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blushstories · 2 years

Note

can i request something fluffy for butcher? maybe where he lets reader get away with things he doesn’t let the others get away with bc he has a soft spot for her??? love your blog! <33

hey excuse me this is i think the cutest idea EVER let me see what i can do thank you millions for this

There's nowhere in the world as comfortable as Butcher's arms. The sofa envelopes you both, surprisingly soft given that you are not in the lap of luxury. His chest is solid beneath your cheek, arm wrapped around you tightly.

At first, you'd been figuring out tomorrow's action plan, but eventually, the timbre of Butcher's voice reminds you that keeping your eyes open feels like an impossible task. The vibrations of his chest, along with his absentminded strokes over your head lull you to sleep.

"Then the little bugger won't 'ave a chance," he says with a spark of certainty, but the smile falls from his face when he notices your closed eyes and steady breathing. He radiates heat, but it's not uncomfortable. Rather, it is cosy, welcoming, kind. All the things he does not claim to be.

He carefully stretches his hand out to the side, fingertips brushing against his coat. He grasps the hem and tugs it towards the two of you, until it covers you completely. He doesn't mind only being half covered.

There's a soft smile on his face that he's unaware of, until Frenchie enters his peripheral with a delighted smile on his face. He meets Butcher's eyes, which immediately harden, and he sticks up his middle finger.

Frenchie snorts and half skips away, endeared by the big, scary William Butcher.

The next day, Frenchie celebrates his entrance, holding up two paper bags, one with a splodge of grease painted in the corner. Kimiko smiles brightly, Marvin swoops in to collect the bags and from the corner of the sofa you patiently wait for him to pass out everyone's orders. Hughie first, then Kimiko, Frenchie, himself and two lots to Butcher.

Butcher sits in the middle of the sofa, and passes you your food, before opening his. You haven't had your favourite for a while, and thank Frenchie for passing by two places for the food run.

Even though you're content with your favourite, the smell of Butcher's waffle fries wafts in your direction, and your eyes linger on the box in his hands.

Shifting onto your knees, you shuffle forwards, bracing a hand on his shoulder and reaching for a fry. His eyes follow you as you pop it into your mouth, and he tips the box towards you to offer you another one. He has a lopsided smile and you nab another before he can rescind his silent offer. A barely audible gasp attracts both you and Butcher's attention to the rest of the group.

Frenchie still wears his heart eyes smile, Hughie's jaw is slack, Kimiko looks on happily and Marvin's expression is unreadable. "What if I want a fry?" Marvin says, looking longingly at the box. Butcher leans back, taking you with him and the box further out of Marvin's reach. "Sorry mate, gotta get your own," he shrugs. "Yeah, I thought you were all weird about sharing your food," Hughie says. "I think it's cute," Frenchie says.

"Alright, fuck off, you lot. No more questions," he says, two fries trapped between his fingers.

There's a silent competition as the group approaches Butcher's car. Everyone riding in the backseat in this heat is absorbed into a sweaty, uncomfortable lump. You're not doing that again.

"Shotgun!" "Shotgun!" It may be a little childish, but you're disappointed when Hughie gets there before you.

Butcher strides to the drivers seat, gesturing to you with his keys, "You're up front."

You're surprised, and a little guilty, but the heat is warping your brain, and you're not going to pass up the opportunity to sit next to the car's air conditioning.

"What?!" Hughie says, incredulous. "You heard me. The rest of you twats are like worms in me ear." Butcher disappears under the roof of the car. Frenchie laughs knowingly, and pats Hughie on the shoulder. "Relax, Petit Hughie. Monsieur Charcuter has a crush."

Heat pools in your cheeks, and Butcher's door slams shut. Frenchie sends you a wink before you open the door and slide inside and onto the scorching black seats. Butcher's hand hovers over the air vents, testing the cool air, but it doesn't seem like he heard Frenchie.

Everyone else piles into the clown car of the backseat.

