#mother’s milk the boys

[petit-hughie]

[vanshoundd]

The Boys❤️🍆

[zepskies]

Calculated Risks

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

AN: Welcome back to the BMD-verse, friends! Did you miss these two as much as I did? Plus, get ready for a heavy dose of fan-favorite Frank. (And Lila, of course!)

Word Count: 7K

Tags/Warnings: Familiar bickering, a mission gone awry, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.

Catch up on the BMD-verse. ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

In four years of marriage, one thing that had never changed between you and Ben was this.

“All right, you’re being a little too much right now,” you said in irritation. “Of course I’m not sitting this one out. I’m the one who found us the damn lead in the first place.”

The man was following you from the adjoining bathroom and back into your shared bedroom, where you began getting dressed for work in the blouse and pencil skirt you’d laid out for yourself.

Your husband had already donned his supe suit, sans helmet. He stood just behind you with his arms crossed, a familiar surly frown on his face. When you turned around, he hadn’t moved an inch.

“I’m being too much? You’re the one who’s not being fucking reasonable,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and moved past him to find your shoes. For this skirt, you really needed heels. Your most comfortable black pumps would do. You grabbed the closet doorknob for balance as you slipped them on, giving him a look of exasperation.

Ben held firm on his stance, but inside, he had a feeling you’d chosen this outfit on purpose. You knew he liked this whole sexcretary look on you, with your hair let down around your shoulders. The skirt and heels just brought his eyes to the delectable curve of your ass.

But again, he was holding firm.

He’d been called in on this case partly because Annie was on maternity leave. She was due in just a few weeks. Which meant “Soldier Boy” was definitely needed to help out Butcher and his merry band of assholes. By now, Ben had gotten used to them.  

“Look,” you said, “Slingshot has been causing a lot of havoc, and the police haven’t been able to catch him. You heard Grace. This is an ‘all hands on deck’ situation.”

“She always says that shit. Doesn’t make it true,” Ben retorted.

“This time it is,” you said. “I’ve already put in tons of man hours on surveillance for this guy. I want to get him off the street.”

Ben held you by your arms. “That’s exactly my point. You’ve been putting in way too many hours.”

You shook your head. He just didn’t get it.

“If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have this opening now,” you said. You gave him a smile to try and lighten him. “Now he’s all teed up for you and the guys. This should be in and out. Practically a milk run for you.”

“Yeah, but not for you,” he pointed out. “And not for Lila. You’re stretching yourself too damn thin. It’s not like we need the money.”

Ahh, now we get to it, you thought. Yet again, he was bringing this up. In his mind, you should’ve cut your hours at Supe Affairs after Lila was born.

You did take an extended maternity leave of an entire year and a half, which was much more than women usually got from their jobs. However, because of your relationship with Grace and the entire team, you’d been allowed to come back whenever you felt ready. 

Ben had often felt it necessary to point out that with his money, you didn’t have to work at all. 

He knew very well that for you, this work was more than a job. 

“I’m not the first working mom in existence, Ben,” you said, pushing out of his hold. “And I’ll remind you that Supe Affairs has a great daycare program. Lila’s very happy there.”

Plus, she was almost three and a half years old. In less than a year, Lila would be off to preschool.

“And look, it’s not about the money,” you added. “I told you before Lila was born. I am a mother, and I’m your wife. But I’m still me.”

Ben processed that for a moment, meeting your gaze.

“The situation’s changed,” he replied. He grasped your hips this time. His thumb gently brushed over your belly, which had a small bump under your high-waisted skirt. 

You were finally pregnant again. Three months, in fact, and you were having a boy. You knew that Ben had several reasons to be more protective than usual…but still. You thought you were already taking every precaution to keep you and your children safe, even with the occasionally extensive hours of your job.

“These cases can be long and difficult, not to mention dangerous,” said Ben. His green eyes met yours as he looked down at you through furrowed brows. “You’re putting yourself at risk.”

You blew out a breath and tried to placate him, soothing a hand over his chest. 

“I’ve stopped doing field missions,” you pointed out. “And Supe Affairs is the most secure building in the city. Do you think I would bring Lila there if it wasn’t?”

The security team at the S.A. was bar none, not only because Loco was a part of that team. Frank was also your personal bodyguard; Ben hired him back when you found out you were pregnant with Lila.

In fact, Frank was coming to the house in a few minutes to pick you all up.

Ben frowned. “I think you’re being stubborn just to be fucking stubborn.”

That sparked at your temper. Again, you withdrew from his arms and crossed yours.

“I think you need to face the fact that I’m protected as well as I can be,” you said. “I also think that you’re trying to use this as a way to shoehorn me into some antiquated idea of what you still think a wife should be. I’m gonna tell you right now. That’s not me! It’s never been me. And you know that.”

He opened his mouth to give an angry retort, but you beat him to it.

“It’s like you don’t even care about what I want,” you snapped. “Just what you think is right—for me to be here waiting for you to come home, quite literally barefoot and pregnant, ready to rub your balls!”

Cliché as it might’ve been to say, if the shoe fit, then you were certainly not going to be the one to wear it.

“You know what, you can accuse me of being stuck in the fucking past all you want,” Ben said, raising a finger, as well as his voice. “But the problem here isn’t me. It’s that what you want is goddamn idiotic!”

Your mouth fell agape. “Excuse me?! I can’t even believe you right now!”

Ben fairly loomed above you when he shouted back.

“Well, that makes fucking two of us!”

His voice was loud enough to reverberate on the walls. You even flinched, but you held your ground with a glare…

Until you heard a whimper.

You and Ben paused, and turned to find Lila. The three-year-old was cowering a bit in the doorway to your bedroom. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she began to cry.

Your heart broke.

“Oh, honey,” you breathed. You were both apologetic and mortified as you quickly went to her.

Ben was close behind you, but while Lila was quick to melt into your arms when you picked her up, she shied away from his attempt to reach out to her. What would’ve been a placating hand on her head, turned into him pausing in surprise when she ducked.

“Lila?” he prodded.

He tried to mask how put out he was by his daughter hiding her face from him, burrowing into your neck instead. She was usually a daddy’s girl, through and through.

You shot him a knowing frown, while rubbing her back in comfort.

“It’s okay, baby,” you told her. “Your dad and I were just…talking. He didn’t mean to shout.”

When Lila only whimpered in response, Ben’s gaze dimmed in understanding. His lips pursed.

You saw that look on his face, and you wanted to sigh. Part of you felt bad for him, at the way Lila had flinched away from her father. In a way though, maybe it was a lesson he needed to learn.

Frank arrived a few minutes later in a black SUV, like he did every weekday morning to bring you all to work. Ben was quiet and taciturn climbing into the backseat on one side, and you clipped Lila into her car seat from the other side. He still made sure that she was strapped in correctly, and even tried to earn his daughter’s gaze.

She snuck a glance at him a couple of times, but quickly lowered it to play with one of her favorite stuffed animal toys (a little German shepherd that he had gotten for her).

Ben let out a long breath through his nose. He gave Frank a nod through the rearview mirror, and the other man peeled away from the house.

The four of you rode in silence away from your house in Scarsdale, towards New York City.

Ben’s mood remained grim, even when you all got to Supe Affairs. Frank held back while you and Ben stopped in the hallway with Lila. You were carrying her, and she was holding onto you and her stuffed animal like a lifeline instead of looking anywhere else—namely at Ben.

You sighed and tried to pull her back enough to see her face.

“Daddy’s gotta go to work now. Want to say goodbye?” you encouraged.

All Lila could manage was a shy look in his direction. Ben laid a gentle hand on her head, over her dark hair.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he said.

Lila didn’t answer him. She just bit her lip and stayed withdrawn.

