her. She smiled and took her own. She sat next to him as they ate. “Do you ever get cold?” He asked her. She shook her head No. The place was sometimes freezing. “Hard to believe in barely any clothes.” He said. He wasn’t meaning it in a bad way but she really didn’t understand how fuckable she looked. “Do you have a problem with how I dress?” She asked him. He chuckled and shook his head. “No, love. It’s just freezing is all.” She hummed and went back to eating. 

It was an everyday thing and each day it got harder for Billy to control himself. She wasn’t going to realize or understand that she’s causing a problem on her own. Each day he’d watch her with dark eyes and she never noticed, completely oblivious to the fact. Today was his final straw. The shirt she had on was showing her panties as she reached up to grab something. Billy groaned and wished she would have just asked him to grab it instead. She tried everything to reach the salt and pepper that was put on the high shelf. He came up behind her and grabbed it for her. She turned around and took it from him with a smile and a thanks. She turned back to what she was doing as if it was nothing. Billy turned off the stove and pushed her up against the counter. She let out a gasp.

His hands on her hips as he pressed up against her. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? Walking around in barely any clothes, making me almost cum in my pants.” He growled in her ears. “I’m I’m sorry.” She squeaked. He chuckled and moved his hand up to grope her breasts. “You should be. You’re a walking wet dream and you drive me crazy.” She moaned at his words and his hands playing with her boobs. His lips found her neck and started abusing it. Her hands were gripping the counter so hard her knuckles were turning white. One of his hands moved down to her panties.

He chuckled as he felt how wet they were. “Holy fuck. You’re soaked.” He said. She let out a moan as he started to rub her clit through her panties. Her head laid back on his chest and she sighed. “Fucking hell, the fact that you’re falling apart in my arms is so hot.” He groaned. Her eyes were closed and she was moaning softly. Her hips started gently moving. He let out a groan as she was backing her ass into his groin. One of her hands reached down to his and pulled it in her panties.

He chuckled and looked down at her. “Is that what you want, baby?” He asked. “Yes please.” She whined and moaned as his fingers were abusing her clit. His other hand held her hip as she dry humped him. “Fuck I need to be inside of you before I explode.” He groaned. His motion stopped and she whined as he pulled his hand away from her wet pussy. He pulled down her panties and undid his pants pulling them down. He found her entrance and softly pushed in. Before she could scream his hand covered her mouth. “Quiet love, don’t want the others to hear, do ya?” He asked ,pushing into her more. She shook her head and moaned against his hand. He was splitting her in half but she was okay with it. Her pussy squeezed him and he groaned. “You’re so fucking tight.” She moaned at his words.

She thrusted back against him and whined as the pleasure took over the pain. He took that as a hint to start moving. Her hips moved back on his at the same time he thrusted. It felt perfect and the two found a rhythm really fast. She was letting out all types of pleasurable noises he wished to hear clearly. But didn’t wanna risk the others waking up. “You sound fuckin’ beautiful, love.” He groaned in her ear. His hips started moving faster, bumping her small body into the counter. She wasn’t able to keep up with his thrusts. His hands move to pull her body as close as possible to his. His hands stayed on her stomach. She bit her lip to quiet the moans that tumbled out of her lips.

She’s never felt this good before. Billy felt her spasm all over his cock making him grunt out a “fuck.” She was close to her end as was he. “Billy I- I think I’m g-gonna cum.” She whined a little too loud. He placed his face in her neck and let out a moan himself. “Yeah baby? Let go for me.” He tells her. “Let go for Daddy.” Her eyes rolled back into her head and her mouth dropped open, it took everything in her tiny body not to scream his name. He felt her drench his cock which triggered his orgasm. He grunted and came inside of her. She gasped at the feeling of his cum inside of her.

They both slowed their hips and came to a stop. Both of them panting like dogs as they stayed in that position. He kissed her neck and whispered sweet nothings in her ear making her giggle. Her giggle was so fucking cute to him. He pulled out of her, making them both gasp. She turned around and looked up at him with a smile. He looked down at her with a smile and realized that he was in love with her. “You’re so fucking adorable.” He grunted before kissing her again. 

#the boys #the boys imagine #the boys amazon #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #billy butcher smut #karl urban

[eclecticqueennerd]

Bad Idea Right?

*inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea Right?’ by Olivia Rodrigo.

*Language, smut, violence, breakup, alcohol consumption* Billy Butcher x reader

It’s been a few months since you left the boys. The direction Butcher was leading the group was a surefire plan to get you all killed and you wanted nothing to do with it. Convincing Butcher to take a moment to mull plans over instead of going in guns blazing was a tall order, one that ultimately made you decide that a relationship with him was not worth your life. You tried to convince the rest of the gang to leave but all that got you was a bunch of noes and a broken heart. Butcher, even with all his asshole ways, held your heart in his hand and it hurt to walk away from him. At least you have Annie keeping you company.

-Wyd 2nite?

Tearing your eyes away from the TV as you lounged on the dingy bed of your motel room Grace Mallory stashed you in, you typed out your response to Annie.

-nm, u?

-wanna meet up w Kimiko n go out?

-yass!

You and Annie meet up with Kimiko just outside of a nightclub. After you gather and exchange hugs, you go in and begin drinking and dancing to the heavy bass playing on the stereo. Multicolored lights flash all around you as you allow yourself to succumb to the party atmosphere. After the song ends, the three of you spot a booth off in the corner of the club and make your way there, stopping at the bar to refill your drinks. The three of you catch up. Annie was still in Vought Tower, Kimiko still working with Frenchie and The Boys. Kimiko gives a recount of how everyone else was doing in the group, including Butcher.

‘He really misses you.’ Kimiko signs. ‘We all really miss you. You should come back.’ You shake your head.

“No, I think it’s better for me to stay away. Butchers gonna get someone killed.” You could feel vibration coming from your phone in the pocket of your dress. Lifting it in front of your blurry eyes you blink a few times to clear them. You try to make out the name but it’s an unknown number, you declined the call.

“Besides, he probably hates me now.” Vibration came from your phone again. *Decline* Another call from the unknown number.

“He doesn’t hate you, y/n. I don’t think-” Annie begins to say but then you interject,

“I’m sorry, I gotta take this. This asshole keeps calling me.” Walking out of the club, you answer the call and before you can talk, you hear a gruff voice on the other line,

“Y/n?” You’d recognize that voice from anywhere. The last time you heard him speak was four months ago when you told him you were breaking up with him.

“Y/n, you there?”

“Butcher?”

“I need your help.”

“What happened?”

“I’m hurting real bad. I need you to come help me.”

“If you’re really that hurt-”

“Y/n, please.” You hear the desperation in his voice. He never begs for anything; he must be down bad. You let out an exasperated sigh and then *click*.

“Butcher? Billy?” You look at the phone screen and see that the call has ended. *ping* An address pops up on your phone. You sigh again. Tapping the edge of your phone on your forehead in frustration, you make your decision. You meet up with Annie and Kimiko and tell them that you’ll catch up with them later, you’ve got something you have to deal with. Rather, someone. But you didn’t dare tell them that.

Hailing a cab and telling the driver the address, you kept thinking this was not a good idea. From what you heard from the gang; Butcher did not take the breakup well. He broke things, drank more, and pushed everyone to their breaking point. MM had to leave the group to regain his sanity, only to return shortly after leaving. Kimiko recounted that Butcher was better when you were around. So why the hell was he calling you if you caused him so much pain? Watching the progression of your map marker reach its destination on Google Maps, your heart began to beat harder in your chest. The car stopped outside of a tall brick building. Tipping the cab driver you made your way in, texting Butcher and asking which level and unit he was in.

Trekking up the steps, heart pounding in your chest, the blurriness in your eyes from the booze now cleared, you made your way to his door. *knock, knock, knock* The door swung open, and across the threshold was Billy Butcher. Still the same handsome man you turned to putty for not too long ago. He stood before you shirtless, clad in green sweatpants. Your mouth went dry, and the screaming thoughts in your brain telling you to march right back down those steps ceased. The two of you just stood there, staring at each other.

“You uhh… gonna let me in or what?” Butcher blinks and then makes an opening for you to slip through. Hearing the soft click of the door shut behind you, you take in the emptiness of his studio apartment. The only furniture in the room was a pull-out bed with tangled sheets, coffee table covered in empty alcohol bottles and a box TV on a beat-up nightstand. You feel guilty for a moment as when the two of you were together, the apartment you lived in never got to this state.

“You said you were hurt?” You said as you turned around to face Butcher. He just stands there, holding a sweating beer bottle in his hand, eyes scanning you up and down. His eyes settle on your cleavage. You snap your fingers to get his attention. It works.

“What did you need help with?” Butcher explains that he needed to be patched up on his back. Turning him around you see that it’s scratches with some gravel lodged in the deeper lacerations. Most of the wounds were superficial, and none of them needed sutures.

“Jesus what did you do tonight, Butcher?”

“Got in a tussle. You gon help me or not?”

“Yeah, turn around.” As you begin cleaning the wounds on Butcher's back, your thoughts then return telling you that you should not be here and you should have gotten MM to clean his back up. After using a tweezer to pull out the small bits of gravel from his back, you grabbed a paper towel and doused it with hydrogen peroxide.

“This is gonna sting.” Before you got a reply out of him, Butcher hissed at the light dabbing you placed on his wounds with the paper towel. As he hissed, you saw the muscles in Butcher's back tense, reminding you of the times he had you on your back and was fucking up into you, head cradled in the crook of your neck, giving you a perfect view of his shoulders and back. You shake your head.

“Okay all done. Be more careful next time.” Throwing the used items in the trash bag and make your way to the bathroom to wash your hands in the bathroom sink. Splashing cold water on your face, makeup be damned, attempting to slow down the growing desire in your core. Walking out of the bathroom, you spot a Hawaiian shirt on the floor, torn and bloody. You look down to inspect it.

“Aw man, this was the shirt I gave you for your birthday. It’s fucked.” You see Butcher pouring two glasses of amber-colored liquor, and he offers you a glass.

“My favorite shirt.” He replies. You shake your head to decline the drink, but Butcher, being who he is, insists. Yanking the glass out of his hand and downing the amber liquid in one gulp, you set the glass down on the counter. You give him a brief goodbye and walk toward the door. Butcher grabs your wrist; you turn and see a silent plea in his eyes. Your brain screaming at you to fly down those steps and out of the building, your heart telling you to be in his arms again. He’s not good for you, he’ll get you killed.

Fuck it, it's fine. You pull Butcher down into a feverish kiss. His mouth met yours with as much passion. You both shuffle to the edge of the pull-out bed, and you push Butcher backward. He falls back easily, letting you take the lead. You go to remove your dress when Butcher places his hands on yours and assists you in pulling it over your head. Once the garment was removed, you straddle Butcher and continue kissing him with the same fiery passion as before, his hands roaming all over your exposed form. You sit up and rock your hips against his, generating some friction for your needy core. Locking eyes with him, you see that Butcher's hazel iris is now covered by his pupils, eyes entirely covered in black. After a few more hip gyrations, Butcher pulls you back down to kiss you. He poured everything into the kiss, tongues, and teeth clashing. You pull away from Butcher and help him lower his sweatpants. Once free, you grab ahold of his throbbing cock and pump it a few times then line it up to your core, rubbing the tip along your slit. Butcher moans. As you sank down on him, you feel your cunt stretch to take all of him in. Once at full hilt, you take a moment to pause to get used to feeling him inside you again. Butcher sat up and rubbed your cheek with his thumb, wiping a few tears you didn’t realize were falling.

“I’ve missed you luv.” Butcher said as he stared into your eyes. It was as if he was looking into your soul, searching for something. You leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss on his lips as you began moving yourself on his cock. Butcher groaned, wrapping one hand around the back of your head and wrapped the other around your waist. The two of you moved in sync, you grind your hips to meet his light thrusts, gasps and moans filling the apartment. You feel the coil in your belly begin to tighten, Butcher felt it too. He then flips the two of you over to where you’re lying on your back and he’s positioned above you, grabbing your legs to wrap around his waist. He buried his head in the crook of your neck as he began to quicken his pace.

“Billy, don’t’ stop… I’m close.” You pant. Butcher takes his right hand and begins to rub circles around your clit, which pushed you over the edge. Butcher follows shortly after, spilling his cum into you with a roar. The two of you lay on the bed, fighting to catch your breath. After a few moments, you get up from the bed to get dressed. Looking for your dress under the bed, Butcher reaches his hand out and gently places it on top of yours. You look up at him and he says,

“Stay with me.” The internal struggle was real at this moment. Your brain tells you to leave, that this man was no good, but you loved Butcher. In the end, your heart won the battle, and you climbed in next to Butcher, snuggling up next to his side. Butcher whispered sweet nothings into your ear, promising you all the things that he said he would do from now on, and that he loved you. Silence fell between you. Just before Butcher fell asleep, you said,

“You know, Annie was proud of me for getting out. She’s gonna be pissed to hear that we’re back together.” Butcher turns his head to look at you.

“What’re you gonna tell her?”

“Oh, I dunno… maybe that I tripped and fell into your bed.” the two of you chuckle before falling into a restful sleep.

#the boys #billy butcher #the boys amazon #karl urban #billy butcher x reader #mothers milk #kimiko the boys #the boys series #william butcher #annie january #billy butcher fanfic #billy butcher x you #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x y/n #Youtube

[itsstrange]

Karl Urban/Reader

Reader and Karl are friends. Like each but dont say. Live about 6 houses away from each other with her shitty ex in-between. Reader goes to ex house walks in on him cheating. (You decide what) Runs out and winds up at Karl's house. But not home at the moment. He comes home to find reader sitting on his porch.

He takes care of her. Maybe confess attraction to each other other . Fluff and smut and sweetness if all possible

**idea came from something that happen to a friend of mine . They had someone always there.

A/N: Another Request Delivered. I actually debated on writing this one because I wasn’t sure how other people would view me as. But just wanted to leave this out in the open, in case your friend is not comfortable or not happy with a story being written in regards to her past experiences and would like to be taken down I would gladly do so, not many people would want others to know what they’ve been through. So Again, feel free to lmk and I’ll right away take it down! ❤️

ANOTHER NOTE: Everything that has been written is NOT what actually happened in the real events, all of it was created by me! I did Not write anything that was related to the situation! In fact I have no idea what exactly happened, but I will again remove this story if the requester’s friend is not comfortable with it. Sincerely, ItsStrange ❤️

Treat You Better

Fandom: The Boys

Relationship: Karl Urban x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: (Yess-ish?) Toxic Relationship, Mention of Verbal Abuse, Arguments, a Little Bit of Physical Violence, Hurt Reader, Protective Karl, Confessions, Smut, Kissing, (You Know The Smut Tags)

Like in Mendes words: “I know I can Treat You Better, Better Than He Can,”

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Enjoy! 🔥

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“Need another?” Russel’s deep voice startles you from where you’re focused was on your bandaged hand, fingers gently prodding at loose strands of strings,

Your bloodshot red eyes meet his light brown orbs, concern and a hint of anger we’re hidden behind, but no words of said feeling we’re displayed at you. Even if that’s all he wanted to do, let you know how he feels of the certain situation that you are currently in, let you know you are better off, that you deserve better and should have just dumped the fucker from the beginning, but he didn’t. Because from the years that he’s known you, he knows expressing his own feelings and opinions on the subject would not help, yes maybe the you deserve better would be appropriate to let you know, but the rest of what he has banging in his throat is not appropriate. Nor is it a humane thing to say, at least not right now.