The first time you do it, you almost don't want him to notice. The television broadcasts Homelander declaring that anti-supe 'terrorists' will be found and neutralised. When he looks into the camera, it's as if he's looking straight into the room, at Butcher, having had him in mind during his speech.

Your fingertips graze the hem of his coat sleeve, needing reassurance that he's still here, that even after numerous run-ins with Homelander, he's still alive.

He barely feels it at first, thinking there's a drought in the room. But then he sees you standing closer to him than usual, swaying a little on your feet. You seem to be miles away though, grounding yourself with the scratchy fibres of fabric underneath your fingers. He pretends he doesn't notice.

Eventually, your nerves cloud your decisions, and instead of rolling the hem between your fingers, you accidentally grab a fistful of the fabric. The force of it leaves him with no option but to notice, having jumped a little himself.

When he looks at you, eyebrows creased, you're worried that he'll pull away, get flighty at revealing himself as anything other than a threat. But he doesn't. Instead, he lifts his arm and places it across your shoulders for a few moments, squeezing you into his side.

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys #the boys tv #the boys fanfiction #x reader #karl urban characters #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x y/n #william butcher #the boys x reader #billy butcher fanfiction #william butcher fanfiction #william butcher x you #butcher the boys

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lissy2d · 1 month

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I drew a little portrait sketch of Butcher from "The Boys"

for study reasons...of course

#art #my artwork #fanart #sketch #portrait drawing #portrait #the boys tv #the boys amazon #billy butcher #butcher the boys #tw blood

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siren-and-faies-writing · 1 year

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Enraptured

Pairing: Homelander x reader

Summary: You’re the newest member of The Seven and Homelander takes an avid interest in you and your powers.

Type: Just a self indulgent thought I had about his superhuman hearing and smell

Disclaimer: Suggestive(?) Homelander is his own disclaimer LOL

You stared out the window of the high-rise building. New York City at night was a breathtaking view from the 99th floor of the Vought Tower and Ashley’s voice barely reached your ears as she spoke.

“You are JUST what this place needs! I mean hand picked by Starlight herself, the people are gonna love you!” She said excitedly before reaching a set of double doors. “Here’s your apartment, get some rest. Big day tomorrow meeting the rest of the team!

You just smiled as the ginger women rushed off without so much as looking back. Entering the apartment, your still boxed belongings sat neatly stacked around the living area and you hummed quietly to yourself as you got to work unpacking. A reposeful little tune your mother had taught you as a child, something that always helped calm your nerves. Meeting the seven was sure to be quite an experience.

—

Homelander had just finished an interview, the only thing he seemed to do these days in his now mundane life- interview after interview about the same old thing… Edgar, Madelyn, Stormfront. Maybe a stroll around the city’s brisk night sky would help clear his troubled mind.

The supe flew about aimlessly, but when feelings he had been pushing aside demanded his attention, he suddenly felt like an overflowing wine glass that threatened to shatter at any moment. He was lost to his own thoughts, his anguish on the brink of consumption- until, in a blissful instant… it all stopped. Homelander’s mind hushed, an idyllic sensation washing over him, like a cloudy night sky resting peacefully over gently crashing waves.

That’s what it sounded like, the noise that had broke through his dejection. What was it? Without so much as a second though he bolted in the direction of the sound and was surprised when he ended up at Vought. Were they trying out some new auditory device? He wondered before entering the building, heedlessly pursuing the melody up to the 99th floor in his rapturous state; only stopping when the tips of his boots hit the hard surface of a door.

Here it is, just on the other side. Homelander didn’t even bother using his x-ray vision to peer inside, or knock for that matter. The doors slammed open as the supe let himself in, expecting a lab full of busying scientist, but was instead met with a women, shocked, staring back at him. “The Homelander… what a pleasure to finally meet you! Let me just say what an honor it is to be invited into the seven.”

The man cleared his throat with a nod. “The pleasure is uh… all mine.” He had trouble finding his words, unsure of what was going on but deciding to just play it cool. “I like to check up on new members before the official introductions. See what they’re all about- a test if you will.” He finally found his composure, neatly resting his hands behind his back. “Care to give me a little show?” He urged with a wave of his hand.