You and Ben shared a glance. He was hiding it well behind his usual stoicism, but this was hurting him. There wasn’t much either of you could do about it now, however. You both had work to do, and the mission would have to come first.

“I’ll be online in a bit,” you told him. 

First, you needed to take Lila up to daycare before Frank accompanied you to your office. There you’d be able to join the mission from your computer and put your headset on. Aside from surveillance, you were their virtual eyes on missions. 

So Ben tacitly agreed, and the two of you parted ways.

You went up to the second floor to drop Lila off at daycare, where you set her onto her feet. You could see that she was quiet and almost sad, not as bright and talkative as usual. And she was clinging to your hand. You bent down the best you could in your skirt, so you could meet her eyes.

“Are you still upset with your dad?” you asked. 

After a moment, Lila replied, “Daddy’s loud.”

You couldn’t help a rueful smile. 

“Yeah, he can be,” you nodded. “But he’s gonna work on that, okay? He loves you very much.”

She finally smiled a little when you pressed a few sweet kisses to her cheeks. You felt a little better about leaving her with Sarah, the woman who ran the daycare center. She was kind, but well-organized, and good at her job of wrangling fifteen or so toddlers on a daily basis.

And she was hovering off to the side with a smile, waiting to shepherd Lila over to where the rest of the group were starting at the arts and crafts table.

“Okay, baby. I love you. I’m just downstairs if you need me,” you said, caressing Lila’s cheeks, brushing her hair away from her face.

She nodded and waved goodbye. Sarah then stepped in and guided the girl over to the crafts table. The other kids were already drawing and coloring with crayons and markers.

With a sigh, you knew you had to get to work. You joined Frank out in the hall.

“Did something happen this morning?” he asked. You gave him a weary look.

“Something always happens. I’ll fill you in when we hit the elevator,” you said.

“Kids are resilient. She’ll bounce back,” said Frank, when you two got off the elevator down to the basement, under the first floor. This was where the “heavy stuff” happened at the S.A.

“That’s not the point, Frank. He hasn’t snapped at me like that in a long time, and he really scared her. That’s not fucking okay,” you said. “He needs to learn to control his goddamn temper.”

He sent you a knowing glance. You rolled your eyes.

“Okay, I know I don’t always help. But in this case, I was justified,” you said. “Ben was being an ass.”

“Right,” Frank nodded. “It’s not at all that he’s worried about you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Whose side are you on?”

The man remained silent, but his stoic face wasn’t fooling you. He’d been your friend for much too long, and he knew Ben just as well…which was why you found yourself reconsidering what happened this morning.

“You really think he has a point?” you asked. “Am I working too much?”

Frank shook his head and opened the door for you into the Surveillance Department. The two of you ventured to your office, where your quadruple monitor setup was waiting for you. He also had a desk for himself, since he often spent the long hours of your day with you.

“When you were pregnant with Lila, you were on maternity leave by now,” he pointed out.

“Because we had no idea what was going to happen,” you countered. You went to your desk and started up your computer. “I had to meet with Tonya once a week, ultrasounds and blood tests all the time, making sure Lila was healthy, that I was healthy. This time around, we have a better idea of what to expect.”

For example, you were experiencing bouts of super strength once again, but it was still intermittent. Although, you pretty much never needed coffee. Maybe the supe genes coursing through your system, thanks to your unborn son, was part of the reason why you’d been able to go such long hours for these cases.

He's already brightening up my life, you thought with a little smile, holding a hand over your lower belly.

“It’s your choice,” Frank said at last. “But it is possible that Ben cares about more than just making you a suburban housewife.”

At that, you sighed. There was nothing wrong with being a housewife, you knew. It just wasn’t…you.

Once your computer and monitors were booted up, you connected to the right channels and put on your headset.

Already you could hear M.M. bitching about keeping the weapons trunk organized, not just tossing things in haphazardly. 

“It’s a simple fucking system, Frenchie. You can at least abide by it,” M.M. said. “We don’t have time to be scratching our asses while you try to find a—”

“Hey, Bert and Ernie. Would you shut the fuck up already?” Ben groused.

Your mouth twitched at his grumpiness.

“A little testy this morning, ey guv?” Butcher remarked.

“Gargle my ball sack,” Ben replied, with an even grouchier deadpan than usual.

“Do you kiss your child with that mouth?” Frenchie teased. 

“Nah, just your mother’s French hole,” Ben slung back. You rolled your eyes. 

“All right, all right. Put the measuring tapes away,” you interrupted. “I’m online, locked on your GPS.”

“Well, if it ain’t Mrs. America herself,” Butcher drawled. “Got a lock on Slingshot’s location for us?” 

“You know it,” you replied. “Sending to the group chat now. Slingshot’s been spotted entering a strip club in Chinatown.” 

“Jeez. A little early for tits and booze. It’s 10:00 a.m. on a Tuesday,” said Hughie.

You heard Ben huff in amusement. “It’s never too early.”

You snorted at that.

“Right. I’ll remember that next time you fall asleep watching Family Feud,” you clipped back.

You heard the other guys trying not to laugh as they got into Butcher’s van. Part of you felt bad for teasing Ben, knowing he was already in a bad mood, but you were feeling a bit petty about what happened this morning.

You had to bite your lip against a smile, as you could picture the ill-tempered face your man was likely sporting.

And we’re off.

Lila wasn’t having a good day. 

She didn’t feel like coloring, and the toys just weren’t fun today.

She just didn’t want to be here. The other kids smelled like old Cheetos and feet (especially the boys).

She missed you. And though she hadn’t wanted to admit it to you, she missed Daddy too.

Lila wanted to go home…she wanted her mom. 

“I’m just downstairs if you need me,” you’d said.

Lila had a kind of plan percolating in her mind, all through the morning, and even through lunch time. She didn’t want to get in trouble, but when she’d asked Miss Sarah if she could go see you, she’d said you were at work and couldn’t come get Lila until later. 

But that’s not what Mommy said, Lila thought.  

After lunch, she laid on the napping mat with her pillow and blanket, even though she was wide awake. She didn’t want to nap with the other kids, even though Miss Sarah told her it was time to sleep. 

Again, Lila didn’t want to be bad. She didn’t want to get in trouble either, but she really, really just wanted to see you.

And you’d said it was okay to go downstairs if she needed you, right?

Lila closed her eyes while Miss Sarah was looking, but she waited until the teacher went into her office to answer a call. Then, Lila carefully put Charlie, her stuffed dog, against her pillow, tucking the blanket up to his neck. 

She crawled off her mat and snuck over to the door while Miss Sarah was distracted on her phone. Lila reached up and was just tall enough to twist the doorknob. It led her out of the room, and out into the empty hall. She then looked both ways for a clue on where to go. 

She heard a ding, and looked over at a nearby pair of elevators.

The mission went more or less according to plan. Slingshot’s abilities allowed him to stretch every part of his body like elastic. It not only made him hard to catch, but even harder to maim without collateral damage. 

A whole block in Chinatown was wrecked in the takedown, but your idea of ripping the cables from a nearby utility pole to electrocute him let Ben finally subdue the elastic supe. Kimiko knocked him out, and Butcher slapped some tight-ass cuffs on him and dragged him into the van. They returned with the rogue supe in custody. 

You were mentally exhausted from helping them track down routes to pin down Slingshot, but you were relieved to be done. You were also satisfied that another danger to society was neutralized, for now.

You took pride in your work, and you didn’t think Ben saw that, or thought it was important. You supposed that was what upset you the most about that fight with him.

Sometimes, you wondered if he would ever truly change.