Hell, the things he wanted to do to that son of a bitch for hurting you yet again were not humane. Just from your expression alone when you came strolling in his bar let him know something had happened, but when you finally told him everything as he bandaged your bloody hand, pure rage was igniting inside of him. Especially at the condition of your hand, it hand bruises already forming, split knuckles with dried blood smeared throughout your skin. If it wasn’t from the explanation you had told him he would have thought you had just came back from a brawl.

So from what you had told him, you were just coming back from the studio, your first album after two years of taking a mental break was finally coming out which you couldn’t be more excited. Everything you’ve been through, all the losses you’ve had the last couple years, the struggles you were going through were being put into your new album, and you couldn’t wait to share it to the world, to let your fans know it’s okay to feel low because at some point you find that strength to rise up once again.

Yet, despite of your excitement about your upcoming project, there was always that dark cloud hovering in the back of your mind, reminding you of reality, of what waits at home for you. The first couple of months that you had given him a second chance were great, they were amazing, perfect even, but it was the last two months we’re everything started to fall back into old habits. The constant arguments of the smallest things, the jealousy between you two was stronger than before, the cruel words that were exchanged on a daily bases were just insane. You two were not working, again, and you weren’t happy, but for some reason you just couldn’t leave him, you couldn’t call it, you couldn’t decide if you should end it or give it more time to see if he’d fucking change some how. But he never did.

And it was tonight that proved to you he will never change.

It had been a long day at the studio. All your frustrations and stress were put into the studio, into your music that you hadn’t realize it was nearing one in the morning. Not only did you also realize you were completely drained, both physically and mentally, but you also noticed it was passed your limit to keep the room, so after saving everything, packing everything up, you bid your farewells to your team before following Tim, your bodyguard, to the suv to drive you home. You honestly didn’t want to go home, knowing what waited for you, pure disappointment and a pointless awaiting argument. Just the thought of him waiting in the entrance of your shared home, probably drunk off his ass made a headache form. You wouldn’t doubt it, he had been blowing up your phone since you left that morning in hopes to stay away from him. And Lordy did that bring ridiculous accusations from the idiot. Claiming he knew why you left the house so early on a Sunday morning just like you have been the last couple of months, which you couldn’t help let a scoff out before ignoring the rest of his stupidity messages.

You could have easily told Tim to take you to a hotel, but you honestly didn’t want to rise suspicions from him, nobody knew of your on again off again struggles with your toxic boyfriend, not even your own family, because you knew what they’d say. So, to prevent any words that you don’t want to hear you hid your toxicity relationship from them and only displayed a fake happy couple for family gatherings or public appearances. Because you honestly don’t think you’ll be able to deal with all the prying questions from people left and right. So hidden it stays.

After hours of driving in comfortable, peaceful silence, something you knew you wouldn’t have for the remainder of the night, you finally arrive at your house. Thanking Tim and relieving him for the night to catch some sleep as well, you slowly make your way towards the black wooden door. You noticed how all the lights have been turned off, which is a rare thing to see when the lowlife is home alone and drunk. It was even more rare when everything seemed quiet as soon as you stepped inside, maybe he left to drink with his moron friends, you remember thinking to yourself as you shut the door. But the silence that engulfed the entire home was soon cut short with a muffled moan coming from upstairs. You remembered the way your body froze at the sound, both at the fact that it was not a pained moan nor was it a man’s moan, no that sounded way too pitched to be a man’s moan.

The event played clearly in your head. Heart hammering in your chest, hands trembling from the rage that was quickly rising in your veins as you slowly walked up the stairs, feeling the way your hairs from your arms rise when the muffled grunts and moans sounded much clearer as you stood on the second floor. Breath picking up its pace as the rage only seems to grow when you made your way to the white door that was slightly ajar. You believe you’ll always remember the way your veins boiled with rage at the sight in front of you.

The familiar tattooed back facing your direction was clearly oblivious to your presence by the door as the asshole was too busy making the female underneath him cry out of pure pleasure. Your hands shook by your sides, slowly forming into a tight fist, however, it wasn’t until Bryan, that piece of shit had leaned his head back that caught his attention to the mirror, recognizing who you were he immediately turned to look at you but was sent falling back against the bed, crushing the girl. Pain traveled up your wrist, but you didn’t care, not with the rage blinding you, the moment he went back against the cushion you finally let your bottled up emotions on the man. Sending blow after blow, some connected with his face while others missed just passed his head.

‘Y/n stop!’ You remember him pleading to you but was cut off with another strong blow to his jaw, that literally sends him off the bed and onto the ground with a groan,

The moment he touched the wooden floor, you bolted out the room without another word. Not even when he pathetically calls after you, scrambling on his feet gathering whatever clothing he can get as he tries to reach you, but just as he steps outside the door you were already in your car driving away.

Hot tears slid down your face, both from hurt and rage, all you saw was red. The things that you wanted to do, the pain you wanted to inflict on him, your mind raced as you blindly drove down the street.

It wasn’t until you had reached a red light where you realized the one person you truly wanted to cry to was not an option right now, Bryan knew that’s where you’d run off to, so in order for that not to happen you knew you needed to be somewhere far away where he wouldn’t be able to find you.

Which leads you back here, sitting at Russel’s bar, with a possible broken hand. Your old man’s best friend, or as you like tell everyone to know, your uncle Russ, was your second choice to hide away for a couple minutes, maybe an hour or two. You honestly don’t know how long it has been but from the empty glasses of shots in front of you, you know it’s been at least passed an hour.

“Kid?”

Russel speaks out again, grabbing your attention once again. Your (E/c) eyes meet with his own, brows tightly knitted as he observes you with that familiar dad stare. Shit.. what did he ask me again? Oh right..

“Yeah.. I’ll take one for the road,”

The older man eyes you for a second, watching the way your mind wonders once again as you look down at your empty glass, but goes ahead and reaches for the Jameson bottle that you’ve adopted since you arrived at his bar.

“Where you headin?” Russel asks as he pours another pour for you, hoping you weren’t going back to that nightmare of a man,

Cradling the glass in between your hands, numbs playing with the rim of it, you think of his words. You knew where you were going, but didn’t know if it was safe to go, considering his house was only a few blocks down from your shared home with that son of bitch. Then again, it has been an hour or so since you’ve left and the constant messages you’ve received from him only shows he has no idea where you are. Thank god you never introduced him to your families bar, a decision you had made a while back after your first breakup, he knew where your mother lived, knew where your siblings lived, knew where your close friends lived, so you knew you had to have one spot to hide away from him, and Russel’s bar was the place.

Russel never took it to heart on why you never brought him over, in fact he rather not have him anywhere near his bar, he never did like him from the start, which you never took it personal because you couldn’t blame him. Jesus.. you knew why Russel never accepted him and yet you still decided to be with that piece of shit, and for what? You don’t even know why and that alone brings a soft snort from you, catching the bar owners attention.

“You should wait up, let the Jameson cool down,” Russel claims, picking up the shots in front of you and placing them in the basket to wash later,

Your eyes lift from your now empty glass, which… you apparently had drank, and look at the man who takes the glass from your hands before replacing it with a large glass of water.

“Drink and sober up,” He demands, knowing you weren’t exactly on the right mental state to be driving with alcohol in your system,

Even if he knew you were able to hold your alcohol pretty well, he still didn’t want to risk your life, neither one of your family members would ever forgive him if he’d ever let anything happen to you under his watch.

After chugging the large glass of water, eating some salted cashews and watching a rerun of some football game for a good 30 minutes or so, you begin to climb off your stool. Just as you reach in your pocket for some change you feel a cashew hitting you directly on your forehead causing you to flinch.

“That better be you fishing out your car keys and not money,” He points at you with a long finger,

“Russ-,” You try but was cut off,

“Don’t Russ me. Go. Go to your mom’s and rest up kiddo, and when mornin comes, you better give her the whole story so she can personally kick his ass,” You roll your eyes with a short chuckle as you steal another cashew from the bowl to throw it at him,

“Alright, G’night Uncle Russ,”

“Night kiddo, get there safely,” He pleads as he walks around the bar to give you a tight hug before walking you out the building,

You wave at him before making your way to your car, where you sit in the drivers side for five minutes, debating whether you should just drive to mothers home instead of his, it was pretty late nearing three in the morning, but if you were being completely honest you didn’t need anyone else other than him right now. It was him you needed, his soothing words, his warmth, his comfort, him.

You just hoped he wouldn’t be too upset with you for dragging your problems to him so late at night.

++++

As you rounded the familiar street, you turned off your headlights just in case Bryan was still awake, despite him staying six houses down, knowing him he’d still know it’d be you pulling into the street. So after turning the lights off, you pull into his driveway where you notice his 2018 black Hellcat sitting there, indicating he’s either home or he took the Mustang for the night. Your thoughts are answered when you went to knock on his door only to receive no answer after the fifth knock.

So with an exhausted sigh, you go ahead and sit on his front steps. At this point you should have just went to your mothers house, at least there you had keys where you can easily walk in instead of waiting on the front steps like a loser. Which speaking of, the longer you sat on the steps and each yawn that escaped from you only pulled on your exhaustion even more. Making you realize just how tired you were, both physically and mentally, all you wanted was sleep. Sleep until the night vanished, until you weren’t in this moment, sleep until you wake up feeling happy for yourself again instead of feeling such pain and frustration. It’s all you wanted at the moment.

However, before you can actually allow yourself to fall asleep on his steps like a total loser, you hear the familiar roar of an engine driving down the street, then bright headlights blinding you for a second before coming to a stop right next to your rs7. Lowering your head down to rub away the spots from your vision, you hear the engine shutting off right before hearing the drivers door opening and closing.

Than that beautiful deep rich accent filling your ears.

“(Y/n)?” He calls out your name, causing you to look up at him, a small smile tugging on your lip as you bring down your face again, slightly avoiding his gaze for now,

“Where are the boys?” You ask, starting small talk as you pick on dead skin on your thumb,

“With their mum. Just came back from the pub,” He responds as he slowly walks closer towards you, what you didn’t see was the way his brows were tightly knitted together as he observed your hunched frame on his steps,

They only knit tighter and his worry only grew when you respond with a small nod, along with a whispered ‘nice’ as you continue to look down at your lap, avoiding him. However, just as he’s within reach he notices the dried tear stains on your cheeks, but what really makes his blood boil was the way your right hand was bandaged up, starting from your wrist to your knuckles. Clenching his jaw, he crouches in front of you, getting a slightly better view of your face. Although, as you continued to avoid his gaze, he softly places a finger underneath your chin before gently lifting your face, where your red eyes finally meet with angry hazel orbs.

“Where is he?” Is all he says, hazel eyes never parting from yours,

Dropping your gaze from his, you slowly shake your head as best you can in his grip, “I don’t know,”

Of course you’d lie. And of course he knew because without another word he grips his keys in his hand before rising and darting back towards his driveway.

“Karl stop,” You call out to him, slowly walking after him,

“Gonna kill that cunt,” You hear him snarl over his shoulder, but before he can reach his lawn your small hand wrapping around his forearm stops him from going further,

“Stop,” You tell him, hand still holding onto his arm with a loose grip,

“That fuckin’ cunt crossed it,” He claims, voice laced with sharp venom, hazel eyes shining with rage instead of his warm, welcoming orbs,

“I know. But he’s not worth getting in trouble for,” Your own eyes held a firm look as you gazed up at his angered orbs, then, with an exhausted sigh you close your eyes, “Can we just..,” Another sigh, “Can we please just go inside,”

Karl’s anger and frown slowly fades away as he reads the exhaustion on your face. Just how long were you sitting out here for? Why didn’t you give him a call? He asks himself, but rather than prying you with such questions he simply nods at you before letting you lead him up the stairs. After fishing out his keys, opening the door he lets you walk in first before following right behind. Once shutting and locking the door, he makes his way to the living room, where you quietly stood by the entrance. Just lost in thought or possibly replaying the nights event.

“Here, sit down,” He offers, gently walking you to the couch, “I’ll make coffee,”

You let out a soft chuckle as you sit down, eyes looking up at him, “It’s nearly four in the morning Karl,”

It was then you realized his form and outfit of the night. Hair slightly tousled, grey t-shirt, green leather jacket on top, faded jeans with some brown boots on his feet. He looked absolutely handsome, just like any other day.

A small smile tugs on his lips at the realization, “Tea then,” and with that he makes his way towards the kitchen,

Leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sat there, fingers playing with dead skin on your thumbs while your mind drifts once again, thinking about it, about him, about how much time you’ve wasted on him. How much energy you’ve physically and mentally drained from yourself by simply being with him. Then realizing just how stupid you were for even considering on giving that piece of shit another chance, realizing just how much of a fucking joke you made yourself look. You sat there blaming yourself for all the shit you decided to go through, for having faith that he would change, for believing he’d actually love you and care for you.

But now look at you. Back to square one. You wouldn’t have been in this situation again if you hadn’t given him another chance. You wouldn’t be feeling like a fucking joke if you hadn’t given him the okay a few months ago, nor would you be sitting in Karl’s couch with dried tears and smeared makeup if you’d just told him no.

‘No you can’t come back, no this wouldn’t work, no we just aren’t meant for each other, no you are a fucking waste of time.’ If only those were the words you had told him, you wouldn’t be in this situation. Again.

After about four to five minutes of brewing the tea, pouring a good amount into two mugs, and putting one spoon of honey into your navy mug (which of course he knows it’s the only way you’ll drink tea). He finally makes his way back to the living room, where he finds you sitting with your feet up on the couch, arms hugging your legs towards your chest, with your cheek resting on your knees. However, the sound of your soft sniffles has him reaching the couch in two long strides. Placing both mugs on the coffee table he settles right next to you before hugging your hunched frame, which you immediately hide your face in the crook of his neck.

The tears that rapidly slid down your cheeks weren’t from heartbreak, it was from anger, embarrassment, shame, and disappointment. Not from him, but from yourself. You were angry at the fact that he cheated on you again, angry at that fact that you trusted him again, angry at the fact that you were so stupid in giving him another chance. Embarrassed at the fact that he made you look like a fool again, embarrassed that the whole world will once again know he cheated on you, embarrassed that you are going through this shit again. Every emotion flowed through you, consumed you that all you can do is just let it out through rapid tears. Your hands gripping tightly onto Karl’s shirt as you try burying your face deeper into his neck, as if that’ll shield you from the total embarrassment that you are facing at the moment.

“I’m so fucking.. stupid!” You sob against his skin, hands clutching tighter onto his shirt,

Karl is quick to shush you with a shake of his head. Tightening his hold on you as he lets one hand sooth your back, awhile slightly rocking you both on the couch.

“Shh.. no you’re not,” He mumbles on the crown of your head,

“I n-never should’ve..-,” The words get stuck in your throat as another angered sob leaves your lips, “God.. I should’ve fucking known!”

“Shh,” He continues to soothe you, body slightly rocking you, hugging you tighter and closer towards his chest, “Just let it out love. Everything you feel right now, just let it out. I’m right ‘ere,”

And you do. You let the hot, angry tears slip down your cheeks, let the bottled up emotions fall past your lips, your broken, frustrated, angered sobs filling the quietness of his living room.

It wasn’t long when the tears had stopped falling down your cheeks, when you’ve calmed down and simply just laid your head on his chest as he laid back against the cushion. Hand cradling and gently massaging your head, soothing you and comforting you. Yet, his fingers come to a halt at your sudden words.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, fingers playing with his grey shirt, feeling guilty for burdening him with your situation, “M’sorry for.. bringing my shit to you,”

His brows knit together as he glances down at your head, “Don’t be,”

“I am,” You argue back, voice slightly quivering and breaking due to the crying session not that long ago, “If it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be here. Bothering you.”

