notes: swearing because it's butcher so duhh, i imagine them in their base in season 2, not necessarily a littles are know universe but the characters are already aware of agere
words: ~1k
a/n: hey everyone! february and march are the most disgusting months ever for me, so i've just been focusing on getting through each day. i'm on season three of the boys and i'm obsessed with butcherrrrr he's so father!!
“I’m not a fucking babysitter.” Butcher grumbled into his phone.
“I know Butcher but my meeting is at a strip club and I’d rather not bring them with me.” Jamie's voice crackles over the call.
“Just leave ‘em alone, what’s the worst that can happen?”
“I-” Jamie sighs, “just please.”
“Yeah alright, send them over.” Billy agrees.
“Jamie please!” Your friend moves your hand that’s gripping his jacket to hold onto Butcher’s coat.
“Don’t worry pup, this big guy will keep you safe, you remember Butcher don’t you?” You do remember Billy, so you guess it can’t be that bad. You huff.
Jamie hands you your plushy and leans in close to Billy, whispering so you don’t hear. “If you lose their stuffie, I’ll make sure you lose all your fingers, and you can deal with a crying toddler too.”
Billy just smiles back smugly. “They’re gonna come back to you without any scratches and that otter snug in their arms, I can promise you that.”
Jamie rolls his eyes and then turns back to you. “Alright sorry kid, I gotta go, don’t get into any trouble.” You watch as he walks up the stairs and Butcher waits to speak until the door is closed.
“You’re not getting into trouble if you’re already in the company of trouble.” He winks at you.
You settle into a chair beside M.M, watching as he works on his dollhouse. You recognize the team from the odd jobs you have done for them in the past, so you aren’t super uncomfortable, but it obviously isn't the nicest place to be in either. You perk up when you hear Frenchie speak from across the room.
“Boss, the meeting’s been moved up to 3.” He looks at Butcher.
“Alright boys let's go, I guess you’re coming with us.” Butcher tells you and when you look at him with concern he’s quick to reassure you. “It’ll be quick hm? And you’ll stay in the van with Frenchie, all safe and sound.”
You let Butcher lead you out of the building and into the van, feeling oddly safe under his care. You’re not the most trusting in general, especially with the kind of work you do, but when you’re little you tend to be good at finding the right people to trust.
You grip your otter tightly during the bumpy drive, unsure of what was about to happen. If Jamie trusts Butcher then you don’t have to worry, you decide. Thankfully, it’s a quick drive before the vehicle comes to a stop and the door is sliding open. Hughie hands out some technology to everyone except you and Frenchie, and it’s a flurry of activity without any explanation. Context wouldn’t be much use for your little brain, you suppose.
“Alright love, you sit your ass right here and don’t move alright? Frenchie’ll snitch if you do.” Butcher tells you. You look at Frenchie warily but he shakes his head slightly which makes you giggle. “See? You’ll be just fine.” Butcher reaffirms.
For about 10 minutes you’re alone with Frenchie in the van, watching as he sets up the equipment and monitors the computer. Naturally you get bored. Holding your otter in one hand, you use your other hand to fidget with random things on the floor. You’re not quite sure what they are but they’re fun to play with.
A hand slowly comes into your sight and pulls the item from your hand.
“That isn’t good for little hands, so how about this?” Frenchie hands you a blue wire, and you take it. It keeps you satisfied, and you twist it as you wait in a comfortable silence.
One by one, the rest of the crew filters back into the van after they’ve done their jobs.
Everyone watches the cameras, keeping an eye on the top right one, which monitors the room where the meeting is being held. It’s a musty room with a circular wooden table in the middle, and men sit around it. Things start to escalate with more yelling and then suddenly it all goes to shit. One chair is thrown and then guns are out. One lanky guy brings out a long sword, and starts swinging it around.
“He looks kinda like you Hughie.” M.M remarks with a laugh and the others snicker too. Hughie just rolls his eyes but smiles too. Everyone’s faces drop when the guy starts hacking at the others. Butcher puts a hand over your eyes so you don’t see, what you assume to be, a brutal mess.
“Don’t need to see that much, dove.” You plug your ears too, as now you’re more aware of the disgusting sounds that are being picked up as well. You zone out after that, even after Butcher lets you see again. You go into your own world, pretending it’s your otter who’s on the adventure.
