#silly billy awards | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inkmonster21 · 7 months ago

Text

Pop Star Princess

Billy Butcher x Pop Star fem!reader

I was inspired by this post 🤣

Frenchie zips up his bag quickly. “I can give her a call. She may say yes.” Butcher rolls his eyes as he stuffs his belongings into the small duffel. Once again their safe house wasn’t so safe anymore. “Yeah? You do whatever you want, Frenchie, but don’t expect me to be welcomed,” Butcher says in a snappy tone. And so Frenchie did. He called you up, surprised as the line picked up on the second ring. “Frenchie?” Your voice carried out the line. “I need a favor.” Of course, you agreed. “Butcher has to come with me,” Frenchie says biting his teeth together. You sigh, and after a moment you speak, “Have him meet me tonight.”

Butcher couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous to meet up with someone. He watches you on their bench, for a moment he’s planning what to say, but his mind goes blank when he makes eye contact, his eyes briefly widening.

“You came.” He simply states, almost surprised you hadn’t blown him off.

The rush of feeling came but so did the heartache. Billy Butcher broke your heart once. You won’t let him do it again. “I’m doing it for Frenchie. Not you.”

He nods, he couldn’t blame you. This wasn’t the first bridge he burned - and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. He could tell you were holding back, he wasn’t blind.

“I understand.” He said, in response to your statement. “I’m aware I can be a difficult bastard.”

You scoff, no sign of a grin, “That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s the truth, you have to admit.” He replies, a smirk appearing on his lips.

He wanted to ask why you had agreed to help them; the question lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t dare ask it.

“I’ll text Frenchie the address. You can show up tonight. I’ll have someone let you in.”

He nods, hands still in his pockets, he doesn’t say anything for a moment, he can feel the air almost getting tense - it made him feel uncomfortable, he wasn’t used to that.

“Thank you.” He says, and he means it. Deep down he knows there are only a few people who even would’ve considered to help him.

The ache in your chest returns. “Don’t go thanking me yet. Just don’t be late.” You say and promptly exit to return home and prepare for their arrival.

The boys show up at the house. More like a mansion. The gate opens allowing them in. It was a big and ostentatious house, the kind that screams “more money than sense” kind of house. But Butcher had to admit, it was impressive.

Once Butcher, Hughie, and Frenchie are all inside, Butcher looks to Frenchie. “Who owns this lot?” Butcher asks, taking in the surroundings, not taking his eyes off the interior of the house, as he walks further in.

The walls are littered with large photos of yourself, several albums framed on the walls. Frenchie smirks, “she does.”

As they walk further into what Butcher assumed was the living room, he can see how well off you are. Things had definitely changed since you two last saw each other. His eyes stop on one of the photos and his eyebrows rise slightly.

"You can't be serious." He mutters, his eyes on one of the pictures.

He stands there, somewhat in disbelief, he couldn't help but feel impressed. He assumed Frenchie was pulling his leg, that had been joking when he had said it.

"Damn." He mutters, staring at the gold records on the wall. She had really done it. That snide joke from years ago. The silly threat. She actually wrote songs about him and they went fucking platinum.

Hughie reads the name over again on the records. “Holy shit. We’re in a fucking pop stars house.”

"Yeah, I noticed that, thanks." A sarcastic tone in his voice as he glances at Hughie, before turning his attention back to the awards. "Never would have pegged you on being a pop star fan."

You finally walk down the stairs to greet them. “Wow, you actually made it on time.”

Butcher’s eyes dart to you as you descend the stairs, the sound of your shoe heels echoing through the house. His eyes look you up and down, taking in the new look.

"Look at you. Who would've thought, huh?" He smirks, as the two of you stop at the bottom of the stairs. You look up at the various awards and posters. “Well, I did tell you I would.” He smirks at the response, leaning with one hand resting in his pocket.

"Never believed ya." He say, his eyes scanning across all the awards and photos for a moment. "You really did it, princess."

You nod with a bitter smile. “And all I had to do was write about some asshole.”

He can feel the passive aggressiveness in your voice. As the words leave their mouth, his smirks. "Guess that makes me lucky then, huh?" He replies.

Hughie stops, “wait, your songs are about him?” He asks in shock. You shake your head “Not all of them. Only the sad ones.”

Butcher raises an eyebrow at that, “so most of them?” The smirk was still in place, yet somehow he felt a pang of guilt deep down - one he refused to acknowledge.

You show them each to their rooms. Butcher is the last in line. He follows you, hands in his pockets, taking in the surroundings as best he can. The house was big, and he wondered how much money the place had cost.

Once he stands in front of the door to his room, he stops. For a moment he doesn’t know what to say or what to do. Part of him wanted to ask you a hundred questions, and another part of him wanted to just walk in and go to bed.

You didn’t give him time to pick. You promptly walked off. “Goodnight Billy. “ He let you walk away, watching you disappear to your own room. “Goodnight, princess.” He mutters as he goes into the room. He lay awake in the bed, He knew he had hurt you, but he hadn’t known just how badly.

