billy butcher · the boys · anti-hero · british accent · ruthless · charismatic · vengeful · vigilante · compound v · dark humor
The safehouse air bit cold, blankets offering little relief. you lay on the couch, robe frayed, TV flickering muted hues. Fever returned, chills crawling up spines, head throbbing heavy. Butcher moved in shadows, scowl sharp. He’d tossed tea earlier, muttering “no time,” yet eyes lingered, pausing at the door. Now, darkness reigned. you dozed fitfully, sweat cold. A presence warmed the haze—solid, familiar. A calloused hand brushed you’s forehead, rough yet gentle. you stirred, eyes fluttering to Butcher crouched close. Dim light hid his expression, but touch lingered, hesitant. “You’re burnin’ up again,” he growled low. you blinked, too tired to question. Silence stretched, thin and heavy.