“Oh um… right. O-of course!” You said nervously, were you really about to use your powers on The Homelander!? You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath which came out shaky as you exhaled- despite your best efforts; a sound he took delight in. He cocked his head to the side, an amused smirk tugging at his lips, you just smiled in return as you made your way to rest against the bar counter. Making sure your eyes never left the older supe. He caught a sweet scent as you passed, Homelander lowered his head for a moment, nose twitching at the aroma, it made his head feel hazy. What the hell was going on with him?

His senses felt overwhelmed, and when he raised his head to recapturing your gaze- that was it. Homelander lunged towards you, like a predator pouncing on it’s prey. Gloved hands slammed against the counter top on either side of you, and you gasped quietly, but didn’t dare move. The man towered over you and you could feel his presence mere inches away- it took all your courage just to peer up at him. The expression you wore was captivating, doe like eyes staring back at him through long lashes, it ensnared him.

The gap between the two of you felt excruciatingly empty- so he filled it. Homelanders forehead met yours as he drank in your scent, his body pressed flush against you. It was only when a hand pressed gently to his chest that the man regained his own scenes.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go that far, it was only a little bit I-I don’t know what happen I-” You stammered. “My powers… I can release pheromones that trigger a social response, or induce attraction, or sleep, or - ”

Induce attraction huh? So that was it. That’s why his mind felt hazy, that’s why his body moved on its own— but then why hasn’t he moved away from you? Surely you wasn’t using your powers on him anymore.

“B-But I only secreted a bit, I don’t know why it was so strong this time.”

Homelander knew why. It wasn’t you, it was him, his extraordinary sense of smell. His own powers worked against him, something he definitely wasn’t use to. But of course, he couldn’t tell you that. So what was he to say? That your powers had control over him?

No.

He finally stepped away from you, the lose of your presence leaving an empty pit in his chest. “Wow.” He breathed “Those are some powers huh? But hey! Don’t beat yourself up over what just happened.”

“Maybe- ” Homelander leaned down, you could practically hear the toothy grin he wore as he spoke. “It wasn’t all you.” He blew onto your ear, and a surprised squeak escaped your lungs; a treat to his ears.

“But I trust this stays between us hm?” A demand rather than a question. “Can’t have people thinking I play favorites now can I?” He sauntered over to the door, and only got halfway through before glancing back at your perplexed expression.

“We’ll get someone to fix that counter- ” You glanced back, pieces of marble crumbling to the floor. “Can’t wait to properly meet you tomorrow.” He winked before exiting your apartment.

—

Back in his penthouse, Homelander rest his head back against the couch, still feeling a bit dazed.

If pheromones were her power, then what was that melody he heard before?

— Siren

Haven’t written anything in forever but “The Boy” made me do it. I’m back and I have more Homelander ideas floating around 👀

Pt.2 anyone? 🤔

#I’ve been obsessed with the boys #I’ve binged it all week #I love this awful man #and daddy butcher #homelander x reader #homelander x you #the boys #the boys homelander #homelander the boys #homelander #billy butcher #butcher the boys

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valc0 · 9 months

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Billy butcher sketch dump

#billy butcher #william butcher #butcher the boys #the boys #amazon the boys #art #my art #fanart #art:the boys #why is he shirtless so much-#what if I bit you what then?!?

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knucklescum · 2 years

Text

Motel Room - Billy Butcher x fem!Reader (The Boys)

Pairing: Billy Butcher x fem!reader (The Boys)

Word Count: 1719

Warnings: Swearing, implied smut (i was too pussy to actually write it lmao), ONE BED FIC!!! also you wear one of his shirts…

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Last time, it had been with Hughie. The time before, M.M.

And now here you were, stood in the doorway of yet another shitty motel room as Billy fucking Butcher threw his bag onto the bed.

The bed. Singular.

You don’t even attempt to hide your annoyance as you shut the door, letting out a loud sigh.