You grabbed your purse and made sure to slip in your gun and taser. You left your office and greeted Frank, who had just finished making his rounds in the building with Loco’s team. Frank joined you on the way to the elevator.

“I meant to ask you, how’s Alana doing?” you asked. Alana was his daughter, who was now in college.

“She’s changed her major yet again,” he said wryly. “This time to philosophy.”

“Philosophy? That’s interesting. What does she want to do with that?” you asked.

“No fucking clue,” he replied, hitting the button for the first floor. “I just hope she gets bored and picks something practical. Like…teaching, or dentistry.”

You shot him a bemused look. “Dentistry?”

“As much money as I put into that girl’s braces, it’d be good for her to pay it forward,” Frank said, in a surly tone that reminded you of Ben. You had to laugh.

You and Frank exited the elevator and started down the hall.

You planned to touch base with Grace Mallory on the safety measures of Slingshot’s containment before he was put into custody. The idea was to house him in a prison cell that could actually hold him until he went through the legal process. 

But you’d only gotten halfway down the hall before the supe in question literally stretched past you on unnaturally long legs—in a blur of his white and blue supe suit. Your eyes widened on a gasp as you watched him head toward the elevator you’d just come off of. 

“Fuckin’ hell, we’ve got a runner!” Butcher shouted from down the hall. He along with Ben, M.M., Frenchie, Hughie, and Kimiko were rushing your way. 

It all happened so fast. 

You registered Frank shooting out a protective arm in front of you. You turned back to see the elevator doors had opened back up, and Slingshot rushed inside. He made eye contact with you.

Then his arms shot out like rubber bands. One of them knocked Frank into the far wall. You gasped and froze on reflex. 

Ben shouted your name; he was running towards you, getting closer. You were able to meet his wide eyes for a brief moment. He reached out for you, but those stretching arms closed around you first. You gasped when they slung you backwards.

You cried out in shock when your back met a surprisingly solid chest.

Meanwhile, Ben barreled the rest of the way down the hall as the elevators closed just short of his angrily furrowed face.

The stretched arms holding you were tight around your torso, making your grit your teeth as you tried to pull away. They twisted you around so you could face your captor. Or so he could see you.

His natural height was around Butcher’s—dark hair, blue eyes, angular features. He gave you what was probably meant to be a suave smile as those baby blues dragged down your body.

“Hey, baby. Nice heels,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“So that’s why they call you Slingshot,” you said, still a bit breathless. The elevator started to move. He’d chosen the top floor. “Where do you think you’re gonna go?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he snarked. “Anywhere but here. And you’re gonna help me.”

“How? Being a human shield?”

“For a start,” he smirked down at you. He backed up a step just to take another proper look at you, and he whistled lowly. He took your chin between his sweaty fingers, making you grimace when he stroked your cheek. 

“Down boy,” you said warily. “Trust me, you really don’t want to do this.”

This jackass hadn’t even realized you had a small, but noticeable baby bump.

“Why not, babe?” he grinned. “You’ve got the whole sexy librarian thing going on.” 

You heard a loud creaking sound outside the elevator doors. The compartment itself came to an abrupt stop, making the lights flicker. 

“What the fuck?” Slingshot muttered. His hold around you loosened. 

You had an idea of what just happened, with grim satisfaction. You also took advantage of his distraction and managed to slip a hand into your purse.

You pulled out your taser. Slingshot noticed and tried to grab you again, but the elevator somehow started to move in reverse, about a foot a time. It made both of you lose your balance and utter sounds of surprise.  

As soon as you regained your footing, you aimed the taser at the most sensitive place you could think of—the supe’s dick and balls.

His howls of pain were loud enough to reach Ben, Frank, and the rest of the team on the third floor. Ben’s face became edged with a smirk. 

He kept pulling the elevator cables down until the compartment’s doors were in reach. There he grabbed the doors and pulled them open with his bare hands, crunching metal under his fingers. The moment he saw you, the relief in your eyes, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out, into his arms. 

Slingshot was angry, though he managed to recover, rip off the taser’s metal prongs and wires, and evade Kimiko, M.M., and even Butcher when he slithered his way out of the elevator and around their guns. The bullets ricocheted off the walls, and off his body as they followed him down the hall.

Ben focused on you. He brushed his half-gloved hands over your shoulders and sides while he quickly looked you over. There was worry in his eyes, disguised as anger. You caught your breath and held a protective hand over your lower belly out of reflex. 

“You okay?” he said, but you were already nodding before he asked.

“I’m fine,” you replied. “Just get him. I’ll get Lila.” 

Ben nodded. He shot one last firm look at Frank, who was back at your side. Frank laid a hand on your shoulder as Ben took off down the hall to find Slingshot. 

“The stairs are safer at this point,” Frank said. 

“I would have to agree,” you said, steeling yourself with a breath. 

While you and Frank went downstairs to the second floor, you didn’t see the second elevator ding, its doors opening to your daughter, who ambled out alone. She looked one way down the hall, but hearing her father’s voice carrying down the opposite way, she started venturing in that direction.

If she couldn’t find you, then she’d find her dad. 

“What the hell do you mean you lost her?” you shouted at Sarah, the woman who was supposed to be looking after your daughter. “How do you lose a three-year-old at nap time? What kind of incompetent fuck are you?”

Yes, Ben had unfortunately rubbed off on you. 

Sarah was in tears by the time you were not even halfway done, but Frank calmed you down with another touch to your shoulder. You had tears of panic stinging in your eyes when you met his gaze, your mouth trembling.

“I just radioed in and put Loco and the rest of the security team on looking for Lila. She can’t have gotten far,” he said. 

“Come on! Keep up with me, old man,” Slingshot taunted at Ben. His super flexibility allowed him to keep several steps ahead, dodging any attempts to grab him and any weapons fired with easy dips and playful deflection. 

“When I get my hands on you, you flaccid fuck, you won’t know your ass from your ball sack,” Ben growled. 

But he crashed into the wall when he took a corner too hard trying to tackle the other supe. He picked himself up from the debris of crumbled wall and plaster, ignoring Kimiko’s offer of a helping hand. 

“Big fucking talk from the walking AARP commercial,” Slingshot snorted. He turned around and once again prepared to run. “Try not to shatter a hip, asshole!”

He took off down another bend in the hallway. Meanwhile, Ben shook himself off and joined the others in running after this cocksucker. Ben looked over at Butcher.

“What’s your fucking plan?” he grated out. 

Butcher seemed to have an idea growing in his mind. “What’d she do to him in that elevator?”

“Tased his dick, by the sound of it,” Ben replied. He knew what weapons you kept in your purse, and that you'd know better than to fire a gun in an enclosed elevator. Butcher snapped his fingers.

“Electricity. Bloody brilliant,” he said. He pointed at Hughie and grabbed Frenchie by the collar. “You, with me. I’ve got an idea. The rest of ya, get him pinned down.”

“Easier said than done, motherfucker,” M.M. grumbled. But he followed Ben and Kimiko to find their errant supe. 

Slingshot played a cocky game, but inside, there was fear. 

They’d caught him once, and now, this building was crawling with security, let alone the assholes chasing him.

He was panting for breath when he nearly ran straight into…a kid? 

She was wandering around, trying to open a locked door. He skidded to a stop in front of her, and she looked up at him wide-eyed. He tilted his head. She was a cute little thing with brown hair and green eyes. She wore a blouse with cartoon ducks on it over her jeans and sunshine-yellow shoes. 

“Hey, cutie. Where you going?” asked Slingshot. “Are you lost?”

“Looking for my mom,” she answered, a bit timidly. The supe gave her an easy smile; inside, he knew he’d just found his collateral, and his ticket out of here. 

“Okay. What’s your name?” he asked. 