Karl stood quiet, weighing his words that he wants to tell you. That he’s been wanting to tell you, ever since your first breakup, he wanted to let you know but was never given the chance. Then before he knew it, it was too late, he had lost the opportunity to let you know but now, now he won’t let it slip. He was scared before, fearing it would ruin things between you two, he’d lose you for what he reveal to you and he couldn’t have that. He still doesn’t want that, but you have to know. No matter what happens, he just has to let you know.

“You’re right,” You hear him say, feeling the way your heart slightly shatters at his agreement, but before you can even begin to pull away from his hold his voice stops you from doing so, “You shouldn’t be going through this. You shouldn’t be runnin’ from home, shouldn’t be crying at my steps at the three in the mornin’… fuckin hell (Y/n)..,”

He curses with a frustrated wince as he slightly forces you to sit, forcing you to stare into his eyes as he continues, “You deserve more. You deserve the whole fuckin world, every happiness there is. You deserve to be treated like you should be treated. A goddamn queen,” His hazel orbs bore into yours, not once parting, not even with his next words,

He hesitates for a second, but pushing the fear down he finally says, “Any guy would be lucky to have you.. and believe me when I tell you… I’ll do anything to see you smile. I’d give everything to bring you nothing but happiness and love. I’ll Treat You Better. Because that’s what you deserve,”

You stare at him in shock, tears slowly building as you take in his words. Never in a million years did you think this man, your closest friend, a talented well-known actor who gets to travel the world for his work, gets to meet and have dinners with other well known actors and actresses—who by the way are some of your all time favorite people— would ever make such a deep confrontation to you. Who would share the same feelings you have been desperately trying to stow away for multiple reasons, fearing if you ever gave into said feelings you’d lose him forever, so you went ahead and kept those feelings to yourself and try to distract yourself by putting so much effort in trying to fix a relationship that just wasn’t meant to be mixed nor was it meant for you.

As tears slowly slide down your cheeks, you feel a warm hand resting on the side of your cheek, then a soft thumb gently brushing away a tear. Hazel eyes locking with your own, not once parting away.

“Let me love you like you deserve to be loved,” He whispers, thumb still wiping away fresh tears,

No words were said, just a simple nod from you was all he needed to finally let his lips latch onto yours. The kiss was soft but firm as you both poured your hidden emotions into it. Fresh new tears slid down your cheeks as you kissed him, relief is what they were. Relieved that you finally gave in to those feelings, relieved that he too shared those feelings and that alone caused the tears to come out as you cherished his warm lips.

The kiss soon picked up its pace when he gently prods your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, which you gladly accepted. The moment his tongue sweeps with your own, it has you melting against him like no other, has you forgetting about everything around you, forgetting about that asshole, the pain on your hand, everything. All your focus was on him and only him. The way his mouth collides perfectly with your own, the way his hands gently run along your hips, legs, towards your lower back before maneuvering you onto his lap.

“This okay?” He asks in between kisses, hands respectfully waiting on your hips,

“Yes, please,” You find yourself begging him, but he doesn’t tease you about it, nor does he laugh at your neediness because hell, he too was desperate for you,

Without another word he dives back to your lips, letting them collide much rougher and firmer. Letting your tongues battle with each other before allowing him to take control. A moan and a groan can be heard between you two when you slightly rock your hips on his lap, making you feel just how much he wants you at the moment. Yet, it was another firm rock of your hips that has him rising from the couch, strong arms holding you against him as he makes his way towards his bedroom. Once there he quickly walks towards his bed where he gently lays your frame against the cushion. He hovers over you, lips still connected with each other as he teases back with a thrust of his own hips, causing a small gasp to leave your lips when you feel the way his hardened member presses against your covered core.

He didn’t tease for long considering he’s waited for this very moment for as long as he can remember. Not wasting another second he slowly begins rising your shirt up your body and off your frame, tossing it to the side of the bed he lets his warm lips press feathery kisses along your skin, causing goosebumps to travel throughout your body with every kiss he placed on new piece of skin. You then feel the way his hand slips beneath you before feeling your bra loosen around your chest, then feeling the way he slowly removes it from you. Large hands cover your breast, emitting a low moan when he grips and massages them before allowing his mouth to wrap around one of your already hardened buds. A gasp once again escapes from you at the sensitive feeling.

Yet it soon fades when he averts his mouth from your breast to your lips, pecking them once, twice before letting you remove his own grey shirt from his frame. Your hands land gently against his toned chest, then letting them travel down his torso, watching the way his toned stomach flexes at your nails ghostly scraping against his skin. Your fingers land on his belt where they begin to undo it from its place. Once unbuckled, button and fly open, your eyes are locked on his when you slowly reach inside his pants, watching the way his lips turn to a firm line as a deep heavy sigh slips through his nose at your touch. Feeling the way his harden member slightly twitches when your rubs become firmer.

However, what emitted a broken grunt from the man hovering above you was when you let your fingers slip past his dark briefs to grip onto his thick heated shaft. A shuddered sigh escapes past his lips at the first tug you make, hazel eyes slightly disappearing behind those eyelids as he tries to keep his gaze on you with every stroke you give him. After the fourth tug he bends down to plant a kiss on your lips before pulling away from you to let his own hands undo your jeans. Once your shoes had been removed, your jeans were next, following your navy underwear, leaving you completely bare to him. You hear the way he sucks in a deep breath through his nose as he observes your naked frame, hands gently rubbing up and down your beautiful thighs.

“Ātaahua,” Karl whispers huskily under his breath, hazel eyes scanning your naked frame before locking them with your own,

Heat rises up your cheeks at the familiar word, yet before you can even decided on hiding from him he quickly bends down to peck your lips before rising once again to remove the remainder of his clothing. Now that his jeans and briefs were off him, leaving him bare to you, your eyes grow wide as you scan the rest of him.

Yeah you felt him a few seconds ago, knew he was thick from touch alone, but now, seeing it up close and personal you didn’t think he’d be that thick and.. big.

His member stood proudly in between his legs, pre-cum leaking beautifully and deliciously from his cherry tip. Veins visible underneath his shaft, looking like a fucking master piece and definitely causing your mouth to go dry from the sight alone.

“See something you like love?” He

responds above you, voice lower than usual, smirk proud on his lips as he stares down at you,

Speechless is what you we’re. No words were able to form nor spill out your mouth, so instead you glance up to meet his eyes, which were laced with lust as he towered over you. Even under the moon light shining brightly through his window, you can see just how much he craved you.

His smirk slowly fades away as he begins lowering himself where he latches his lips on yours once again. A soft moan vibrating through your lips as you feel the tip of his cock rubbing beautifully against your core, then a loud gasp filling the air between you two at the sudden feeling of firm fingers rubbing circles against that bundle of nerves. Causing your back to slightly rise off the bed with parted lips, which Karl immediately dives his warm tongue into your mouth, freely exploring your warmth.

“You are perfect,” He whispers against your lips, fingers still moving between your legs, collecting your wetness and spreading it along your mound before letting two fingers push past your folds,

Earning yet again another gasp and a moan from you. The feeling of his fingers slowly dragging in and out of your heated core has your eyes closing shut, breath picking its pace and grip on his shoulders tightening with every thrust of his hand. The moment he adds his thumb into the mix, it’s like a hurricane begins building at the pit of your stomach, your breath hitches in your throat when he speeds up his movements, your nails dig into his skin when the coil nears its end.

Once snapped, he didn’t even hesitate in pushing his aching member inside of you, nor did he warn you as he begins moving his hips into you. The feeling of his thickness stretching your walls with each pull he’d make only electrified your orgasm, nearly knocking the air from your lungs from how strong it had hit you.

“Fuck,” Karl groans at the sight of you; eyes tightly shut, mouth wide open with breathless moans slipping past those raw lips of yours, completely melting under his hold,

Something he hoped to see one day. And here you are, all for him and only him.

Once he had eased up with the slow thrust of his hips, letting you calm down and catch a breather for a few seconds, you signal him to keep going with a small nod which he complies with a much firmer thrust, earning a breathless gasp from you again.

“Aroha ahau ki a koe,” You hear him whisper breathlessly in your ear over and over with each thrust he sends you,

Causing the same tears of joy, relief, and love to slip down your cheeks from the amount of emotions your were feeling at the moment. The feeling of your second orgasm approaching quicker than you thought, the way those words repeated in your ear every so often, reminding you and showing you just how much he meant his feelings towards you. Showed you just how much he’s longed for you, with everything combining into one the emotions become too much that you couldn’t help the tears to slip out.

One hand gripping onto the back of his dark locks, you gently but firmly tug on his hair, just enough to slot your lips with his. Allowing them to mold into one once again. Breathless pants were shared between you too as you both neared your peak, which didn’t take long. With one slight maneuver from Karl, the new position gave him the opportunity to plumage his member deliciously against that spot, causing you to once again melt under his hold. Nails digging painfully but beautifully against his skin, leaving red marks along his broad back as he continues with his thrusts.

“Aroha ana ahau ki a koe,” Was all you needed to whisper back for Karl to reach the end of the line,

With a loud, choked groan, he slams his hips into you one last time before feeling his own orgasm overpowering him. Sending him in a blissful state. Strong arms shook before him as they prevented him from crushing you, breath coming out in quick choked puffs through his nose as he rode it off, grunts rumbling in his throat every so often until he’s calm down.

Slowly and gently, he guides himself out of you, earning a faint whimper to vibrate in your throat at the empty feeling then a chilled feeling to rush through your entire body when you feel the way his seed drips down your raw core.

After a second or two of gathering your breath and coming down from your high, you open your eyes only to see his own closed shut. Hands still plastered on the bed on either side of your head to keep him upright you watch him as he takes in deep steady breaths through his nose before exhaling. A short smile tugs on your lips as you watch him, observing the way his hair slightly falls down his face, sweat glistening beautifully against his skin, making him look absolute stunning. Even under the dim light.

With no words, you let your left hand reach up, letting your fingers run through his dark beard until they reach his slightly damped locks. The gentle massages that your fingers apply against his scalp has those hazel eyes of his to finally be on display. They held sweet love in them the longer they lingered on yours, then watch as a small smile tugs at the corner of his lip before letting one hand cradle your cheek, thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

Still smiling down at you with hazel orbs locked with your own he whispers, “Toku ao,”

Your brows slightly furrow at the unknown word, but a smile still tugged on the corner of your lips, “I don’t know that one,”

A faint chuckle fans your face. Hazel eyes not once leaving yours as he speaks once again, which not only widens your smile but also has your heart erupting from pure warmth and happiness with his next words.

“You’re my world,” Those beautiful hazel eyes of his that crinkle at the sides stare at you with so much love and light,

Bending down he closes the gap between you two, placing two long pecks on your lips before maneuvering himself to lay on his side where you are quick to cuddle right next to him. Your head on his chest, arm across his abdomen with one leg draped over his. You both stood awake for another ten minutes or so just talking about anything and everything, from sharing when exactly you both had realized one’s feelings to how was work to random topics really before finally falling asleep.

The way Karl would gently draw invisible shapes on your shoulder blades had you drifting away in matter of seconds, and the way your steady breathing would invade his ears Karl followed soon after. Leaving you both in a peaceful sleep while still holding onto each other.

Not once letting go, even when you both had moved during your sleep, neither one had slipped up. Karl knew this because around somewhere in the afternoon, his eyelids slowly open, the back of your head being his view. Hair surprisingly looking nicely combed and beautiful even through the night it had been through.

The thought of going back to sleep to get some more rest laid heavily behind his eyelids, but just as sleep would overtake him again the sound of banging on the door has him lifting his head from the pillows. Brows tightly furrowed as he wondered who can possibly be knocking at his door. Another rough bang against his door has him averting his eyes to your still sleeping frame, completely unaware of the intruding noise, showing him just how exhausted you must’ve been.

So with slow and careful moments he’s untangling himself from your hold before slowly climbing out of bed. Grabbing his briefs from the floor and slipping on some black sweats he quietly makes his way towards the door, where someone was determined in knocking down his door with those brutal knocks.

The moment he swings the door open and realizes who’s behind it, his face instantly changes from annoyance to anger. Standing outside his home with a dark grimace on their face was your ex. From what Karl can tell he hadn’t slept all night.

“Where is she?” He demands, hands quickly forming into fists at his sides,

“The fuckin’ nerve you’ve got comin’ here,” Karl snarls back, one hand gripping onto the door handle as the rage slowly boils in his veins,

“Where is she Urban?” The man tries again, taking a step forward as if to intimidate him, but what he didn’t know was with each step he took was only getting him closer to his own grave,

Karl scoffs, removing his hand from the doorknob to face him directly, “Not at your house that’s for sure,”

It was at that moment he’d realized where exactly you’d be. After taking in his appearance; no shirt, just sweats, hair completely a mess, all signs were clearly visible.

“You piece of shit,” He goes again taking another step but Karl took one step forward, stopping him in his tracks as he over towers him,

Hazel eyes looking directly at those slightly frightened blues of his.

“You never deserved her mate,” Karl claims, eyes turning firmer as he continues with, “Now how ‘bout you leg it, before I make you swallow your own fuckin’ teeth,”

The threat made a cold shiver run down Bryan’s back. He still displayed a firm look, hands balled into fists at his sides, but both men knew it was all a cover. Bryan truly didn’t know Karl and but he knew at that moment, this man would risk his entire career for you. Which not only frightened him but also worried him on the lengths he was willing to go for you.

So, with a weak attempt of displaying a tough look, he holds his glare until he turns around to walk away from the man’s front lawn. Karl watches him walk back to his car then watches him burn rubber like total asshole before finally walking back inside, realizing just how much rage was riding in his veins. His hands shook from the amount of anger he had and from the tight grip he kept to prevent him from lashing out, but with a deep inhale though his nose he makes his way back to his room.

Where you remained asleep.

Slowly and carefully to not wake you up, he climbs back into bed. The moment he settles on his side, you turn in your sleep, facing him directly, his grey sheets slightly slipping off your shoulder, revealing that beautiful skin of yours, revealing your gorgeous face.

Just by looking at you did it subside the anger he had. The effect that you had on him. It was also at that moment he realized just how madly in love he was with you, how he’ll do anything for you, protect you, love you, give you anything and everything in the world just to have that beautiful smile of yours on your face at all times. He promised himself and you, that last night will be the last night you cry in front of him, it will be the last time someone hurts you, he promised you he’ll always be there, your very own shinning armor protecting and guarding you till his very last breath.

He knew he wanted you in his life for the rest of his life, but he didn’t know he meant it the other way until the words softly slipped from his mouth, a part of him freaked at the sudden realization, but the more he thought about it the more he realizes just how truthful and right the words felt in his chest. He repeated it again in his head then as he brought his warm hazel eyes to your sleeping form, he lets them fall again as a promise.

“Ka marena ahau ki a koe,”

I’m going to marry you.

—————

-Went overboard with this one so… hope y’all liked it!

-Also if it feels rushed towards the end I sincerely apologize I was desperate to just finish this one and give it to y’all already.

-Another thing, I definitely do not speak Māori. So if anyone speaks it out there I deeply apologize if it’s not the right wording 😬😬

- Another, @butchers-girl hope it came out the way you requested, Ik you were constantly asking me how it was going and I appreciated it and I’m sorry I had you waiting this long but.. was definitely taking my time with this one to make it better. So again. Hope you liked this one and can’t wait to publish the rest of your requests! 🫶❤️❤️

- Lastly, MERRY CHRISTMAS PEEPS. LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU. ✨❤️

-Turn On Post Notifications!! 🔔 For More Updates!!

