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burntsaltsblog · 5 months ago

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hi hi!!

if you could write a billy butcher x reader about finding out that butcher is using temp v and the reader finds out that he could die.

orrrr

when billy comes out of mind readers trance, angst on lenny and his family, comforting him, him pushing the reader away but then needing to be comforted.

just a thought, i love your stories, thank yooou!!

hello!! thank u!! ur so kind <3 i wrote an imagine a little while back about the reader finding out about butcher taking temp v right here

thank u for ur request and i hope u like this little imagine i whipped up based on ur second request <3

tw: this story contains a retelling of abuse. pls don’t read if that may be triggering for u.

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"I'm not waking him up," declared Mindstorm once again. He was quite bold for someone so old, frail, and, most noticeably, naked.

"Alright then," I shrugged. "Say goodbye to one of your eyeballs." I strived forward, pocketknife outstretched, before Huhgie grasped my shoulder tightly, halting me in my tracks.

"Stop. There's no need for violence," Hughie said, trying to calm me down.

"Haven't you lived long enough in this world to realize that violence is the only way to get what you want?" I growled at him, tearing myself out of his hold. "You're not leaving until you wake up our friend," I continued, facing Mindstorm. "And I don't care how many fingers of yours I have to cut off in the process."

Mindstorm narrowed his eyes, and I quickly looked away so as not to meet the same fate that Butcher did mere hours ago.

"I'll teleport you. Anywhere you want to go," Hughie offered, and I sighed at his meek attempt to reason with the stubborn supe. "The options are endless. I can take you to fucking Anartica if you want, and then you'll be far, far away from Soldier Boy. All you have to do is wake up our friend first."

Mindtsorm studied Hughie, and I could see the cogs turning in his head as he pondered this proposition. "You haven't seen the inside of that guy's head like I have. He's real messed up."

"You're one to talk," I muttered, glaring indignantly on Butcher's behalf. Hughie promptly elbowed me in the ribs, signaling me to shut up, but I scowled at him as well. I was highly protective of Butcher, and this situation only intensified that. Hughie should be thankful I hadn't sunk my knife into Mindstorm's jugular for his little comment.

"Just think about it," Hughie said, his voice significantly quieter. "Wouldn't it be nice to live in a place where you wouldn't have to worry about Soldier Boy breathing down your neck?"

Mindstorm grumbled under his breath, reluctantly agreeing. "Fine. I'll wake him up. And then," he pointed to Hughie, "You're taking me to Jamaica."

"Yes, deal." Hughie nodded vigorously. "I heard Jamaica is lovely this time of year." He chuckled nervously, and I rolled my eyes before stomping over to Butcher's body, falling to my knees beside him.

I hyper-analyzed Mindstorm's every movement with narrowed eyes as he sunk to the forest floor and placed his hands on Butcher's temple. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, whispering unintelligible words.

Anxiety riddled my body as each silent second passed by. I laced my fingers through Butcher's lifeless ones and willed him to wake up. "C'mon, Butcher. Please wake up," I whispered as unwanted tears stung my eyes. Until now, I hadn't considered that Mindstorm might not be capable of waking him up. But I was wrenched from my worries when Butcher gasped loudly as his eyes flew open.

"Oh, thank fuck," I sighed, full of relief that was soon replaced with worry.

Butcher's pupils were blown as he frantically looked around the woods we were gathered in. His chest rose and fell unevenly, and panicked apologies fell from his chapped lips. "M'sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

"Sorry for what?" I asked, confused.

"S'all my fault," Butcher mumbled. "It's all my fuckin' fault. I killed him."

"What is your fault?"

But it was as if he didn't hear me. Butcher continued looking in every direction as if the trees held a secret he was searching for. "Butcher, look at me," I shook his shoulders gently. "Butcher, please."

Butcher's eyes finally landed on me, and I cupped his cheek, tracing the tense lines to soothe him. "There, we go," I praised softly. "Good job. Now, can you breathe for me? Give me a nice, deep breath, yeah?"

I inhaled slowly, showing him how to do it, and he mimicked my actions. "That's it." I smiled. "You doing ok?"

