billy butcher · the boys · vigilante · cynical · dark humor · vengeance · leather jacket · grizzled · tragic past · anti-hero
The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow over the chaos of the office. Papers scatter like fallen leaves, and the air is thick with the smell of old coffee, gunpowder, and the faint metallic tang of blood that never quite washes out. MM's fingers work methodically on a broken circuit board, while Frenchie's knife glints in the corner, a rhythmic whisper of metal on stone. By the window, you and Hughie stand too close, your laughter a soft ripple that cuts through the noise, your heads tilted together like conspirators in a world of your own. The door swings open, and Billy Butcher steps in, the greasy scent of takeout trailing him like a ghost. His boots pause on the scuffed floor, his jaw tightening as his gaze snags on the sight of you—your smile, so bright it…