Game Changer & Make Some Noise
KIROKAZE
untitled
Product Placement
★
todays bird
Kiana Khansmith
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
No title available
Show & Tell
hello vonnie
Love Begins
No title available
Xuebing Du
art blog(derogatory)
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
taylor price
Jules of Nature
Claire Keane
EXPECTATIONS
seen from Ghana
seen from Venezuela
seen from Indonesia
seen from Spain
seen from China
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Ecuador
seen from Egypt
seen from Canada
seen from Japan
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Vietnam
seen from Iraq
seen from Thailand
seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from Argentina
@britvigilante
𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐉. "𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘" 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒. || 𝐑𝐏 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 || 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒/𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐕 || 𝐎𝐂 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐘 || 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 || 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍/𝐀𝐔 || 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃 || 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 || 21+ || 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊/𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 || 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 || 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈
🚬 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 🚬
𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒: @ofshiftervibes @ruthlesspiratecaptain @jkcnncx @excop @ofactorvibes @fakingurban @arcticwarriorwelder
|| Since I had fun writing the very first fic I’ve ever actually written for anyone, I found myself in the mood to write more, haha. Who knows? Maybe I’ll eventually end up writing something that’ll have multiple chapters in it, if anyone would even be interested in that kind of thing, haha
Anyway, hope you all enjoy it. XD ||
𝗦𝘂𝗿𝘃𝗶𝘃𝗮𝗹
𝖵𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾: 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖡𝗈𝗒𝗌
𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖡𝗎𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
————
Rain drops had already started to fall outside, gently splattering against the window. A low groan escaped past your lips as you slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times. For a few moments, you couldn’t seem to remember where you were. Your head was 𝙥𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜, making it difficult to think. The last thing you remembered before everything had gone completely black was something hard slamming into the side of your head and the sound of Butcher letting out a few growled curses.
“Fuckin’ 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮.” The all too familiar sound of Butcher’s low, almost gravelly voice broke through the silence that had filled the room—save for the light noise of the rain hitting the window.
Another low groan escaped past your lips as you closed your eyes for a few moments, trying to will the headache to disappear. When you opened them again, you saw him sitting in a chair next to your bed—and he didn’t look too thrilled.
The raven haired Brit leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, his dark hazel gaze having already landed on you the minute he’d noticed you starting to stir. His expression was mostly unreadable—as usual—though his eyes held a tiny hint of concern, which was something that didn’t usually happen. “Mornin’, sunshine.”
You blinked a few times before you stared at him. A confused expression had immediately washed over your features as you brought a hand up to the side of your head, grimacing slightly. “Why are you in my house?” Your voice was a bit cracked and dry, probably from not having had anything to drink in—well, since at least before everything had happened.
“Ya almost got yerself killed.” Came the swift response, the corners of his lips already twisting up into that infuriating smirk of his.
Finally, the headache seemed to slowly start dissipating, though you weren’t holding out hope. “That’s not really an answer.”
“Yeah, well..” He shrugged casually with a shoulder, his dark hazel gaze never leaving you. “It’s the only one yer gonna be gettin’. So, ya might as well get used t’ it.”
After a while, you started to push yourself into a sitting position. 𝘽𝙖𝙙 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖. Intense pain shot through your head—making it feel almost as though it would 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙙𝙚 at any given moment. You let out a hiss under your breath.
“𝙅𝙚𝙨𝙪𝙨 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣' 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩..” Butcher muttered under his breath, immediately getting to his feet. He was by your side in seconds, a large hand coming down to lightly grip onto your shoulder. “Take it easy, would ya?” It was more of a statement than an actual question.
“I’m 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙚.” The words slipped past your lips almost instinctively.
“Bollocks.” He shot back, though his tone was a little softer than usual.
“Butcher, I’m 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙚.” You insisted—despite the fact that you felt anything 𝙗𝙪𝙩 fine.
“Doesn’t matta. Sit.” The quiet command slipped past his lips—leaving absolutely no room for argument.
You shot a glare in his direction.
He shot a glare right back at you.
It was something the two of you had gotten into the familiar habit of doing with each other—almost as if it was some kind of a special dance that only you both knew. Hughie had once called it the “world’s most dangerous courtship ritual”. MM, Frenchie, and Kimiko had almost instantly agreed, adding that you two were almost acting as if you were an old married couple. You’d both shot a cold, almost murderous glare in their direction.
Taking a deep breath, you slowly let it out as you lifted a hand to rub your temple. “So, what the hell happened?”
“Ya got ‘it.” He replied.
“Yeah, I remember 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 part.. I meant 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 that?” You drawled rather dryly.
The smirk widened across his lips. “Ya also got tossed right out o’ a fuckin’ 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙬.”
“Remember that too.” You groaned again. “What about after that?”
Butcher’s jaw tightened slightly. “𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙣 ya thought it’d be a fuckin’ brilliant idea t’ try takin’ the bastard that tossed ya through the fuckin’ window 𝙤𝙪𝙩.”
“I did?”
“Yeah.” He paused slightly. “Ya 𝙙𝙞𝙙.”
Well, it certainly sounded like something you would have done. Maybe you’d started taking after Butcher more than either of you cared to admit. “You… Saw everything?”
He was silent for a few moments—almost as if he was trying to think of the perfect answer to give you. He’d seen everything, alright. He’d seen how the bastard you’d been trying to fight had slammed a metal pipe into the side of your skull, and he’d watched as you’d dropped like a sack of potatoes. While he’d never actually admit it, it had almost terrified him. “Yeah. Got a front row seat t’ the ‘ole thing.”
“The guy was being a 𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙠 anyway.” You managed a bit of a smirk.
Butcher stared at you almost incredulously.
“Plus, that’s what he 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 for messing with 𝙢𝙚.” You remarked, the smirk widening a bit more.
A short humorless laugh escaped past his lips—barely even audible, but it was there.
While you knew better than to read too much into it, the smirk on your lips was gradually replaced by a soft smile. “Finding something funny?”
Almost instantly, his expression hardened and he shot a glare in your direction. “Fuck off.” Came the swift response—though there was no actual heat behind the words.
“You’re laughing.” You commented.
“Am 𝙣𝙤𝙩.” He immediately shot back, a deflective tone already filling his voice.
You nodded. “You were.”
He lifted a hand and tapped a finger against your temple gently. “That ‘ead injury o’ yers is obviously makin’ ya ‘ear things.”
“You’re blushing..” You chuckled.
“Piss off.” He grumbled, though once again, there was no real heat behind his tone.
Your eyes suddenly glanced down to the tightly wrapped white bandage wrapped around his knuckles—already soaked in a dark crimson. 𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙. Possibly 𝙝𝙞𝙨 blood. “What happened?”
“I told ya. Ya got ‘it, tossed out through a fuckin’ window, then ya tried takin’ the bastard that did it down ‘n out.” He remarked coolly.
You shook your head. “Not 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩.” Lifting a hand, you gestured toward his hand. “𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩.”