————

Word Bank:

Ātaahua: Beautiful.

Aroha ahau ki a koe: I love you.

Aroha ana ahau ki a koe: I love you too.

Toku ao: My World.

Ka marena ahau ki a koe: I’m going to marry you.

#karl urban #karl urban x reader #karl urban x ofc #Karl urban x you #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys tv #the boys x y/n #the boys x reader #the boys x you #billy butcher #billy butcher x y/n #billy butcher x ofc #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher smut

[storiesforallfandoms]

alone on christmas ~ billy butcher;the boys

word count: 2253

request?: no

description: in which the two members of the team who are alone on christmas eve decide to spend the night together

pairing: billy butcher x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two, three)

The elevator dinged, signaling that you had arrived on the floor of your office. Well, "office" was a generous word. It was a small, open space in a super old building (MM claimed it was "historic") with a couple of desks that were rarely used. The room was dimly lit by the multi-colored Christmas lights strung around the room, as well as from the small tree in the corner of the room. Kimiko had gotten the idea to decorate the office and everyone else was on board, even grumpy Billy Butcher.

It was Christmas Eve and everyone else was home with their families. Your families lived a state over, and normally you would've gone home for the holidays, but your parents had gone on a Christmas cruise and agreed to do your celebrations when they got home. Since you had no one else to celebrate Christmas with, you decided to pick up some paperwork you had at the office and work on it at home while some Christmas movie played in the background.

You approached your desk, unaware of anyone else in the room until a voice said, "Evening, love."

"Jesus!" you hissed as you jumped.

Butcher chuckled. "Nope, just me."

He was sat at his desk, mostly covered in darkness. You could only make out the outline of him through the Christmas lights.

"What the hell are you doing sitting here in the dark like a fucking creep?" you asked as you turned back to flick on the lights. The two of you winced as the dark room suddenly became very bright.

"I was just finishing up some work and liked the mood lighting better," he explained. "What are you doin' here on Christmas Eve?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I don't celebrate Christmas anymore. Not since..." He trailed off, his eyes dropping back to whatever he had been working on. "Just not in a long time."

He didn't have to specify. You knew exactlu what made him give up on Christmas.

"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out.

"My parents are gone on a cruise for Christmas, so I won't be going home till sometime around New Years. I came to get something I was working on to finish it at home."

"You're not celebrating with anyone else?"

"Who else would I celebrate with? My siblings have their own families, and the only friends I have are you cunts."

This earned a low chuckle from Butcher. You couldn't help but smile. You returned to your desk to collect the papers when a thought crossed your mind.

"Hey Butcher?" he looked up at you. "Do you want to come over? Maybe we could have our own Christmas Eve celebration."

He raised an eyebrow at you. "What did you have in mind?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. I could make us something to eat. Pour up a few drinks. Watch a cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie."

You weren't sure if he'd agree. It didn't seem like his scene. Butcher was probably the exact opposite of holiday cheer. Sitting in a dark office doing paperwork about taking down Supes was probably a much more appealing offer to him than Hallmark Christmas movies. But you wouldn't feel right if you didn't at least offer. Billy Butcher may have been a cynical prick that got on everyone's nerves, but no one deserved to spend Christmas alone.

To your surprise, he closed up the file he had been working on and stood. "Text me the address, I'll meet you there."

About ten minutes later, you were pulling into your driveway while Butcher was parking on the side of the road. He followed you up to your door and stepped inside as you opened it for him. He looked around, taking in your space as you kicked off your boots and hung up your coat.

"What are you feeling for drinks?" you asked.

"Do you have any bourbon?" he asked.

You opened your fridge and pulled out a full bottle of bourbon. "Want it straight or mixed with some eggnog?"

He made a face of disgust that made you laugh. You grabbed a glass and poured him a glass of straight bourbon, adding a few ice cubes before passing him the glass. You opted for the spiked eggnog approach for something a little more festive. You pulled a frozen pizza from the freezer and pre-heated the oven.

"Not exactly a Christmas feast," Butcher commented.

"If you're going to be ungrateful, you can go back to the office by yourself," you retorted. "Oh, since you're here, I do have a gift for you."

He watched as you walked to your living room where your tree was shining with yellow lights. The presents underneath were mainly for your family, but you had gotten a gift for each member of The Boys too, since they were like your second family.

"You didn't have to get me anything," he said.

"Shut the fuck up and take the gift," you teased, thrusting the gift bag into his hands.

He shook his head, playfully smiling. He sat down on the ouch and you sat next to him. He pulled the tissue paper from the bag and discarded it onto the floor. You would've been a little annoyed if you weren't waiting to see his reaction to the gift.

The first thing he pulled out was a Spice Girls CD. You couldn't hold back your giggles as he gave you a dirty look. "Your favorite band."

"This is the worst insult you could've ever given me," he said.

"There's something else in there that might make it up to you."

Butcher pulled out a bundle of white tissue paper. Wrapped in it was an ornament you had gotten custom made. It was a gingerbread wearing a black trench coat and black boots, and had a black beard on its face. He held it in his hand for a while. You studied his face, trying to gauge some reaction to the gift.

"You're kind of an enigma," you explained. "And I guess I understand why, but it makes it incredibly impossible to buy you a Christmas gift. So I went with the Spice Girls CD as a gag gift, and then I found this lady who makes custom made Christmas ornaments that are gingerbread men made to look like certain people. I thought it was better than nothing."

"You had this made for me?" he asked. "That must've cost ya a fortune."

"It doesn't matter what it cost."

He was still holding it, looking at it. When he looked up at you, you were captured by his eyes. There was something warm bubbling inside of you. You figured it was the eggnog, but a little voice in the back of your head whispered that it wasn't.

"It's very thoughtful," Butcher said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Merry Christmas, Butcher."

You were so close to him. You hadn't noticed just how close you were sitting. Your noses were inches away from touching.

And then the pre-heat on the oven went off.

You quickly got up to go put the pizza in the oven. You stood in the kitchen afterwards, trying to talk yourself down from whatever just happened. You were sure it was just the alcohol mixed with the holiday feelings. There was no way you were getting all fuzzy and lightheaded for Billy Butcher of all people. Not that you had any ill feelings towards Butcher. He could be an annoying asshole that pushed your patience levels, but you didn't hate him by any means. On the other hand, you didn't think you could've had those kind of feelings for him. He was your team leader and that was it.

But he was also very handsome. In a rugged type of way anyways. You couldn't deny that.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of all those thoughts. You went to the fridge to pour up another drink.

Once the pizza was ready, you brought the pan to your living room and placed it on the coffee table with a dish towel under it, and two plates along the side for both of you. You topped up Butcher's drink before sitting next to him.

"Let me guess, your favorite Christmas movie is Die Hard?" you asked.

He chuckled. "And you said I'm an enigma."

"Not so much so that I'd think you would want to watch cheesy Christmas movies."

"Eh, don't write me off from all Christmas movies. I would love watching National Lampoons Christmas Vacation every year."

"Okay, we're starting with that one then. That is a classic."

You turned on the movie and settled into the couch. You pulled a fuzzy blanket over your lap and started eating away at the pizza. You initially started on separate ends of the couch, but you found yourself inching closer to Butcher. First it was offering him some of the blanket. He agreed and you shuffled close enough that he could throw a corner of it over his lap. Then it was him reaching for a slice of pizza, scooting a little closer because he "couldn't reach the food" (his words). At one point, you both just shifted closer for no reason at all. When Butcher put his arm along the back of the couch, you leaned into him.

It almost felt normal; cuddled up on the couch, laughing at the hijinks of the Griswold family during Christmas, the only thing lighting the room being the Christmas tree. This is what you imagined Christmas would be like if you were actually in a relationship, not just tipsy and getting a little too close to your team leader.

"See, this movie just cements why I am okay with not celebrating Christmas," Butcher commented. "All the bullshit with family stressing you out and annoying the living shit out of ya. I don't know why anyone ever puts up with it."

"Because despite the chaos, it's time together with family," you said. "Most people love time together with family, even if sometimes family members know how to get on your last nerve."

Butcher shook his head. "Not me. Even when Becca was around, her family..."

He trailed off. You lifted your head to look at him. You couldn't read the expression on his face, so you couldn't tell if mentioning Becca had hit a nerve for him, or if he regretted bringing her up given your current...closeness.

"You can talk about her you know," you told him. "If you feel up to it, I mean. I know it's hard."

"It's easier now that I finally have a definitive answer," he said. "I went years not knowing if I should believe that she was alive or dead. It's fucked up to say, but knowing now that she's gone is a bit of closure for me at least."

"And you still have Ryan," you added. "Even if he's the spawn of Supe Satan himself, that kid is still a part of Becca."

"Thank God he's more like his mother than his father."

"You have us too," you said, playfully nudging his shoulder to try and lighten the mood. "The Boys, I mean. We're like a family now."

He chuckled. "That doesn't exactly help with your point. You lot annoy the fuck out of me too."

"And you annoy the fuck out of us, so we're all even then."

He turned to look at you, finally smiling again. You smiled back at him. There was a brief pause before suddenly he was leaning forward to press his lips against yours. It took you by surprise, but it didn't take long for your muddled brain to have you moving in response, kissing him back.

He pulled away just as quickly as he had moved in. "Sorry. That was, uh...I shouldn't have done that."

Instead of saying anything, you leaned in to kiss him again. He was receptive, which told you he didn't actually regret kissing you first. He gently cupped your face while you wrapped your arms around his neck. The blanket fell to the floor as you sat up on your knees to try and deepen the kiss.

"Whoa, slow down," Butcher said, pulling away slightly but still resting his head against yours. "You've had a few drinks."

"I'm fine," you responded, although you were now more aware of the fact that the lightheadedness you were feeling was from more than just the kiss.

"Either way, I'm not pushing things further when you're not sober," he said.

"Will you stay the night?" you asked him. "I have a guest bedroom...or you can stay in my bed."

He chuckled and kissed your forehead, pulling you in so you were cuddled up against his side again. "I have a feeling if I sleep in your bed I will have a harder time restraining myself."

"Maybe that's my plan."

He shook his head, a smile on his face. "I'll stay the night. If this is how you're feeling in the morning, we can try again then."

Your whole body felt like it was on fire just from his words. You weren't sure how you were going to be able to wait another 12 hours for him to make good on his promise. You appreciated him respecting you enough to wait till you were sober, but also you wished he wouldn't be so respectful.

"Merry Christmas, Billy," you said.

He kissed you on top of your head and said, "Merry Christmas, love."

#billy butcher #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x reader #karl urban #karl urban x reader #karl urban imagine #the boys #the boys imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #christmas #christmas imagine

[bowieandqueen11]

Dating Billy Butcher Would Include...

Request: Hello there! Can I please request some headcanons about dating Billy Butcher (The Boys), please? Thank you so much!!

Oooh yay my first the Boys request! Of course I can my sweets! Just an FYI to anyone reading that at this point in time I’m only on season one (although I managed to see some spoilers about Lenny so I thought I’d throw a bit of that in too), so sorry if this is a bit OOC!

Warning: slight NSFW, swearing. strong language, mentions of drinking, mentions of nightmares and mentions of injuries!

(I do not own The Boys or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @supeshunter.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Billy Butcher is... well, he’s Billy Butcher, ain’t he? Even though he looks like a man with an incredibly tough exterior, and even though he’ll try his damn hardest to convince you that his interior is even worse, there’s a stubborn but beating heart in there. Lying behind all those layers of trauma, and fury; between the hurt and fear lies so much bleeding love for you that Billy Butcher has no idea how to cope with it at all.

He’s 100% the type of man to force you to wear his lovely and grimy trench coat when the two of you decide to brave out into the streets of New York. Because he’s so, so suspicious of everyone that even fringes his line of sight, he keeps his sunglasses on but shuffles off his coat as soon as you’re out the door and wraps it tight around your shoulders. He only grunts in satisfaction when you look like a dormouse peeking out from the flimsy material that smells so much of ale, ash, and a hint of amber toffee. He tucks you against his hip before he starts walking, snaking an arm underneath the side of the coat and spreading his fingers protectively over your hip as he begins spouting off about his newest reason to hate the Supes.

You spend far too much of your time standing between Billy Butcher’s knees, cradling his face between the brackets of your arms as you patch up his face after a fight. He’s a touchy - but also surprisingly sweet dumbass, and so usually just a chest-rumbling, throaty groan is the only warning you’ll have before he pulls you down. His hands position your thighs until they’re securely wrapped around his jean-clad hips, thumbs digging into your pelvis as he positions you onto his lap. Every time you try to ignore the feeling of his fingers squeezing into your skin, or the way he tries to tease you by groaning and moving up his legs until they brush more impatiently against you, he always manages to bring your attention right back to him. Even though you’re trying your best to thread a needle and stop his face from pouring scarlet all over the sofa, he keeps nipping your fingers with his teeth and chasing your hands with his lips, until eventually he grows too impatient and just straight up hitches you up. Even though you’re laughing at this point and thumping the hard back of his shoulder to try and get him to stop, you’re more than delighted when you can feel your back hit the wall and his left knee come up to keep your bottom lifted up in the air against his waistline.

‘Hey, you pull that stich on your lips, I’m going to shove the needle up your ass until it pokes out your mouth, and you can fix it then yourself.’

‘Is ‘at a threat, love, or a promise?’

Poor Hughie has to awkwardly scramble away from the two of you so often. So many times lmao the poor man. He’ll come home late after his date at the bowling alley with Annie, having been kind enough to pick up some takeout and actually get Butcher to eat something that isn’t popcorn or bagged sweets. He stops dead in his tracks and inhales sharply when he spots the broad expanse of Billy’s back pressed up against you in the living room, his hands leaving bruises against your side as he holds you up to the cracking wall. Your giggles ring out every time you feel the brush of his beard against your pulse point; every time you feel his wet tongue run out pridefully over the hickeys he’s leaving against your neck, or the surprising plushness of his lips as they map out a careful trail from the dip of your neck down towards your collar bone, grounding himself against you with each kiss. Even the sound of the door slamming and Hughie’s footsteps running away isn’t enough to shame him into stopping anytime soon.

(The beard rashes are 100% worth it - he’s so intoxicating and body worshipping its crazy.)

The two of you often go out for drinks after a long day of work at a nearby pub, and also to get a break from Frenchie and Mother Milk talking shite to each other at the safe house. It’s the happiest he can ever remember himself feeling. Although he’s not massively into public PDA, he does like to hold your hand over the table, just so he can ground himself by rubbing his thumb over his knuckles and remind himself that you’re truly alright. When he gets a little tipsier, he keeps on leaning over his bar stool and kissing your temples with a dopey, love-struck grin on his face - looking over at you from the side of his eye as if he’s still in disbelief that somehow, after everything he’s lost, he could still end up the luckiest man in the world.

You do have to stop him from snarling and nearly snapping at any person who tries to look too fervently your way though.

‘Eyes off, Sir Cuntalot.’

Billy, you can’t keep calling Hughie that, he’s your best friend. Also he just wanted to know if we wanted some nachos.’

Whenever you call him out just... cue *indistinct grumbling noises and reluctant acceptance*, because he doesn’t want to fight with you. 