“Come on, love.” he says, turning to you as he shimmies out of his coat. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

A scoff escapes your lips as you drop your duffle bag onto the desk, shaking your head as you remove your hoodie.

You fold your jumper up, placing it gently over the back of the desk chair as Butcher falls onto the mattress with a content hum.

“Not so fast, dickhead.” you say, your voice a dry laugh. “I’ll help you make a ‘lil bed on the floor.”

You lean over him, not even attempting to catch his eyes as you snatch up one of the pillows, throwing it onto the floor.

“I’m sure your coat will work as a blanket,” you say, tilting your head innocently, although your smirk tells Butcher all he needs to know.

“What,” he starts, sitting up on the edge of the mattress as you lean against the wall. “- makes you think I’m giving up this bed, sweetheart?”

He tilts his own head, mocking you with a similar shit-eating grin to your own.

“M.M gave me the bed. So did Hughie, you know,” you pause. “Like gentlemen?”

“Oh I’m the gentlest of them all, love. I’ll even give you a little cuddle if you fancy,” he smirks, nodding his head at you.

“Get fucked,” you whisper, quickly arming yourself with your jumper and launching it at his head.

To your dismay, he catches it with no problem, throwing it to the floor alongside the pillow.

“Now hang on a second, princess,” Butcher says, bringing a hand to his chin in faux confusion before pointing a finger at you. “Hughie told me you two shared the bed?”

Of course he did.

“Well, yeah,” you sigh. “I wasn’t going to let him sleep on the floor now, was I? He’s fragile.”

Butcher can’t help the small chuckle that slips out of his mouth before his face hardens again.

“So why am I sleeping on the floor?”

“Because you’re a cunt,” you say, flippant as you turn back to your bag, rummaging for your wallet. “I’m going to get a snack.”

“Grab me a-” you slam the door shut, ignoring Butcher and whatever request he may have had.

The cold night air was refreshing. You had spent an awfully long time just staring at the vending machine, any excuse to get away from that warm, tiny room where Butcher was, maybe, waiting for you.

In fairness, the vending machine was in serious need of a restock: the only things left were a singular packet of skittles and a redbull.

“Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself as you input the code for the skittles, and then the redbull before finding the perfect spot on the side of the building for a good lean. Maybe it was the result of some kind of long forgotten trauma, or just a part of your being, but you’d always found that a nice, cold wall always brought you back to reality.

You cracked the can open, your back flat against the wall as you took a sip of the drink.

To this day, you weren’t entirely sure why being alone with Butcher made you so tense. The two of you met just after Becca went missing, when Butcher started his ‘mission’. From day one, he’d got under your skin - his snide remarks, his nicknames, the way he treated the other guys. But there was another side to him that, albeit unintentionally, he had let slip from time to time. He was genuinely funny, weirdly sweet - especially to you and Hughie, and he always had your back.

And you couldn’t deny the fact that you’d felt his eyes on you, occasionally. When you’d get out of the shower in the hideout wrapped in a towel, on hot days when you’d stroll out of your ‘room’ (a flimsily curtained off section of the basement) in just an oversized shirt. You were certain that you’d caught him watching you, but you know he would never admit it.

Quickly, you down the last of your energy drink before tossing the can into the bin, making your way back to the room.

You’ve barely shut the door when Butcher jumps up from the bed, a wash of worry across his face before he quickly replaces it with his usual teasing expression.

“What were you doing out there? Foraging for a kitkat?” he asks.

In the time you were gone he’d removed his boots and folded your jumper back on to the chair, as well as returned the pillow back to its spot on the bed.

“This is all they had,” you say, throwing the bag of skittles vaguely in his direction as you tuck your wallet back into your bag.

He lets out a sigh as he opens the packet, immediately tipping half of the contents into his mouth.

“Save me some, asshole!” you exclaim.

After your internal battle at the vending machine, you give into your exhaustion and flop yourself on the bed, spread like a starfish directly in the centre. Pulling your eyes closed, you hear Butcher shuffle around the room and - is he undressing?