In the morning the smell of freshly brewed coffee and breakfast hit the team's nose. They started to file down one by one. Seeing their host dancing and singing while making their food. Hughie was singing along being the super fan he is.

Butcher is the last to get up, and he takes a few minutes to himself to get ready before he finally makes his way down the stairs. He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the frame as he watches the scene before him.

Hughie sat there, singing along with a huge grin on his face, while you danced and made breakfast. It’s a weird sight, and for a moment he wants to make a sarcastic comment, but he keeps his mouth shut. It’s still too early for that.

As Butcher stands there, he can feel Frenchie’s eyes on him. He knew Frenchie wasn’t as blind, but Frenchie stayed quiet, not saying a word, he just watched.

You laugh as Hughie dances to the music. You fill up everyone a plate of food. Even Butcher. You pass it to him quickly. Trying to avoid any contact. As he takes the plate, your fingers brush briefly against his. You tried not to react, or even notice it, but he couldn’t help the way your stomach tightened.

He couldn’t help but notice the way you quickly moved your hands away afterward. He sat at the table, Hughie’s cheerful voice filling the room, he was like a little kid meeting their favorite celebrity. It almost made him chuckle. Almost. Except he can’t help but notice the way you refuse to look at him.

“I’ve got a show Tuesday night. You can all come. Stay backstage. No one will notice you there.” You share the idea with them as they all eat.

There’s a momentary pause in the conversation, as you mention the show. Hughie immediately grins in excitement at the invitation, while Frenchie looks interested - although he keeps his poker face. Butcher doesn’t respond at first, he just keeps his eyes on his plate for a few seconds.

“You sure that’s a good idea, princess?” He inquires, in a sarcastic tone. You look at him from over the table, “By all means, if you want to miss out on a fun time that’s your loss. Might be good to take the stick out of your ass for a few hours.” You grumble as you stab your eggs.

His mouth tugged into a smirk, “Oh, I’ll be there, I ain’t missing an opportunity to see the spoiled pop star in action.” He replies, in a mocking tone.

Later in the evening when the boys were alone Hughie breaks open the subject. “How the hell do you know her?“

Butcher knew the question would come, but it didn’t stop him from feeling uncomfortable. He leans back against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling as he lets out a deep sigh, trying to come up with the right words to explain.

“We were friends.” He simply says, trying to keep his answer as vague as he could.

Frenchie scoffs at the words. “Friends? No, no, Friends don’t do what you two did, yes?” He looks over to Frenchie briefly.

“You know what I meant.” He mutters, shifting uncomfortably. “And it’s not like it’s all my fault.” He adds, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. He could’ve done a lot differently, but he’d been so damn stubborn.

Hughie nods, “There’s more than that!” He could tell he wasn’t going to drop it now they’d started, he had to give them some sort of explanation.

“Frenchie brought her in on a job years ago. We had… an on-and-off thing. Wasn’t serious, just casual, just having a bit of fun.” He tries to explain, his voice somewhat strained.

Hughie looks at Butcher with wide eyes. “Casual… That song is about you!”

He looked over to Hughie for several seconds, he knew exactly what song he meant. “Never heard of it.” He replies, his voice somewhat bitter and strained, he’d listen to the song one too many times since he’d found out. He wanted to be angry at you for writing it, but the more times he listened to it, the more he felt the lyrics were the truth.

“Holy shit!” Hughie laughs in revelation. Butcher rolls his eyes in response to Hughie’s loud outburst. “Jesus, calm down. It wasn’t a big deal.” He mutters.

Frenchie looks over to him with a knowing expression. “Not that big a deal, huh?”

You were more than friends, more than just a casual hook-up, but Butcher would never admit that. He shifts uncomfortably, trying to shake the thoughts running through his mind. He tries to play it off as if it were all just a good time, but he can’t convince himself, let alone the other two to sit beside him.

“Like I said, we was just friends.” He repeats, his voice lacking more and more confidence with each word.

Hughie and Frenchie share a look of doubt.

He looks over at them, seeing the looks they exchange between them. He could tell they both thought him to be talking bullshit.

He let out an irritated sigh, it made him feel even more frustrated with himself.

“You don’t believe me?” He asks, tone slightly strained.

Hughie shakes his head with a smirk “You don’t write a song like that over just some hook-up.”

The comment makes his expression shift, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing slightly. “People write songs about anything and everything these days.”

He knew it was a weak excuse, but the thought of admitting just how deep it had been sent him into an immediate defensive mode.

A knock comes at the door and you peek your head in. “Hi. Just wanted to see if anyone wanted to go to the studio with me. I’ve got to record.”

They all turn to look at the door, as you appear behind it. Butcher’s head tilts curiously at the appearance, his eyes falling over you as he feels a strange twisting feeling in his stomach.