When Jamie comes to pick you up you’re telling Butcher all about your otter’s adventure and all the information she learned.
“And and she sawed that the guys didn’t have ‘nough guy so they’re hiring more, so she’ll be a spy ‘n join their team.” Billy nods along as you tell the story. It’s not very coherent but he makes an effort to listen.
“Hey bug, did you have a good time?” Jamie asks and you rush over to him. He picks you up and you rest your head against him.
“Mhm,” you mumble against his sweater. Butcher walks over to the two of you and hands Jamie your stuffie.
“Alright, say thanks to Butcher.” He prompts, and bounces you encouragingly.
You lean over to Billy and press a messy kiss to his cheek. “Thanks,” you slur, and hide into Jamie once again. Jamie’s surprised at the display of affection but smirks when he sees Butcher’s eyes widen slightly.
The team watches with matching smiles as well. Butcher catches them out of the corner of his eye.
Hey!!! I absolutely LOVED your little soldier boy fic, there's no agere content for The Boys anywhere so it made me sooooo happy!!
I was wondering if you could write Little!Hughie and Cg!Butcher? If not that's perfectly ok dw!!! I love your work! Have a great day 🫶🏻
Temp V Hangovers–Sick fic
Cg!Butcher and Regressor!Hughie
Cw: cussing, the boys, mentions of puking/being sick but no in depth details, diapers, mentions of temp-v use.
a/n: sorry it's been so long. i promise ive seen all the requests in my inbox I've just had a bit of writer's block.
“Y’took temp-V again?” Butcher was pissed off. Truely and royally pissed off at Hughie for being as incredibly irresponsible as himself. Only he was allowed to ‘do what was necessary’ that might ultimately lead to his own demise as well as his enemies. Him and.. Any other supes that happen to be on their team. And maybe some civilians that accidentally become collateral. And.. maybe everyone if scorched earth turned as bad as him and Homelander wanted.
But not Hughie.
Hughie had to stay alive.
He was good. One of the genuinely last good things in this world and he wasn't about to let his little man give himself SuperCancer simply because the worst person he could've chose to look up to and admire did it. He was a terrible influence! Why doesn't he understand that? Everyone else in their lives have accepted it. He needs to hop on that shit-train as well.
“I don't want to talk about it–” Hughie whined, cheek resting on his arm to keep himself draped over the open toilet seat. The temp-v hangover was kicking his butt worse than any flu or cold he’d ever had. It was like his body was physically trying to remove every trace amount of the drug from his system by removing the system entirely. He swore he was going to actually vomit up his whole stomach with one of these heaves and leave him as hollow as a clay piece. He only hoped that he wouldn't shatter as easily as clay too.
“Y’should’ve thought o’ that ‘fore y’took it then, yeah? Cause now we have t’have the conversation!” He sounded like Annie. Hughie could usually count on Butcher to avoid tough conversations, usually doing everything he could to weasel out of facing the emotional repercussions he caused to others.
Hughie squeezed his eyes shut as his body tensed up with the next wave of pain that led to the nausea that was becoming unfortunately familiar. He made another little whine and turned his face into his arm more, half seeking comfort, half preparing if he were going to puke again.
“B..Butche– oh… unngck…” Hughie starts his complainant plea, a gurgled burp stopping him from putting too much energy into the attempt to argue.
Hughie had dropped hours ago after the first initial waves of temp-v payback had left him shamefully shoving himself into an emergency diaper between bouts of throwing up. which combined with everything else stressing him out had helped create the perfect storm for an impromptu regression.
He didn't mind diapers when he was regressed, they were something he had to grow used to when he first started age regressing but he grew to associate the two pretty heavily. Then Butcher started caring for him. And he had to relearn to not be embarrassed or ashamed of wearing them in front of other people… which felt a lot more difficult at the time. However now the only times he felt ashamed were.. Well… when he was big..and if incontinence carried over..which…today was.. Not going so great for him.