“L…Lila,” she said. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said, with all due charm. He struck a pose, with his fists held up to his waist. “I can help you, Lila. I’m a superhero.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? Like Daddy?”

“Oh, yeah. Your dad and I are friends.” Never mind that he had no fucking clue who her daddy was. He offered her his hand. 

Now, Lila knew not to talk to strangers, but if he knew her dad… 

After a moment of reluctant indecision, she took his hand. Slingshot tapered a smirk into a more friendly smile. 

“Let’s go find him.”  

Ben was ahead of the pack, but he soon came to an abrupt stop with wider eyes. He finally found Slingshot, except he had Ben’s daughter by the hand. Slingshot wore a cocky grin as he took the child up into his arms. 

“Hey, guys. Who’s this little peanut belong to?” he asked. “Said she was looking for her daddy.” 

Ben’s breath turned to lead in his lungs. Lila’s eyes lit up with recognition when she saw him. 

“Daddy!”

Ben’s softer gaze shifted from her, hardening once it reached the other supe. 

“Let her go,” he growled lowly. 

Slingshot’s grin deepened incredulously as he laughed.

“Oh shit, she’s yours?” he exclaimed. “This’s just too fucking perfect.”

“Lila!” your shout came from behind Ben, and you stepped around M.M. and Kimiko.

Ben held out a hand to keep you at bay. He kept his eyes on Slingshot, but Ben heard your gasp. His stomach dipped, knowing your worry had to be reaching new heights as you took in the situation.

“Ben,” you uttered. 

“I’ve got this,” he said to you.

“You don’t got shit, old man,” Slingshot snapped. He shot you a smirk next. “She’s your bitch? Figures.”

“Just let her go,” you implored. You had tears brimming in your eyes. “We can negotiate your release if you promise to be more responsible.”

Ben shot you a glance then. He didn’t intend for this fucker to live, let alone walk the streets of New York again. But he supposed any bluff was worth it at this point.

Meanwhile, seeing the distress on her parents’ faces made Lila begin to break down into tears. She whined, pushing against the supe holding her, wanting to be let go. 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Slingshot cooed. “You’re just gonna take a little trip with me.”

“No!” a ragged shout tore from your throat when he took a few backward steps down the hall. 

Ben held you back from following him, all while he tensed with rage. M.M. and Kimiko were also poised to try and stop the supe. But Slingshot tightened his hold on Lila in warning.

“Back the fuck off,” he demanded. “Once I get to JFK and get my ass on a plane, maybe, maybe you see your daughter aga—”

He had to stop short, as he sensed something just outside of his peripheral vision.

It was Butcher, coming at him to swing a baseball bat at the supe’s head.

You screamed in protest, but Butcher was relying on the supe’s reflexes to dodge the bat. He wasn’t disappointed. Slingshot dodged. Though in his distraction, it gave Ben the opening he needed to step into his orbit and land a solid punch across Slingshot’s face.

It not only cracked his jaw, but also caught him off guard enough for his grip on the child to loosen. Ben grabbed his daughter and turned her away in a protective embrace.

Then Frenchie brought Slingshot down with the prongs of a massive taser clipping onto his nipples. He jolted and screamed—and went down hard on the tile floor. 

While Hughie and M.M. ushered in the rest of the security team to swarm in and take the supe into custody, you raced forward to Ben and Lila in tears.

Lila was also crying and clinging to Ben’s neck, shaking like a leaf.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he said quietly, so only she could hear. Lila whimpered and burrowed tighter against his neck.

Tears streamed down your face, but you tried to breathe through it. You rubbed her back and checked her over, making sure she wasn’t hurt. 

For Ben, the force of his relief was pounding in his ears. He briefly closed his eyes as he held his daughter closer. 

When he opened them again, he met your gaze. You couldn’t speak. All you could do was grab onto his wrist for support. He gave that to you, wrapping his free arm around your waist and pulling you into his side. 

“Frank,” he said. His voice was a sharp command. The other man was ready to carry out whatever Ben asked. He also looked relieved to see that Lila was all right.

“Pull the car around,” said Ben. Frank nodded, and went to do just that.

Ben turned to watch in satisfaction when Frenchie and M.M. hauled up a still twitching Slingshot. Butcher slapped a pair of electroshock handcuffs on him that would keep him better contained this time—courtesy of the S.A. armory. He nodded over at Ben, and the latter returned the gesture. 

You missed it all, as you were preoccupied with comforting your daughter.

“It’s okay, honey. We’re going home,” you gently whispered to Lila, who was still hiding her face in Ben’s neck. You shared a look with him, and he gave you a short nod. His hand moved to the small of your back, both protective and possessive as the three of you moved towards the garage exit. 

There Frank waited with the car that would take your family home.

You watched Ben with the beginning of tears brimming in your eyes. You managed to hold them at bay while he set Lila down in her bed. You’d just finished giving her a bath and helping her get into her pajamas after a quiet, somewhat tense dinner. 

Lila still seemed upset in her unusually quiet mood, which you knew was understandable. Ben sat at her bedside and soothed a hand over her head, brushing her cheek with his thumb. 

“You’ve had a crazy friggin’ day, huh?” he asked. Lila didn’t want to look at him, but he encouraged it with gentle fingers brushing her chin, teasing the tip of her nose. She hinted at a smile and finally met his eyes. He smiled back at her, if more reserved. But his expression turned serious again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. He could see it. She had been more or less fine throughout dinner, but now she’d turned quiet and withdrawn again. She only got like that when she was upset about something.

Lila toyed with the ear of her stuffed animal, Charlie. Frank had retrieved it for her from the daycare.

“Sorry I talked to strangers,” Lila mumbled.

You had to bite the inside of your lip so you wouldn’t cry. You came over to sit on the other side of her bed. You sniffed and shook your head, but Ben beat you to what you wanted to say. 

“You’re not in trouble, all right? We’re not mad,” he said. 

Lila’s lower lip wobbled. Ben sighed and picked her up, plopping her down in his lap. She hugged him as tight as she could and he held her back, warm and secure.  

“You know I’m always gonna be there to keep you safe. You never have to worry or be afraid,” he said. 

You carded your fingers through Lila’s hair so she knew you were there too. Usually, the roles were reversed, where you were doing the comforting and Ben was the solid support. Right now though, you just didn’t have the words. Not when guilt was eating you from the inside out.

Fortunately, your husband did have the words, after he heaved a sigh. 

“I might raise my voice, sometimes, but uh…you never have to be afraid of me either. Okay?” he said.

"Mhmm," Lila agreed.

You laid hand on Ben's arm, gently squeezing. He met your gaze, and knew what you were prodding with just that look in your eyes.

Briefly, he hesitated before he looked back down at his daughter.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he said.

Lila nodded against his chest. “It's okay.”

“Good,” he said, laying a kiss on her forehead. “All right, you ready to go to bed?”

She clung to him and made a sound of refusal. 

You were finally able to crack a smile. You leaned down by her ear. 

“You want Daddy to read you a story first?” you asked. 

Ben shot you a look at the way you volunteered him for that. He was tired and drained. 

But one hopeful, shiny look from his daughter, and he folded like a deck of cards.

Later, when Lila was asleep, you tucked her in one last time and Ben turned out the light. He kept the door cracked open, just in case she called for either one of you tonight.

Then, somehow, you and Ben ended up in the kitchen instead of the bedroom. As exhausted as both of you were, you needed this moment to decompress, with one of your old favorite pastimes…

He broke out the whiskey while you found an appropriate midnight snack, and then a seat with him at the breakfast bar. The two of you shared a companionable silence, as well as a large bag of sea salt and vinegar chips. 

That was sort of how you felt inside.

“Today can’t happen again,” Ben said, breaking the silence. 