He glances at the other two in silent question, before looking back over to them.

“How big is this studio?”

You shrug, “it’s not huge. It’s got a couch though.” Butcher lets out a low hum as if contemplating it for a moment before he finally stands.

“I’ll go.” He gives the others a look, as if silently challenging them to stop him.

You stop with wide eyes. “You?” You look at the other boys with curious eyes. He smirked, slightly amused by the surprised yet questioning tone you had.

“Yeah, me. That an issue, princess?”

You shake your head, “Nope.”

He grins, “Good.” He glances back to Hughie and Frenchie, who are watching the exchange intently.

“I’ll be back in a while.” He mutters to them before looking back to them. “Lead the way.”

As you enter the studio, Butcher follows along behind them and the atmosphere instantly switches. He notices the producer sitting at a desk facing a large window, and other workers moving around, setting up for the recording session.

He feels a little out of place, but he keeps his face emotionless, observing the people around him with a neutral yet intimidating expression.

“Hi, Mark.” You toss your bag on the couch and relax, waiting for the crew to finish

Butcher continues to stand near the door for a few moments, taking in the environment, before he finally moves to sit down on the sofa near you, legs almost brushing. He keeps his eyes locked on you, not able to bring himself to look away. “Who’s this?” Mark asks with a friendly smile.

He meets Mark’s gaze, his mouth curving into a small smile. “Billy Butcher.” He replies in a friendly yet cold tone. He could tell the man was a typical, smiley record business douche. But for your sake, he forced a polite demeanor. You wave your hand at him trying to dismiss the subject. “Just a friend.”

Mark’s smile turns more intrigued as his eyes move between the two of you. He can’t help but feel slightly annoyed by the look he’s giving.

“Just friend, hmm?” He mutters, a hint of skepticism in his tone.

You roll your eyes but don’t push it. Mark knew much about Billy. Knew he was the main inspiration for your career of sobbing songs

Butcher shifted on the couch, trying to act at ease as he settled into his seat, his eyes lingering on you for a few seconds before darting back around the room.

Mark smiles, looking somewhat amused as he nods his head in agreement. “Everything is set up. I’ll be out in the booth if you need me.” He replies, before disappearing through a door in the back of the studio.

You turn to Billy with a flat expression. “Don’t make any loud noises or touch anything.” He rolls his eyes in response to the instructions, a small smirk on his face.

“And what if I do?” He inquires, in a somewhat mocking tone. You roll your eyes as you stand. “You’re so infuriating.” He grins, enjoying how easy it was to get under your skin.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? Can’t handle me sitting here quietly?” He replies, leaning back against the couch leisurely. “I was hoping your friend Hughie would have come. He’d be much more fun than you.”

He scoffs at the comment, his face falling into a frown.

“Oh, what? Cause he’d behave and play nice, like a proper little puppy?” He retorts, in a somewhat bitter tone. “We both know you get bored easily.”

You move to the microphone and headset putting it on. Trying to block Billy out of your mind. He lets out a low, amused hum as you move over to the microphone, ignoring his antagonism. He leans back on the couch, crossing his arms and settling in to watch. As I sing Billy moves around the room. You send him a glare but he just shrugs innocently.

He stands near the back of the room, in the shadows as he listens to the lyrics, feeling his chest tighten as he recognizes the specific words. Had she remembered every single word he ever said to you?

He looks over at you, his gaze lingering on you, watching the emotions on your face and your hands gripping the microphone.

He continues to look over at you intently as you continue to sing. He’s completely transfixed by you, he can’t bring himself to look away, despite his mind wanting him to.

He felt his heart start to pound against his chest, the lyrics bringing up memories that he’d tried so hard to push to the back of his mind. He clenched his jaw, as he felt the emotion build up.

He felt angry at himself, for how deep the connection had been, and letting you in as much as he had.

You sing the last lines, eyes closed, completely taken. You look back to Mark. “Good?” Mark gives you an approving smile, clearly pleased with the recording.

“Good. Nice job kid.” He nods his head in approval, glancing from you to Billy, noticing the look on his face. “I think we should do that one at the show tomorrow.” Mark looks back over to you, before nodding his head in agreement.

“Yeah, it sounded nice. Fits the set well.” He replies, the corner of his mouth turning up in a slight smile, his gaze flickering over to Billy for a brief moment before turning back to you.

“Something on your mind, Butcher?” You smirk

His eyes flick back to you, and he finds himself unable to look away again. He swallows dryly, before forcing a snarky smirk in reply.

“Just thinking how much of a brat you are.” He replies, in a somewhat teasing tone. “A million-dollar brat.”

He scoffs at the response, a small huff of laughter escaping his mouth.

“A million-dollar brat that needs to learn some manners.” He counters, raising his eyebrow and staring at you with an impassive expression.

You shake at him, a fake sense of fear on your face. “Oh no, I’m so scared.”