Butcher watched Hughie go green to flush then back to pale again, the dark circles under his eyes only making him look worse. He was really trying to stay strong here. Trying to keep viewing him as the same adult that made Butcher-sized bad decisions. Trying to keep being mad so he could finally maybe talk some sense into the little numbnut but…
The sight took him back to when him and Lenny were really young. Lenny had caught something going around the kindergarten class but their old man wouldn't take him to the doctor, simply saying he needed to quit being a weak cunt. So Butcher had pretended to take Lenny to school the next day, only to slip back inside the house while their parents had gone. They spent the day mainly in the bathroom just as Hughie had spent his. Although Lenny at least had Butcher to wipe off his face after each time he got sick and fed him some out of date meds he stole to help lower his fever along with some poorly made soup.
Butcher’s Lenny-sized hole in his heart was beginning to look more and more like Hughie everyday.
And while Hughie didn't really know it… it was the reason he both wanted to shake some reality into the idiot and keep him as close as possible while feeding him those cotton candy lies about everything turning out okay.
He sighs and rubs his face, the conflict inside of him aging him years in a few seconds. A recurring problem the poor guy had. At this rate he was going to be more wrinkles than man before he was legally declared an old fart.
“Yer not getting out of this. Y’here me?” Butcher gives him a hard look that Hughie couldn't take serious with how the caregiver’s ‘grumpy’ tone had become softer than his earlier angry one. That was his own headspace coming to town. The Party Pooper town of Vomitville. Whoopie.
“Yer still gonna geit yer ass chewed later but… i suppose i cant harp on a little bloke when he’s already suffering.” he kneeled down beside him after wetting a washcloth in the sink and lifted his face away from the disgusting toilet–honestly though with the places they stay at… it wasn't any worse off than it was before.
“Yeah..yer sufferin all right..startin to smell like y’got the same job as me finally..” He murmurs as he gently wipes off the kid’s face and neck, getting all the gunk, sweat, and tears off to expose the cutie underneath again. “Don’t think y’girl will appreciate that very much.” He tugs off Hughie’s soiled shirt and tries to be playful with the way he slides him over the floor to change him but with how funky Hughie’s mind was with being sick and regressed he ends up just smacking his head on the floor..
Butcher grimaces, giving an internal “oops,” before patting his cheek and lying to help keep the tears away. “Oi…what happened huh? What’re these tears for? We don need them none with daddy here, do we? Nooo.. see im here to make your wicked fuck up– hangov... Ick– Yeah. yeah! Here to help yous with ya icky bod.”
Hughie looked up at him with shiny eyes, a part of him struggling to follow along with the story Butcher was trying to weave into something more digestible for a kid’s brain but also finding it easy to relax to his voice alone. He didn't have to understand everything anyway. He was little and littles didn't always understand things.
So to the older man’s luck he nodded and tried to keep his tears at bay even while the back of his head throbbed a bit. He even laid really still for his whole diaper change despite how long it took Butcher with all his complaints and shoddy skills. He really did wonder why his daddy never seemed to get better at diaper changes when he could usually put them on himself really easily.
Maybe it was because Butcher didn't really want to be a daddy. Maybe it was because Butcher was better being a big brother and brothers don't usually change diapers. Do they? He wasn't sure. He hadn't ever had a caregiver like Butcher before. Annie’s caring dynamic was different from Butcher’s.. but Robin had been different from Annie.. So maybe–
“--kid. Buddy. Hughie are you in there? Didja doze off on me or did the V get your brain?” while he said it lightheartedly, there was concern hidden behind his tough exterior shell. Hughie had zoned out long enough that Butcher had checked his temperature, finished changing him, wiped him down again, washed his own hands, and checked for a pulse.
“Hm?” Hughie glanced down at the fingers on his wrist then back up at him, he was starting to feel less nauseous and more exhausted… also hungry. But not hungry enough to eat real food. Or even those yummy baby puffs Butcher would dump out on a table or a play mat for him to scatter feed like a duck. “Mm..buh..ahmmn..” he babbles quietly in his attempt to grasp real words, “..bodd.. Bo..bble..”
With shaky tired arms he reaches up towards Butcher, not having the energy to walk anywhere on his own without getting dizzy and sick again. Butcher gives a deep old man sigh and slowly bends over to scoop him up. Kid was real lucky he was strong and had more pity for Hughie being sick than his own poor back because a 6’1 baby was NOT what he would call light lifting.