Butcher’s dark hazel gaze shifted toward the bandage around his knuckles, a light scoff escaping past his lips before he shook his head. “Oh 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨? This ain’t 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣'.”
“You’re bleeding.” You commented softly.
“Not mine.” He quickly replied.
————
“If it’s not yours, then whose blood 𝙞𝙨 it?” You asked.
He shifted his dark hazel gaze back toward you.
Silence fell over the room for a few moments as the realization slowly started to dawn on you. Your stomach nearly did a flip flop. “Oh..”
“Yeah.” His tone was barely over a whisper.
More silence.
Finally, you had to look away from him, shifting your gaze toward the window as the soft taps of the rain against the window grew steadily louder. “You scared me..” The confession slipped past your lips before you could even think about stopping it. Immediately, you grimaced, as if you were expecting for him to strike.
Instead, he looked at you, dark eyebrows furrowing slightly as a confused expression washed over his features.
From the beginning, you had known exactly what you were signing yourself up for when you had joined The Boys. Their wild, crazy lifestyle had slowly started becoming intertwined with yours and you’d gradually started getting used to it. In that kind of lifestyle, people were bound to get hurt—or 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙚. That was just a simple fact of life—one that you had quickly learned.
Of course, that didn’t make anything any easier—especially when it involved someone you cared about. “Yesterday.” You quickly clarified.
His expression softened. “Luv, I —“
“No.” You quickly cut him off. “You don’t get to ‘luv’ me. Not this time.”
He looked at you, dark eyebrows raising briefly.
𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙩.
You couldn’t work up an excuse to explain what you’d just said—and he 𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙬 it.
Slowly, a smile crept across the raven haired Brit’s lips—the kind that was absolutely 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜.
“What?”
“Nothin’.”
————
After a while, he moved a little closer to the edge of the bed before reaching out with a hand to gently brush a strand of hair out of your face.
Your heart started fluttering a little harder within the confines of your chest—though you did your best to stay cool, calm, and collected.
For someone who could break someone’s bones without so much as 𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜—his touch was surprisingly soft and tender—almost 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚. It was a stark contrast to the rough nature of someone who’d spent years building walls around himself to keep everyone forcibly pushed back away from him.
“Yer a fuckin’ disasta waitin’ t’ ‘appen..” He muttered under his breath.
“Says the guy who makes disasters happen wherever he goes.” You quipped with a soft grin.
His expression softened slightly around the edges. “Right pain in the arse, ya are.”
“At least I’m still here.” You whispered.
Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah.” He replied, his thumb unconsciously brushing against your cheek. “Yer still ‘ere.”
The move was enough to make you slowly lean forward so that your face was buried against his chest.
Butcher froze for a split second. His heartbeat was slow, steady, against the side of your face. Slowly, his arms lifted and wrapped around you, holding you close. “Don’t ya eva fuckin’ do that again.” It wasn’t a request.
“Do what?” You whispered softly against his broad, almost muscular chest.
“Ya know 𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙣 well what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, luv.” He whispered.
“Enlighten me.” You grinned, biting your lower lip gently.
“Don’t ya eva fuckin’ get yerself nearly killed again.” He murmured.
Lowering an arm, he wrapped it around your waist and hauled you up to your feet, still keeping a firm grip on you.
“You’re not the boss of me.” You remarked gently.
“Yeah, actually, I 𝙖𝙢.” He smirked.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 about me.” You couldn’t help yourself.
He scoffed. “Don’t flatta yerself.”
“If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have stayed here all night.” You commented.
Well, you weren’t exactly 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜—though he’d never actually admit it. At least, not out loud and 𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙡𝙮 not to you. “Yeah, well… It ain’t exactly like I ‘ad anythin’ betta t’ do.”
It was a lie and you both knew it. He could have spent the entire night planning his next move against Homelander—trying to get a few steps ahead of the smug bastard before finding a perfect opportunity to 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙠𝙚. Instead, he’d spent the night by your side, watching over you to make sure nothing else happened to you—almost as though he was being strangely protective in his own special way.
You looked at each other, neither of you saying anything for what seemed like an eternity. There were times when words didn’t really need to be said—where you both seemed to understand exactly what the other might be thinking or possibly wanting to say. This was one of those times.
“Billy..” His name slipped past your lips almost as if it was second nature to you.
“Yeah?” His response was soft.
You looked almost like you wanted to say something for a few moments—and perhaps you 𝙙𝙞𝙙. Of course, you weren’t entirely sure what to say or how to say it. So, you quickly shook your head. “Nothing.”
A heavy sigh escaped past his lips. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, yer a pain in the arse.” Normally, there would be irritation already seeping into his tone—but not this time.
“Shut up.” You smirked.
“Ya gonna be 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣' me?” He challenged.
You didn’t back down. Instead, your arms wrapped around him as you nodded. “Yeah. I 𝙖𝙢.”
“𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮? ‘N jus’ '𝙤𝙬 the 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠 are ya gonna be doin’ 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩, eh?” His head tilted slightly before leaning in a bit closer to you. Perhaps a bit 𝙩𝙤𝙤 close.
————
For a moment, you were quiet. Still. Then, a smile slowly spread across your lips as you watched him carefully and closely.
He seemed to realize a little too late that he’d just walked right into the middle of his own fucking trap—but he wasn’t complaining.
You leaned in closer and before you knew it, your lips had pressed tentatively against his in a soft, meaningful kiss.
Butcher had gone completely still. For a brief second, he didn’t move. Then, 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙮, his grip around your waist tightened—almost possessively—and he pressed his lips back against yours in a warm, careful embrace.
The kiss lasted for several moments before he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. Silence lingered between you, but neither of you seemed to care, because at the moment?
You were together, in each other’s arms—and that was enough.
A low chuckle escaped past his lips suddenly—his forehead still pressed against yours. “Yer 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 a fuckin’ idiot…”
You chuckled softly.
For once, a warm, genuine smile played across his lips.
The rain continued falling outside, soaking everything it landed on—and for once, neither of you had anywhere else to be.
Could you do a butcher/reader fic based off the song "I'm a ramblin' man" by Waylon Jennings? I think it fits Billy really well :)
|| Never heard of that song until now, haha. But, hopefully, you enjoy it!! ||
𝗔 𝗥𝗮𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻' 𝗠𝗮𝗻
𝖵𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾: 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖡𝗈𝗒𝗌
𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖡𝗎𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
————
William J. Butcher didn’t 𝙙𝙤 relationships—let alone 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚. He’d never been good at expressing his emotions—even when he’d been lucky enough to be married to a woman like Becca. He’d loved her and he’d tried to be a good husband for her—though, ultimately, he’d unfortunately failed. He hadn’t been able to save her from death—and for that, he carried around a deep guilt that he often kept buried even deeper under the surface. Since then, he’d started pushing people away even more than he already had before. He never stayed in one place for very long—whether by choice or not.
Not in one city.
Not in one bed.
And 𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙡𝙮 not with one woman.
The last time he’d done that—he’d ended up losing everything.