He lets out a low laugh, noticing the feigned fear on your face. He moves closer to you, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Watch that mouth of yours, princess. Might come back to bite you in the ass.” He mutters, his tone becoming slightly more serious.

“I’d love to see you fucking try.”

He smirks, amused by the challenge. He takes another step closer, his face only a few inches away from yours.

“You really wanna test me?” He asks, in an almost mocking tone, daring you to continue baiting him.

“I don’t think you can handle it.”

He snorts, letting out a low laugh. He slowly reaches out, one hand moving to rest on your hip, as he moves even closer. He’s so close now, that he could just lean forward and reach your face with his.

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as he speaks. “Sweetheart. I can handle a lot more than you realize.”

You look him up and down with a smirk, “Butcher, you don’t have what it takes to be with a girl like me.” He tilts his head slightly, looking down at you with an amused smirk on his face. He gently tightens his hold on your hip, his fingers gripping slightly.

“Oh, I don’t?” He replies, in a somewhat mocking tone. “And what makes you think I’d even want to be with a spoiled little princess like you?”

You walk your fingers up his toned chest. “That fucking look in your eyes.” You giggle “You miss me and you know it.” He lets out a low hum, his chest rising slowly with his sharp exhale as your fingers slide up his chest. He can feel his pulse quicken as he feels your cold touch against his skin.

He doesn’t respond to your statement, but his expression falters as you mention him missing you. He tries to keep his face neutral, but he knows that you can see the truth. He leans closer, now his face only a few millimeters from yours.

“I’d be crazy not to, princess.”

His words hit me. His eyes telling the truth. He did miss you. He watches intently as the words hit you, his eyes roaming over your face and reading your expression.

He tightens his hold on your hip, pulling you even closer until you’re practically pressed against him. He’s so close now, his eyes lingering on their face for a moment before slowly moving down to your lips.

“Billy.”

He feels a shiver run down his spine as he hears the sound of his name, his eyes still lingering on your lips.

His hand slowly moves up from your hip, his fingers moving gently up your body until he’s cupped your cheek in his hand. He can feel the heat from your skin, and he lets out a shaky exhale as his thoughts spiral.

“Um, hello? You two.” Mark laughs from the sound room. Butcher lets out a low huff, taking a second to process Mark's interruption. He reluctantly pulls his gaze away from you, tearing his eyes from your face and instead looking over to Mark.

“Hate to do it to you bud, but she’s got some more work to do,” Mark smirks at Billy. He glares slightly at Mark, a frustrated frown appearing on his face. He knows that this is the truth and that you still have more work to do.

Butcher gets a call from Hughie saying they found some hit on V being transferred. Billy reluctantly agreed to meet them at your house.

You look up, the tension still there. sharp as a knife. “you can take the car. I’ll catch a ride.” He hesitates for a moment, conflicted. He wants to stay with you, but he knows he has a job to do.

“Yeah… okay.” He replies, reluctantly. He doesn’t want to leave, but he knows that he has no choice if he wants to do his job.

Billy watches as Mark exits the studio with a notebook in hand, a look of irritation flickering across his face. He’s already getting tired of the guy, his smirk annoying him. He turns back to you, his expression unreadable. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” He mutters, his voice a little gruff.

You nod pushing a small smile. You had to pull your eyes away from him. You were fucked and you knew it. Billy was burrowing himself into your heart once more and you could not stop it.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on your face. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find the words.

He holds back the urge to grab you and pull you close against him once more. Instead, he lets out a huff of air, before reluctantly turning and walking out of the studio.

You got home late. Tiredness wept from your bones. You begin to make tea, attempting to soothe your throat. As you’re making the tea, the sound of the front door opening interrupts the silence of the house, Billy enters.

He takes in the sight of you, standing in the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything, he just stands there silently watching you for a few moments, drinking in the sight of you.

“Hi,” you say surprised to see he’s still awake. He watches as you look back at him. He lets out a low hum in response, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Hey.” He mutters, his voice still low and gravelly from exhaustion.

You look to him, “Why are you up?” He shrugs his shoulders, moving a few steps closer to you as he replies. “Couldn’t sleep. Needed a smoke.” His eyes rake over your face and down your body, taking in the sight of you.

You want to ask him why. Ask him what he thinks. You have a hundred questions for him.

He studies you for a moment, noticing the look in your eyes. He can tell that you have something you want to say, but you’re holding back. He stays silent for a moment longer, before finally speaking up.

“Spit it out, princess.”

You turn away from him and return to the boiling water on the stove. “Nothing.” He lets out an amused huff, seeing right through your attempt to hide it. He moves closer, invading your personal space as he leans against the counter next to you.

“Bullshit.” He mutters, a smirk pulling at his lips.

He stares down at you, his eyes slowly moving over your face. He can see the emotions flicker in your eyes, while his own expression remains guarded and emotionless. He has years of practice, but you’ve always been an open book for him to read.

He reaches out a hand, gently grabbing your chin and tilting your head up to look up at him. “I can always tell when you’re lying to me, princess.”

