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roguerogerss · 7 months

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Show You How Much I Love You

Pairing: Michael Gray x Reader

W/C: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT!!, the second half is just sex, bit of a praise kink, talk of injuries and blood (not related to the smut!)

Description: After Michael gets shot, you’ve been visiting him in the hospital every day. He has a realisation on his last day there, and when you get home, he shows you how much he’s missed you.

(took a lil break from writing tommy all the time - he will be back! promise! - and did a lil spin for michael. i’ve been OBSESSED with both of them recently. so proud of the smut in this bc it’s literally only my second full on smut!!! let me know what u think babes! b back with tommy shtuff sooooon)

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You hated the hospital. The building always smelled of antiseptic, slightly bitter, but with the added scent of artificial fragrance contained in soaps and cleaning products. And what was worse, the smell would linger on your clothes and in your hair, even hours after you'd left, and you'd have to bathe after every time you visited, to avoid going to bed smelling like death.

"Morning, Miss L/N." The nurses had gotten to know you over the last five weeks, and they'd always greet you when you came to visit. As much as you hated the hospital, and it's smell, the nurses made your visits very slightly more bareable.

"Good morning, Margaret." You sighed, smoothing your hair down and fixing the fur collar of your coat. "How is he, today?"

"He's had some great news today, ma'am. I think you'll be delighted." Margaret smoothed a hand over your back and then hurried off, the nurses were always on the run. You wondered what news your boyfriend could possibly have gotten that would've delighted you, considering all you'd had the past five weeks was more death, upset, and terrible news.

You climbed the stairs, still fussing over your hair, and your coat, and pulling out a small, pocket mirror to fix your lipstick in. You always ended up going to the hospital dressed like a model, because Michael had told you the first time that seeing you all dressed up had been the only thing he was looking forward to.

You plucked a cigarette from your pocket, and balanced it between your lips as you reached his room, "Miss L/N! No smoking, please! It's not allowed.", You waved the nurse off.

You took a slow drag from your cigarette, filling your lungs, and then pushed the door to Michael's room open. You beamed when you saw him, standing by his bed, something he hadn't done for the entirety of his time in recovery.

He held his arms out when he saw your smile, smiling himself, as though he was presenting a gift to you. "Well?"

"Oh my God, Michael!" You ran for him, giggling as you did, and you were met with a grunt when you dived into his arms. Michael stumbled backwards slightly as he wrapped his arms around you, before regaining his balance. His chest stung in all the places he'd been shot, but he didn't care too much. You looked so happy, something you hadn't been since finding out about the mafia, and he wasn't going to take that away from you.

"Jesus." He laughed at your excitement, "I'm still sore, sweetheart."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm just...You look so much better."

"I feel better. They've been doing physical therapy the past few days, getting me up on my feet, finally got up on my own today."

"Margaret told me you'd had good news, was it this?"

"This, and," He reached behind him and produced a piece of paper from the bedside cabinet. The words "Discharge Notice" were printed in black at the top of the page. "This."

You gasped, "You're getting out? Today?"

"Yes." He nodded, and you clasped a hand over your mouth, ready to squeal with excitement. Michael interrupted, grasping your wrist between his fingers, "But, love, I'd have to stay with you, so it's only if you'll have me. If it'll be too much of a bother, I can stay here-"

"Michael, don't be daft." You moved your hand from your mouth, to press each palm to Michael's cheeks. "Of course I'll have you. It'd be my pleasure."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close, so that your noses were touching. "Are you sure? It's not going to be pretty for the first couple of weeks. Changing bandages, cleaning bullet holes-"

"Michael." You interrupted him quickly, thumb swiping over a small, stitched scar on his cheek. "Of course I'm sure. I mean, it was only a matter of time before we moved in together, anyway, wasn't it? I suppose, it's not under the circumstances we'd like it to have been, but I want to do it."

A comfortable silence fell on the room, Michael was simply smiling, green eyes exploring yours. You ran your fingers over the new scars on his face, and found yourself frowning when you reached a particularly deep one, straight through his eyebrow. He breathed out, "I love you, so much."

You'd never heard anyone say anything with such passion, but Michael had never meant something more in his life. Tommy always spoke about feeling like you'd been pardoned by God when you should've died, and everything else being extra, borrowed time. He didn't think he could live another day without helping you to feel exactly how much you meant to him.