“Butcher, what the f-” you shout in a whisper, sitting up and keeping your eyes on his face, afraid to move your eyes anywhere else, just in case.

“What? Can’t a man change into his fucking jim-jams in peace?” he utters back to you, his voice a breath louder than yours.

“Jim-jams?” you mock. “Jesus christ, Butch.”

“If I’m going to be squished into this bed with you, I at least want to be fuckin’ comfortable,” he says, raising his hands in defence.

“There’s always the floor.”

“Fuck off, sweetheart,” he says, turning his back to you to pull his pyjamas on.

When the two of you eventually look back to each other, it’s hard to stop your eyes from roaming over the entirety of his body. He’s ditched his shirt all together, donning only a pair of baggy, plaid bottoms.

“What?” he says as he returns to the bed, pushing your limbs out of the way as he parks himself on top of the duvet. “I saw Hughie’s, thought they looked quite nice.” He turns to face you, a questioning smirk on his face. “Is that alright with you?”

You nod your head before resting it back onto the pillow, sinking into the mattress as you become increasingly more aware of just how close you are to the man.

The two of you remain in your weirdly comfortable silence, your breaths becoming softer as you start to relax.

That is, until Butcher interrupts you.

“You’re sleeping in jeans?” he scoffs. “Get your fucking PJs on, love.”

You bring your hand to your face, rubbing your forehead before you sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and pushing yourself up onto your feet.

“You had your shoes on in the bed too? Mad fucking woman,” he utters, shaking his head as he watches you cross the room to your bag.

“I’m tired, alright? Fuck off,” you sigh.

Holding yourself up on the desk, you slide out of your trainers before turning your back to Butcher.

You feel around in your bag for a top to wear to bed, your hand meeting the soft material of one shirt in particular.

Shit.

Ignoring the feeling of the imminent questioning, you wrestle the shirt out of your bag, placing it on the side before removing your own top. Despite facing away from him, you can feel Butcher’s eyes on your bare back as you undo your bra, a small, satisfied hum escaping your lips as your tits fall freely.

Of course, he can’t see your front, but you’re sure he’s imagining.

Quickly, you pull the shirt over yourself, beginning to fasten the buttons when you hear Butcher’s breath hitch.

“Is that my shirt?” he says, his voice low.

“It’s comfy,” you shrug, shuffling out of your jeans before turning back to face him.

“I’m well aware,” he whispers.

Your eyes meet his almost instantly, his pupils large and dark, remaining focused on yours with each step you make closer to the bed. Closer to him.

He shuffles slightly closer to his edge of the bed, so much so that your skin doesn’t even brush his as you crawl back into the bed.

“I’m not going to bite you, Butcher,” you laugh, nodding your head for him to scoot closer. “Come on, you’re going to fall off the bed.”

He nods in response, moving maybe half a centimetre closer before stopping again.

“Jesus fucking christ, you can touch me, Butcher,” you sigh, making yourself comfortable on your side of the mattress.

“I don’t want to hurt you, (y/n).”

“Oh.”

You and Butcher were very obviously not on the same page.

Your mind starts to race. He wants to touch you? Wait, fuck - he said your name! How long has he wanted this? Do you want this? Of course you do. You’ve wanted this for a while.

“You have no idea how much I want you, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I-I’m always thinking about you. It’s stupid, I know. You’re you and I’m, well, I’m a fucking state-”

You cut off his ramblings with your lips on his. There’s no sparks, no fireworks, but fuck it feels so right.

He kisses back instantly, scooting closer to you, your chest brushing against his. A few seconds pass before he pulls away from you, a never ending distance between you once again.

“Sweetheart, I can’t. I’m too old - you’re too young to be messing about with someone like me,” he whispers, his dark eyes boring into yours.

“Stop denying yourself,” you utter. “You’re Billy fucking Butcher.”

In an instant, his lips return to their place on yours, his beard a soothing scratch on your face.

“You’re fucking right I am.”