You swat his hand away. “Don’t.”

He lets out a low chuckle, amused by your stubborn behavior. He’s not surprised by your reaction.

“Why not?” He teases, his smirk growing wider. He continues to press his luck, moving even closer and invading your personal space even more. You feel breathless as he corners you. His arms sealing around your waist with ease. You barely speak, gaze cloudy and your head dizzy. “Don’t…”

He tightens his hold on your waist, pulling you closer until your body is pressed against his. He leans in, his face inches from yours.

“Why?” He mutters again, his tone slightly taunting. He can see the way your breath has quickened, the way your body is reacting to his touch.

You couldn’t help it or stop it if you tried. The cord finally snapped. The pull of him was too strong. You press up against him. Pressing your lips to his in a rushed heated kiss. He’s surprised by your sudden move, but he doesn’t resist. Butcher presses his body against yours, returning the kiss with just as much intensity.

His hands move up from your waist, one hand gently wrapping around the back of your neck, while the other one sinks into your hair, gripping it and tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

No words were exchanged. Just deep unsettled passion going between the two. Tongues clashing, teeth nipping. Your body was growing hot. He moves his mouth over to your neck, his lips and teeth moving over your sensitive skin. He’s letting out small, low grunts and growls with each touch, clearly just as affected.

His hands continue running over your body, one hand moving back down to your hip and gripping it tightly.

Reality came crashing down. You couldn’t allow yourself to get hurt by him again. You knew he wouldn’t stay. He wouldn’t call. Wordlessly you rip yourself from him. You touch your lips in shock and stare at him. You turn around and race up to your room forgetting the once-boiling water

He’s shocked and confused by the suddenness of your actions. One moment he’s got you close to him, the next you’ve torn yourself out of his grip and raced out of the kitchen.

He takes a second to process what happened, his mind and body still reeling from the passion. He’s torn between going after you and letting you go, but before he can make a decision, you’ve already disappeared up the stairs.

The morning after the house was quiet aside from The Boys taking up her living room. She hadn’t left her room yet this morning.

Billy has been pacing around the living room most of the morning, restless and irritable. He’s already on his third cigarette, smoking quickly as a way to pass the time.

His mind is occupied by thoughts of the previous night, and he can’t shake the memory of how close you were and how abruptly you tore yourself away. He keeps glancing at the stairs, his thoughts racing.

Frenchie furrows his brows at Butcher’s pacing. “Something wrong?” He huffs, still pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. He’s clearly on edge, the tension rolling off him in waves.

“Nah.“ He mutters, his words sharp. He doesn’t want to talk about what’s bothering him. Especially not with the rest of the Boys around listening.

You sit in your room staring at yourself in the mirror. “You went back on everything you fucking build.” You point at yourself in the mirror. You get dressed for a run and walk down the stairs.

He’s still pacing, taking another long drag from his cigarette when he hears you descend the stairs. He looks up, watching as you walk down towards them.

He stops his pacing, turning to face you as his eyes roam over your figure. He tries to ignore the pang of desire that flares inside of him, but he can’t help it. His mind still lingering on last night.

Without a word, you make your way to the door. “Going for a run,” you say and dash outside.

He grits his teeth in frustration as you slam the door behind you. He knows that you’re avoiding him, and it’s pissing him off.

He glances over at the rest of the two, who are watching the exchange with curious glances. He doesn’t care, he just scowls and storms over to the window by the door, peering out of it to watch as you walk away.

Frenchie pipes up, “What’s wrong with her?” Butcher doesn’t take his eyes off you as he replies to Frenchie’s question.

“Rough night, I guess.” He mutters, his tone gruff. His eyes still fixed on your form as you get further and further away, a frown tugging at his lips.

You avoided Butcher when Ieft and you did the same when you came home. The evening grows and you appear again, only because you have to. “Alright, I’ve got to go to the venue and get ready. Meet the security guard by the back door. You’ve already been cleared to come inside.” Hughie and Frenchie look excited while Butcher looks like he couldn’t care less.

He ignores the excited looks on Hughie and Frenchie’s faces, rolling his eyes at their eagerness. The thought of watching you perform is the only thing keeping him from completely refusing.

Butcher didn’t see you next until you were all dressed to the 9s. A short dress and glamorous makeup on your face. “Hey!” You say excitedly as the boys enter backstage. Hughie could explode with excitement

Butcher looks up as you call out, his eyes immediately falling to your appearance. His breath hitches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you. The short dress clings to your curves in all the right ways, while the glamorous makeup brings out your features.

He feels a stir of desire low in his stomach, his heart rate quickening as he tries to keep his expression neutral. But he can’t help the way his eyes linger on your figure for a few moments longer than necessary.

“You look… good.” He manages to mutter, his voice slightly gruff.

You try to ignore his comment, but can’t help the light blush from appearing on your cheeks. “Uh, thanks.”