He wakes up a lot during the night. The man basically never slept before he met you. Although he can get to sleep - mainly through the feel of your head resting heavily on his chest, and by gazing down at you with the milky moonlight reflecting a softness that he’ll never let escape through his harsh cracks during the day, he’ll always be awake again in a couple of hours. Although he’s so gentle when he tries to roll your arm off him and back down onto the mattress, it only take a few minutes for the cold to hit and for you to wake up. When you see him sitting up on the edge of the bed, doubled over as if the world was crushing an unbearable weight upon his shoulders and head heaving in his hands, it only takes you a second to slide over to him. You wrap your arms around his chest, locking tight around his arms as you lean over his back and swing your legs to sit beside his own, knowing he’s had another nightmare about Lenny. Although he finds it hard to fully let go and just allow himself to weep out all the regret, he does finally give in to the hand that cups the side of his cheek and falls down to half-lie on your shoulder. You just stay there, soothingly stroking circles against the freckles of his back as you wait for the sniffling to slow.

If you stroll out to grab some cereal in the morning wearing one of Butcher’s Hawaiian t-shirts that he left in a heap on the bedroom floor... well, let’s just say that Mother’s Milk gets really disgruntled when Billy pounces on you and immediately tries to tear it off.

But my dude... when he looks at you... that look in his eyes. That devotion, that awe, the soft features and smile that tickles his lips. You constantly catch him leaning against the wall during meetings, looking over at you while other members of the Boys are talking, with his arms crossed over his chest and a smile bright enough to melt steel - like you’re the most important thing in the world. And to him, you are. That’s one thing he’s not afraid to admit.

But in the end, my man sees himself as just a ball of resentment and regret. He’s terrified that he’s allowed himself to so comfortably fall into this, to slip into love so easily again, because he’s a lost cause. He can’t bear to lose you too, to drag you down into the depths of hell he's so exquisitely managed to saunter into, and so he battles with his own demons every day because he knows in his gut that this is worth it. Loving you, is worth everything. You are worth fighting every bit of evil in the world for, and so he decides, after the first date, that he’s never going to give this up. The Supes will have to cut his cold, dead heart out of his chest in order to tear it away from your possession.

#the boys #billy butcher #karl urban #billy butcher imagine #the boys imagine #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher headcanons #billy butcher fluff #billy butcher angst #the boys x reader #the boys fanfic #the boys fanfiction #billy the boys #billy butcher the boys

[sprite-writes]

failed romantics

Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Reader (original female character)

Summary: Secrets can’t be kept forever, and what better time to reveal them than the Enterprise night shift.

Word Count: 5,902

A/N: yay another chapter!! I have been so excited to write this one since I started this series, I hope you all like it. As always very special thanks to @lightning-writes without them these chapters would literally never get finished LOL immediately after finishing this plz go check out their bucky series; good heart (faulty machine of a man) it kills me in the best way. anyways, thank you for reading plz like + comment if you enjoyed :)

Leonard can only barely make out Kirk’s face under the dim bulb, but he is pissed enough that Jim’s mug is the last thing he wants to see. The music is loud, so goddamn loud , loud enough that the whiskey did nothing for his headache. 

“This is not what I had in mind when you said you knew a place,” he yells over the music, staring down the side of Kirk's face. 

“What?” the captain calls back, still oblivious to Leonard's scowl. Kirk is absent, completely distracted by the crowd, more specifically the women . His gaze filters from person to person as they pass by the table, a dumb smile on his face the entire time. If steam could come out of Leonard’s ears, it would. 

“I said this isn't what I had in mind for tonight.” He reaches across the table and firmly flicks his friend’s temple. 

“Hey! What's your problem?” Kirk whines. Leonard is satisfied to have gotten his attention—finally. 

“You said you knew a nice place– you said it was a bar!” 

“Yeah and? This is both of those things!” 

“This is a goddamned petri dish!” 

It is. Leonard has refused to even allow his bare skin to touch the tabletop, weary of the unknown sticky substances covering it. There are so many bodies— human and otherwise— packed into the space, it's suffocating, and certainly a fire hazard. It's gross, downright unsanitary, and fucking loud.  

“You’re dramatic, Bones, it's nice enough. Loosen up! Maybe try to meet somebody. We’re only in Yorktown for a day, y’know?” 

Tipsy Kirk is a fucking idiot. 

Leonard recoils at the idea. The captain has gained this…habit lately. This advice-giving habit where he tells Leonard to relax, to get out there, to get laid, and every time it passes through Kirk's lips, Leonard becomes nauseous. He abhors this subject, he really does. The only thing he hates talking about more than his dating life is why he doesn’t have one. Sure, he hasn't had much of one since the divorce anyway, but whatever he did have quickly reduced to nothing after meeting Sunshine. He feels so childish even mulling his thoughts over, and how it feels pointless to consider any other woman interesting since he has already met Sunshine, who is the most interesting. Interesting and pretty. Interesting and pretty and kind. He shakes his head before he starts down his mental list (again). Somedays, it feels like his feelings will swallow him whole. It has been so long since he felt it, the wanting . Wanting to talk to her all the time, or hold her hand, or just be around her. It all makes him feel so juvenile, like he’s a lovesick teenager. She makes him feel like a lovesick teenager. It is the single most frustrating thing he’d ever experienced.

“I don't wanna associate with anyone who willingly steps foot inside this shithole,” he snaps, “C’mon man, let's go.” Kirk protests, of course, even more so as Leonard grabs him by the ear and pulls him up from the chair. He tells himself he’s doing Kirk a favor, that the last thing he needs is a hookup— that he’s certainly not taking out his frustrations on his friend. 

The pair weave through the bodies, with Kirk stumbling after his friend and out the door. The cool breeze hits them like a breath of fresh air, and Leonard takes it in. Kirk, on the other hand, furiously rubs his reddened ear. 

“What the hell was that for? Are you out to get me tonight?” 

Leonard feels a quick pang of sympathy, regretting lashing out. 

“Look, I’m sorry, but that place had me sweating like a damn sinner in church, there’s other bars, and it's getting late anyways–”

Kirk would usually push it, and Leonard could tell he wants to, which makes him all the more thankful he doesn’t.  

“Fine, fine, whatever but we are drinking when we get back to the ship,” he settles, leading the way home. 

Yorktown is cold and downright industrial. Leonard hates it. He would usually be thankful for a pit stop if it means he can feel non-artificial gravity, but, between the dirty club and Kirk’s antagonizing, he’s ready to be spacebound again. Both the Enterprise and the USS Endeavor are in Yorktown for the night, in the process of a personnel transfer. The streets are crawling with Starfleet members.

They walk in silence for most of the way, observing the larger-than-life city and the star crafts buzzing overhead. Leonard would be lying if he said he doesn’t feel a bit empty.  Perhaps the low-lit, music-blaring monstrosity would have felt more tolerable if a certain lieutenant was with him and not stuck with the enterprise night crew. 

“You know, I wouldn’t have even known that place existed if it wasn’t for Sunny,” Kirk laughs. Leonard scrunches his nose. 

“She recommended that barnyard?” he scoffs. 

“Oh god no, she told me to stay away from it. Said it was the grimiest place on this side of the universe. I just thought it sounded like a good time, y’know?” 

Leonard stares, really stares, and wonders why he keeps expecting better of Kirk. 

“You’re an idiot, and an ass. The woman gives you stellar advice, and you ignore it, and stick her with the skeleton crew.” 

Kirk stops so abruptly, that Leonard stumbles over him. 

“ I didn’t put her on the skeleton crew, she requested to be. You think I would make her work more than she already does? I’m not a tyrant, Bones.” 

What?  

“What?” Leonard says out loud. “Why would she ask to be holed up on the enterprise all leave?” 

“I mean, I would too if the alternative was running into my ex and all his coworkers.” 

Kirk laughs, Leonard’s head spins. 

“Her ex?” 

“Yeah her— she didn’t tell you any of this?” 

“She said she wanted Jameson to oversee the transfer, give him more experience or something, so you put her on his night shift.” 

“No? She wanted Jameson to do it because she used to be engaged to the Endeavors head of security.” 

Leonard blinks. And blinks again. 

“Dude, I don’t even know how to change the schedule,” Kirk adds. 

 Suddenly, despite talking to her everyday for close to a year, she feels unfamiliar. Engaged? He can hardly imagine it, nor does he want to. Pictures of Sunshine flash through his mind, and he clenches his fist. 

“Didn’t know she had been engaged,” he feigns a casual tone.

Kirk furrows his brows. 

“ You didn’t know? You of all people?” Leonard shrugs, as his stomach forms a knot. “She tells you everything, and she’s never mentioned Ryder?”

“Christ, his name is Ryder ?”

“I know! Douchebag name, right?” 

He doesn’t respond for a beat, which turns into several beats. The gears in his head turn and turn. Engaged . He doesn’t understand why the idea eats at him. He himself had been married for years. So what if she was engaged? There is no reason for him to be upset that his friend—a coworker–had an ex. 

He feels nauseous. 

Kirk clears his throat, derailing Leonard's train of thought.

“You’re right, it’s late, we should head back,” he says, offering a reassuring smile. Leonard follows him, hands in his pockets.

“Do y’know what happened?” he asks finally. Kirk casts him a sideways glance.

“What, between them? Not a clue,” Kirk says with sincerity enough for Leonard to believe it. “She wasn’t really keen on discussing it.” He pauses and looks at the ground as they walk. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it though, Bones, I think everyone sees she’s only really got eyes for one person these days.” 

“Don't start, Jim,” Leonard warns hotly, clenching his jaw. 

“Start what? I’m not starting anything. I’m just laying out the facts.” Jim hiccups. “She adores you, man, like adores -”

“Sunshine ‘adores’ everyone she meets. We’re friends—good friends, but that's all.” His patience shrinks as his annoyance grows.

Jim laughs mirthlessly.

“No, Sunshine and I are good friends. Whatever you two are is something else entirely-” 

“Anyone ever tell you you don't know when to shut up?” His tone is as cold as the night air, and Jim shuts up.

Leonard wishes Kirk would drop the subject, trip over a rock, or whatever it took to never have this conversation again. Really—what he truly wants is for everyone to stop dangling this hope in front of his face like a carrot. He’s not an idiot, he knows he spends more time with the lieutenant than his colleagues, hears her laugh more often, and knows her habits better.

 He knows what it looks like. He also knows that he's a bitter emotionally closed-off divorcee— 

He tells Jim that Sunshine is his friend because she is—and he denies wanting anything more because It's stupid to want things out of his reach. 

Frustration heats his cheeks and begins to bloom into a headache. He knows Kirk means well, but that fact does little to comfort him. 

“Alright, I’ll drop it,” Kirk surrenders, his voice soft. “But there is one last thing you should know,” He pauses at the crosswalk and turns to Leonard. Eerily stoic, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Leonard's breath hitched. 

“Ryder’s got nothing on you in terms of looks, okay? Seriously he's like, 5’7, and his face isn't at all symmetrical-”

Leonard revs up and smacks Kirk in the back of the head harder than he ever had and feels no regret. Not even after Kirk's high-pitched “ Ouch!”

“Would you quit it! You gossip like a damn schoolgirl!”

The sign blinks at them to walk, and Leonard drags Kirk across the street, fingers digging into his arm. 

“Ow, ow, I was just saying-“

“Wait a minute,” Leonard lets his friend go and smooths down his sleeve. “How do you know what he looks like anyway?” 

Kirk puts himself at a safe distance from the Doctor, cradling his arm. “Well, the operations manager would usually talk to the department heads during a transfer, but Sunshine passed him off to me. I said no at first, obviously, because I hate managing, but then she finally told me she was almost Mrs. Ryder Denver. So yeah, I spoke with him a few times, just business. Have to say though, I couldn't imagine them together. He comes off as a bit of a douche.” 

Leonard breathes deeply, reigning in the emotions that he doesn’t need Kirk to pick up on. The idea of Sunshine being engaged does enough to unsettle him without knowing that the man in question “ came off as a douche” . He feels something boil under the surface. 

“Yeah?” is all he can strangle out. 

“Yeah—He’s like a classic douchey security buff,” Kirk continues, unaware of his friend's white knuckles. “You know the kind– uptight, condescending, has one earring and thinks it's edgy-”

“Wears their uniform a size too small? Yeah, I know the type.” 

“Exactly, and Sunshine is so…so-”

“Heart-of-gold?” 

“Yeah! Opposites attract I guess, but I don't know, something was off.” 

To Leonard, the entire thing is off. All of it. Everything . He doesn’t understand why Sunshine decided he doesn’t get to know, why it is a secret in the first place, why she almost married a douche, why he cares so damn much . 

The enterprise comes into view like the sun on the horizon, and Leonard is relieved . 

“Your arm’s all right?” Leonard asks, an apology without apologizing. Jim knows this and breathes a laugh. 

“Yup, the ear’s fine too.” 

The Doctor nods, but his eyes remain trained in front of him. Through the glass window panes, he eyes the ship, eager to hide away in the familiar place. He would have opened the door for Kirk, as a gesture, but of course, the Yorktown Federation Port has to have automatic doors. He huffs, and the artificial lights illuminate his red cheeks. They approach their home in silent tandem, their shoes clinking against the hard floors. 

“You should talk to her, Bones,” Kirk breaks the quiet, head down while he taps the access code to the enterprise hull. “Ask her why she didn't mention the ex. I’m sure she has a good reason, probably one you'll wanna hear.” 

Leonard wants to be mean. He wants to shake Kirk's words off with an insult and go to bed. But he swallows his pride, and it goes down like nails.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Hope. It bubbles up within his chest, and he pushes it down. Finally, the stark white enterprise interior greets him. He breathes a little easier. 

Kirk stumbles over the first step— “ Woah ”-- and Leonard steadies him with a raised eyebrow. “Andorian ale finally catching up with you?” 

“Pfft,” Kirk scoffs. “Couldn’t catch me if it tried.” 

Leonard pauses, then laughs, the first genuine one all night, and it has Kirk grinning back. 

The enterprise is empty, its residents still on the streets they just returned from. So, without restraint, they laugh, and Kirk stumbles, and Leonard forgets for a moment about the unsaid feelings under his skin. 

Kirk is an idiot, and he’s a good friend.  

He’s happy to banter about whatever comes out of Kirk's drunk mouth and to correct him when he takes a wrong turn in his own ship. Leonard claps his hand on his shoulder and drawls, “It’s this way, captain .”

“Uhh, no , Chekov keeps the good whiskey in his locker, this way,” Kirk insists with a point down the hallway, and Leonard is amazed at his eagerness to get blacked out the night before embarking. 

“Are you out of your mind? No way. You can drink like a fish when you don't need to fly a starship in the morning.” 

“What are you, my mom ?” 

Christ.

“No, but I pity the poor woman,” he huffs and gestures down the hallway leading to his quarters. Kirk frowns and scrunches his nose.

“Raincheck, Kirk, c’mon.” 

He begrudgingly obliges, having given his friend a hard enough time tonight anyway. The yawn that crawls out of his mouth a moment later corroborates Leonard's decision. He is tired, and Kirk shouldn't drink anymore, but he’d be lying if he said those were his only motives to end the night early.

“You win this one, Bones, but next time I swear we'll be out till sunrise,” he says between another yawn and a hiccup. 

“Uh-huh. Try not to trip.” Leonard reminds himself of the virtue of patience and keeps walking. 

Kirk manages to type in his room's access code all by himself, with only a moment of squinting, and a break to roll up the black sleeves of his turtleneck. Leonard is impressed, and the bar is low. 

“Drink a bottle of water, and get some sleep, We’ll talk tomorrow.” he crosses his arms over his chest and waits for protest. 