Something inside Butcher snapped, and his demeanor hardened as he forcefully shoved me away. "Get your bloody paws off me. M'fine," he grumbled, rising to his feet on shaky legs. Hughie immediately reached forward to help steady him, but Butcher slapped his hand away. "Oi, I said I'm fine; I don't need help from either of ya' cunts."

I was stunned as I watched Butcher walk several yards away before fishing a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and swiftly lighting one.

"Here," Hughie said, offering me his hand and helping me stand.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked lowly, continuing to eye Butcher from afar.

"His mind is just catching up to the present time. He'll be fine in a little while," Mindstorm interjected.

I looked at the supe, wanting to know more details about Butcher's recovery timeline, but saw that his attention was already on Hughie, regarding him expectantly. "You owe me a trip."

"Oh, right," Hughie replied before turning to me. "You stay here with Butcher while I take Mindstorm to Jamaica, ok? I'll be back as soon as I can."

I nodded wearily and watched Hughie and Mindstorm disappear with a resounding pop.

༺༻

"I'm worried about Butcher," I mumbled to Hughie as we perched on our motel bed together. "We haven't heard from him since we checked in hours ago. How do we know he's still in his room?"

"He has the same locator app on his phone like the rest of us. If he went somewhere, we'd know," Hughie replied, keeping his eyes trained on the cracked television displaying re-runs of old sitcoms.

I shook my head, rising to my feet. "I don't know. I have a bad feeling. I'm going to go check on him."

"Are you sure?" Hughie asked, glancing up at me as I headed for the door. "Butcher hasn't been in the best mood since waking up."

"And that's precisely why someone needs to check on him," I said, slipping on my boots and unlocking the door before pocketing the rusted motel key. "I'll be back in a minute." I looked back at Hughie, but he was distracted by Chandler Bing singing "I Will Survive" on the TV and giggling profusely.

I decided to leave him be and wordlessly slipped out of the door.

Butcher's room was next to ours, so the entire trip consisted of three and a half steps. I lightly knocked on his door and waited for him to grant me entrance, but that never came.

"Butcher? Are you in there?" I called through the door and strained my ears for an answer. But I heard nothing besides an ambulance that wailed on the highway behind the motel.

I sighed, biting my lip before I made the rash decision to try opening the door. To my surprise, the knob turned easily before the door swung open on hinges that squeaked in protest.

I peered inside as I hesitantly stepped over the threshold. "Butcher?" I tried again as I slowly roamed the room. The bed was still made, and the only proof that the room was inhabited was Butcher's overnight bag that he'd dropped on the floor by the door.

I was just considering leaving when I heard a small clamor from the attached bathroom, and I tiptoed over to peek through the cracked door. My breath caught in my throat at the scene before me, and I swiftly shoved open the door before falling to my knees beside Butcher's crumpled form.

"Jesus," I breathed as I closed my fingers around his chin, angling his head to better look at his face. His eyelids were drooped, and I was about to question him for his lethargic state when I spotted the empty bottle of whiskey that he clutched to his chest.

"Butcher, can you hear me?" I asked, tapping the side of his face, trying to revive him. He groaned, popping his lids and staring blankly into my face. His eyes were bloodshot, and he reeked of the alcohol he had ingested.

"Butcher," I prompted again. "How much did you have to drink? Please do not tell me you had the entire bottle in one night."

"Oops," he said, pursing his lips lazily.

I sat back on my heels as I cursed harshly. "Fuck, are you trying to die of alcohol poisoning?"

Butcher chuckled softly, running a hand down his face. "Don't worry 'bout me, love. It would take a lot more than a little bottle of booze to send me to God's front door."

I squinted at him as I deliberated about how to handle this situation. There was no way I could leave him here on the dirty bathroom floor. "Can you stand?" I asked, wanting to move him to the bed so he could lie down properly.

"As it so happens, m'quite comfy here. Why don't ya' come and join me?" Butcher drawled, holding his arms out unevenly and curling up the side of his mouth in a smirk.

"As delightful as that offer sounds, I'm not really in the mood to curl up on a floor that I'm fairly certain has about fifteen different STDs on it."

"Well, I’m all clean, doll, and that's the only thing ya' need to worry about."

"You know, I hate to break it to you, but you're a terrible flirt when you're drunk," I snorted. "Now, can you at least try to stand for me?"

Butcher huffed out gruffly. "Fine. But if I fall over on me arse, it's your fault."