The show starts. Butcher, Frenchie, and Hughie stand backstage, with a clear view. You sing as the crowd screams. Hughie dances to the music, Frenchie smiles at his friend, and Butcher was having to watch the woman he wanted so badly parade on stage, singing about how shitty of a person he was.

A mix of desire and pain bubbled inside of him. You look absolutely ravishing, and it’s torturous to just watch you from the sidelines.

You stand in the middle of the stage, emotions at a high. “So, this next one goes out to my Ex.” The crowd goes wild. You turn to look at Butcher with a smile. “Because I know your fucking watching, bitch.”

He meets your gaze as you turn to look at him, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. His eyes roam over your figure as you speak to the crowd, his mind reeling with thoughts. A part of him is amused by your bold display, but another part wants to rip you off the stage and claim you then and there.

“My friends call me a loser

'Cause I'm still hanging around

I've heard so many rumors

That I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch

I thought you thought of me better

Someone you couldn't lose

You said We're not together

So now when we kiss, I have anger issues”

He listens intently as you sing the lyrics, his heart clenching in his chest at the truth behind them. The reminder of your failed relationship hits him like a ton of bricks, a pang of guilt mixing with the pain he feels.

He watches as you perform, his eyes locked on you, feeling torn between wanting to apologize and wanting to hold you tightly.

“You said, Baby, no attachment

But we're

Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out

Is it casual now?

Two weeks and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach

Is it casual now?

I know what you tell your friends

It's casual if it's casual now

Then, baby, get me off again

If it's casual, it's casual now”

His breath hitches in his throat as you sing the lyrics, the words hitting him hard. It’s a painful reminder of the way he treated you, the way he couldn’t commit to anything more than casual.

He can feel the guilt and shame welling up inside of him, knowing that he didn’t treat you the way you deserved. He watches your performance, his expression a mix of pain and desire.

He watches as you exit the stage, making your way backstage to them. His heart is hammering in his chest, his palms sweaty. He knows that he needs to talk to you, to try and make things right.

Frenchie and Hughie are still chatting excitedly about the show, but he barely registers anything they’re saying. He only has eyes for you as you approach.

“I have to get out of these shoes.” You laugh. He lets out a gruff chuckle at your comment, his gaze still fixed on you intently. He can’t deny that he likes the sight of you in those sexy heels, but he knows you’re probably uncomfortable.

“Don’t blame you.” He mutters, his eyes roaming over your figure again.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to change.” You said and made your way into the dressing room.

Butcher takes a few seconds, trying to control the intense desire to go into the dressing room after you. But in the end, his need to see you again wins out. He glances towards Hughie and Frenchie, who are distracted talking about the show, before quietly following you to the dressing room.

The door opens and you jump in surprise. You hold up a blanket, shielding yourself. Only clad in a bra and panties. “What are you doing?”

He stops in the doorway, his eyes widening as he takes in your almost naked form. He feels a rush of desire as he scans your body, his mind instantly flooded with thoughts of pulling you into his arms and claiming you right there.

At the sight of your surprised expression, he clears his throat, trying to compose himself. “Came to see you.” He mutters, taking a step closer to you.

“Um, well can it wait until I have fucking clothes on?” He glances over your form once more, lust clouding his mind. He can’t help but stare at your body, his eyes roaming over your frame.

“Not sure I can wait that long.” He mutters, taking another step towards you, his voice low and gruff.

Butcher crosses over to you. He pulls you closer, his hand gripping your waist with a firm, almost possessive, hold. He kisses you hungrily, his lips devouring yours with a mixture of desire and desperation.

He pushes you against the wall, trapping you between his body and the hard surface. He lets out a low growl against your lips, his tongue seeking access to your mouth.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth hungrily. His body is pressed against yours, holding you tightly against the wall, his hands roaming over your body as if memorizing every curve.

He breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. He’s panting, his chest heaving as he gazes down at you, his expression filled with a mix of desire and something more… something vulnerable.

His eyes are intense and filled with a mixture of desire and guilt. He can’t bring himself to say the words, but the silent apology is there in his gaze.

His body is still pressed against yours, and he runs a hand down your side in a gentle caress. He looks like he wants to say something, but the words seem to get stuck in his throat. You mimic his words, “spit it out.”

A huff of annoyance leaves his lips at your use of his own words against him. He grumbles for a moment, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. Then he looks into your eyes, his expression a mix of vulnerability and determination.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, his voice gravelly. “For how I treated you… for not treating you the way you deserved.” You place your hands on his cheeks, a smile on your face. “Just fucking kiss me.”

He grabs you once again, crushing his lips against yours hungrily. His hand grips the back of your neck, angling your head so he can deepen the kiss even further.

The following day, both Butcher and you are sitting on your couch. You’re leaning against him as he fiddles with your fingertips. The need to touch you is too great to just be near.