You looked over at him, but he was looking beyond you. Maybe so he didn’t have to show you how deeply he’d been rattled. You knew him far too well for that. 

“Of course not,” you replied. And you released a sigh. “So here’s what I’m thinking. From now on I’ll work from home, so I can watch Lila until she goes to preschool.”

Ben got ready to argue, but you held up a hand. The other went to rest over your belly. You had scheduled an ultrasound with Dr. Tonya Baker tomorrow, just to make sure all was well after this ordeal.

“I already plan to take my maternity leave when this guy rolls into town,” you said with a smile. “Then, when I’m ready, and if it’s feasible, I can continue to work from home until all the kids are in school.”

Ben’s lips twitched humorlessly. He should’ve known you’d continue making this a negotiation. He set down his glass, and he reached out to slide a hand over yours, across your belly. He took in a deep breath. But when he let it go, you sensed you still hadn’t convinced him.

“Listen, I know you don’t want me to work—” you began.

“It’s not that,” he said. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said it. “It’s not.”

Despite yourself, you read the sincerity in his words. It had you pausing, waiting for him to continue.

“You know damn well…that just being around me is dangerous,” he said. “To you, and to Lila. But you being connected with Supe Affairs, working these missions, even from behind a desk, it’s a fucking risk. It’ll always be a risk.”

You considered that with new understanding. You took his hand with both of yours.

“Ben, this life, this work…it’s the same for me as it is for you. It’s all I know how to do. It’s what I’m wired for. So that’s why it’s hard for me to turn down that dial,” you explained. “But look, I understand what you’re saying. Believe me, I do. And today…today was…”

Your breath hitched as tears stung in your eyes. Ben shook his head and tugged you closer.

“Come ‘ere,” he said.

You left your chair to go to him. You stood between his long legs while he pulled you into a warm embrace. Logically, you knew that what happened today wasn’t your fault. However, part of you still felt like a failure of a mother for underestimating the risks of having your daughter at the S.A.  

You should’ve known better, you berated yourself. And yet, it was Ben’s words that stopped your train of thought.

“Today wasn't on you,” he said. "Get that thought outta your head."

He knew you well too, and this was one of those times. You wept harder against him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. He held you, comforted you until you began to calm down.

“Take your maternity leave early,” he said. His deep voice was a rumble. “You’re going to have your hands full with Lila when I’m not here. Unless we hire someone to help you.”

It was an idea you could consider, but who could you trust? That was the question. 

Maybe your mother? you thought. You knew she was thinking of retiring from her job in a couple of years anyway.

You sighed and slipped your fingers through Ben’s hair. Your hand came to rest on the back of his neck as you leaned against him.

When Lila came into your lives, you had been so excited to start a family that you hadn’t considered the non-physical side effects. Namely, the sacrifices you would have to make in order to keep your family safe. 

Before you met Ben, your job was your life. But today reminded you that your daughter…and your unborn son, were more important to you than your job. No matter how important that job might be for the rest of the world. 

“Let’s talk about this more tomorrow,” you said, shaking your head. “I can’t think anymore.”

After a beat of hesitation, he agreed with a nod. Like so many battles before, whatever compromise you and Ben finally reached would be hard won. His hand found your cheek and caressed your skin.

“You still try my fucking patience, you know that?” he muttered.

You smiled tiredly. “Did you really expect that to change?”

He scoffed. Even so, he guided you off his shoulder so that he could claim your lips. His kiss tasted like the burn of whiskey. You met his demanding lips in kind, though you were the first one to part from him slowly. 

“I love you,” you whispered a reminder. 

Ben nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead. He lingered there for a moment, as if he could pause the world for a while. 

He eventually let out a breath through his nose and allowed himself to be honest.

“I love you too,” he said.

With that shared understanding, he stood from his seat. He drained the last of his glass before he bent to gather you up into his arms. You yelped in surprise, clinging to his shoulders.

“Time for some rest,” Ben said. There was a certain smile on his face, gentler than usual.

He forged a path towards the bedroom. You sighed and laid your head against his chest. 

For once, you didn’t argue with him.  

AN: I've been wanting to put this one out for a while now. 💚💚 I so hope you enjoyed this chapter of the BMD verse! Do you like how their little family is evolving? 😘

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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Series Tag List (Part 1):

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[eriksdotter]

The Real MVP

[darunyama]

How are babies made?

[halbarryislife]

is this not what happened?

[devilsmaydare]

waiting for season 4...

[geminiwritten]

undercover ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

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

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

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

word count: 6496

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff, “Yeah? How?”

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

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

He scowls at you, “I can be subtle.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MM takes two envelopes and passes one to Kimiko.

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

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

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

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

“Brooklyn Williams,” you read aloud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit, Y/N.”

You blush, “Thanks.”

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

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

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

“Nice suspenders.”

He chuckles, “Are we ready?”

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

“Ready,” MM says beside you.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, “As I’ll ever be.”

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

‘I’m going to kill you.’

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

‘You’re welcome ;)’

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

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

“Yeah,” you mutter, “just nervous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m okay,” you reply, “thank you.”

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

The first spark of fear rattles up your spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head, “No.”

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle, “Maybe a little too convincing.”

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

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

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

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

You frown, “What is?”

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

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

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

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

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

He swallows thickly, “Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure.”

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

He smirks, “Good girl, so responsive.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Was that your mistress?” you tease.

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

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

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

His voice is almost a groan, “Never.”

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

“This old thing? Nah.”

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

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

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

‘We’re here to WORK, not fornicate.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Frenchie?” MM asks.

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

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

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

“Not a word,” Butcher mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

END.

[peach-coke]

➤ The Boys || Season 4 - Official Teaser Trailer

[morangirly]

has anyone noticed it?

[18-2024]

The Extremists

Reasonable M.M.s

Funny and Kindhearted Friends

The Softies

The Feral Pixie Dream Killers

The Sensible Heroics

[petit-hughie]

[vanshoundd]

The Boys in DUNE AU [3]

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: billy butcher, hughie campbell, frenchie, mothers milk, kimiko, and soldier boy

↳ warnings: canon type violence and happenstances. hinted to take place during season three at some points.

↳ notes: sorry butcher is in here so much. he's the kind of guy that can't shut the fuck up, so i feel like he's always getting in everyone business no matter what

↳ song: rock me like a hurricane—scorpions

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

• He has mixed feelings about you

• On one hand, you’re a great team player. Always making sure the job gets done, willing to put yourself on the line for the team, one of the most willing to kill a supe in a snap—second only to him—and always managing to make shit up on the fly whenever something inevitably goes wrong on a mission. Butcher has seen you fend off an entire team of armed Vought men before with nothing but a well timed lie and piece of pipe. That’s not something to scoff at, even if he does anyways

• But on the other hand, he has a feeling that you were just as much as an annoying shit as he acted sometimes

• “Sorry to say this guys—“ You said one night through the food in your mouth as Chinese takeout sat on a dirty table in front of you, curtesy of M.M and his pocketbook, “—but I think I’d betray you all for a fortune cookie. I’d betray my country for a fortune cookie.”

