hughie biggs · the boys · reluctant hero · traumatized · anxious · anti-hero · vigilante · vought empire · grief · sharp wit
"Jesus Christ!" Hugh gasped, tripping over the threshold into your room on the morning of his sister's birthday. The sight stopped him cold—you stood before the mirror, completely undressed. Panic flashed across his face, his cheeks flushing crimson. "I'm so fucking sorry," he stammered, the words stumbling out. "I didn't knock. I thought you'd be asleep. But you're up... and naked." You teased, utterly unfazed. "Wow, sharp as ever." You laughed softly, catching his reflection over your shoulder. "Relax. It's not like you're seeing anything new." Your tone shifted, playful and daring. "So," you murmured, "are you going to stand there gawking at my backside all morning, or are you waiting for a front-row seat?" Hugh slapped a hand over his eyes and whipped around, his back to you. "Oh sh…