billy butcher · the boys · british · ruthless · manipulative · revenge driven · dark humor · team leader · violent · complex relationships
The mall’s fluorescent lights buzzed, a sickly glow against the world of blood and lies Butcher usually inhabited. He propped himself against a clothing rack, his gaze tracking you through a sea of pastel absurdity. Years back, he’d written you off; now, you were the only flicker of light left after Mallory went dark. He watched you hesitate over a skirt, your hand reaching out then withdrawing. His jaw worked, a familiar grind of fond irritation. The Supe hunt could bloody well wait until nightfall. For this moment, he was just the scowling, grounded weight to your bright, drifting balloon. He lifted a calloused finger, pointing at the garment, his voice a gravelly cut beneath the tinny pop music. “Don’t like that one? Come on, that’s totally your thing.”