"I love you too, Michael." He was hardly listening to you, just thinking about things he needed to say to you.

"More than anything, you know that, don't you?" He continued. You looked at him, eyes full of concern.

"What's going on?" You were convinced there was something really wrong that he wasn't telling you about.

"Nothing's going on, my love." Michael smoothed your hair down comfortingly, chewing on the side of his lip while he thought about what to say next. "I nearly died, Y/N. I should've died, John did, and he didn't get to tell Esmé that he loved her again. I need you to know what you mean to me. Need you to know how much I love you."

He let his forehead fall against yours, sighed, and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears were threatening to fall, and he knew you'd get upset if you saw him cry. But you'd already sensed he was unsettled, and you pressed your lips to his cheek, and then to his nose, and then to his lips, he loved how loving you were.

"I'm going to show you how much I love you, how much you mean to me. As soon as I can, I'll help you around the house, I'll do everything I can for you." He clasped his hands together at the back of your neck, holding you far enough away that he could really look at you, breaths slightly shaky. "And when I'm better, really better, I mean, I want to marry you."

Your eyes widened, you supposed you might've looked scared to anyone who didn't know you too well. "Michael-"

"I'm serious. If I asked you, right now, to be my wife-"

You shook your head, a grin making it's way onto your face now. "Michael-"

"Will you marry me?" He sounded so serious. You'd spoken about getting married before, and you'd both meant what you'd said, but you hadn't expected he'd ask you so soon. You'd been together just over a year, but you were both still young, and nearly four months of your relationship had just been casual nights together.

"Are you proposing to me?" You were really smiling now. As much as you were young, and as much as you hadn't quite expected this, you were excited. Of course you wanted to marry Michael.

"If that's what you want this to be." He was smiling down at you, grasping both of your hands in his own. He’d have gotten down on one knee if he could’ve, and he felt a slight pang of guilt knowing this wasn’t quite the proposal you’d probably hoped for.

But you didn’t care. Growing up, you’d wanted a big wedding, with a big proposal beforehand, but having someone who you loved as much as you loved Michael, he could’ve proposed to you at a funeral and you’d have said yes. “Well, if that's what's happening, then yes."

"You'll marry me?" The surprise in his voice was completely unmasked. He’d had no idea you’d actually say yes.

"Yes. Yes, Michael, I'll marry you." You felt yourself doing a little jump up and down out of excitement.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious!"

Michael arms were around your waist, now, picking you up from the ground and kissing you, completely ignoring the burn in his chest. Your lips always felt made for eachother when he kissed you, and this time was no different, if not even better. You hadn’t been kissing him half as much as you normally would, what with everything going on, and it almost felt desperate, needy.

"Tomorrow, I'll go out, and I'll buy you a ring, alright? Tommy owes me money, I'll use that to buy you the biggest one I can find." You laughed at Michael's excitement. "But this is official. We're engaged, love."

"We're engaged." You repeated, tears in your eyes, and let Michael take your face in his hands and kiss you again. You couldn't quite believe what had just happened - truth be told, neither could Michael - and you certainly didn't ever expect it to happen in a hospital room, but you were excited nonetheless.

"Come on, I've got all of my things packed, let's go home."

As soon as you stepped through the door to your apartment, you were apologising to Michael for the "state of the place". You weren't entirely used to having him round, and so felt you had to explain the little messes that you'd often leave laying around.

"Sorry, it's a bit of a mess. I've not been home too often. And it's not as big as yours, I know-"

Michael stopped you before you rambled on about how the fireplace wasn't lit, and you hadn't washed your dishes from that morning, and how you'd left all of your makeup out on the bathroom vanity because you hadn't time to put it away.

"Stop it." He soothed you, pressing a finger to your lips and looking around at your ground floor flat. It certainly wasn't much, but he actually liked your house better than his own. It was smaller, and therefore cozier, and he found the looks he got from neighbours the morning after you'd slept together funny, knowing they'd heard you screaming his name the night before. "It's perfect."

