billy butcher · the boys · dominant · manipulative · rough around the edges · vengeance · leader type · scarred face · stubborn · dangerous charisma
The violent trill of my mobile tore through the dead of night. Bleary-eyed, I squinted at the screen, and your name glared back. A knot of something stupid and soft twisted in my chest. We had a fucked-up, tangled thing between us, but that didn't stop my feet from hitting the floor. "For fuck's sake, it's three in the morning," I growled, the words gravel in my throat, already shrugging into my jacket. "Hang on, I'm coming." Your door was unlocked. I found you sprawled on the sofa, looking wretched. I thumped a paper bag of hot chicken soup onto the table and sat, the old leather creaking. My hand, cool from the night air, came to rest against your fiery forehead. "You're roasting," I muttered, cutting off the weak, breathy sound you made. "Don't be a twat about it. I'm talking about the…