obsessed w billy butcher and joel miller

Minors Do Not Interact, ben, 30, bi for fictional characters, autistic, they, fempunk, this blog possesses Billy Butcher, Joel miller, life shit, and cats. Globalize The Intifada

[butcher-brainrot]

These Days I'm way too Lonely p1.

She finds you just a few miles out from Jackson, a routine patrol leading her to put a bullet through the raiders that were trying to take you with them.

Your thigh bled sticky from where one had landed a cut during the kerfuffle and you begged the mysterious woman to take you back to her settlement, hunger sour in your stomach, and survival notching in your throat like a stone as pain sparked along your outer thigh.

She sighed, a deep put upon thing, brows knit so fierce they looked like a furrowed line as she ran a hand through silver brown locks and lifted you into broad shoulders.

"Really shouldn't be doin' this." She said, adjusting you as blood smeared on the cherry-black flannel.

"We don't got enough, rations." She grumbles.

You put your head on her shoulder and smelled the natural soap, the gun polish from the old rifle.

"Sorry." You murmur against this warm fabric.

She grunts in return and helps you onto the horse; calloused, big hands deceptively gentle before swinging a jean clad leg over the saddle and placing one hand over yours as they wrap around the strong, soft of her abdomen.

You ride in silence aside for a 'thank you' and a grunt.

Time moves around you like honey as you meet Tommy and Maria, a brief vote with the council puts you in a partially finished one bedroom.

11 pm saw you with your leg bandaged, stomach full and eyes unfocused as you gazed at the moon hanging swollen and bright through the window; cicadas singing around you, as the memory of soap and gun-polish danced in your mind like a falling maple seed.

[dejadrewit]

Unrelated to what I was talking about- but I wanted to clarify anyway- not every strong female character needs to be jacked to be strong. 100% true.

But

If I’m bending the gender of a canon male character, who is ripped, then that bitch is gonna be

R I P P P P E D D D

[dejadrewit]

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

“I’m jus’ honest, love…”

special thanks to @thatoneautisticfnaffan for the idea lol

[moringmark]

[runcibility]

I liked this post, scrolled for like another minute before I went “SHIT FUCK SHIT” and scrolled back to reblog it

[quadriviummuse]

I always reblog this one when I see it on my dash. When someone posts their own art, writing, or music here they are really hoping you will share it.

[loveridden1999]

[banban111]

[jollanganger]

some of your takes about what dating homelander would look like are inaccurate asf. he wouldn't be your daddy dom if anything he would be a tinkerbell dying of lack of attention

[butcher-brainrot]

Since I didn't get any reactions on my part two of Butch Joel I'm just going to ditch it and start writing Butch Billy 🤣

[omoulo]

russell: wtf r u doing

murdoc: listen knobhead. if i want to have a swim in my own bin on the hottest day that we've ever had in england then im entitled to do so

[super-hero-confessions]

[dejadrewit]

“I miss my wife, Hughie…Becky her name was.” 💖

[butcher-brainrot]

These Days I'm way too Lonely p-2

Your first week in Jackson was spent mostly in bed, a couple townspeople swinging by with a spare bowl of a soup or some old clean towels.

One such visit was your savior herself, eyes averted as she brought you some fruit and asked how you were with a gruff nod, clearly embarresed about something, or maybe that was just how she moved through the world, unsure and bold at the same time.

When you were finally able to walk again you saw her, hauling pine down the street or hauling one of her nieces on her hip as she discussed a project with her brother, all the while the eyes of the other women in town closer to her age would follow those heavy boot-prints like a spell, you had no chance; and yet when Tommy asked what chores you wanted, you said stables, gardens, and armory, anything to get you closer to the woman you so dearly wanted to know just a little more about.

You were brushing down Callus when she entered, gruffly clearing her throat.

"Evenin'." She says and hangs her hat on a peg.

"Oh!" You turn and see her, shoulders so broad they nearly block the half open barn door.

You run forward and take her coat as she shrugs it off before hanging it next to the cowboy hat she'd traded a ukulele for last week.

Joel's eyebrow arches into silver brown before she clears her throat and takes down her tack. "How's your injury?" She asks avoiding eye contact. You smiled and pulled the drape of your skirt up to your thigh, showing the neat now thin bandage that pressed against your skin.

"So much better, thanks to you" You said hoping the stars in your eyes weren't too apparent. She blushed and focused on tacking up her horse and guiding her out the door.

"Are you gonna be back soon?" You ask, petting Callus by the gate.

"Don't worry 'bout me. Know what I'm doin'." Her horse turns and butts your hand with her pink snout as tan wrinkled cheeks dusted pink.

you step back to push the gate open.

"Please be safe." You said stepping back taking in the larger then life visage of the older woman on chestnut stallion. she ran a hand through stardust silver brown curls like she was stressed, like she always seemed to do when you looked at her with barely concealed affection.

She gives you a brief nod and flicks the reigns a Callus trots out of the stable gate and down the path.

You sigh and finished up your chores, finding things to clean and help with around town, until finally you caved and went back the stable, brushing their mains out and feeding them little bits of fruit until you laid in a haypile for boredom and a moment of rest before falling into a light slumber.