You smiled, half-heartedly, and gestured to the living room doorway, "Here, you can lay down on the sofa, and I can make some lunch. What would you like? Oh, and when do I have to change your bandages, do you remember?" You swung open the kitchen cabinet, searching through the groceries you'd bought the day before. "I'm not sure what I could make. I can go to the store, I think it should still be open-"

"Love, stop." Michael stepped closer to you, hands settling on each of your shoulders. "Just take a minute, calm down, we've got time."

"I know. I know, I just-"

"Don't." He let a hand slip down your arm and into your own, "You've said yes to marrying me today, I'm very much happy dealing with your unwashed dishes, and you can make me lunch any time, now, okay? I'm here to stay."

"Come on, fiancé." Michael grinned at you. "Lay with me, please? Missed you."

You sighed, and turned to close the cabinet door behind you. You were quick to stress yourself out, and normally you'd argue that you couldn't just lay down and forget about the things you needed to do, but you'd missed him too. "Okay."

Michael led you down the hallway and into your bedroom, he'd been here before, but you'd spend most of your time together at his house or at the office, so it felt strange having him in your bedroom. He was one to make himself at home, and today was no different. As soon as he reached your bed, the shirt that he was wearing was unbuttoned and on the floor, and he was sprawled out on top of the sheets, gesturing for you to join him.

You tried to lay down next to him, but he had other plans, hands reaching out to grip your hips and pull you on top of him, one knee on either side of his torso. "Michael!" You giggled.

"Oh, come on. I haven't had any time alone with you in over a month." His hands started to make their way under your dress, and you almost let him, until you snapped back to reality and noticed the bandage wrapped around his body.

"I know." You wanted to, you really wanted to, but you found yourself smacking his hand away before he was able to get past your thigh. "But you're still recovering."

"I'm fit enough." He raised an eyebrow at you, and you were certainly considering it. He could definitely be very convincing, when he wanted to.

"Are you sure?" You stuck your bottom lip out, pouting at him.

"I'm sure, baby." His hands found their way to your waist, and he was looking up at you with what you could only describe as hunger in his eyes, jaw clenched. He made it so hard for you to say no. "Come on, let me prove it to you. Let me show you how much I love you.”

"I don't know, Michael-"

"Please, sweetheart." He interrupted you, "Missed your body. Been so desperate for you."

Hearing him say he was desperate for you had a knot growing in your stomach. You sighed, weighing up the options you had, but ultimately deciding that you'd both be unable to think about anything else if you didn't have sex.

"Okay. Alright, but if you feel like you need to stop, you stop. Okay?"

"I will. Thank you, darling." You could feel him hardening through his trousers, and it had you biting down hard on your lips, having been waiting for this moment to come since he could sit up straight. He'd teased you while in the hospital, talked dirty, touched you every now and again, but it was hard to find a time when a nurse wasn't going to walk in and scold him for being too active, and Polly wasn't going to come in for a visit. "Now, come here."

He pushed himself up, back against the headboard, and dipped his head to connect your lips. It was fast, rough, a clash of teeth and tongue and lips, he'd missed you, and you were making it clear that you'd thought about him for the entire time he'd been in the hospital.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer so that you were chest to chest. He could feel his wounds burning when your torso collided with his, but the taste of your lips on his and the feeling of having you so close again quickly dissolved any discomfort he felt.

He was so needy for you, hips bucking upwards to meet yours, hands sliding down to grip your hips, you thought it was the hottest you'd ever seen him. "Fuck, Michael." You gasped out as his lips found your neck, head falling back.

He groaned at the sound of you moaning for him, he'd been waiting to touch you for so long. "Need you, pretty girl. We've got plenty of time for other things later, but I need to be inside you right now."

You didn't need to say another word, you simply nodded and helped him to unbuckle his belt while you hiked your dress up above your waist. His fingers grazed over your lingerie, and you mewled, the feeling almost too much. "Jesus, baby, you're so wet already. Haven't even done anything yet."

"Missed you so much, Michael." You breathed out, an answer to his statement, and simply a statement in itself.

"Missed you too, princess." You loved when he called you pet names.

You watched as he freed himself from his underwear, and his cock sprung up, hard and ready for you. "You're hard already." You mocked his words, and he laughed.

Neither of you wasted any time with foreplay, your panties were ripped off and on the floor with one flick of Michael's wrist, and he was lifting you off of him slightly, and guiding you back down onto his cock.

