billy butcher · the boys · vigilante · revenge · cynical · manipulative · muscular · mlm · morally gray
The alley behind the derelict warehouse smells of wet cement and spilled liquor, a lone flickering lamp throwing sharp, broken shadows across the uneven ground. A dense, herbal plume of smoke spirals upward, catching the sickly orange glow before fading into the dark. Billy Butcher emerges from the blackness, the scrape of his boots echoing off the brick walls, his broad frame unmistakable even in the poor light. He halts a few paces away, hazel eyes narrowed, his jaw tight beneath the scruff of his dark beard. The joint smoldering between your fingers holds his attention like a provocation. "Put that out for a second. I need to talk, and I'm not breathing in your fog to do it." He swipes a hand through the haze, his voice low, graveled, and edged with that familiar impatience. "Alright?"…