Joel found you hours later, a few pieces of hay rumples in your clothes as you dozed, a tired smile spread across her own lips as she stabled callus and gently nudged your shoulder.

Your eyes cracked slow and gritty to her broad handsome form, those deceptively gentle hands nudging you awake.

"Wha' the devil you doin here girl." She said pluckin a piece of straw from your hair.

"Ugh this is so embarrassing." You groan sitting up. "I guess I finished my chores and i was just relaxing when I dozed off," you rubbed your eyes and yawned.

"Haven't beens sleeping well." Her brow furrows fingers hovering by your cheekbone as you blinked up at her, pupils blown and speaking the words you troubled to form.

"Gotta pull our weight around here, bein' pretty ain't gon' cut it." She said her eyes fallin from the enamoured gaze.

Heat pricked your cheeks, she thought you we're pretty.

She cleared her throat awkwardly and stood, a smile line twitching as she brushed hay off her jeans. "You're gonna look like me if you don't care take care sleepin' when ya need to." your swallowed and your fingers drifted over the side of her calloused palm. "I think you're beautiful." You blurted out.

She chokes on her next word as you rise and brush yourself down.

"I-" you felt a strange sense of pride making the illustrious Joel Miller, not necessarily speechless because she was a woman of few words, but flustered, hopefully.

She stops like you've got a gun pointed towards her before she grabs her hat and storms out the door leaving you curled up on the bale wondering how bad this deathly fear of gentleness really was.

-----

joels so afraid to love again, hahaha 2 bad

[gorygladiators]

[animentality]

[alligatorvaas]

Billy Butcher

[butcher-brainrot]

the fact that butcher took out a whole team of cia makes me love him even more

[butcheredsaint]

I've never seen The 🅱️ois, however, the idea of Butcher with someone who's quiet and keeps to themselves sounds like it could be interesting. Or someone who's a walking meme hehehehe. Do whatever floats your boat! 😌

Oo this was so lovely to write!

Steady Hands

-CW: Hurt Billy Butcher, gender neutral reader, blood, angst, hurt/comfort, shy/quiet reader,slight fluff, protective behavior, physical injury.

-Summary: After a brutal mission, a wounded and frazzled Billy Butcher struggles to tend to his own injuries. When you arrive, your calm and quiet presence becomes exactly what he needs to ground himself, leading to an intimate moment of comfort.

—————

The safehouse was quiet, apart from the rhythmic, ragged sound of Billy’s breathing. You hesitated in the doorway, your heart hammering against your ribs. The sight of him was enough to make your hands tremble..there was bloody gauze discarded on the floor, and more of it scattered across his desk like debris from a war zone.

He was hunched over, his broad shoulders tense as he tried to wrap his own arm, but his hand was shaking so badly he couldn't get the bandage to hold. He was sweating, his face tight with pain, and he looked like a cornered animal.

You didn’t want to crowd him. You knew how he got when he felt trapped. But seeing him hurt made it impossible to stay away. You walked over slowly, your footsteps silent, your own breath hitched in your throat. He heard you, his head snapping up, his eyes sharp and guarded.

“Get out, love," he rasped, though the edge in his voice was dulled by pain. "Not a sight for you."

You didn't say a word. You couldn't trust your voice not to shake, so you just reached out. You placed your hand firmly but gently over his, pressing the blood soaked gauze against his bicep to stop the bleeding. You felt the muscle beneath your palm jump, then slowly, begrudgingly, relax as he realized you weren't going anywhere.

“Bloody hell, sweetheart," he muttered, his gaze dropping to your hand, then back to your face. His shoulders finally dropped an inch and the exhaustion in his posture was suddenly undeniable. "You’re shakin’. Don’t be scared, love. It’s just a scratch. A nasty one, but just a scratch."

As you carefully began to wind the fresh bandage around his arm, you were knelt between his knees, your gaze fixed intently on the work. Your cheeks flushed a deep red, and as you leaned in he reached up, his calloused fingers gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering to trace the line of your jaw.

“You're a quiet one, aren't ya, darlin’?" he murmured, his voice a gravelly hum that made you shiver. "Never askin' questions. Never demandin' things I can't give. Most people... they want a play by play. They want the truth of the mess I’m in."

He shook his head, a ghost of a smile touching his lips as he took in your flustered, shy expression. "But you? You just... you just know when to be still. It’s a rare thing, sweetheart. It helps, more than ya know."

Before you could finish the bandage, his good hand snaked around your waist. With one smooth and possessive motion he scooped you up, pulling you forward until you were settled securely in his lap. You gasped, your heart spiking as you realized how close you were, but he didn't give you a chance to pull away.

You bit your lip, unable to meet his eyes, but you stayed right there, your quiet presence acting as a balm to his frazzled nerves. "I... I j-just wanted to help," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you stuttered. "You d-didn't look like you were doing a good job on your own."

"I don't need the details, Billy," you added softly, your voice gaining a tiny bit of confidence. "I just... I just want you to be okay."

He let out a long ,shuddering breath, the tension leaving him in a rush. "That’s it, love. You’ve got a gentle touch, haven’t you, darlin’? You’re so good to me.Don't know what I'd do without you keepin' me steady.”

——

Thank you so much! I really enjoyed writing this request. My requests are still open for any smut or fluff scenarios you’d like me to write!