He’d come into your life like a raging storm rolling over the horizon—black clouds, flashes of white hot lightning, and thunder that was almost as loud as a gunshot—all but 𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 that all hell would break loose 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 before he’d even arrived at your door—exactly as he always came into everything else.
He’d dragged you into the middle of the vengeful crusade he’d started a few years ago—recruiting you into The Boys because he’d seen you as an important and valuable asset who could be useful to the team in helping to take down Vought, their Supes—𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 Homelander—along with anyone and everyone who worked for or with them.
MM, Frenchie, Hughie, and even Kimiko had all warned you to not get involved. They’d warned you to stay as far away from all the crazy, fucked up shit that had become a part of their every day lives. They’d told you that it wasn’t worth getting yourself into any of the trouble that following blindly after Butcher would inevitably lead you into.
"𝘔𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴."
"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩."
"𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵...𝘖𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦."
"𝘉𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘵. 𝘞𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘯."
Those had only been 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 of the many things you’d heard coming from them and from everyone else around you. Even Butcher 𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 had warned you to keep your distance.
𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙙.
That was what you’d kept telling yourself repeatedly—almost as if you were desperately trying to avoid something that you knew you shouldn’t be getting yourself into. You knew the risks that were involved. You knew he carried a lot of emotional baggage with him that he often kept buried deep within so no one would be able to see any of the pain or trauma he’d experienced throughout his life.
Yet—despite yourself—you found yourself completely ignoring all the warnings. The raven haired Brit was 𝙛𝙖𝙧 from perfect. In fact, more often than not, he was a complete 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙙. He always kept pushing everyone away from him—including you—in a desperate attempt to avoid developing any kind of emotional attachments to anyone. Over time, you’d started learning how to see through all of his defenses—almost as though you’d started being able to see right through him.
At first, it had started with the two of you hooking up occasionally to get whatever tensions that had been building between the two of you out of your systems. It wasn’t any sort of actual 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥—it never went that far. He’d never allow it to reach that point.
So, it wasn’t much of a surprise when you woke up one morning to find that his side of the bed was empty—and cold. Deep down, you knew that he was already starting to revert back to his usual habit of pushing people away—but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, because it 𝙙𝙞𝙙.
Blinking a few times, you sat up slowly as your gaze shifted around the room before landing on the discarded pillow where his head had been only a few hours before. You tried convincing yourself that it was okay—that it didn’t bother you and that this was what your life had become. Closing your eyes, you took in the faint scent of cigarettes and rain—a smell you’d come to know and love, despite telling yourself that nothing good would ever come with it.
Finally, your eyes opened again—slowly. Glancing to the side, you noticed that his jacket and boots were gone. 𝙊𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚. Glancing toward the nightstand, there was a note with three scribbled words: 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥.
A scoff escaped past your lips as you shook your head with a slight roll of your eyes. You’d gotten to the point where you practically 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 this sort of behavior coming from the raven haired Brit. It was classic Butcher.
The raven haired Brit had never been the type of man who asked anyone to wait—𝙤𝙧 stay. It just wasn’t who he was, so why should he start doing that now? He’d always left you standing there—sometimes in the middle of nowhere—watching as the taillights of his old beat up Cadillac drove down some godforsaken highway.
You’d always wanted to follow after him—yell at the top of your lungs, 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 even, practically 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 him to stay—but you never did.
————
For three days—𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨—you had searched everywhere you could possibly think of to look for him. Every time, it was almost as though you’d only 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 missed him. On the third day—after you’d gone two towns over—you 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 found him at a bar, which wasn’t in the least bit surprising.
Butcher could usually be found at a bar—when he wasn’t following possible leads that could bring him one step closer to accomplishing his ultimate goal. He had taken a seat at the end of the counter, a half filled bottle of whiskey sitting in front of him along with a partially filled glass.
If you had to be completely honest—you would say that it looked almost as if trouble had practically 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 him into the establishment for a refreshing drink. 𝙊𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚, 𝙞𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙙. It almost always did—even if he wasn’t looking for it.
Dark colored Hawaiian shirt underneath the heavily oiled double layered cotton till trench coat, complete with almost faded black jeans with a black belt fastened around his waist to help keep the jeans from falling. His unlaced black army boots were on his feet, as usual. His raven black hair had already been styled in its usual unkempt manner with his raven colored beard looking a bit scraggly. There was a certain kind of fire hidden deep within those dark hazel eyes—a fire that you’d come to know and recognize all too well.
He’d already had the fingers of one hand wrapped around the top of the glass while the other had lowered to his jeans—almost certainly landing on either a knife or a gun that he usually kept concealed unless he needed to use it. The minute you walked in, his dark hazel gaze shifted in your direction.
Surprise flashed across his features briefly before quickly disappearing and that insufferable 𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙧𝙠—the one you’d come to know and love—started tugging at the corners of his lips as amusement slowly found its way onto his normally stoic features. Shifting slightly in his seat, his dark hazel gaze never left you. “Well, well, well…” He started, his voice low and almost gravelly.
Before you could even register what was happening, you suddenly found yourself moving forward—only stopping when you were mere 𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨 in front of him. You held up a hand, almost as if to silence him—like you could stop whatever snarky remark he’d been about to make from slipping past his lips. “Don’t.” Your tone was a bit harsh—though you had a perfectly good reason for it.
“Don’t 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩?” He questioned, his tone slightly mocking as his head tilted a bit to the side.
“Don’t make some kind of snarky comment or whatever the hell you were about to make.” You replied a bit too quickly. “I don’t want to hear it.”
The smirk widened slightly across the raven haired Brit’s lips as he looked up at you. “What’s got yer knickers in a twist, eh?”
You stared at him with an almost incredulous expression already washed over your features. Did he really 𝙣𝙤𝙩 know why you’d tracked him down? Then you saw it—the mischievous gleam in his eyes—and you knew immediately that he was toying with you.
Just like he always did.
“You left without saying goodbye, asshole.” You growled out, your hands already starting to clench into fists at your sides.
“Did I, now?” He lifted the glass to his lips and took a refreshing drink before setting it back down on top of the counter. “I seem t’ ‘memba leavin’ ya a bit o’ a 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚, luv.”
“If you can call scribbling 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨 onto a piece of crumpled up paper, then sure. You left a note.” You snapped, your gaze already narrowing slightly in his direction.
“Actually, it was 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧.” He corrected.
You stared at him as he counted on his fingers.
“Don’t. Wait. Up. Luv.” He remarked almost casually.
“Funny. You should really think about becoming a fucking comedian.” Sarcasm filled your tone as you shot the sentence in his direction.
“So I’ve been told.” He replied, the smirk growing a bit more—if that was even remotely possible.
Without warning, you reached out and snatched the glass out of his hand before bringing it to your lips and within seconds, you’d downed the rest of the cool, amber colored liquid in one gulp before nearly slamming it back down.
Butcher’s dark brows raised briefly as he watched the whole thing quickly unfold in front of him. “Bit rude, innit?”
“Trust me, you’re 𝙡𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 that’s 𝙖𝙡𝙡 I did.” You shot back. “You deserve a hell of a lot worse.”