Kirk only hums. “You headed to your room?”

 The doctor's fingers drum against the doorframe. “Was thinking I’d check in on Sunshine,” he says, blinks, and rushes out, “and the rest of the Skeleton crew, of course.  Maybe medbay too, then I’ll hit the hay.” He fleetingly wonders if that sounds believable, or at least casual. 

 Kirk smiles a genuine smile. “Sounds like a good plan, Bones. See ya in the morning, and tell her I said hi .” Before he can react, his friend waves, and the door slides shut. Then, he’s alone in the hallways, and he has to put his money where his mouth is. 

Shit . 

The way to the bridge feels daunting now, like climbing Everest. Like climbing Everest with the shittiest rope ever. Like climbing Everest with the shittiest rope ever, several pounds of emotional baggage, and a Starfleet captain breathing down his neck.  He considers just going to bed, pretending he never even mentioned the whole thing. Maybe even pretend he doesn't care to get answers. He can just leave it be. 

The desire to see her trumps all of it. 

The halls are deserted, which he’s thankful for. He doesn’t need anyone around to watch him squirm in the elevator. A deep breath, a punch of the open elevator button and—

“I told you I don't have any threes! Go fish, again .” 

He sees the back of the captain's chair first, then Starfleet-issued black boots hanging off of it. The whoosh of the door draws the attention of the room to him. Eyes sweep through the vaguely familiar faces of the night crew, all six staring at him like they are waiting for an explanation, which he doesn’t really have. The heeled black boots plant themselves on the ground, the captain's seat swivels around. His heart works double time. 

“ Leonard ? Hi! What are you doing here?” 

Sunshine’s got a hand of cards between her pointer and her thumb, and a sweatshirt pulled over her uniform dress, and it distracts Leonard for longer than it should. He clears his throat, and it shakes loose the feelings stuck there. 

“Just thought I'd check in on our hard working night crew, who is surely on task.” He descends the bridge steps. 

“Well, then, you'll be happy to hear that I am, in fact, glancing at my station every 20 minutes, and I’m the undefeated go-fish champion.” 

She waves the cards at herself like a fan, legs crossed and smile wide. 

“Undefeated, huh? Glad to see your talents going to good use.” Her smile gets a bit brighter, and she does a quick breathy laugh with her nose. For a moment there's quiet, and Leonard begins scrambling for a way to ask her the thing he wants to ask her. The bridge is crowded, for a skeleton crew, he thinks. The redshirt to Sunshine’s left breaks the silence before he can. 

“I’m not sure if I’d call it talent…I’m pretty sure she's cheating,” they grumble, and Sunshine doesn't spare a moment, whipping the chair around. He can almost see the panic fill her eyes, like she’s just been accused of a heinous crime. 

“I’m not! Are you still thinking about that last round? Because that was—”  

Even Leonard winces a bit at her shrill tone, and he’s pretty sure she just woke the navigator who had fallen asleep at his station, so he claps his hands on her shoulders. 

“Sounds to me like this card game has you wound like a spring,” he interrupts her before her voice jostles anyone else awake. 

She pouts, lip jutted out and everything. 

“Let's go for a walk,” he suggests. He doesn’t even let his nerves talk him out of it. She looks at him curiously, her eyebrows drawn. 

“I dunno, I probably shouldn’t leave…” 

“I’m sure someone else can deal cards while you’re gone,” he tells her, already offering his arm. 

The Ensign, Leonard still doesn’t know their name, waves her off. “Go, Lieutenant, It's fine. I’m sure we can handle a few minutes without you.” 

She bites her lip and cautiously loops her arm around his, leaving the captain's chair to her subordinate. 

“Alright, but don’t start a new game without me,” she warns lightly. 

Leonard doesn’t get nervous with her arm looped around his, really he doesn’t. He’s headfirst into this thing now, no room for nerves. 

She drinks her whiskey neat, he learns, and it surprises him. Surprises him even more when she downs it like a shot. 

The walk there had been quiet mostly, except for when Sunshine regaled the stories of her card game wins. 

“Did you have a nice time with Kirk?” she asks politely.

“I dunno if I’d say that, but maybe Jim would disagree.” 

She laughs lightly, and her finger traces the lip of the whiskey glass. He doesn’t know if it’s the best idea, but he refills her cup. 

There is a beat of silence, and the conversation with Kirk pushes to the front of his thoughts. There's a heaviness on the tip of his tongue, the desire to ask why . Without really knowing how to. 

“Wish I could’ve gone with you guys,” she says, her gaze downcast. There's a rare melancholy to her tone, something vulnerable woven into it. 

“You could’ve,” he tells her, and her eyes pull from the table.

“I had--”

“Yeah, I know what you– I just mean–I’m sure Kirk would have given you the night off if you asked… God knows he owes you enough favors.” 

“I guess,” she shrugs, “it wasn’t really the best night for it, though.” 

He could go along with her lame excuse, vaguely agreeing that, yeah, there will be other nights. But the ache to know what exactly goes on in her pretty head has words tumbling out of his mouth. 

“Yeah, Kirk mentioned somethin’ like that,” he mumbles, nerves permeating the sentence. 

“...what?” 

Shit.

“I mean, he may have-”

“What exactly did he mention?” Her tone holds a sharp undercurrent of something rare for Sunshine– anger.

Leonard runs a hand down his face, suddenly thinking of all the much more tactful ways he could have begun this. The gentle buzz of alcohol still in his bloodstream keeps him from panicking. 

“Nothing terrible, just that there was someone in town you wouldn’t wanna see.”

“As if ,” she scoffs. “Kirk’s never been that vague in his life.” 

“…fair enough.” 

She groans miserably, fitfully pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her hands and burying her face in the fabric. 

“You were not supposed to find out like this,” she says, muffled. 

“And how was I supposed to find out?” He asks quietly, like the question will frighten her away. 

A sniffle comes from behind her hands–the sound tugs at his heart. 

“ I don't know. Maybe someone could have told you when I’m dead and then we’d never have to have this conversation.” 

He reaches for her slowly, taking her wrists in a gentle hold and pulling them away from her face, revealing her reddened nose and watery eyes. Her hands are cold, and grow stiff under his touch. 

“Sunshine. It's an ex , not a damn intergalactic scandal. There are worse conversations to have,” he reasons. 

“You don't get it,” she tells him matter-of-factly, pulling her hands from his touch. Embarrassment quickly heats his body, and he wipes his palms on his pants. 

“I’d get it a lot more if you talked about it.” He flexes his jaw, frustration bleeding into his voice. 

She narrows her eyes, punctuating her glare with a sniffle. 

“If I wanted to talk about it, I would’ve.”

“With Kirk? Because he seems to get it.” 

“Why are you acting so—”

“Concerned? Oh, I dunno because you’re my friend?” Exasperation colors his tone.

“I was gonna say entitled,” she grits out. Her anger comes out half-heartedly, sounding more like watery sadness than anything. “I don't tell you everything, and I don't have to. You’re not my-” She sighs. “Why does it matter? I was engaged for like, a year, and now, I’m not.” 

You’re not my–

Her half sentence sticks in his mind and sends blood rushing to his head. He thinks of all the things that he is to her: a colleague, a doctor, a friend. All the things he isn’t feels like a gaping hole. 

He watches her clench her fists and force her tears back. 

“It matters because it upsets you enough to work the night shift,” he sighs, the anger he’s been holding seeps out of his hands like water. “I’m not pressing you for the latest gossip, Sunny. I’m asking because it would be lousy of me not to.” 

She says nothing, taking in his words. 

“I’m no stranger to this stuff, y’know,” he prods her gently. “My ex-wife sent me running all the way to space .” He says lightly, and the corners of her mouth twitch up briefly.

“He didn't send me running, I sent him,” she confesses, shaking her head. 

“ You ?” 

“Me. The thing is,” she shrugs, “it should have worked, y’know? Like on paper, it was perfect. Ryder and I were academy sweethearts, liked all the same shit, were top of our classes, blah, blah, blah.” She rolls her eyes. “Our friends used to tease us, say that it wasn't fair, and we were too in love.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” she says, sighing. Her eyes drift nowhere in particular. “It didn’t feel nice after a while though. It felt suffocating. I was half a person with him, we were Ryder and Sunshine–and that was one entity.” Her tears dry on her lashes, as she becomes entrenched in the memory. 

“But the person we were wasn’t me . Because he never thought my jokes were funny, or my hobbies were interesting or my friends were cool, so I was willing to throw them all out. Eventually all that was left was him. His ideas, his wants, his needs. I was backed into a corner. I should’ve left when I realized but I loved him… and I was really scared of being alone.” 

She pushes her hair behind her ears and lets out a shaky breath. 

“I was a coward, and I couldn’t leave. I wanted to try and fix it, figure out who I was, and then maybe Ryder could love that person,” She shakes her head. “I was naive. Ryder always wanted someone I couldn’t be. Someone quieter or someone better at being a person. I’m always so all over the place you know? Too much for him.”

“You’re not–”

“It's okay, Len, you don't have to say anything.” she says, meeting his eyes again, taming the budding fire in his heart. 

The idea of Sunshine being anything but completely herself unnerves him. Her jokes are funny, he can’t recall ever laughing as much before she boarded the enterprise. Her ramblings about xenobotany and classic earth songs never fail to catch his attention, even when he barely knows what she's talking about. Being around Sunshine is as easy as breathing, and he’s starting to need it as much too. 

“Anyways, he proposed our senior year, like we weren’t a sinking ship, and I said yes and pretended like the ring wasn’t a last-ditch attempt to bring us back to life.” 

Her teeth sink into her lip, her eyes dragging to her lap.

“I don't know what it was, but one night I just…broke. I couldn’t keep pretending to be someone I wasn’t, or beg to be loved.”

A few tears slide down her cheeks, she scrubs them away with her sleeve.

Leonard wants to tell her that she should never have to beg for anything in the first place, least of all love; he wants to tell her that she's worthy just the way she is. His fingers twitch with the desire to take her by the shoulders and tell her over and over that she’s perfect, that she couldn’t be too much if she tried. Sunshine has always had a magnetic pull to her, drawing in everyone she meets with her warmth. The idea of anyone taking that away from her pulls his heartstrings tight enough to snap. He holds back his anger, refraining from telling her that Ryder is an asshole who didn’t deserve a second of her time. 

The wiser part of him knows that's not what he needs.

“We had planned to be on the USS Endeavor together, but I rescinded my application. I signed up to do on-planet research instead. I wrote a long letter, left it on our bed, packed up my things, and left.” 

She coughs in a way that he knows is covering up a sob and takes a deep breath. The sound sends a pang of emotion through him.

“It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. We were engaged, for Christ's sake, and I couldn’t even look him in the eye when I left him. And don’t even get me started on the fallout. We had all the same friends, and our families were so close… it was all so humiliating . Everyone expected us to live happily ever after, and then, there I was, giving him back his ring in a coffee shop.”  

She knocks back the rest of her drink, like a consolation prize for getting all the words out. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Len. I never wanted you to think of me like that, as someone who would do that.” 

“ Sweetheart ,” he says like a plea, calling her attention. “No one in their right mind would think differently of you for leaving something that wasn’t good for you– or at least they shouldn’t.” 

She's shaking her head before he finishes his sentence. 

“But I–”

“I know. You didn’t go about it the way you maybe should’ve– or the way you wanted to. It doesn’t make you a bad person, it doesn’t make you any less… good.”

She hiccups, her chest rising and falling rapidly as another stream of tears drips down her cheeks. He can't help himself – and even if he could, he doesn’t want to – he brings both hands to her cheeks, wiping away the salty tears. 

“It's alright,” he says gently, swiping his thumb under her eye again. “You’re alright.”

She nods, breaths finally evening out, and his hands reluctantly fall back onto his lap. 

He remembers well the storm of feelings his divorce left him with. The gulit, the lonliness, feeling like the world was ending. 

“I get it, y’know. The shitty relationship, becoming somebody you don't wanna be,” the barstool squeaks as he leans on the counter. He hasn't talked about his marriage since he told the story to Kirk years ago. It feels odd to tell it again. 

“My ex and I met in college, fell head over heels, and I proposed a year later. I thought… well, we both thought we were soulmates. There was this connection between us that I’d never felt before, and I thought this must be it.” 

“After a year ?” she gawks. He casts her a sideways glance and chuckles. 

“A perfect year, mind you. Not a single disagreement, not a bad date– every day was straight out of a damn love story or something. Until we got hitched, that is. Then it was all disagreements.”

 He anxiously taps a rhythm on the bar top. The memory still burns him now, of the fiery conflict, of the sleepless nights. 

“We were the same in all the worst ways, stubborn, headstrong, prideful. We couldn't settle an argument to save our lives. It probably didn't help that I was in the middle of residency and pulling 100-hour weeks. It was miserable. I hardly recognized myself… I know I don’t have the best temper, but I never wanted to be an angry person.” 

He lets out a slow breath, “I was mad as hell when she called it quits, said a lot of stuff I regret. But she was right to do it. We brought out the worst in each other, I was just too narrow-minded to see it. All this to say, I’m sure I would have taken the night shift to avoid her too.” 

Sunshine rests a comforting hand on his shoulder, her thumb pressing circles into the muscle. 

“I’m sorry, Len.”

He leans into her touch without thinking about it. “These things happen,” he tells her decidedly. “When something’s not right, there's nothing you can do to change that. You do the best you can with where you’re at, that's all.” He pictures himself, young and full of fire, holding onto something that had already slipped away. “Which you did, Sunshine. I know it’s hard to see now, but I promise it gets easier.”

When he drags his gaze from the mahogany bar top back to Sunshine, she's watching him curiously. 

“What am I supposed to see?”

“That you were young, and scared, and you did what you needed to for yourself. Even if it's not shit you’re proud of, it makes you who you are. You learn, and it makes you better.” 

She says nothing, silently considering his words for several moments. “Well, it better get easier soon, because it sucks .” 

He chuckles, “That it does.” 

 She reaches right past him and grabs the half-empty bottle of whiskey.

“We should toast,” she says, the melancholy in her voice fading away, probably tucked back behind a wall. “To failed marriages.” 

She’s already refilling their glasses and lifting hers to bump with his. 

“Thought you ducked out on the whole wedding thing?” he teases. 

“Fine then, to failed romantics,” she impatiently shakes the ice in her glass, “Just do it.” 

He knocks his glass with hers and agrees, “To failed romantics, and night shifts, and all the other shitty stuff.”

Her face pinches as she finishes her drink. Gingerly, she takes both of their glasses and stacks them behind the bar. 

Like ripping a bandage off and letting the wound breathe, Leonard feels lighter. As Sunshine hops off the bar stool and straightens her uniform skirt, he can see on her face that she does too. 

“Thank you for the drink, and the talk, Len,” she says, and he waves her off. 

“Don't mention it.” 

“ Totally gonna mention it,” she grins, “and when the schedule suddenly gives you two days off in a row, you’ll know why.” 

He laughs, and shakes his head, “I don’t think that's allowed, Lieutenant.” 

“I have my ways,” she says innocently, as she saunters to the door. 

He watches her go, everything she’s told him still buzzing in his head. He can hardly make sense of everything he’s feeling at once, but there's one thought that sticks out among the rest, that sits on his chest, demanding to be heard. 

“Sunshine?” he calls before she’s gone, giving into his relentless mind.

“Yeah?”