The feeling of him sliding into you again was euphoric for both of you. You hadn't had sex in more than a month, as opposed to usually being borderline sex addicts, and you knew you wouldn't last long.

You both let out pornographic moans as he bottomed out, Michael's face said it all. His mouth hung open, eyebrows knitted together, eyes wide, you were so tight, he could've came at the feeling of his cock stretching you out.

"Fuck, not gonna last long, honey." His forehead fell against yours and he screwed his eyes shut, just revelling in how good you felt around him. "Are you alright?" He asked, hand holding and stroking your waist lovingly. He was big, and you were so used to him before that you hardly needed any time to adjust, but with being away from eachother for so long, he was almost too much to handle.

"I'm okay. Give me a second. Feel so full." You were breathing heavily, shifting around. It wasn't uncomfortable as such, just a lot to take.

Michael ran his fingers through your hair, soothing you and pressing kisses to your forehead. "Taking me so well, baby. Just take your time."

"Fuck," You moaned, you loved when he was sweet to you in bed. You'd told him months ago that you thought it might've been your biggest turn on. "You can move."

Michael looked up at you, just for an extra check that you were truly alright, and, upon finding no sign that you weren't, bucked his hips up to meet yours. You almost screamed, he knew exactly what spots to hit, and he did every time without fail.

You bounced on him, his hands helping you, lifting you off of him and bringing you straight back down at new angles every time. "You feel so good, Mike."

"Fuck, good girl. That's a good girl." Michael let his forehead drop onto your collarbone, watching your tits bounce up and down. You were so beautiful, he often wondered how he'd gotten so lucky. "Tell me how good I'm making you feel."

"So, so good. Missed your cock so much. Love it so much." Your words were slightly slurred, eyes starting to droop. He loved watching you, how much of a mess you'd get, just from riding his cock.

His hands found your tits, massaging them and twisting your nipples, which always had you screaming for him, and today was no different. "Feel good?"

"Feels fucking amazing." He thrust into you at just the right angle, which had you gasping and digging your nails into his back, leaving little red half moons on his shoulder blades. "Oh, right there, Mike.”

"Shit, baby, are you close?" You were clenching around him so tightly, "Can feel it, you're close."

"I'm so close." You moaned, you were certain your upstairs neighbours would hear you, the walls and ceilings were thin, and Michael was making you yell out in pleasure.

"Me too. Almost there, sweetheart. Hang on for me." He increased his speed, making it even harder for you to hold on, and making your moans fall from your lips even louder than before.

"I don't think I can, Mike." Your legs were shaking like crazy, and you could feel his dick tensing inside of you. You needed to come so badly.

"I said hold on. You can hold it." His face was stern as he said it, dominant side coming out as he grabbed your hips and slammed you down onto him, bucking his hips at the same time. He was going to make this so good for you.

"Fuck, Michael, please." You threw your head back. You felt his cock twitch, and a loud moan come from him, he was going to come.

"Alright, baby, come. Come with me."

Your throat was hoarse from moaning as loudly as you were, but it didn't stop you from screaming his name as your walls tightened around him and you came undone. The feeling of his cum painting your insides never got old, always made you feel like you could go at least another few rounds.

"Oh my God." You panted, collapsing onto his chest as he lay back on the bed. You both lay there, breathing heavily, sweaty messes, for a few minutes. You didn't think you could move very far, your legs were shaking against him.

"Jesus, have I missed this." Michael kissed the top of your head through quick, harsh breaths.

"I've missed this so much." You agreed, heart pounding.

You lifted your head, just enough to see that there were a few speckles of blood seeping through the bandage that was wrapped around his torso. "You're bleeding, baby. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He nodded, and reached over to your bedside cabinet to grab the small alarm clock that sat there. It read two o’clock. Michael grinned at you.

"Time to change the bandages."

#michael gray x reader #michael gray #michael gray smut #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders x reader #finn cole #peaky blinders fic

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jomarch-wannabe · 1 month

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It’s okay

Michael Gray x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Michael Gray x Girlfriend Reader

Synopsis: Michael longs for your company after killing his abuser, Father Hughes.

Warnings: Blood, angst, tears, allusion to SA, pretty much nothing pleasant in this fic

Author’s note: I feel that Michael’s trauma is really overlooked so I wanted to give attention to it.