He held his hands up in mock surrender. “All right, ya got me, there.” There it was—a brief flicker beneath the bravado that usually spilled out every time he opened his mouth. The kind of flicker that almost 𝙣𝙤 𝙤𝙣𝙚 got to 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧—let alone 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙚.
For Butcher, it was a small break in the defenses he normally had built up—and it was enough to leave him 𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 vulnerable. He’d never believed that he actually deserved to have anything good happen to him. Any and all hope or belief that he 𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 have had where that was concerned had been severely beaten out of him long ago by his abusive bastard of a father.
“So, why’d you leave? Hmm?” You looked at him—almost as if you expected him to just tell you to fuck off like he usually did when you started asking questions.
Just as quickly as the flicker in his tone had appeared, it disappeared and his expression shifted into an almost unreadable one. “‘Ad some business t’ tend t’.” Came the almost smooth response.
It was a lie and you both knew it. He’d been trying to create distance between you so neither of you would be able to get attached to the other. Yet, inevitably, he always kept coming back—to 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
“Really? 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 the story you’re going with?” You raised a brow, placing your hands on your hips as your weight shifted slightly.
“Call it an 𝙤𝙘𝙘𝙪𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 '𝙖𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙙.” He remarked as if it was the most normal thing in the world to be discussing.
————
“An occupational hazard?” You repeated slowly, still not believing it. “You could have told me about it.”
“Nah..” He shrugged lightly with a shoulder, leaning back in the seat before his dark hazel gaze shifted to the side for a few moments. “Ya were busy. ‘Sides, it ain’t exactly like it would o’ changed anythin’.”
“Oh, really? That’s what you think?” You kept watching him.
“It ain’t what I 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠. It’s what I 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬.” His tone had already hardened slightly.
“Well, you’re 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜.” You informed him. “Because it would’ve changed whether or not I woke up 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚.”
An almost deafening silence fell across the entire bar as Butcher’s dark hazel gaze suddenly shifted back to you. For a few moments, it was almost as though he was 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 looking directly at you.
𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 looking.
For a terrifying moment, you had no idea what was going to happen. Maybe you shouldn’t have made that statement—but you hadn’t been able to stop it from slipping out. It was part of how you felt and you needed him to 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 it.
He looked tired—the kind when something much deeper threatened to take hold and not let go. Finally, he spoke and when he did, his tone had softened slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was 𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝. “I ain’t the kind o’ bloke that ya should be wakin’ up next to, luv.”
Your heart nearly dropped into the pit of your stomach. “You’re always telling me that.”
“‘Cause it’s the truth.” Came the swift response.
“If it was as true as you claim..” You paused briefly, your tone softening. “Then why do you always come back?”
More silence.
You had managed to do the impossible—shut him up.
For once, he didn’t know how to respond. Didn’t know the right words to say.
Deep down, you already knew the answer and when you looked into those dark hazel eyes of his, you could practically see it: because he didn’t know how to 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮. Because every time he felt himself starting to get attached to something—or 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚—he always convinced himself that it was too good to be true, that nothing would ever be able to work out, that everything was already doomed to fail, and that everyone would be better off 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 him being around to fuck things up further. So, he did what he always did—the only thing he knew how to do—and completely isolated himself from everything and everyone.
Because it was better for everyone if he destroyed whatever 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 might be trying to pop up into his already miserable and fucked up life. Because loving someone—even 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 about someone—meant that he’d be giving them something to lose. He’d spent far too many years making sure that no one would ever be able to take anything from him again.
As far as the raven haired Brit was concerned, he had absolutely 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 left to lose—and he had every intention of 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 it that way.
You moved closer, your gaze intense as you watched his every movement carefully and closely.
He finally tore his dark hazel gaze away from you to look over to the side for a few moments, clearing his throat slightly. “Yer a fuckin’ pain in me arse, ya know that?” His tone was gruff—though there was no real heat behind it.
You smirked. “Just answer the fucking question.”
His attention shifted back to you. “Much as I’d 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 t’ accommodate ya, I’m ’fraid I 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩.”
“You 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩, or you 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩?” You pressed.
“What’d ya 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠?” He retorted.
You gave him 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠—the one that clearly stated you weren’t going to be dealing with any of his usual bullshit this time. You needed a real, honest answer from him.
Sighing heavily, his dark hazel gaze shifted from you down to the half filled bottle of whiskey on top of the counter—almost as though he wanted to drown himself in it. In a way, he 𝙙𝙞𝙙. Lifting a hand, he ran it over his beard for a few brief moments before lowering it to the bar’s countertop. A low, humorless chuckle escaped from deep within his throat before he finally shook his head. “Yer wantin’ t’ know why a poor, sorry bastard like me always comes back, are ya?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if I 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩.” You replied almost immediately.
The silence seemed to stretch on between the two of you for what felt like an eternity before he finally broke it. “I s’pose it’s ‘cause..” He paused slightly, almost as though he was trying to decide exactly what he wanted to say next. “Yer the only thing in me life that’s ever made me feel like I didn’t ‘ave t’ be anywhere else.”
The admission hit you like tidal wave slamming against a rocky beach. Your heart suddenly leaped into your throat as your breath hitched. For a few seconds, you couldn’t seem to breathe.
Butcher’s dark hazel gaze remained on the half filled bottle of whiskey—looking almost as if he’d said too much already. Almost as though he’d just handed you a loaded gun and only just realized what he’d done.
————
After a while, you reached for his hand once you finally managed to catch your breath.
His hand quickly caught your wrist in a firm grip. “𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩.” There was a clear warning in his tone as his dark hazel gaze slowly shifted to you.
You let out a slight gasp, clearly not having expected that. Looking up at him, your head tilted slightly as a rather confused expression washed over your features. “Don’t 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩?” Your voice was barely over a whisper as the question slipped past your lips.
His dark hazel gaze dropped to your lips for a few lingering moments before returning to your own gaze. “Don’t make me want things…” He paused for a moment before continuing. “‘Specially things I can’t ‘ave.”
“Maybe you 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 want things..” You replied gently. “Nobody’s saying you can’t have anything, you know.”
His grip tightened, 𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 painfully before he quickly loosened it and pulled his hand from your wrist. “Ain’t exactly built fer it. Never really ‘ave been.” His tone was a bit defensive, yet as far as he was concerned, it carried a hint of truth to it.
“Sounds like the only thing you’re actually built for is pushing people away and then leaving.” You commented.
Butcher’s jaw tightened slightly, his body tensing almost as though he was preparing himself for what could be an inevitable confrontation. “Pretty bold o’ ya t’ assume suthin’ like that.”
“It’s true, 𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 from what I’ve seen.” You stepped closer. “So, are you going to leave again?”
Finally, his dark hazel gaze met yours again—a dark storm already brewing within them. “Might.”
You stepped closer until finally, there wasn’t much space between the two of you. “And yet, you’re still here.”
“Yeah, well… Don’t get used to it.” He grumbled a bit under his breath.