Hughie and Frenchie walk in and are taken aback by the two. Frenchie smirks, “So what is this now, huh?” You and Butcher look at each other. Butcher offers a smirk, “Well one thing it ain’t, is fucking casual.”

#butcher x reader #butcher the boys #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #william butcher #the boys fandom #the boys #hughie campbell #frenchie

88 notes · View notes

apomaro-mellow · 8 months ago

Text

Hot for Teacher(s) 14

Part 13

Eddie opened his door to a line of first graders, chatting happily as they did despite the early morning. He greeted them all. Shawn came in quietly, like he usually did but there was something a bit more somber about him. Eddie kept an eye on him and his mood seemed to brighten as the day went on, so he didn’t think to mention it to Steve.

But then the next day Shawn was late to school. And then the day after that he was absent entirely. Shawn hadn’t been late or absent a single day this year. He’d been gunning for that perfect attendance award. It prompted Eddie to call Steve during his lunch, not as a concerned teacher, but as someone closer.

Steve didn’t answer the first time and Eddie tried not to get too worried. They were both getting busy with work. Maybe Shawn was dealing with a seasonal flu. There were a million things it could be. After the school day ended, he was about to call again, when Steve’s name flashed on his screen.

“Hey”, he picked up immediately.

“Hey”, Steve answered. “Sorry, I saw your call earlier, I just couldn’t-it wasn’t a good time. And I should have sent you a text that Shawn wouldn’t be in today.”

“It’s no worries, babe”, Eddie said as he walked out of the school. “Is everything okay?”

He thought he heard an intake of breath. Or maybe a sob, or a hiccup? It was hard to tell like Steve was covering his mouth.

“I thought Shawn might be sick but are you okay?”

“I’m…a little under the weather. So I’m gonna have to take a rain check on you coming over.”

“I can still come over, keep Shawn company while nursing you.”

“Eddie, I can’t ask you to babysit.”

Eddie smiled tenderly as he got into his van. “You know it’s not like that when it’s Shawn.” Eddie was already considering him his own pup. “Besides, weren’t you supposed to go grocery shopping tomorrow?”

….”Okay, only if you don’t mind getting up early on a Saturday morning.”

The next day, Steve watched the clock with dread. Billy had been coming around once a day to antagonize him. But he wasn’t much of an early riser. The last thing he needed was for him and Eddie to cross paths. So far his ex had been a nuisance, but hadn’t actually done anything criminal. At least not in this house. Steve would’ve felt silly for calling the cops.

But the stress had him aching and tired and struggling to do even basic things. He didn’t want to admit that it was rejection sickness. Because that felt like admitting he wanted Billy. He was able to get Shawn dressed and gave him a list of items they needed from the store.

“I need to lie down, I’m still not feeling well. When Mr. Eddie comes, let him know that’s all it is, but I still don’t wanna contaminate him, okay?”

“Okay”, Shawn nodded.

Steve hid away in his room, able to hear and see Eddie’s distinct van when it pulled up. He texted him, telling him that the door was unlocked and to let himself in. They waved to each other from the window and then he heard Eddie greet Shawn. He hoped Eddie would be satisfied with Shawn’s explanation and didn’t come up. If he smelled him now, Steve would have to tell him everything.

But he heard them leave and he checked the window to be sure, getting there just in time to see them both waving at him. Steve smiled, blowing Eddie a kiss which he pretended to jump for, catching in his hand and bringing to his heart before stuffing it in his pocket.

Was he in love?

He might be in love.

-------------------------

Eddie pushed the cart forward with Shawn sitting criss-cross in the basket, reading the back of a cereal box. Eddie had the list Steve wrote clutched tight in his hand.

“Hey pup, your dad wrote blue dish soap? Do you know why he’s specifically put blue?”

Shawn looked up and shrugged, leaving Eddie in the dark still. A particular scent, he could understand. Dish soaps came in all sorts of fragrances. But Steve had just written down ‘blue’.

“Can we get candy?”, Shawn asked, putting the cereal box down.

Eddie knew better than to give into a child’s sweet tooth whims. But he also knew he might be craving something chocolatey later. And that Steve could definitely use a pick me up.

“You know what’s better than candy?”, Eddie said before grabbing some premade cookie dough, causing Shawn to gasp and get a sparkle in his eyes.

It wasn’t on the list, but whatever Steve was coming down with, fresh baked cookies couldn’t hurt. He drove back to the house, not really taking notice of the blue car driving in the opposite direction, but definitely noticing as Shawn sank down in his seat, like he didn’t want to be seen. He kept that to himself though, as he rose back up when they parked. Eddie handed Shawn the lighter bag of groceries and they came inside. Steve was on the kitchen floor, cleaning up glass.

That alone wasn’t too alarming. What had Eddie on high alert was how sour he smelled. Anxious, afraid, like he’d been spooked.

“Watch out Shawn”, Eddie said, taking the bag from him. “You hang out with some tv while I help your dad out, yeah?”