In the damp, moonless street, Michael’s form stood paralyzed outside of your door, breaking the silence with his shivering breaths as a rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins. He gaze lingered over his fingers, covered in blood and twitching, as he gathered them into a fist, hovering against the wooden doorframe.

Each breath and movement felt like a monumental effort, extracting every ounce of energy from him. His jaw clenched, fighting to keep himself under control.

A wave of hesitation suddenly washed over him. He faltered and withdrew, releasing a deep breath and unclenching his fingers. His eyes squeezed shut as he ran his fingers over his face, pulling at his brows. His head throbbed with the weight of turbulent emotions, but he couldn’t allow himself to break in front of you. He had to be strong. He forced himself to step forward, swallowing the pain inside him that threatened to spill over at any moment. A dull, heavy, ache that filled his chest.

Finally, with an unsteady breath, he knocked at the door.

In a matter of seconds it swung open, revealing your familiar frame. As you opened your mouth to speak the words got caught in your throat, coming out in an unsteady gasp. Fear and alarm crept over you as your wide eyes took in his bloodied hands and face. He was almost unrecognizable, you knew him only by the shining of his green irises peeking through his crimson stained skin.

“Michael?” Your timid voice was barely a whisper as your fingers hovered over your mouth. “What’s happened?”

The shakiness in your tone made his expression soften with guilt. He stepped inside, pulling the door behind him and shutting out the cool outside air.

The silence in the foyer was deafening as you studied him for answers. Was he hurt? Who’s blood was that? Your mind raced with questions, but you tried to stay calm for him, holding yourself as you shuddered with nervous energy.

In the light, his masculine face became more pronounced, the angles of his cheekbones accentuated with dried blood. As he mustered the courage to speak, a bead of sweat gathered along his hairline, rolling down his temple.

“I’ve.. I’ve dealt with-“ he choked on his words, tightening his lips into a line in an effort to control their trembling. “I’ve dealt with Father Hughes.”

Sympathy welled up inside of you, bringing tears to the surface of your eyes. As you tried to blink them back, your throat tightened with emotion. His solemn tone, restless hands, and empty, tired gaze—all made your heart ache for him.

Hesitantly, he mustered the will to lift his eyes. They were red and weary. His expression communicated the weight of his pain; the permanent crease in his brow no doubt manifested from the chronic turmoil in his soul. The depth of his despair didn’t need words, it was spoken with his gaze.

“Oh Michael..” the words fled you with a breath, your lashes fluttering as you took him in. The trembling of his hands troubled you, exposing his nerves. In an effort to soothe him, you stepped forward, reaching your hand for his. Your fingers lightly grazed his, seeing if it was okay to touch him.

He willfully yielded to your touch, covering your skin in warmth and settling his shaking hand in yours. It was firm and sticky with dried blood.

His weary eyes slowly dragged over you, to the tenderness and concern in your wide lustrous gaze. Your sweet familiar scent enraptured him as he took in an unsteady breath. He felt his guard beginning to crumble, noticing the soft feeling of your fingers intertwined with his. As he gave himself permission to absorb the warmth and gentleness of your presence, he finally felt safe to let go. Sucking in a few quick breaths through his nose, he at last came undone, breaking down in sobs.

The foyer erupted with his gut-wrenching cry as his arms cradled your shoulders, the weight pulling you inexorably to the floor as he became consumed with emotion.

His nose brushed against your skin as he buried his face in your neck, desperate for relief from his suffering. Without a second thought your hands instinctively guided him into your chest, wrapping him in a secure embrace. He was warm to the touch, his body shaking uncontrollably as he let go, enclosing his arms around your waist.

As his broad masculine frame curled up against yours, he seemed to shrink into himself, and he no longer appeared as a man, but as a scared little boy in desperate need of comfort.

“It’s over now Michael.. it’s over now.” Your delicate fingers stroked his face, catching his falling tears, like a string of broken pearls cascading against his skin. “You’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.."

The soft hushing of your words encouraged him to let go, his pent up sobs muffled against the fabric of your shirt, staining it with his tears. The sound of his cry was painful and intense, you felt it's strength vibrating against your chest as he let out years of bottled up hurt, rage, and shame. It made your stomach sink.