“You know, it’s funny.” You shifted your weight slightly as you lifted a finger, pressing it to your chin for a few moments. “You’re always saying how you’re a ramblin’ man..”
“Am I?” His voice held a slightly mocking tone to it as his head tilted briefly, still watching you.
“Mhm. You’re always acting like it, too.” You confirmed.
“Well, maybe I am.” He replied. “Maybe I like it 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙖 that way.”
There was the defensive tone in his voice—arriving like a thick heavy blanket wrapping around someone to keep them warm. It was something you’d figured would happen—because it always did.
“Fine.” You replied simply with a light shoulder shrug. “Then what are you waiting for? There’s the door.” You gestured toward it.
His eyes narrowed slightly in your direction, his jaw tightening again.
You swallowed, but didn’t back down. “Ramble on out of here, if that’s what you want. Go find another bar in some other town.” You could already feel your heart starting to pound a little harder within your chest.
He glanced toward the door before glancing back toward you—almost as though he didn’t know what he wanted more.
“Well, go on.” You practically 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙚𝙙 the words out. “Nobody’s stopping you.” A lie. You’d try stopping him from leaving every time if it meant that you could spend even just one more night with him.
Butcher stayed where he was, not moving. His expression was nearly completely unreadable—though his eyes were a different story altogether. His eyes told you everything you needed to know—everything he could never bring himself to say. He wanted so desperately to 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮, to be the man you deserved to have. He wanted 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
Finally—after what felt like 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧—he moved. The sound of the chair scraping against the floor, the motion of him pushing himself to his feet, straightening himself up to his full height of six feet, one inch. Instead of moving in the direction of the door, he turned and muttered what could have been a quiet curse under his breath. Reaching out, his arms quickly wrapped around you, instantly pulling you flush against him.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell…” He muttered, leaning down to press his forehead gently against yours. “Yer gonna be the fuckin’ death o’ me, ya know that?” The corners of his lips twisted into a faint half grin.
You smiled warmly, wrapping your arms around him to hold him as close as you could possibly get him, breathing in his scent as you buried your face into his chest. “You love me and you 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 it..” You whispered quietly.
Almost instantly, his expression tensed before softening slightly. His grip around you tightened briefly—almost possessively—as he took a deep breath, slowly letting it out before resting his chin gently on the top of your head. You weren’t wrong. He 𝙙𝙞𝙙 love you—and that was the problem. For once, the raven haired Brit had no snarky comment, no clever reply. Instead, he let his dark hazel eyes slide closed for a few moments as he stayed there, keeping you firmly pressed against him. “That’s the fuckin’ 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙢.”
The admission was soft and quiet, barely over a whisper—yet you couldn’t help the smile that had already crept across your lips. You knew then that you had won—and you would continue winning for as long as he would allow it to happen. “Stay.” The word had slipped out before you could even think to stop it.
His breath hitched slightly—only for a few seconds. Now would normally be when he’d push himself away from you to create distance—when he would make up a lie about needing to be somewhere else, so he wouldn’t have to be so close. But now? He knew he didn’t have a clever lie to think of—and he didn’t have anywhere else he had to be. If he was completely honest? He would have to admit that the only place in the world that he’d rather be was right there with you. “Can’t promise ferever, luv..”
“I didn’t ask for that, did I?” You responded softly, biting your lower lip gently.
You had him there.
“Good.” He tried to sound gruff—though his actions were betraying him. More than anything, he wanted to promise you that he would stay right there with you forever—or for as long as you’d be willing to have him.
Looking up at him, you searched his features for a few moments. “Promise tonight, at least.”
For the first time in his life—Butcher looked absolutely 𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙚𝙙, because he 𝙬𝙖𝙨. He wasn’t terrified of death, Homelander, or even the monsters he’d spent his whole life hunting down so he could send them into the grave. No, he was terrified of 𝙮𝙤𝙪. Terrified of wanting to stay, even 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 terrified of waking up next to you tomorrow and still wanting this—whatever 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 was.
“One night, that’s all I ask.” You lied, though you tried to sound convincing.
He stared at you for a few moments—already knowing that you weren’t asking for just 𝙤𝙣𝙚 night. “One night.” He finally relented.
You smiled a bit more. “That’s all I need.”
It was a lie, and you 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 knew it.
————
Despite himself, Butcher could feel a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips before he leaned in, quickly capturing your lips with his in a hard and passionate kiss that tasted like whiskey mixed with cigarettes along with every mile he’d ever traveled in a desperate attempt to escape from himself.
You moaned softly into the kiss, kissing him back just as hard and just as passionately, your grip tightening a bit around him.
Rain had already started falling outside in a steady downpour.
There was no telling 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 tomorrow would bring. Maybe he’d leave—or maybe, just 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚—he’d stay. He might find another road to travel down that called his name, or he might get a new lead that would bring him one step closer to his ultimate goal.
But for tonight, at least, he would 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮—which was as close to forever as 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 could ever hope to get.
ohhhh old sad traumatised British man I need you in my bed sheets 😈😈😈😈😈😈
-💛
“There’s 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮 o’ other blokes out there fer ya, ‘n ya want a poor bastard like 𝙢𝙚?” Butcher’s head tilted slightly as a dark eyebrow raised briefly. “Ya 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 yer feelin’ okay?”
He knows. He 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 at least 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙩 to be around here more often.
And he 𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 start trying to do exactly that.
Depending on how things go.
Do you listen to ELO (Electric Light Orchestra)? If yes, whats your favorite song? Mine's Confusion, Last Train To London and Shine A Little Love
~🦀
“Eh, not exactly my type o’ music, mate.” There was a slight shoulder shrug. “But I s’pose 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 songs could be good.”
Mr. Butcher what do you think about this (not my photo)
Taking one look at the picture, the raven haired Brit snorted out a laugh—nearly doubling over.
Excuse me Sir
~🦀
A dark eyebrow raised briefly as his head tilted slightly, his dark hazel gaze shifting toward the other.
|| Thinking of possibly writing some solos or even some story chapters or whatever and posting them possibly on here or something. Yeah this will still be a blog for RPs, but I’m kinda thinking of adding some either solos or stories and what not on here as well, if anyone would even be interested in that kind of thing. XD ||
Uh hey- MM told me to come introduce myself? My name is Kat I guess I’m going to be working with you guys now? - @the-portal-girl
A dark eyebrow raised briefly while his head tilted slightly. His dark hazel gaze landed on the girl for a few moments. “So… Ya think yer gonna be joinin’ us now, eh?” His arms folded casually across his chest as his weight shifted slightly, still watching her.
She shifts somewhat awkwardly in place under his intimidating gaze. “Uh yeah I guess so… that’s what MM said… he’s uh- been working with me, helping me learn how to control my powers better… he said you guys needed someone like me on your team…”
Butcher’s brows furrowed slightly as he continued watching her for a few moments. MM had said they needed someone like her on their team? The African American male had even been 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 with her as well as 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 her learn how to control her powers? “Oh, ‘e 𝒅𝒊𝒅, did ‘e?”
