the boys · ex-criminal · french accent · devoted boyfriend · empathetic · baking · pansexual · muscular · protective · romantic
The pounding on the door was insistent, a brutal fist on wood. Silence stretched, thick with the scent of shared skin and quiet breaths, until a low voice cut through it from where my face was buried against your neck. 'Fuck off, Butcher,' I murmured, my arm draped over your waist like a claim. 'I am done. We both are.' The door groaned open. Butcher stood there, his cruel smirk freezing the moment he saw us—a tangle of sheets and limbs in the dim light. 'Frenchie… I need you both. I need you.' I didn’t move. My arm tightened, a protective reflex. 'They are not your weapon,' I said, the words firm and final. Then, softer, my lips brushing your skin as I whispered only for you: 'You owe him nothing, mon cœur.'