• "You say that like we ain’t already betrayin’ the cunts, sunshine.” Butcher eyed you from across the room as you nicked Frenchies own cookie from him while he was staring off at Kimiko for the tenth time that night

• “Too right, Butch.” You grinned like a shark at your idiotic nickname for him, and he ignored you as you did so; like he always did

• He definitely appreciates your enthusiasm behind his plans. Unlike Hughie or M.M, who despite working in the business of taking down supes seem to be hesitant about doing too much shit, you don’t seem to have a very strong moral code. That’s not necessarily a good thing in anyone’s eyes except for Butcher’s, who knows that he can always count on you to have his back in whatever situation he manages to squeeze himself into

• “Thanks for comin’.” He grunted at you while vomiting into a toilet, green bile spewing from his mouth. Butcher’s eyes burned with the urge to let out a laser beam, and he did so for a moment, splitting the porcelain throne we was leaning over in two

• “Want me to hold your hair back for you, honey?” You didn’t even miss a beat to start making fun of his situation, which made Butcher growl at you even from his current position. Despite your sarcastic demeanor in the moment, and the way he had just scorched an unexpected hole through the shitty bathroom, Butcher knew you’d help, no questions asked. And that’s exactly what you did, grabbing whatever he asked you to as he gave you a run down on the latest solo mission he had been attempting to get by with on his own

• “Jesus, poor Gunpowder huh?” You mused as you crossed your arms and leaned on the sink above him. For a moment Butcher thought you were granting the dead supe a bit of sympathy before he saw the glint in your eyes. “If the last thing I saw before I kicked it was your mug, I’d probably wanna get it over with yeah?”

• “Do me a favor. Go grab the toaster in the other room an’ take a nice bath with it, would ya?”

• “You first, Butcher.”

𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥

• The two of you are like peas in a pod. Two very weird, very cautious peas in a pod

• Even if Butcher is beside himself with annoyance at having another, as he put it, “soft cunt with a morality complex,” join the team, Hughie couldn’t be happier that someone seems to share his values on supes, on Vought; on the world, really

• In the first season or so, the two of you would probably spend a lot of time in between working with everyone else in the field to come up with a way to take Vought down the right way. Eventually,as we all know, that later falls apart, but it exhilarates Hughie to know that there’s people out there like him that want to try and put in the effort for things like that

• “Yeah, so if we can get one more witness about the Termite incident to come forward and testify—“ You bit your pen between your teeth and nodded as Hughie waved his hands over a stack of papers and talked at a million miles an hour, somehow understanding each and every word.

• “—then we could finally take a supe down legally. And that would make way for a whole round of others; Hughie you’re a genius.” You finished his sentence for him, slapping a hand down on the table with a grin as Hughie smiled. Somewhere in the distance someone snorted wryly, no doubt having heard the entire conversation. You had no doubt it was Butcher, but that didn’t matter to the either of you with how happy you were at the revelation. No matter how temporary it would turn out to be

• Hughie finds himself trusting you quite a bit. He can get attached pretty easily, so he finds himself willing to do anything to back you up—within reason of course. He still has some semblance of sanity left

• Listens to Billy Joel with you! Doesn’t matter if you all are coming back from a mission covered in blood—once it was whale guts—he will stick one earbud in and leave the other out for you as he presses play on a mix. More than once the others have found both of you passed out and snoring as the faint sound of Billy Joel plays through the headphones

• “Think we should wake them up, mon amie?” Frenchie tilts his head as he looks down on the both of you. Hughie chest rises and falls with a softness he couldn’t afford on the regular. You were positioned far away from him to have your back to him, somehow keeping your end of the earbud in as you drooled

• “Nah, let em sleep. God knows they need it.” M.M shook his head with crossed arms, the sight reminding him of better times

• “Oi! Stop ogling at the knackered sods and come help me with this, would ya?”

• “Fuck you, Butcher.” M.M said with a sigh, leaving the room to go and help anyway

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞

• He fucks with you so hard

• I mean, come on, someone that’s as excited about making bombs as he is? Someone that is willing to understand French? To shit talk everyone else to their face—especially Butcher?? He might have to marry you on the spot

• Please learn French. He will literally beg you to start. Conjugates, vocabulary, even a simple ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. Anything at all. Will absolutely not judge you for your horrific accent or pronunciation if you have any

• Bomb lessons on the side, too. If you already know the basics, or are a pro, it’ll be a lot more breezy, but he’s willing to start from scratch. It’ll be nice to have a partner to help him with his creations on the team for once, and even better since he likes you

• The two of you, and Kimiko obviously, are practically joined at the hip. What I said about the shit talking earlier was real, too. All of you use different languages or sign to voice whatever you’re thinking. It’s nice to be able to speak your mind freely, and there’s the added bonus of not having M.M give you that sharp look of his, or Butcher calling you names. Anymore than usual, that is

• “What do you reckon the three of ‘em are always on about?” Butcher took a swig from his drink. He was sitting next to Hughie with a beer on one of their down days as the younger man typed away on a computer. He was watching you Frenchie and Kimiko from across the room as you all signed at each other with giant smiles on your face. Frenchie would speak occasionally, but all that came out was his mother tongue, and your face would pause for a moment as you let your brain process what he was saying. Then all of you would break out into another round of grins, something that Butcher had to deadpan at

• “Probably planning a coup.” Hughie answered Butcher without even looking up from his screen. He knew who he was talking about anyways. It wasn’t hard to guess thanks, to the occasional loud exclamation from Frenchie as you signed something particularly risqué or funny

• Butcher flitted his eyes away in annoyance from you all after he recognized the word ‘cunt’ in the passing conversation, along with a sign that was clearly supposed to represent him

• “I think at this poin’ I’d prefer tha’.” He grumbled into his cup, and all of you laughed

• “Cheer up, Butcher. At least Frenchie isn’t teaching them how to make homemade cherry bombs again.”

• “Shut up.”

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐤

• Finally. Someone other than him can be the voice of reason in the group

• It’s tiring being the one to hold everyone together all of the time. It might help if Butcher wasn’t so much of an ass, or if Hughie didn’t feel the need to derail every plan with thoughts of his own, but M.M knew that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. So he’d take any help he could get with reigning everyone in

• Definitely bonds with you over your shared habit of wearing band t-shirts to meetups or hideouts. I’d like to imagine that at one point the both of you show up wearing the exact same one, and it goes exactly how one would expect

• “Same shirt.” M.M notices one morning, pointing at your torso with the initials N.W.A written over it. He’s smiling, and so are you as what he’s wearing in turn dawns on you

• “Same shirt!! Hell yeah.”

• Fist bumps. Fist bumps galore, man. The two of you fist bump a lot. To punctuate sentences, drive a point home, agree on stuff—anything. It’s your own way of communicating with each other without having to bat an eye

• It’ll take M.M a while, but eventually he’ll start to really open up about missing his family to you. Beyond just showing you pictures of his daughter at soccer practice, I mean. If he trusts you enough to have his back in a shoot out, then he trusts you with this

• At one point, it goes farther than his (regrettably ex) wife and daughter, and eventually branches out into what he’s willing to tell about his dad and brothers. You feel like you know all of them by the time he’s done, and that only makes the typewriter story hit harder when he finally decides to reveal it

• Let’s just say you were pretty willing to jump Soldier Boy on M.M’s half the first time you were left in a room with them

• “Just one swing I swear—“

• “He will literally beat you into a pulp.” M.M deadpanned, doing his best to avoid looking at the other imposing figure in the room as he clasped two hands on either of your shoulders

• “Listen to your friend, sweetheart. Would hate to have to scrub my hands clean of any of your blood. Getting under the fingernails is always hard.”

• “See what I mean, just one punch that’s all—“

• “No.”