"Fair enough."

I guided his arm around my shoulder and slowly stood with him. He was a little wobbly at first, but after gathering his bearings, we shuffled out of the bathroom and into the bedroom with my assistance. Butcher collapsed on the bed before gazing around, puzzled. "Where's me whiskey?"

"You drank it, remember?" I snickered, gesturing to his disheveled appearance. "That's how you ended up like this."

"Huh."

I sat on the edge of the bed and cautiously ran my fingers through Butcher's dark, tangled hair, pulling it back from where it had stuck to his forehead, slick with a light sheen of sweat. At first, I thought he might push me away as he did earlier today, but to my surprise, he closed his eyes, and a slight sound of contentment vibrated in his throat.

"S'nice."

A smile played at the edge of my lips, and I kept repeating the action, watching the tension that the whiskey couldn't remove from his body dissipate. I thought Butcher had fallen asleep when he whispered almost too quietly for me to hear. "You're too good for me. All of ya'"

"That's not true, and you know it," I replied immediately.

"But I'm a bleedin’ murderer," he said louder as he opened his eyes, and my heart clenched when I saw he had tears in them.

"Butcher, we've all killed people. You're no worse than I am. Or Frenchie or MM."

Butcher shook his head adamantly. "No. I killed him, an innocent fuckin' person."

"Who?" I pressed, wanting to understand the source of his pain. "Who did you kill?"

"The one person I was supposed to protect." Butcher's voice broke, and he coughed weakly. "I shoulda been there to protect him, but instead, I fuckin’ killed him when he needed me the most."

Even in the midst of my confusion, I didn't cease stroking Butcher's head, wanting and needing to console him in any way possible. "I'm sure it was an accident. You're not a killer, Billy. And there's nothing in you that would ever convince me otherwise."

"Ya' don't understand," he croaked, looking up at me with sad, hazel eyes. My throat tightened, and I swallowed harshly to clear my emotions. Seeing Butcher so tormented clawed at my heart, especially when I didn't know how to help him.

"Then explain it to me," I plead softly.

Butcher looked unsure, and his unease was palpable. "I've never told anybody before," he admitted lowly.

"You don't have to tell me. But, Butcher, it might help to talk about it." I paused briefly as I carefully chose my following words. "Does this guilt you're feeling have anything to do with what Mindstorm did to you today?"

Butcher nodded, closing his eyes. "It's the one thing from me past that I've tried to outrun. But today, it finally caught up to me."

I was quiet as I watched the internal battle rage within Butcher. After several deliberary minutes, he omitted a sigh and began to tell his darkest tail.

"I had just turned eighteen. I'd been counting down the days until my birthday when I'd be a legal adult and could get the fuck outta my mum and dad's house. My old man...he was a fuckin' cunt. His temper was uncontrollable, and he loved to take it out on my younger brother, Lenny, and me."

Lenny.

I had heard a bit about Lenny from Butcher's aunt last year, right before her house blew up, but I never got any details. All I knew was that he had committed suicide as a child. It was tragic and involved a sort of heartbreak that I couldn't even comprehend, so I never asked Butcher about it.

"I tried to take the brunt of my dad’s shite to shield Lenny, but I was a kid, so there wasn't much I could do. There were times when little Lenny would be so hurt-" Butcher's voice wavered, cutting off the ending of his sentence, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he composed himself before continuing. "Our mum never hit us, but she never tried to protect us either. That twat of a woman never lifted a fuckin' finger as she listened to us scream."

Butcher's eyes drifted behind me as he recalled the painful memories. "I couldn't fuckin' take it anymore. I decided that on my eighteenth birthday, I'd run away to join the army. The idea of being shot at was worlds betta' than living under the roof of my piss-poor excuse of a father. But I couldn't take Len with me." Butcher paused, hesitating. "Even after he begged me to."

"Our father was awful to him," Butcher said, meeting my gaze, and I saw fresh tears well in his eyes. But he couldn't suppress them this time, and they ran down his face, wetting his cheeks. "He beat Lenny far worse than he ever did me. I think he was bitter that I'd been able to escape, and hurting me little brother was his act of revenge."

"I'm so sorry, Butcher," I mumbled, knowing that my apology did nothing to ease his pain.