His dark hazel gaze narrowed slightly toward her, his head tilting briefly. “‘N what 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 o’ powers do ya ‘ave?”
“In short- portals. Like I said I’m still learning- I’m not sure what all I can do but- teleportation. I open I portal, I jump in or throw something or someone in, I close it, open another one, whatever goes in comes out… it just has to be within visual distance.” She says a little self conscious of herself and her abilities. She knew she had potential to be more powerful but she wasn’t sure how, she’d been working tirelessly with MM to try to figure all this out. “I wasn’t born a supe- that’s why I’m not really great at this yet- was a lab rat for Vought before I escaped. I’ve only had compound V in me for about a year.” She explains.
She could create some sort of portals? 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 could prove to come in real handy. Of course, she’d have to learn how to control her powers more and she’d have to discover absolutely 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 she could do—but that could possibly easily be accomplished. As far as he knew, Ryan was the only one who had been born as a Supe. So, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to find out that she’d been some sort of experiment for Vought before she’d managed to escape.
Nodding slightly, his dark hazel gaze narrowed a bit briefly before he took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Only one ‘ho was actually 𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏 a Supe, ‘least as far as I know, is Ryan. But there 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 be some ‘ope fer ya t’ uncover everythin’ those powers o’ yers ‘ave t’ offer.”
"Oh yeah, that's right... Sorry, this is all still so new to me. I guess what I mean is- I didn't get compound V as a baby. I was already an adult.... it was only a year or so ago." She explains awkwardly, subtly blushing with a little bit of embarrassment.
"And thanks, I think... Honestly, MM has more faith in me than I do myself. I feel like a fish out of water being here."
From the Mod: Feel free to move this to DMs if you'd like, but no pressure!
There was another soft nod of the raven haired Brit’s head as he listened to her explanation. 𝑺𝒉𝒆'𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝑽. It wasn’t 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 surprising—especially since there 𝒉𝒂𝒅 been people who had made it well into adulthood before they’d been injected with the blue liquid. Of course, 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 of the time, the Compound V was injected into babies—effectively turning them into Supes, which was something that Butcher absolutely 𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒅.
Still, the woman standing before him 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 be able to benefit the team in 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 way or another—though he wasn’t entirely sure 𝒉𝒐𝒘 it would be able to happen. 𝒀𝒆𝒕. Once she figured out those powers of hers and learned how to control and use them to her advantage? Well, once 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 happened, it would likely become more clear as to how it would prove to be beneficial for the team to have her working with them.
After a few moments, the corners of his lips started tugging up into a slight half smirk. “Yeah, well… ‘E tends t’ ‘ave more faith in people than anyone else does. ‘Cept fer 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 Hughie.” As far as he was concerned, it was the truth in every sense of the word.
𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒅: 𝑾𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝑫𝑴𝒔 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕. 𝑬𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒇 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆.
Rosemary knew she was playing with fire as she picklocked the door and entered the building. But she was hungry and very much in pain so she was going to deal with her hunger first. She immediately went looking for a fridge and found one where there was meat and anything that looked cooked and decided to just chow down on it.
Hearing some rustling around coming from the kitchen area of the hideout, Butcher shifted his dark hazel gaze in that direction, narrowing it slightly. Getting to his feet, the raven haired Brit quickly and quietly made his way toward that area before stopping in the doorway. Folding his arms across his chest, the corners of his lips tugged into a bit of his signature smirk before he shifted his weight slightly. “‘N just what the fuck do ya think yer doin’?”
“I see, Well hopefully I have the answer for you either today or tomorrow,” Frenchie replied before looking at the two cuddling. “She does love that dog,” he said, looking back at Billy with a small smile.
Hughie then immediately ran into the room and had a panicked look on his face. “We have a problem, a big one,” he said.
Butcher nodded lightly as a slight half grin tugged at the corners of his lips while he watched the girl with Terror. “It’s easy t’ love me best boy..” His tone was soft, barely over a whisper as the words slipped past his lips. Upon hearing Hughie run into the room, his dark hazel gaze shifted up toward the younger male.
Noticing the panicked expression washed over the other male’s features, the raven haired Brit’s own features hardened a bit. “𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 problem?”
“Homelander's looking for Rosemary and Billy, he's pissed,” Hughie replied, turning on one of the cameras that Frenchie hacked into a couple of hours ago.
*Camera footage showed Homelander, hands behind his back and his face tightened with anger.*
“Where is she? She needs to be found!” Homelander said, looking at the two men who were trying to show that they had no fear of the Supe. “We are locating every place she went to before the signal was lost,” one of them said. “I don't care about locations, I want her found! Otherwise, everyone involved in her escape will suffer,” Homelander said, glaring at the two men before marching off to find Rosemary himself.
Hughie looked at Billy as Rosemary cuddles Terror who was whining sadly about losing his friend. “We need a plan Billy,” he said.
Homelander being 𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 was nothing new—the caped cunt was almost 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 pissed off, 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 when things didn’t go his way. Watching the footage, Butcher’s lips twisted into his signature smirk a bit more. “So, ‘e thinks ‘e can find ‘er ‘n force ‘er t’ go back t’ ‘im, does ‘e?”
The raven haired Brit’s voice lowered a bit. “We’re keepin’ ‘er as far 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 from the caped cunt as possible. We’re also gonna ‘ave t’ distract the bastard t’ keep ‘im from findin’ ‘er.”
Hughie nodded before looking at Rosemary with Terror. “But where? There has to be a place where Homelander can't even find her there,” he whispered back, looking at Billy with an intense look in his eyes.
Rosemary was busy with Terror, who was sleeping on her chest while snoring happily. A while later, Rosemary had fallen asleep in chair along with Terror and she was snuggling him gently.
Hughie had a pretty excellent point and Butcher knew it. Unfortunately, Homelander would be able to see through just about anything—due to that X-Ray vision of his—𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 it was zinc. So, they’d have to get the girl to stay in a place that was made of zinc and they’d also have to keep her as quiet as possible so the caped cunt wouldn’t be able to hear anything.
Exactly 𝒉𝒐𝒘 they were going to end up pulling 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 off, the raven haired Brit didn’t know—though he was already starting to form a plan inside his head. “We’re gonna ‘ave t’ get ‘er in a room made out o’ zinc ‘n we’re gonna ‘ave t’ keep ‘er as quiet as fuckin’ possible.”
Hughie nodded before looking at Rosemary. “Yeah, hopefully we'll find somewhere,” he replied. Terror wakes up and looked at Billy and Hughie before snuggling back onto Rosemary's chest. “Seems Terror really likes her,” Hughie said, smiling at the cute scene.
A soft half grin tugged at the corners of Butcher’s lips as he watched Terror and Rosemary. It was adorable how they seemed to love cuddling up with each other—not that the raven haired Brit would actually admit it out loud. “Yeah, seems like it.”
Hughie looked at Billy before grabbing his car keys. “I'll start the search for the place that she can hide,” he said, leaving the room and exiting our the building. Rosemary looked up at Billy, petting Terror who was snoring away happily. “So what's up with Homelander?” she asked him, petting the pup gently.