𝐊𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐨

• It’s honestly great for her to be able to hang around someone that feels the same way that she does. Maybe it’s how silent you are that really draws her attention at first, but Kimiko really grows to appreciate you as a member of the team

• Probably gets a lot of joy from having a friend like you. She constantly asks to do things like have you watch movies with her or to do ‘sleepovers,’ which are really just the two of you crashing on the main room couch together

• She never got a chance at a normal childhood or friends, so you and Frenchie are the closest she gets to a peace of mind

• Not even a question about it, she’s making you learn her sign language

• Will stare at you for days on end, saying nothing but everything at the same time until you agree to learn. Once you do, it’s all over. She gets the biggest most happiest look anyone ever seen, and there’s no turning back from that

• “Kimiko, what are you doing. It’s two in the morning.” You groan at her from under the thin covers of your bed, doing your best to ignore her hands as they fly about. It’s the childish equivalent of ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’

• ‘No time to sleep. We have to go over stuff before the mission tomorrow. It will help us communicate.’ She was unnerved by your lack of enthusiasm. If anything it only spurred her on more, shaking your bed and pulling at your covers as you groaned. Even with the progress you had been making with signing over the past few weeks, your knowledge was still a bit shaky, and being half asleep didn’t help, so you only caught a few words. Enough to know what she wanted, however

• “Go away, Kimiko.” You whined. The shaking stopped, and for a moment you thought your request had worked. You were more than happy to fall back into whatever dream you had been having beforehand

• Then you heard the rushing of feet and a large weight slammed onto your legs

• “Goddamnit!—“

• Frenchie found the both of you the next morning; Kimiko looking bright eyed and bushy-tailed while you were practically falling asleep from where you sat. It was a teasing point for you over the next two weeks

• Between you, there’s moments like that where, despite Kimiko’s silence and your habit to keep your thoughts to yourself, nothing ever goes unseen or unsaid. The two of you know each other like the back of your hands, and sometimes you wonder if you’d even need her sign to communicate

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬: 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲

• If the saying ‘this town is only big enough for the both of us’ could apply here, it absolutely would

• It’s almost ironic how bad Soldier Boy handles another version of himself. You’ve got just as much snark and anger as him, and it pisses him the hell off. Constantly.

• Maybe it’s because you didn’t fan boy over him as soon as he flashed a few cheesy lines that keeps his disdain for you boiling, or that you didn’t keep your distance when he threatened to eradicate your entire bloodline if you didn’t stop running your mouth at him

• “Need help with that?” He cocks a brow at you one day, watching with poorly hidden annoyance as you struggle to tie a knot in your shoes for the fifth time in a minute. The offer isn’t serious, and even if it was, he has no doubt you wouldn’t hesitate to kick him in the face if he bent down to tie your shoe for you

• “Need help taking my dick down your throat?” You parroted back at him while raising your voice in a false-happy tone. Finally you get the shoestrings to cooperate, completely missing the way Soldier Boy glows in a harsh warning at your attitude

• “Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty.” Butcher calls from the room over, no doubt tired of the bickering between the two of you that had been nonstop for the past few days. “Let’s get a move on before one of you decides to claw the others bloody eyes out, yeah?”

• The fact that you’re not even a supe just ticks him off more. Only a few people have ever pushed his buttons like this, most of them being supes, and they always ended up being nothing but red paste in the next few minutes

• You make sure to point it out to him several times that you’re just acting like he always does, making sure to don a shit eating grin when he clenches his fist at your comment

• Please for the love of everything that’s holy tone it the fuck down. Some people may say that Soldier Boy has no self-control, but it sure is taking a whole lot of it not to kick you in the crotch as hard as possible

• “The feelings mutual.” You deadpan at him when he eventually shares that fantasy out loud. He knew full well that if you even so much as tried that, you’d end up with a broken ankle and your front pinned to the closest brick wall, but he had no doubts that you would go for it anyway

• Seriously. How has he not murdered you in your sleep yet

[obsessedwrhys]

Can we have a part 2 Deadpool reader with the boys and maybe soldier boy too❓❓ if you want to of course

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader's origin will be explained underneath, reader is still an asshole lol that comes with the character, mention about killing,death,gore, weed, drugs, Reader is gn!!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the seven, kiss kiss <3

Origin:

Quick summary, when you were born, your parents had agreed with Vought to have you be pumped full of Compound V so you could grow up and be a hero working under them, but the problem was when you were around 7, they changed their mind so Vought ended up sending several people to come to your house to settle the matter.

Your whole family was massacred in the living room during thanksgiving and when they tried to capture you. You were able to run away. Homeless and living on the street, you grew up in a life of crime, depending on nobody but yourself. Make sense? No? Good! Let's start now.

BUTCHER

To him, you were like a fly that won't leave him alone.

How he knew you was through Mallory, she thought you were okay and fit for the job since you hated Vought just as much.

Obviously he didn't like you once you were introduced to him and the two (M.M and Frenchie)

"No way am I lettin' a supe join us"

":("

Though after what happened to Mallory's grandchildren, the gang pretty much dispersed but wherever Butcher went, you followed. Since he was the only person you trusted... and also enjoy annoying the shit out of.

He'd head inside a club, relieved he hadn't seen you for the past few days so he decided to grab a drink by the bar to unwind.

"Whiskey" He said with his eyes looking around, paranoia shown on his face.

Once his drink was served, he would look back to find your eyes smiling at him, you were wearing a bartender disguise over your red suit.

"Did you miss me?"

"Oh christ..."

When you heard word that he was gathering back the team, you had to be there. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't?

Undoubtedly he had to admit, there were times where he was grateful to have you on the team but there were also other times he regretted it.

For example, that time when you guys needed to sneak into a lab to get something and the goal was to stay quiet but even that simple rule was hard for you to follow.

"Room's up ahead. (Y/N) I need you to—"

"Heads up!" You said as you threw a bomb at the metal door.

The explosion causing the alarm to turn on and it had the whole lab now on high alert. You shrug innocently when Butcher glared at you like he wanted to tear you apart.

Also, you enjoy constantly pissing him off. You can't die so you don't really care if he'll kill you for it.

"Maybe, if you didn' press the fuckin' button, we wouldn't have to come bac' to save yer ass from the guards"

"OOH GOD SAVE THE QUEEEN!! Please, cry me a fucking river. I got us the target didn't I?"

"He's dead"

"Well you weren't being specific when you said to capture him"

But it's fine, all his frustration will be solved once he uses you as bait. He knows you can't die but hey, it makes him feel slightly better watching you get shot at.

Despite your ups and downs, he appreciates you. When the team would turn against him on his insane journey for revenge, he always found you the only one still standing by his side. You're loyal and he likes that.

Compatibility? 75%

HUGHIE

You treat him like a child.

No seriously you baby talk him sometimes and it annoys him

"Awwwww is little hughie angry?"

"Stop..."

"Does baby want his milky?"

Since he's pretty much the only person who isn't that exposed to crime as the others, he's terrified 100% everytime when he's paired up to do any dirty work with you.

"Now listen buddy, you better start talking or I'm gonna shoot" You said, gun raised at the man who seemed to be begging you to spare his life in a language you didn't speak.

"I don't think he speaks English"

"Ah shit... ENGLISH!! SPEAK!! ABCDEFG??!"

"How is shouting in English gonna make him understand?"

"Eh, you're right"

BANG

"WHY'D YOU SHOOT HIM??!"

"Well did you expect me to pull out Duolingo and start taking classes?!"

You had to admit, it was a pain in the ass each time he starts giving you the cold shoulder whenever he gets mad at you for doing something terrible. It was like his way of guilt tripping you so you always try to apologise in your own ways.

"Hey..." You said, handing him ice cream.

"...I uh... I don’t like Strawberry ice cream... I thought I told you that"

"God you're so ungrateful!!"

Since he was such a scaredy cat, you try to tone down your craziness a bit. For the sake of him not going into cardiac arrest.

"(Y/N) STOP!! She has nothing to do with this!! She was tricked" Hughie grabbed you by the arm to pull your gun away from the innocent woman.

You turn your head to look at him, then at the woman, then at him again, then the woman, then him again.

"Ugh finnnne... you're boring..."