When she turns around, he’s flooded with everything he’s ever wanted to tell her. How she has seeped into every part of his life since he met her, despite his once armored heart. How she doesn’t see it, but she's changed the entire atmosphere of the bridge, pouring life into it with her energy. How she's taught him how to be a better friend, a better man, even a better doctor. How she’s not too much, she's everything. 

 “You should know, you’re never too much, that's ridiculous. Anyone on this ship would agree in a heartbeat. Don’t know what I’d– what we’d do without you,” he rushes out. “I hope you never think you need to be anything other than who you are.”

She goes still in the door frame and observes him for a moment. He flounders in her silence, wondering if he should have just kept his mouth shut. She suddenly moves from the doorway, quickly striding towards him, the sound of her boots clacking on the floor. He has no time to react before she gently places her hand on his chest. She wastes no time, leaning down and pressing a warm kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you,” she says meaningfully, searching his eyes for a brief moment before she turns heel again. She’s out the door without him even mustering up a word to say. 

His skin heats where her lips had touched him, a crackling feeling left in their place. He lifts his fingers to the skin, ghosting over the sticky remnants of her lipgloss. 

He sits, dumbfounded, knowing he’s gone somewhere there's no coming back from.     

#guys new chapter whaaattt #theyre so close to kissing I swear #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy x you #bones x reader #leonard bones mccoy #star trek imagine #star trek alternate original series #star trek #on a cloudy day #leonard mccoy #james t kirk #star trek aos #star trek fanfiction #karl urban #chris pine

[generalkenobee]

I just want doctor McCoy so bad

#x reader #generalkenobee #dr mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #Leonard McCoy #karl urban #AHH!! #star trek #star trek imagine

[anundyingfidelity]

A PLEASANT SURPRISE — Billy Butcher

Summary: After a long time apart, Butcher breaks in your home on your birthday.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x female reader.

Word count: 1.1k.

Warnings: mentions of sex, suggestive, language, mentions of Becca and a dead fiancé.

If you'd like to be added, the taglist is here!

notes: this was a request part of my 400 followers drabbles but it was a cute idea and i loved it too much so it turned out longer! the request was made by @thatcharmingmushroom, happy birthday honey!!! i hope you like it!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

With a long sigh, you made your way inside your apartment. Under the few illumination coming from the street lights on the windows, you placed on the countertop the bag of groceries you carried. First thing you looked for was the bottle of wine, in need to just forget the shitty week you had.

“Need help with that?”

That voice you knew too much caused you to jump slightly, your heart beating so hard against your chest as you turned on your heels to see the tall man standing against the wall. He turned on the light switch. Now you could see him better.

“Shit, you scared the hell out of me!” you breathed out.

You couldn’t get mad at him right now. If you weren’t too tired, then you probably would.

Butcher closed the distance between both of you and kissed your cheek softly, the burning feeling of his beard against your skin. “Sorry, luv. I was just passing by.”

You turned your head slightly, ghosting your lips against his own. “You could’ve just called before…”

“Yeah, but what’s the point in that?” he smirked before kissing you properly.

You hummed, feeling his lips after missing him for almost three weeks now. He always left for work. You knew he was into some dangerous shit, but you couldn't really blame him. The world was a disgusting place and you could only find some relief and a sense of safety when you were with him.

You had lost your fiancé to supes, he had lost his wife to supes as well. Twice. And you found each other in a moment where you couldn't lose anything else... But him. You were pretty sure he thought the same. That was why he just left for weeks without telling you, without a call. Nothing. That was his way of protecting you, even if you could bump into one of those fuckers anytime.

When you broke the kiss he started looking for something in your cabinets and once he found the corkscrew he opened the bottle. You took out two wine cups and poured the wine. Soon, you settled together in your living room, sitting on your couch. After taking a sip of your cup, you put it on your coffee table by the side of his own cup. You leaned your head on his shoulder lovingly.

"I missed you so much," you mumbled, taking his hand on yours.

"I know..."

"I wish you'd come more often," you said, looking up at him.

His gaze turned compassionate and he forced to look away from you, instead lowering his eyes. "Well, I'm here now, innit?"

You shifted and turned, making his eyes lock with yours, making it impossible to escape from your hurtful expression. He started to miss the warmth of your hand and your body against his own.

"William, you know what I mean."

"You know what I do," Butcher said. "I'm trying to protect you."

"Yes, but I-" you cut your words, now looking away. It felt so stupid to begin the night with something like this, knowing well you could not see each other that often. "I just wish things were different."

Butcher smiled sadly,. Seeing you like that was breaking his heart. You were the only person, besides Becca, who he could really rely and understand perfectly. He knew you were no replacement for her, and he was no substitute to your fiancé, not now, not never. But there was just something that had drawn him to you that day when you met at that seedy bar. Not just the way you kissed and fucked each other's brains out, but you. You didn't leave the next day, and he didn't want to leave. You didn't run away when he opened up his heart, and neither did he.

It was so silly how a one night stand had you right there, in front of him, after all those months. All of you. You were everything for him that night, and it was no different now.

"Y'know why I came here, right?" he asked, placing his hand on your thigh.

You beamed, trying to focus in the moment. "Thought you forgot."

"Can't believe you think so little of me, luv," Butcher smirked, leaning down to kiss you again, cupping your cheek with the palm of his hand. "Happy birthday."

A soft smile appeared on your lips. "Thank you."

He started looking for something inside his coat and took out a beautiful royal blue silk box, handing it to you with a smirk on his lips. "Got something for ya."

"You didn't steal this, did you?" you said, with a teasing voice, caressing the box with your fingers. It was pretty.

"Just traded a favor," he continued. Your brows lifted. "I'm being honest, sweetheart. Open it."

You giggled under your breath and did as he said. "Fine."

With a gasp, your eyes widened at the insides of the silk box. There was a pretty golden necklace, a small precious gemstone adorned the center. It left you speechless, just staring at it and blinking repeatedly. You knew it was fucking expensive and here you had it, because he thought you should.

"I uhm, I don't know what to say..."

"A kiss is enough."

You chuckled and pulled him for a sweet kiss. You felt his stupid, proud smile against your lips.

"Thank you so much. I love you," you mumbled. "You didn't really have to do this."

"But I wanted to. You fucking deserve it," the palm of his hand caressed your cheek, his thumb brushing on your skin lovingly as his eyes admired your beauty being so close to him. The usage of his words made you smile and he started teasing. "Ah, there it is."

His lips left kisses on your cheek, down your jawline until he kissed the skin on your neck, making you giggle a little and gasp out.

"Stop it, did you have dinner already?" you asked, pushing him away playfully. There was a lustful spark in his eyes and your body ached for him after being apart for so long.

Butcher crashed his lips against yours again, like a hungry man. Slowly, you were laying down on the couch with his help. His strong body over yours as he tasted the wine on your lips with a low moan. Your hands were on the back of his neck, and you let him press his hips against your own, spreading your legs.

"I rather have you as a my main dish," he growled once you pulled away from the kiss.

"Great. I can't wait."

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x female reader #billy bitcher x y/n #billy butcher imagines #billy butcher the boys #the boys billy butcher #karl urban the boys #the boys series #the boys amazon prime #the boys amazon

[geminiwritten]

hold on ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you’re the youngest member of the boys and you hate that butcher insists on calling you ‘kid’ so you show him in more ways than one that you are not a child

notes: this is very weak, but it was kind of good writing practice because i definitely don’t write a lot of action (i’m so sorry if it sucks)! as always, please let me know what you think!

warnings: a lot of swearing, google translated french, age gap (not specified, but inferred) guns, violence, a dagger, explosion, descriptions of wounding (please don’t read if any of this is triggering for you!)

word count: 4310

Butcher is an asshole. You knew that from the moment you met him. He is rude, and brash, and impulsive to the point that made you believe he didn’t have an angel on one of his shoulders, only two antagonistic little devils. You often found yourself itching to dig your fist into his face, especially when he called you by the stupid nickname he coined the moment he met you. Kid, or The Kid, if you weren’t in the room. It vexed you beyond belief, and you knew exactly why.

Butcher is an asshole, but he’s also fucking gorgeous. He’s tall and broad, and his voice is so delicious, it often finds its way into your filthiest dreams. To say you were obsessed with the man wouldn’t be an overstatement, and it was no secret, everyone but Butcher himself knows it. You’ve wanted him from the moment you met him, but then he went ahead and called you ‘kid’ and you quickly realised that he didn’t see you as anything more than one of the boys. The youngest one of the boys.

“Are you okay, mon amour?” Frenchie asks, nudging you with his shoulder.

You look at the man sitting beside you, dressed head to toe in black with a bandolier slung across his body. The van rattles as it hits a bump, and across from you, MM casts an angry glare toward the driver’s seat.

“I’m good,” you reply, flexing your fingers around the gun laying across your lap.

You were no stranger to the weapon, having spent years training in the special forces before flunking out the minute you found out about the movement for Supes to be contracted into the military. You were furious and scared, and then you ran into an old neighbour whose mother used to be book club buddies with yours – Hughie – and the rest is history.

“Butcher’s on location,” MM says, tucking his phone back into the pocket on his vest.

“Make sure he waits,” Hughie calls from the front of the van. “It’ll take me five minutes to get eyes on the whole building, but he can’t go in blind.”

MM looks at Frenchie, “Are you sure about this?”

“Positive,” Frenchie replies, “They will not be prepared for a raid, and they will have the information we need.”

“And how many are going to be willing to give it to us?” you ask.

He grimaces, “Not many, but I do not doubt your persuasion skills, mon cherie.”

“Persuasion,” you scoff, looking down at the weapon in your lap.

Don’t get it wrong, you weren’t some kind of super CIA motherfucker who should be feared by all, but you were pretty swift when you needed to be. You weren’t overly worried about the mission, not with Frenchie, MM, and Butcher at your back, but you hadn’t properly exercised your training in months. You know you’re going to be rusty, and you don’t exactly know what you’re walking into, but Frenchie does, and he’s confident in your ability.

The objective was simple. Frenchie had some old friends who were keeping tabs on his and Butcher’s movements and feeding them back to someone who was then getting them to Vought somehow. All you had to do was shut them down and find out who their contact was, and probably murder more than half of them in the process. Simple, right? Except for the fact that not even Frenchie knew exactly how many men you were running in on, or what kind of weapons they had.

“We’re here,” Hughie announces, just before the three of you in the back lurch forward with the sudden stop of the van.

You button up the fastenings on your fingerless gloves and check that your bandolier is packed with extra magazines before standing up. MM opens the doors for Hughie, and he jumps up into the back of the van with his laptop under his arm. Frenchie pulls a small stool from the storage cage and plants it in front of the flip down desk as Hughie begins unpacking his equipment. No more than five minutes pass before video images start popping up in black and white squares across the screens.

“Butcher,” Hughie says, tucking his earpiece in, “can you hear me?”

You fix your own piece into your ear before routinely checking the clips and fastenings across your tact suit.

“I can ‘ear you,” Butcher’s voice rumbles in your ear, and you can feel your cheeks flush pink.

“Alright,” Hughie scans the screens in front of him, “they’ve got pretty high tech surveillance, but their security isn’t great. I’m getting twenty-two heat signatures, most in the basement, a couple on the ground floor, and three on the fourth. According to Frenchie’s intel, there are other tenants in the building, so my guess is that three up top aren’t apart of this.”

“The two at ground level are most likely security,” Frenchie says. “There are always one or two of them watching the building’s main entrance.”

“But there’s another way in?” MM asks.

Hughie nods, “Looks like you can access the basement from the back, but that’s probably their main point of access, so you’ll want to find another way in.”

“You tellin’ me there’s one fuckin’ door to this place?” Butcher’s voice comes through the earpiece again, and you have to flex your fingers around your gun to remind yourself to focus.

“The backdoor and the building’s main stairwell,” Frenchie replies.

“Two fuckin’ doors?” Butcher says. “Fuckin’ hell, Frenchie, how the hell are we s’pposed to get out if things go wrong?”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Frenchie states, giving you an incredibly confident grin.

Your stomach twists nervously, but you don’t let it show, returning his grin with a nod and a small smile.

“There are windows,” Hughie says, “but only Y/N will fit, maybe Frenchie.”

“Then we go first,” you look at Frenchie, “through the windows and make sure Butcher and MM can get in the back.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Butcher snaps. “We don’t know what kind of weapons these cunts got, and if you two get overpowered, we won’t be able to get in ‘n’ help. We all go in the backdoor, force our way in.”

Frenchie chuckles, “You are a fan of forcing yourself into the backdoor, Monsieur Charcutier?”

MM snorts while you and Hughie snicker, but there isn’t a sound from Butcher.

“Look,” you say, “I appreciate your concern, Butcher, but we have the best chance of surprising them by slipping in where they won’t expect.”

Frenchie giggles again at your unintentional innuendo.

“Listen, Kid,” Butcher says, sending wave of irritation through your body, “I appreciate your concern, but I ain’t lettin’ you ‘n’ Frenchie get killed for somethin’ as trivial as a bit of intel.”

“I’m not a fucking kid, Butcher,” you bite back, at which everyone in the van startles. “Frenchie and I will meet you at the backdoor.”

You pull your black kerchief up over your nose and crack the van’s doors open, peaking out cautiously before stepping down and into the dark night. Frenchie and MM follow your silent footsteps toward the brick building, skirting around the side until you find the low and narrow basement windows. You point at MM and then toward the back of the building, and he nods before hurrying off.

“There’s a guard waiting outside the backdoor,” Hughie’s voice comes through your earpiece.

You hear a couple of grunts before MM says, “Not anymore.”

“Do you have Butcher?” Hughie asks.

“We’re in position,” MM affirms.

You nod at Frenchie and he gestures for you to go first, so you turn to the closest window. You take a deep breath before crouching beside the window and gripping a lip in the brickwork to help swing your body through. Using your chunky black boots, you kick the window in and follow the momentum with your feet first. You hit the concrete floor with a thud, quickly darting to the side before Frenchie drops down in the same fashion.

“What the fuck?!” one of the men shouts, scrambling to get up from the old and torn sofa on which he sat.

Your hands are on your gun before you can remember thinking about it, and a gunshot bursts in your left ear as a thug across the room fires at you, missing completely. You take aim and shoot his shoulder, making him drop his gun and crumple to the floor in pain. Two more bullets hit the brick wall behind you, and two more of the gangsters fall with wounds in their shoulders. Frenchie is already rushing to the backdoor, and you cover him easily by dropping three more men with pistols and hitting one in the leg who was scrambling toward the stairs. A cluster of lankier looking men cower in what looks like a makeshift drug lab, all wearing rubber aprons and protective goggles over their eyes. You turn away from them and take down another heading for the stairs, watching him fall on top of his comrade before whipping around and firing at a thug who was pointing his gun at Frenchie. The bullet cracks as it hits him in the side of the head, but you don’t have time to regret your aim before someone tackles you from behind. You duck forward, gripping his thick arms before he can strangle you, and use his momentum to throw him onto his back on the floor in front of you with a loud thump.

Your gun is back in your hands as you scan the room over its barrel, a familiar sense a satisfaction quelling your fight mode when you find every assailant either downed or cowering with their hands up. The backdoor creaks open, and MM and Butcher march in with guns up before stopping abruptly at the sight of the pacified room.

“What did I tell you, eh?” Frenchie says, and you hear it more in your earpiece than from across the room. “She is fucking incroyable.”

“Holy shit,” MM mutters, lowering his gun.

Butcher’s eyes are wild above his face covering, filled with an emotion you can’t discern as he stares at you across the dark room.

“Alright,” Frenchie shouts, pulling his kerchief down, “where the fuck is Lafeyette?”