"After six months, the army gave me a short leave of absence, and I used it to visit Lenny." Butcher's tears increased as his voice grew strained. "He looked terrible. He'd lost so much weight and was covered in bruises, so he didn't even look like the same person."

I softly dragged a finger under each of Butcher's eyes, wiping away his tears, but every tear I collected was quickly replaced with a new one. Carefully, I urged Butcher closer so his head could rest in my lap. I resumed running my hand through his hair, hoping it would have the same calming effect on him that it did before.

"He blamed me for our father's behavior," Butcher continued. "He said that I had abandoned him when he needed me the most. He said he couldn't fuckin' bear it anymore, and he'd rather be dead than be beaten every night by the one person who was supposed to love him more than anything."

Butcher closed his eyes and breathed shakily through his nose as he uttered the tragic ending of the story.

"And then he pulled out a gun and shot himself."

His words hung in the air and settled over us, blanketing Butcher and me in a morbid and melancholy feeling.

"And it was all my fault."

I was startled by Butcher's accusation of himself. "What are you talking about? It was your father's doing. You weren't the one beating Lenny halfway to hell every night."

Butcher looked up at me, slowly shaking his head. His eyes were puffy as they continued to dispel tears of his anguish. "If I hadn't left, Lenny woulda been safer, and he wouldn't've been driven to suicide. I practically signed my brother's death certificate."

"Butcher-"

"If I had just stayed, then my father wouldn't have-"

"Butcher-"

"So it's my fuckin’ fault that-"

"Butcher! Your brother's death was not your fault, do you hear me?"

I hauled Butcher up from my lap and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to look at me. "How dare you try to take responsibility for the actions of a fucking monster. You are a good person, Billy. And I will spend every day telling you if that's what it takes for you to believe me because I can't bear to sit back and watch you punish yourself for a crime that you did not commit."

Butcher looked stunned by my outburst as he opened and closed his mouth without dispelling any words. I had never seen Billy Butcher speechless, but I assumed it looked like this.

"You're one of the best people I know," I continued, wanting to finish everything I had to say. "And I'm going to personally hunt down Mindstorm and rip his stupid, little shrimp dick off and shove it down his throat for forcing you to relive something so horrific. And then I'm going to cut his toes off and- what?"

Butcher had lowered his head, and his shoulders shook ever so slightly as he chuckled.

"Oh, you think I'm bluffing? Hughie dropped him off in Jamacia, so all I have to do is get on a plane and- seriously, Butcher, what are you laughing at?" I asked incredulously. How on earth could he laugh at a time like this?

Butcher raised his head, regarding me softly as his laughter died down. "No one has ever protected me like you do."

His profession took me aback, and I raised a brow, needing him to elaborate.

"Hughie said ya' almost carved Mindstorm's eye out after he put me to sleep."

"And I would've carved out both eyes if he didn't stop me. Buzzkill."

A smile played on the edge of his mouth as he shook his head back and forth. "You're something else, ya' know that?"

I bit my lip as I looked down, but Butcher grasped the side of my jaw so it'd meet his eyes again. "Why do you do it?" he whispered.

"Do what?"

"Take care of me. Anyone else on the team woulda let me drown in me whiskey on that bathroom floor, but not you. Why?"

I swallowed audibly as I stuttered. "I, uh, just thought it was the right thing to do."

"No, s'not it," Butcher murmured, raking his teeth over his bottom lip. "There's more to it. I don't believe you spent your whole evening consoling the broken mind of your boss because ya' thought it was the right thing to do."

When I didn't reply, Butcher sighed, leaning his forehead against mine and closing his eyes. "Why are ya' so hellbent on convincing me that I'm not a fuck up like I know I am."

"Because I care about you. More than I probably should."

Butcher pulled back, searching my face for any hint that I may be joking, but when he saw nothing but the raw truth, he nodded. "C'mere."

He drew me close before pulling me down on the bed till I was curled up on my side, and he was directly behind me with his chest up against my back. Butcher slung an arm over my waist as he nuzzled his nose in my neck, breathing me in.

"Stay for the night, please. I don't wanna be alone."

I reached for his hand, which rested on my stomach, and intertwined our fingers. "I'm never leaving you."

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i hope u liked it!! i'm accepting more requests right now, so pls send one in if you'd like!!

-xoxo

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