However, he does appreciate you trying to be a better person. Even you had to admit, after you met him and became friends. You noticed yourself being less brutal than you used to be. The thought keeps you awake at night and it scares the shit out of you.

But oh well, how could you ever say no to those scared little puppy eyes?

Compatibility? 55%

FRENCHIE

He's like your hype man which is concerning.

Not because you're not afraid to get the job done but also because you always have his back.

"Well... I need some gunpowder but I've run out of them" Frenchie said, telling Butcher that the plan was most likely not gonna happen.

"Hold on" You said with the typical comical ☝🏻 gesture before heading into a different room. Everyone exchanging confused glances at what you could possibly be doing.

After a few minutes you'd return with a bag of gunpowder while struggling to zip up your pants with the other hand.

"Don't tell me how I got it. It almost tore me apart" You said, rubbing your ass.

On stressful nights, you guys would enjoy smoking weed together by the sofa and share stories of your traumatic childhood. It's how you guys bond and it's oddly wholesome.

Also when he needs a shoulder to cry on, you were always there for him. You two shared a type of relationship that even Romeo and Juliet couldn't compete with. To be fair they're dead so they actually can't fight.

"Hey reader!! If you're gonna keep reading then you might as well give the post a like or a repost. C'mon, pleassssseeee pleasepleaseplease"

"Ma cerise, who are you talking to?"

Although he doesn't mind your behaviour sometimes but he won't tolerate it if you ever cross the line on something. He's like the owner who sprays water at his pet cat when they don't listen.

"What are you mad at me for?!?!"

"You damn near tried to get us killed!!"

"Hey! You're the one who said it would be a suicide mission so I made sure it was a suicide mission!!"

"WHAT?"

There's no way he can deny how curious he is about where you get your guns and things. He once went in your room to find boxes of dynamite and a RPG just placed against the wall like furniture.

Like do you have a supplier or are you your own supplier?

Compatibility? 99.9%

M.M

Everybody deserves second chances.

He always tells him that to calm himself down everytime you managed to fuck up a thoroughly planned mission.

"What did I say about pressing buttons (Y/N)?"

"Honestly I stopped paying attention after you said 'Listen here'."

M.M has to be the only person you fear to the fact you try very hard to avoid him, this is because his long ass lectures are such a pain to deal with.

"How many times do I have to remind you? You can't just go around doing shit like that. You gotta consider the amount of danger you'll put everyone in..."

"(Blah blah blah... he's still going... uggggh... make it stop...!)"

Unable to handle the lecture any longer, you ended up shooting yourself in the head.

"(Y/N)!" His tone more disappointed than concern since this wasn't the first time you did this to escape his talks.

You know that russian dollhouse he tries to build in season 2? Well you'd constantly be found standing or sitting near him when he's trying to finish the set.

Since you're aware of his OCD, you like to edge him on by sometimes rearranging the parts or stealing some of it so he ends up searching high and low for the missing parts.

You had to admit it was entertaining to watch him accuse other people for touching his stuff when it was you behind all the schemes.

I'd like to think that after every mission when you happen to die, he'd be the one in charge of collecting your remains so you'd grow back.

That's why it comes naturally that his job is to make sure you don't do anything extreme.

"Where are my bombs??!?!" You'd shout, storming around the place looking for them.

"I sold them. Thought it'd do us more good knowing you won’t accidentally blow us up"

"WHAT?! GOD! It's like the writers of the show couldn't afford another explosion for this season so they had to use this DUMB of an excuse!!"

Though he does see some good in you through the messed up parts, he once saw you give his daughter a cute teddy bear when they've been burned by Vought.

She still has the bear and M.M likes to think that maybe you have a soft spot for kids since you never had a proper childhood. That's why he chooses to understand you rather than just being ignorant about your behaviour.

Compatibility? 80%

KIMIKO

She finds you a little odd but she doesn't mind once she realises how everyone is used to you being like that.

Whenever you're bored, you'd come to see what she was up to. Just imagine you sitting on the sofa like a curious kid as you watch her write alphabets on the book.

She also tries to communicate with you since she thought maybe your fucked up mind would understand her better in a way. Like how in season 2 she was repeatedly writing 'boy' to Frenchie but he didn't understand, so she came to you.

"Woow... watching you try to talk to me is like watching a baby take it's first breath..."

"😐"

"It's beautiful..."

Turns out her theory was wrong, you had a harder time understanding her compared to the rest.

Since you're the only two people in the group with powers, most of the time you two are sent on dangerous missions together. It's a nightmare for her because everybody knows communication is key but one is mute and the other doesn't listen.

"(Be quiet! There's people in the other room!)" She'd sign to you but you were busy humming a song while throwing around the enemies equipment.

"Oooh, what's this?" You held up a Homelander figurine which made you laugh as you show it to her.

"Hey look! 'I'm Homelander, I'm God's favourite. I play golf with Jesus every Sunday."

"(Can you please take this seriously?)"

"You're right, you gotta stop messing around Kimiko! We have a target to kill here" You said and you threw the figurine away which apparently clashes into a stack of boxes that came crashing down. The sound making everyone inside the building grab their weapons and began cornering you two in the room.

"😡"

"Okay that wasn't me that was gravity"

For the boys, you were plan A and she was plan B. That's because you always end up rushing into a fight first which most of the time resulted in you getting dismembered, which she later comes in to save you.

For example when Stormfront had stopped you guys, your bright ass thought it was a good idea to charge at her even though everyone was signalling you to stop. Next thing you know you were just a head being carried by M.M, you ended up watching as Kimiko fought Stormfront with the help of Starlight and Queen Maeve.

"That's my girl!! Now can anyone lend me a hand? I think I lost mine"

Compatibility? 97%

Bonus +

SOLDIER BOY

You know the scene where he walks out of his containment with the gas surrounding him? You swore when you watched him step out butt naked, you could hear angels singing and trumpets playing inside your head.

Shockingly enough, he was the only person who appreciated your humour. Could be a generation thing. He's just relieved not everyone has gone soft over the years.

In a way, you feel like you've become his babysitter. Everytime Butcher and Hughie left to do some business, you were in charge of making sure he doesn't blow up anyone. You kept him entertained so he didn't mind. That's why on the hunt for his former team members, he immediately chose you to be by his side.

"I'll take red with me"

"Red as in the american flag or the russians?" You asked which had him do the typical boomer laugh.

"I like you, you're funny" He said with a strong pat on your shoulder.

Butcher doesn't mind you with him cause he trusts that you can keep him under control. Hughie on the other hand isn't sure if you can even keep yourself under control.

"Shhh... wait... do you hear that?"

"Ah shit, did I accidentally said my dirty thoughts out loud? It's just you look breedable in that suit"

Another thing he likes about you is that you're okay with killing pretty much anyone, just try not to overstep cause that could potentially piss him off.

"I told you he's mine" He said as he had you pinned against one of the trees, apparently you had shot Mindstorm in the head when he literally made it clear to you minutes ago that was his kill.

"Quite possessive aren't you? I can recommended a therapist I know. Her names Martha—"

"You shut your mouth before I shove my shield up your ass"

"Gasp don't you DARE threaten me with a good time!!"

At the end of Season 3, you would obviously side with Butcher when everyone started to turn against Soldier Boy. He had to admit he was kinda hurt though, he expected you to be on his side.

"So what? You're crawling back to him now? After what we've been through?"

"Sorry big daddy, but Butcher has been my day one and I also happen to love him veryvery much"

Cue Butcher rolling his eyes out of disgust.

Compatibility? 100% but after the betrayal? 0% 😔

[soldierboys]

THE BOYS | 3.08 - “The Instant White-Hot Wild”