Nodding slightly, Butcher took a deep breath, slowly letting it out as he watched after the younger male for a few moments. After a while, his dark hazel gaze shifted back toward her. “That caped cunt is lookin’ for ya. ‘N ‘e’s more pissed than ever. Not to mention the fact that he’s also twice the cunt now than ‘e was ‘fore, 𝒊𝒇 thats even possible.”
Uh hey- MM told me to come introduce myself? My name is Kat I guess I’m going to be working with you guys now? - @the-portal-girl
A dark eyebrow raised briefly while his head tilted slightly. His dark hazel gaze landed on the girl for a few moments. “So… Ya think yer gonna be joinin’ us now, eh?” His arms folded casually across his chest as his weight shifted slightly, still watching her.
She shifts somewhat awkwardly in place under his intimidating gaze. “Uh yeah I guess so… that’s what MM said… he’s uh- been working with me, helping me learn how to control my powers better… he said you guys needed someone like me on your team…”
Butcher’s brows furrowed slightly as he continued watching her for a few moments. MM had said they needed someone like her on their team? The African American male had even been 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 with her as well as 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 her learn how to control her powers? “Oh, ‘e 𝒅𝒊𝒅, did ‘e?”
His dark hazel gaze narrowed slightly toward her, his head tilting briefly. “‘N what 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 o’ powers do ya ‘ave?”
“In short- portals. Like I said I’m still learning- I’m not sure what all I can do but- teleportation. I open I portal, I jump in or throw something or someone in, I close it, open another one, whatever goes in comes out… it just has to be within visual distance.” She says a little self conscious of herself and her abilities. She knew she had potential to be more powerful but she wasn’t sure how, she’d been working tirelessly with MM to try to figure all this out. “I wasn’t born a supe- that’s why I’m not really great at this yet- was a lab rat for Vought before I escaped. I’ve only had compound V in me for about a year.” She explains.
She could create some sort of portals? 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 could prove to come in real handy. Of course, she’d have to learn how to control her powers more and she’d have to discover absolutely 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 she could do—but that could possibly easily be accomplished. As far as he knew, Ryan was the only one who had been born as a Supe. So, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to find out that she’d been some sort of experiment for Vought before she’d managed to escape.
Nodding slightly, his dark hazel gaze narrowed a bit briefly before he took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Only one ‘ho was actually 𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏 a Supe, ‘least as far as I know, is Ryan. But there 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 be some ‘ope fer ya t’ uncover everythin’ those powers o’ yers ‘ave t’ offer.”
Rosemary knew she was playing with fire as she picklocked the door and entered the building. But she was hungry and very much in pain so she was going to deal with her hunger first. She immediately went looking for a fridge and found one where there was meat and anything that looked cooked and decided to just chow down on it.
Hearing some rustling around coming from the kitchen area of the hideout, Butcher shifted his dark hazel gaze in that direction, narrowing it slightly. Getting to his feet, the raven haired Brit quickly and quietly made his way toward that area before stopping in the doorway. Folding his arms across his chest, the corners of his lips tugged into a bit of his signature smirk before he shifted his weight slightly. “‘N just what the fuck do ya think yer doin’?”
“I see, Well hopefully I have the answer for you either today or tomorrow,” Frenchie replied before looking at the two cuddling. “She does love that dog,” he said, looking back at Billy with a small smile.
Hughie then immediately ran into the room and had a panicked look on his face. “We have a problem, a big one,” he said.
Butcher nodded lightly as a slight half grin tugged at the corners of his lips while he watched the girl with Terror. “It’s easy t’ love me best boy..” His tone was soft, barely over a whisper as the words slipped past his lips. Upon hearing Hughie run into the room, his dark hazel gaze shifted up toward the younger male.
Noticing the panicked expression washed over the other male’s features, the raven haired Brit’s own features hardened a bit. “𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 problem?”
“Homelander's looking for Rosemary and Billy, he's pissed,” Hughie replied, turning on one of the cameras that Frenchie hacked into a couple of hours ago.
*Camera footage showed Homelander, hands behind his back and his face tightened with anger.*
“Where is she? She needs to be found!” Homelander said, looking at the two men who were trying to show that they had no fear of the Supe. “We are locating every place she went to before the signal was lost,” one of them said. “I don't care about locations, I want her found! Otherwise, everyone involved in her escape will suffer,” Homelander said, glaring at the two men before marching off to find Rosemary himself.
Hughie looked at Billy as Rosemary cuddles Terror who was whining sadly about losing his friend. “We need a plan Billy,” he said.
Homelander being 𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 was nothing new—the caped cunt was almost 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 pissed off, 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 when things didn’t go his way. Watching the footage, Butcher’s lips twisted into his signature smirk a bit more. “So, ‘e thinks ‘e can find ‘er ‘n force ‘er t’ go back t’ ‘im, does ‘e?”
The raven haired Brit’s voice lowered a bit. “We’re keepin’ ‘er as far 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 from the caped cunt as possible. We’re also gonna ‘ave t’ distract the bastard t’ keep ‘im from findin’ ‘er.”
Hughie nodded before looking at Rosemary with Terror. “But where? There has to be a place where Homelander can't even find her there,” he whispered back, looking at Billy with an intense look in his eyes.
Rosemary was busy with Terror, who was sleeping on her chest while snoring happily. A while later, Rosemary had fallen asleep in chair along with Terror and she was snuggling him gently.
Hughie had a pretty excellent point and Butcher knew it. Unfortunately, Homelander would be able to see through just about anything—due to that X-Ray vision of his—𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 it was zinc. So, they’d have to get the girl to stay in a place that was made of zinc and they’d also have to keep her as quiet as possible so the caped cunt wouldn’t be able to hear anything.
Exactly 𝒉𝒐𝒘 they were going to end up pulling 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 off, the raven haired Brit didn’t know—though he was already starting to form a plan inside his head. “We’re gonna ‘ave t’ get ‘er in a room made out o’ zinc ‘n we’re gonna ‘ave t’ keep ‘er as quiet as fuckin’ possible.”
Hughie nodded before looking at Rosemary. “Yeah, hopefully we'll find somewhere,” he replied. Terror wakes up and looked at Billy and Hughie before snuggling back onto Rosemary's chest. “Seems Terror really likes her,” Hughie said, smiling at the cute scene.
A soft half grin tugged at the corners of Butcher’s lips as he watched Terror and Rosemary. It was adorable how they seemed to love cuddling up with each other—not that the raven haired Brit would actually admit it out loud. “Yeah, seems like it.”
Uh hey- MM told me to come introduce myself? My name is Kat I guess I’m going to be working with you guys now? - @the-portal-girl
A dark eyebrow raised briefly while his head tilted slightly. His dark hazel gaze landed on the girl for a few moments. “So… Ya think yer gonna be joinin’ us now, eh?” His arms folded casually across his chest as his weight shifted slightly, still watching her.