“Okay”, Shawn nodded, scurrying off. Eddie set the bags on the kitchen table and knelt in front of Steve.

“Hey”, he whispered. “Did something happen?”

Steve looked up, bags under his eyes that weren’t evident from the window. Compounded with his scent and Eddie had a hunch that he wished wasn’t true.

“I’m sorry”, Steve said, brushing the rest of the glass into the dustpan. “I lost my balance and- I’m sorry.”

“That’s nothing to apologize for”, Eddie said, rising up with him and watching him throw the glass away. “But something’s up, I can smell it on you.”

Steve stiffened. “Smell it? Smell what?”

“Steve…are you…going through-”, Eddie cleared his throat and fumbled with his hands. “Is this rejection sickness? Because I thought I was pretty open about courting you and I thought things were going well-”

“It’s not your fault. It’s not you Eddie, I promise. It’s…” Steve bit his lip and whimpered and Eddie wasn’t strong enough to stay away. He crowded Steve against the counter, hands on either side of him while he rubbed their cheeks together. This close, Steve’s scent was more nuanced. There wasn’t just the stench of a sickness, but something else there. The hint of another alpha. He looked into Steve’s eyes, a heavy question in his gaze.

“Billy, my ex, Shawn’s sire, he showed up a few days ago”, Steve admitted, lip trembling a bit. “And he’s been showing up once a day just to, I don’t know, terrorize me, convince me to take him back? I don’t know what his actual goal is.”

“Stevie, baby, why didn’t you say anything the first time?”, Eddie asked, cradling his face. “Did he hurt you? Or Shawn?”

Steve shook his head. “He hasn’t hurt us. He doesn’t even really touch Shawn that much he just”, he hesitated before recounting to Eddie what had been happening the past few days.

He dreaded hearing someone at the door. But he also knew if he didn’t answer, Billy was likely to break down the door. He distinctly remembered the alpha doing so one time in their old apartment when he thought Steve was cheating on him. So he opened the door and Billy always shouldered his way in.

In his mind, Steve knew a fight between them could go either way. That wasn’t the issue. The problem was subjecting Shawn to that. It was why no matter what, he’d never initiate a fight with Billy. It was why he didn’t want to call the cops unless either of their lives were in danger. It was also why he tried not to escalate things when he could.

So when Billy grabbed him, he didn’t fight back. He only spoke up when Billy pushed him against the couch and started to scent him.

“Get off!”, he hissed, hands pushing back now.

“Careful, I’m sure Shawn can hear us. Now is he gonna come down and see his parents fighting, or having a friendly wrestling match?”

Steve growled and Billy matched it with one of his own, teeth bared. He came by everyday, forcing his scent on Steve, determined to wipe the other smell on him. It was horrifically similar to their relationship before. All the possessiveness and roughness that came with it, none of the tenderness of actually being claimed. It was like he was resetting Steve’s hormones with each scenting.

Steve took in a deep breath. “You just missed him. We had an argument because he wanted to get rid of the things that smelled like you.”

“Babylove, I asked if he hurt you.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “He didn’t really he-”

“Scenting you by force, pushing you around like that even if it doesn’t make you bruise - that’s hurting you sweetheart.”

Steve collapsed against him and Eddie held him tight. Steve said he had just missed Billy and Eddie hoped he counted himself lucky. He tried to keep anger from making his scent bitter. Steve didn’t need that right now.

Shawn poked his head in. “Can we make the cookies now?”

“Cookies?” Steve looked up from Eddie’s shoulder. “You didn’t stick to the list?”

Eddie shrugged. “Are you gonna say no to warm chocolate chips?”

“Nooo”, Steve sighed.

Eddie spent the rest of the day there, as he already did most weekends. But as day turned into night and they settled into bed, Eddie asked something of Steve that he didn’t think he’d be asking for a while.

“Let me move in with you.”

“What?”

“At least until Billy backs off.”

Steve pretended to still be brushing his hair in the mirror. “I don’t want you running into him. I thought that was obvious.”

Eddie came up from behind, arms wrapping around his waist as he watched their reflections. “I’m serious about courting you. I want you to accept my bite one day.” He kissed Steve’s shoulder three times, bare in the tank top he was wearing. “And that means I’m willing to fight for you. Including a pissy ex.” Billy couldn’t see what a prize Steve was when he had him. But Eddie could and he was never letting him go. “Do you want it Stevie?”

He met Steve’s eyes through the mirror and kissed the back of his neck, then the side of it, just missing his mating gland. Throughout the day, Steve’s scent had mellowed out and now it was turning peppery with arousal.

“Yes”, Steve breathed out, hips rocking back.

“Then I’m gonna earn it.” Eddie turned Steve around and dropped down to his knees. “And I think I’ll do a little earnin’ now”, he grinned.

Part 15

Taglist

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog

@hippieg1rl420 @spectrum-spectre @a-lovely-craziness @sharingisntkaren

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o

98 notes · View notes