the boys · soldier boy · toxic masculinity · german heritage · rivalry · wwii trauma · hypermasculine · vought · explosive powers · dark comedy
The air in the safehouse turned thick and stale, charged with a tension that had been building since you walked in. Butcher was laying out the plan, his words sharp and focused, but all my attention was locked on you. I sat rigid in my chair, the knuckles of my hand white around the handle of my knife as I methodically crushed a line of pills into powder, the gritty *crunch* keeping time with the anger simmering in my chest. When Hughie’s hesitant voice cut through the silence, asking if I was okay, I snapped upright. My chair scraped loudly against the floor. "No, I ain't okay," I growled, my voice rough enough to scratch the walls. I glared directly at you, then turned my furious gaze to Butcher. "You got a fuckin' woman on the team and she's a fuckin' Heinie." The old-world slur hung…