Regardless of how ungentle his caregiver was picking him up he still got dizzy and groaned in complaint until he cradled his head close to his chest, stabilizing his equilibrium better while he made the short walk to their makeshift bedroom. Which… was the couch with some curtains acting as a door between them and the actual bedroom M.M. was begrudgingly sharing with Frenchie… and Kimiko. MM hated these types of temp bunkers. They were terrible for his ocd but one of his main complaints was actually about how inadequate they were for kids like Hughie.
That fatherly concern meant he was kind enough to stock the kitchenette for everyone during their stay.
Butcher passed through their space into the kitchenette to peruse through the cupboards, grabbing the cartoon superhero themed bottle his boy had asked for. He bought it for him after seeing how sad he had been over not having any of his old comfort items… the ones that used to be a Seven themed and any of his other favorite real supes that all turned out to be god awful people.
So when he casually saw the non-descript cartoon knockoff he figured..it wasn't as bad as the shoddy people it was trying to emulate. cause the 2D shit wasn't real. It also meant he wouldn't have to buy a Starlight themed one which would make both Butcher and Annie cringe.
But now he had to figure out what to actually fill the thing with. Milk would probably go sour in his stomach with the lad being as intolerant of lactose as he was of supes. Tea was always a dodgy try with little Hughie, he either wanted whatever Butcher was drinking or his american blood tried to physically reject it from his body. And his body had done enough ejecting today. so that left him with the only other thing in the cupboard the brit knew how to chase off the sickies with. Good old broth.
It took a little bit for him to actually make it since he had to juggle holding Hughie in his arms and boiling water in this poor excuse for a kitchen..ette. But he managed to heat too much, making a mess of pouring it into the bottle and nearly burning them both in the process.
After earning a lot of grumbles and groans from Hughie with all the mucking about, he finally finished getting the bottle made and carried Hughie to their “room,” eager to rest his bones on their temporary bed.
He collapsed on the couch with a big relieved groan, the little bloke in his lap squirming as his stomach clenched as if an angry fiery hot fist was wrapped around it. Meanwhile he still hadn't been properly redressed after being cleaned up in the bathroom leaving his skin decorated with goosebumps from the cold room.
“Ennh.. feel.. ouch..y..” Hughie whimpers into Butcher’s shirt that he’d also grabbed a fistful of to tug on while he whined. “Can.. m..muh..eds..? T’feel...bedder..?”
“Ain’t got any meds t’make this one go way, son. Y’did a number on yerself an y’just gotta..” he looked down at his scrunched up face, tears in the corner of his eyes from all the discomfort and his grumpy wall gave way to pity again. “Alright.. I ain’t much of a Doctor but I’m sure i can wrangle up a prescription that would rival just about anything Frenchie could cook up fer ya.”
He readjusts them on the cushions, reaching out to grab a loose sweatshirt from the floor first to wrangle Hughie’s arms and head into then grabs the bottle of slightly cooled down broth along with the kids’ ipad the boys got for Hughie. It had a big blue rubbery case around it and had been dubbed the “iPirate” for all the shows and games M.M. downloaded onto it.
“Here we go. Prescription jammies, broth, and some word..cunt. Whatever that cartoon gal is you like. Everything you need to heal from dumbass choices.” Hunkering back down, Butcher handed him the bottle which he hesitantly sniffed at before bringing it to his lips only to pause.
“Wordgirl.” Hughie corrects, somehow having the energy and vocabulary for correcting Butcher on his nerd stuff even when he felt his worst or smallest. “Y..know..s’Wordgirl. Y’jus like sayin cunt.”
“Yeah..yeah..” Butcher murmurs with a little smile as he puts the cartoon on. He absolutely knew the name of the little fake superhero. But he liked teasing his boy and getting a sweet reaction out of him. That was his secret fourth part of his prescription to help Hughie feel better; affection.
Butcher holds the tablet with one hand while his other starts to gently rub little circles on Hughie’s back while he starts to drink from his bottle, pleasant warmth filling this body and helping soothe the raw burning in his throat from being sick as his caregiver’s hand soothed his tensed muscles externally.
Sure he would likely be chastised pretty terribly later when he felt better and would be mentally bigger… which would likely bleed over to some sort of punishment for the next couple days every time he was little… but.. For now he would pretend that he hadn't done something he wasn't supposed to and enjoy recovering with Butcher.