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #butcher #billy butcher the boys #butcher the boys #the boys #amazon the boys #one bed #billy butcher one bed #wearing billy butcher's shirt #billy butcher shirt #karl urban #boys #one bed fic

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oddmediaforall · 11 months

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The tisim is winning

#the boys #the boys fandom #the boys hughie #kimiko the boys #frenchie the boys #butcher the boys #homelander #starlight #queen maeve #black noir #soldier boy #mothers milk

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syrma-sensei · 11 months

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• Soldier Boy:

→ Different World, Different Words.

→ Rugrats, Pool, and Grilling Techniques.

→ Bad Mouth.

→ Home.

→ Hot Under The Helmet.

→ Hush Hush Behind The Shield.

#the boys masterlist #butcher the boys #kimiko the boys #frenchie the boys #the boys #the boys fanfiction #the boys fic #the boys fanfic #the boys fandom #billy butcher the boys #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy x you #soldier boy #starlight #hughie campbell #mother's milk #homelander

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castielsgal · 2 years

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*Aggressive slurping*

#the boys #billy butcher #butcher the boys #myartstyle

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thelilnan · 1 year

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patreon requested Butcher and Homelander getting caught in the rain

#the boys #homelander #butcher the boys #butcher #billy butcher #butchlander #antony starr #karl urban #nan art

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atomicrebelomega · 5 months

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They're the most couple of all time

#the boys #the boys tv #hughie campbell #butcher x hughie #the boys hughie #billy butcher #butcher the boys #butchie #the boys memes

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blushstories · 1 year

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Waittt another idea popped into my head: imagine soldier boy flirting and teasing the reader a little bit and butcher is like ummm 👁👁 cause butcher has a crush on the reader and he gets a little jealous, but in reality, ofc the reader only likes butcher.

this one just-- this is genius, i think very fun i miss jensen ackles so much, we actually go way back and by that i mean dean winchester fanfic pahaha anyway enough vidia lore || tw misogynistic comments

Soldier boy watches your movements as he eats. You’re making drinks for everyone, a spring in your step as usual, your perfume makes the air smell pink and the hem of your skirt dances with the wind you’re creating while grabbing teabags and instant coffee.

He hums. Something drops something in the kitchen and you know it's Butcher when, "Fucking hell," swiftly follows. Soldier boy's concentration remains steadfast.

"You know, sweetheart," you're still not used to the lilt in his voice, dipped in arrogance, but dripping with honey. "You could get any man you want."

The teabag falls into Butchers cup. His unblinking gaze pins you to the spot.

"Is that so?" You don't look at him, but heat rushes to your cheeks. You can't remember the last time you've been complimented.

"With a face like that? You must be fightin' 'em off," he says. Hot water folds into the cups one by one. Heavy footsteps enter the room. "I'll bet none of 'em are real men, though."

The kettle clicks into place and you watch Butcher perch in front of his laptop, shoulders creeping up stiffly.

“Real men?” You say.

“Oh yeah. Me, for example. Men these days are pussies, can’t fucking stand up for themselves.”

With wide eyes and eyebrows raised, you make eye contact with Butcher; you’re just shocked. The cultural dissonance between his views and the present day rings in your ears.

“I could show ya,” he says, taking a bite of his food, and he is serious. Butcher stares at him, still as a statue.

“Um,” you say. “That’s okay. Thanks,” something flashes in Soldier boy’s eyes and you quickly try to recover, “I mean, another time. Maybe. I’m… honoured,” your words are trip hazards because you don’t mean any of them. They’re insurance.

“Oi, dickhead. How about you shut the fuck up for one bloody minute, eh?” Butcher cuts in, heading towards you at the counter, leaning over your shoulder to take his cup of tea by the rim. He passes it to his other hand and remains at your back while taking a sip, his hand resting on the counter to keep him towering over you like a shield.

His eyes cross the rim of the cup to send a warning in Soldier boy’s direction, and by the way his eyes roll and he occupies himself with a different activity, it’s clear that Butcher’s won.

You look up at him and smile; he winks at you and a sideways smile demonstrates he’s riding the victory high.

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