The room stays quiet, but the four of you slowly cast heavy glares across the fallen thugs until one of the timid lab assistants points a shaking finger toward the two men collapsed by the stairs.

“Time to talk you filthy sac de merde,” Frenchie spits, as he and Butcher stalk toward the men.

MM nods at you as he readjusts his gun and widens his stance, guarding the door in case anyone thinks of trying to escape. Your fighter instincts settle at the slight sense of security, and you sling your gun over your shoulder as you approach the small drug lab.

“What are your names?” you ask the men.

Three of them glance at the shortest of the four, and with trembling hands he moves his goggles onto his head, revealing two clean circles of skin around his bright blue eyes.

“I am Gabriel,” he says, his accent thicker than Frenchie’s, “this is Théo, Lucas, and Éliott. They do not speak English.”

“Can they understand it?”

He nods, “Mostly.”

“Good,” you nod and hold your hands up, “I’m not going to hurt you, unless you give me a reason to.”

They all shake their heads vigorously.

“Are you here because you want to be?” you ask them.

“No,” Gabriel replies, and the other three shake their heads again.

“How did you get here?”

“Théo and I came together,” Gabriel says, “without papers, and Monsieur Toussaint said he would get us citizenship. Lucas and Éliott were here already, and they have kept us from leaving.”

You gesture to the bench full of laboratory equipment, “You make drugs for them?”

“Oui,” he nods, “Lucas is a- uh, how do you say un scientifique?”

“A scientist,” MM calls out from behind you.

“Oui,” Gabriel nods again, “he teaches us to cook.”

You frown, “Do you have any family here?”

“Théo has family in America,” he replies.

“Does he know where they are? Can you contact them if we help you leave?”

His bright blue eyes sparkle with hope, “Oui!”

You nod, “Good, we’re going to try and help you, okay?”

You barely finish your sentence before MM screams your name, and you feel the weight of a large hand on your left shoulder, dragging you back and blocking your ability to grab your gun. You crouch under the pressure and reach your thigh holster with your right hand, gripping the hilt of your dagger. You unsheathe it as you turn in a full one-eighty, escaping the assailant’s grasp and sweeping underneath his arm with your dagger outstretched. The blade slashes horizontally right beneath his kneecap, causing him to buckle as you rise to your full height and lacerate his throat. You leap back to avoid the spray of blood and falling body, watching the man slump face first into the concrete floor at your feet.

When you look up, you find every pair of – conscious – eyes on you, a mixture of terror and disbelief written across the room of faces.

“Are you okay?” Frenchie asks, though there is more pride than concern in his expression.

“I’m good,” you reply, crouching down to clean each side of your dagger on the dead man’s shirt before tucking it back into your holster.

Butcher drops the collar of who you assume is Lafayette, and you still can’t read his face behind his kerchief as he stares at you.

“Uh, guys,” Hughie’s voice speaks into your ear, “someone heard the gunshots, you’ve got emergency response on site in less than five minutes.”

Frenchie swings his foot into Lafayette’s stomach before nodding at MM, “Let’s go.”

You turn to the four lab assistants and gesture toward the backdoor. They scramble to remove their protective gear before hurrying toward MM who guides them out. Frenchie jogs past you, but Butcher stops and holds his hand out.

He pulls his kerchief down, “I’ll do it, you get out of ‘ere, Kid.”

“Fat chance,” you scoff, “now go.”

You’ve already got the gas canister in hand, and he knows you’ll pop it before he can argue, so he turns and mutters something inaudible as he stalks toward the door.

With your kerchief securely up over your nose, you release the pin and throw the gas into the room before turning to the lab table. You work quickly, pouring the two vials that Frenchie gave you into an empty beaker and setting it atop a lit burner. In five long leaps, you’re out the door and slamming it shut before sprinting away.

Butcher is waiting for you just around the side of the building, his hand outstretched. You barely have time to grab it before a huge explosion blows through the low basement windows and shakes the entire building. Butcher pulls your body against his, pivoting so that his back is to the blast as it knocks both of you off your feet. You hit the ground and your ears ring, but you don’t feel a single bit of debris hit you thanks to the body lying on top of yours.

“Fuck,” Butcher curses, though his voice sounds distant in your ringing ears.

You look up at him, his face inches from yours and smattered with dust and dirt. The adrenaline coursing through your veins has your whole body on high alert, overly aware of every part of him that is pressed against you.

He looks down at you, his pupils blown wide as his gaze darts to your lips. He licks his own, his chest heaving against yours and your head spins with a thousand filthy thoughts. For a split second, you think he might kiss you, and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation, but then he pushes himself up and offers his hand. You sigh and take it, letting him haul you off the ground.

“You alrigh’, Kid?” he asks.

“I’m not a fucking kid,” you spit, snatching your hand from his.

You run toward the van and leap into the open doors, Butcher at your heels. Hughie slams on the accelerator before Frenchie has even closed the doors, and you instinctually grab onto the nearest thing to steady yourself. It just so happens to be Butcher, and you know not from the scratch of his beard against your temple as you cling to him, but his scent. Warm and woody, with hint of apple-scented soap and whiskey.

You retract quickly and fall into the seat on the opposite side of the van, resting your head back against the blocked-out window.

“What the fuck, Frenchie?” MM exclaims. “You said that would be a small explosion, that it would look like an accident.”

Frenchie grimaces, “I did not account for the other reactants in the lab.”

Butcher sits quietly across from you, his eyes trained on you as you do everything you can to avoid looking in his direction. You focus on your gun, unlocking the empty clip and clicking the safety on. MM and Frenchie speak with the four timid men huddled at the back of the van, asking them a series of questions before deciding where would be best to take them.

After a painfully long drive, Hughie stops the van and Frenchie helps the four men out of the back doors. He tells you all to go back to the safe house and he will be there soon. The rest of the ride home is tense and silent, MM not daring to speak once he sees the irritated frown on your face as you fiddle with your equipment, packing it into cases and locking it in the van’s storage cage.

Once safe inside the decrepit apartment you currently call home, Hughie grins at you, “Holy shit, Y/N, you are fucking bad ass.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, starting on the clips of your tact suit.

“I wish I saw all of it,” MM says, “you’re deadly.”

A small smile quirks the corner of your lip, and you let out a small sigh as you release the last buckle on your Kevlar vest. You drop the heavy thing on the dining table along with your bandolier.

“I’m still pissed that you didn’t listen to me,” Butcher states, at which you roll your eyes, “but you did good, Kid.”

Your head snaps in his direction, your eyes narrowing at him. “Do I look like a fucking child, Butcher?”

Hughie’s grin vanishes and MM freezes on his way to the couch.

“Do I?” you press, holding your arms out as if to emphasise your attire. “Because a fucking kid couldn’t do what I just did, yet you insist on calling me by that fucking name!”

He doesn’t flinch the way Hughie does, nor are his eyes as wary as MM’s. He remains his usual cool self, though his frown is more curious than irate.

“Didn’t realise it bugged ya so much,” he says.

“You don’t fucking realise much, do you, Butcher?” you snap, before turning on your heel and marching toward the room that was designated yours.

You march inside and slam the door, but a pair of heavy boots are hot on your heels, and you curse the landlord for not installing any locks as the door swings open again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Butcher demands, slamming the door once again behind him.

You unzip your outer jacket and throw it on the bed, “Didn’t I make it clear?”

“Uh, no, actually,” he steps toward you, “I’m not fuckin’ pissed about the raid, I’m pretty fuckin’ impressed, but you’re still throwin’ a tantrum like a fuckin’-”

“Like a child?”

His eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms over his chest, “I was gon’a say kid.”

You clench your fists in an attempt to refocus your frustration, digging your fingernails into your palms until it stings.

“Look,” he says, “I know you’re capable, and fuckin’ talented with a gun, but I wasn’t tryin’ to be a dick, I was tryin’ to keep you safe.”

“Because I’m so young and stupid?” you ask, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because I can’t fucking handle myself even though I just prevented all of you from getting your fucking asses kicked?”

He sighs, “I never said you’re fuckin’ stupid.”

“But I am young,” you mutter, your voice revealing more emotion than you intended.

His brows shift into a dubious frown, “What’s this fuckin’ obsession with your age?”

“What’s your obsession with my age?” you snap, “Calling me ‘kid’ all the time and acting like you’re my fucking babysitter.”

“Oh, so fuck me for caring ‘bout your safety, is that it?”

“No, Billy, that’s not it,” you sigh, tearing your gaze from his to focus on unclipping your thigh holster.

“Then what is it? ‘Cause I don’t know what I’ve fuckin’ done!”

Your holster comes loose and you grip the hilt of the dagger with white knuckles, standing straight again.

“You haven’t done anything!”

“Then what haven’t I fucking done?!” he exclaims, unfolding his arms and throwing his hands up.

The little voice in your head splits into a thousand, screaming a thousand different commands at you. Cry, yell at him, throw something at him, scream, hit your head against the fucking wall, punch him in the throat… kiss him.

Your ears, still numb from the explosion, fill with the sound of your thumping heartbeat as you take three quick steps toward him. His height is intimidating, but you don’t have time to regret your decision as your fingers curl into the material of his shirt and pull him toward you. You have to stretch onto your toes, your other hand finding his chest for stability as you crush your lips against his.

For a second, you think you’ve seriously fucked up, but then his mouth begins to move against yours and your knees buckle. His arms catch you, wrapping around your waist and holding your body against his as his tongue slides across your bottom lip. You part your lips with a sigh, and he takes all control, claiming your mouth and wiping your mind of any thought that isn’t him.

In two easy steps, he backs you against the bed, sitting you down without his lips ever leaving yours. He crawls on top of you, straddling your thighs and catching your hands as they find the buckle on his belt.

“Love,” he sighs against your lips, “hold on.”

You blink up at him, slowly coming down from your high, “To what?”

He chuckles, “I meant slow down a sec.”

“Oh,” your cheeks burn, and you snatch your hands out of his grasp. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever fuckin’ apologise for that,” he says, a dopey smile on his lips, “but I don’t know-”

“I do,” you interrupt him, holding yourself up on your elbows.

He raises his brows, “What do you know?”

“I know that I want you,” you reply, “and I know that you want me. I don’t know if this is a good idea, but it fucking feels like it, so please, Butcher… please.”

“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes lingering on your lips before trailing down your body to where he sat. “I know I want you, but why the fuck do you want me?”

You snort, “You’re kidding, right?”

He only frowns.

“Butcher, I have wanted you from the moment I fucking met you,” you fall back against the bed with a sigh, “I don’t know how you haven’t fucking noticed.”

He leans over you, holding himself up with a hand either side of your head. “Why?”

His voice is so deep and his eyes so dark, you struggle to breathe as your clothes suddenly feel like they’re strangling you.

“Because you’re-”

“An asshole?”

You giggle, “Yes, and rude, and brash, but you’re also fucking beautiful.”

His heavy breathing suddenly stops and his eyes widen as they search yours, as if looking for some sense of deception or sarcasm. You open your mouth to reassure him but he swallows your words with a kiss, his lips crashing into yours with bruising force. His mouth moves across your jaw and down your neck, and you whine when pulls away before quickly realising that your high-neck undershirt is in the way. His fingers find the hem and yank it up over your breasts, not bothering to remove it completely before his lips assault your chest, biting and soothing your skin in five separate spots as you writhe beneath him.

He moves down, placing a kiss on your sternum and your stomach, before pausing at the waistband of your pants and looking up with hungry eyes. “You sure ‘bout this?”

His hot breath fans your skin and goosebumps rise in response.

You nod, “Yes, please, Butcher. Yes.”

The buckle and button are loosened in a second, and he groans at the sight of your lacy black panties. He places a hot, wet kiss just above the hem before sitting back and unbuttoning his own shirt. He doesn’t manage to shrug it off though, because you take the opportunity to grip either side of it and pull him back down on top of you. The feeling of his skin against yours makes your whole body clench, and you know you’re kissing him sloppily but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Your fingers find his belt again, struggling to remember how the damn thing works when he pulls away with a gasp, “Hold on.”

You frown, “What now?”

He chuckles, “No, sweethear’, not like that.”

His hands take yours guiding them up over your head until you feel the wood of the headboard at your fingertips.

“I said, hold on.”

END.

#billy butcher #the boys #karl urban #billy butcher x reader #one shot #imagine #fanfiction #homelander #hughie campbell #karl urban x reader #butcher x reader #mothers milk #mm #frenchie

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Beard (Billy Butcher)

Drabble about Billy’s Beard and Y/N wanting to see him without it.

Word Count: 661

“When’s the last time you shaved your beard?” Y/N asked him. He looked over at her and set down his drink. “Why? Am I not pretty enough for ya anymore?” He jokingly asked. Y/N let out a laugh. “You aren’t what I would call pretty.” She said. He scooted closer to her on the couch. “Then what would you call me?” She set down her drink and shrugged. She leaned back on the couch. “Hot, Sexy, Mysterious.” She listed and he chuckled. He leaned back too and pulled her into his lap.

“No but seriously, when's the last time?” She asked, looking up at him. He was playing with her hair. “I stopped shaving after I thought Becca died.” He told her. Her eyes softened and she felt bad for even asking. Becca was a hard topic to talk about. She was there for him when he found out that Becky was alive and had a child. They weren’t dating yet but she still was there for him. Even when they were dating and Becca was killed she still never made him feel like shit for being upset or crying.

Becca was his wife and probably still would be if it wasn’t for Homelander. She never liked to think of the what ifs and even Billy told her that he loved her now and that he always will. “You okay?” He asked her, pulling her out of her thoughts. She nodded and snuggled into his tummy. “Just curious as to what you look like without a beard.” She mumbled into his stomach. He chuckled and stopped playing with her hair. “Maybe someday, Love.” He told her.

That conversation had been long forgotten about. It had been a month since it happened and frankly she didn’t think about it anymore. Billy was nervous. He had bought a razor and stared at it for some time before he made his decision. He hadn’t done this in years, and had no reason to. But now he did and though his nerves were through the roof about it, he wanted to see Y/N’s reaction. So he turned it on and brought the razor to his face and started shaving. There was no going back now as he watched the hair fall from his face. 

Y/N was in the kitchen making The Boys and herself dinner. The others weren’t back yet from whatever they were doing but should be soon. She hadn’t seen Billy in about an hour. He was probably catching up on some sleep or research, she thought. The door opened and she didn’t bother looking up from the stove as she greeted him. “Hey babe.” She said. He was so nervous to see her reaction, he was hoping that if she was disgusted or didn’t like it she could hide it well. “Hey.” He said. The tone of his voice sounded like he was nervous so she looked over at him in concern. She gasped and dropped the spatula in her hand.

There he, Billy Butcher, stood in the kitchen without a beard. Her jaw dropped as she just stared at him. Shook being the only evident thing on her face. He just looked back at her, waiting for words. “Well, What do ya think?” He asked her, nervous about the silence. She turned off the stove and walked over to him. Her hands cupped his face and felt the smooth skin that she hadn’t touched before. She looked at him in awe. “Oh my gosh.” She whispered. “Do you like it?” He asked her. She nodded. “Yeah.” She said before kissing him. He kissed her back, happy that she liked it. While they were kissing, The Boys happened to walk through the door. “Would you two get a room?” MM asked. They pulled away from the kiss. “Fuck off ya Cunt.” Billy said and the others gasped. “You shaved your beard!” Frenchie exclaimed. Y/N nodded. “And he looks pretty damn good too.” 

#the boys imagine #the boys amazon #the boys #billy butcher #karl urban #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher imagine