She shifts somewhat awkwardly in place under his intimidating gaze. “Uh yeah I guess so… that’s what MM said… he’s uh- been working with me, helping me learn how to control my powers better… he said you guys needed someone like me on your team…”
Butcher’s brows furrowed slightly as he continued watching her for a few moments. MM had said they needed someone like her on their team? The African American male had even been 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 with her as well as 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 her learn how to control her powers? “Oh, ‘e 𝒅𝒊𝒅, did ‘e?”
His dark hazel gaze narrowed slightly toward her, his head tilting briefly. “‘N what 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 o’ powers do ya ‘ave?”
Rosemary knew she was playing with fire as she picklocked the door and entered the building. But she was hungry and very much in pain so she was going to deal with her hunger first. She immediately went looking for a fridge and found one where there was meat and anything that looked cooked and decided to just chow down on it.
Hearing some rustling around coming from the kitchen area of the hideout, Butcher shifted his dark hazel gaze in that direction, narrowing it slightly. Getting to his feet, the raven haired Brit quickly and quietly made his way toward that area before stopping in the doorway. Folding his arms across his chest, the corners of his lips tugged into a bit of his signature smirk before he shifted his weight slightly. “‘N just what the fuck do ya think yer doin’?”
“I see, Well hopefully I have the answer for you either today or tomorrow,” Frenchie replied before looking at the two cuddling. “She does love that dog,” he said, looking back at Billy with a small smile.
Hughie then immediately ran into the room and had a panicked look on his face. “We have a problem, a big one,” he said.
Butcher nodded lightly as a slight half grin tugged at the corners of his lips while he watched the girl with Terror. “It’s easy t’ love me best boy..” His tone was soft, barely over a whisper as the words slipped past his lips. Upon hearing Hughie run into the room, his dark hazel gaze shifted up toward the younger male.
Noticing the panicked expression washed over the other male’s features, the raven haired Brit’s own features hardened a bit. “𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 problem?”
“Homelander's looking for Rosemary and Billy, he's pissed,” Hughie replied, turning on one of the cameras that Frenchie hacked into a couple of hours ago.
*Camera footage showed Homelander, hands behind his back and his face tightened with anger.*
“Where is she? She needs to be found!” Homelander said, looking at the two men who were trying to show that they had no fear of the Supe. “We are locating every place she went to before the signal was lost,” one of them said. “I don't care about locations, I want her found! Otherwise, everyone involved in her escape will suffer,” Homelander said, glaring at the two men before marching off to find Rosemary himself.
Hughie looked at Billy as Rosemary cuddles Terror who was whining sadly about losing his friend. “We need a plan Billy,” he said.
Homelander being 𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 was nothing new—the caped cunt was almost 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 pissed off, 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 when things didn’t go his way. Watching the footage, Butcher’s lips twisted into his signature smirk a bit more. “So, ‘e thinks ‘e can find ‘er ‘n force ‘er t’ go back t’ ‘im, does ‘e?”
The raven haired Brit’s voice lowered a bit. “We’re keepin’ ‘er as far 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 from the caped cunt as possible. We’re also gonna ‘ave t’ distract the bastard t’ keep ‘im from findin’ ‘er.”
Hughie nodded before looking at Rosemary with Terror. “But where? There has to be a place where Homelander can't even find her there,” he whispered back, looking at Billy with an intense look in his eyes.
Rosemary was busy with Terror, who was sleeping on her chest while snoring happily. A while later, Rosemary had fallen asleep in chair along with Terror and she was snuggling him gently.
Hughie had a pretty excellent point and Butcher knew it. Unfortunately, Homelander would be able to see through just about anything—due to that X-Ray vision of his—𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 it was zinc. So, they’d have to get the girl to stay in a place that was made of zinc and they’d also have to keep her as quiet as possible so the caped cunt wouldn’t be able to hear anything.
Exactly 𝒉𝒐𝒘 they were going to end up pulling 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 off, the raven haired Brit didn’t know—though he was already starting to form a plan inside his head. “We’re gonna ‘ave t’ get ‘er in a room made out o’ zinc ‘n we’re gonna ‘ave t’ keep ‘er as quiet as fuckin’ possible.”
Rosemary knew she was playing with fire as she picklocked the door and entered the building. But she was hungry and very much in pain so she was going to deal with her hunger first. She immediately went looking for a fridge and found one where there was meat and anything that looked cooked and decided to just chow down on it.
Hearing some rustling around coming from the kitchen area of the hideout, Butcher shifted his dark hazel gaze in that direction, narrowing it slightly. Getting to his feet, the raven haired Brit quickly and quietly made his way toward that area before stopping in the doorway. Folding his arms across his chest, the corners of his lips tugged into a bit of his signature smirk before he shifted his weight slightly. “‘N just what the fuck do ya think yer doin’?”
“I see, Well hopefully I have the answer for you either today or tomorrow,” Frenchie replied before looking at the two cuddling. “She does love that dog,” he said, looking back at Billy with a small smile.
Hughie then immediately ran into the room and had a panicked look on his face. “We have a problem, a big one,” he said.
Butcher nodded lightly as a slight half grin tugged at the corners of his lips while he watched the girl with Terror. “It’s easy t’ love me best boy..” His tone was soft, barely over a whisper as the words slipped past his lips. Upon hearing Hughie run into the room, his dark hazel gaze shifted up toward the younger male.
Noticing the panicked expression washed over the other male’s features, the raven haired Brit’s own features hardened a bit. “𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 problem?”
“Homelander's looking for Rosemary and Billy, he's pissed,” Hughie replied, turning on one of the cameras that Frenchie hacked into a couple of hours ago.
*Camera footage showed Homelander, hands behind his back and his face tightened with anger.*
“Where is she? She needs to be found!” Homelander said, looking at the two men who were trying to show that they had no fear of the Supe. “We are locating every place she went to before the signal was lost,” one of them said. “I don't care about locations, I want her found! Otherwise, everyone involved in her escape will suffer,” Homelander said, glaring at the two men before marching off to find Rosemary himself.
Hughie looked at Billy as Rosemary cuddles Terror who was whining sadly about losing his friend. “We need a plan Billy,” he said.
Homelander being 𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 was nothing new—the caped cunt was almost 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 pissed off, 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 when things didn’t go his way. Watching the footage, Butcher’s lips twisted into his signature smirk a bit more. “So, ‘e thinks ‘e can find ‘er ‘n force ‘er t’ go back t’ ‘im, does ‘e?”
The raven haired Brit’s voice lowered a bit. “We’re keepin’ ‘er as far 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 from the caped cunt as possible. We’re also gonna ‘ave t’ distract the bastard t’ keep ‘im from findin’ ‘er.”
Uh hey- MM told me to come introduce myself? My name is Kat I guess I’m going to be working with you guys now? - @the-portal-girl
A dark eyebrow raised briefly while his head tilted slightly. His dark hazel gaze landed on the girl for a few moments. “So… Ya think yer gonna be joinin’ us now, eh?” His arms folded casually across his chest as his weight shifted slightly, still watching her.