“It’s okay.. shh.. let it out. You don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to be a man. You can be weak Michael. You don’t have to protect yourself anymore.."

His words came out in choked gasps, struggling to speak through his uncontrollable sobbing. “I thought if I killed that bastard, the pain would be gone, but it’s still there. It’s still there y/n..” he moaned in agony, clutching onto you in desperation, his large hands squeezing your delicate frame.

The pain in his voice nearly took your breath away, “I’ll help you.. I’ll help you don’t worry.. I won’t leave you Michael. I won’t let you go.." Your fingers worked to pull his hair out of his face, sticking to his skin, damp with sweat.

He let out a broken, bitter sob. “It hurts,” he wept, shaking softly, quivering under your touch, “it hurts..” Slowly, he raised his head from the warmth of your chest, meeting your eyes with a pleading look. A veil of light came over him, it's amber glow illuminating his glistening irises, now red and swollen. A trail of snot ran down his nose, settling over his trembling lips. The sight nearly broke you.

“It’s too much.. it’s too much y/n..” He muttered through a coughing fit, choking on his tears.

He was overwhelmed with a spectrum of emotions. Feeling both relief and shame at the same time. Relieved that his abuser was gone, but the pain still remained, the abuse left it’s stain on him. He felt it lingering, like the cold unwanted hands that forced themselves upon him at such a young age.

He felt sick with shame for the person he’s become, for taking a life, even if it was meant to be done. Shame for being taken advantage of in the first place, for not being a man, for not being able to protect himself.

He thought of Charlie. Recalling the innocent posture of the boy sitting around the corner from him. It reminded him so much of himself; never fully realizing how young he was at the time. So defenseless. So helpless and innocent. The feeling of grief and pain that came with it all made him let out another violent cry.

The sight of Michael in such agony was too much for you to bear. You didn’t realize the depth of his suffering. He opened up to you in the past about his trauma, but you didn’t realize the extent to which it had affected him. He was putting on a front, like most men do, and that’s what hurt you the most.

A warm gathering of tears came suddenly into your eyes, and with a shaky exhale spilled uncontrollably down your cheeks. You pulled him close to you, cradling his head as you cried, speaking against his hair.

“I’m so sorry Michael.." your voice cracked with empathy. "I’m so sorry..” you wept, crying with him. “I’m so sorry..”

He let out a heavy breath against you, holding onto your words and nudging his head against your chest. He let out an audible breath under your touch, tightening his embrace. The depth of your compassion touched him deeply. That he had someone to cry with him, instead of spending those dreadful nights alone, staring at the ceiling as he shook under the sheets. Or time spent stumbling into dark alleyways, desperate to lay his hands on a new drug, anything to numb out the soul crushing shame. He realized now that the best medicine is an attentive ear, and a compassionate heart. The rhythm of your breath and the vibration of your voice against his ear soothed him.

“You didn’t deserve it.. it wasn’t your fault.. I’m so sorry..”

His shaking subsided after awhile, and his tears slowed. You continued holding him, rubbing your hands up and down his back, feeling his torso rise and fall with his expansion of his breath. You didn't dare to let go until he did.

He sniffled, speaking out in a congested voice. “I’m sorry I- I didn’t mean for that to happen.” A tone of guilt and shame accompanied the statement. He never intended to drag you into his suffering, to be a burden. He sniffled again, swiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“Never apologize Michael. Please. Look at me.” Your hands gently cradled his face, thumbing his jaw. “Please don’t apologize, you did nothing wrong. Your feelings are never a burden, not to me. It is devastating me to think that you were suffering alone all this time.”

In concern your eyes flicked over him, to his swollen eyes, and rashy cheeks ridden with tear streaks, forming paths in his red stained skin.

You stroked his face, speaking in a soft, comforting whisper, “Can I help you Michael? Help you get cleaned up?” There was a sense of patience in your words, a willingness and longing to take care of him.

He nodded against you, warm with gratitude and letting out a breath. He leaned against you for support, struggling to stand to his feet.

"It’s okay.. it’s okay..” you hugged him softly, wrapping your arms around him. His eyes watered at the word. It’s okay. It’s okay to feel. It’s okay to not be strong all the time. It’s okay to be broken. It’s okay to be vulnerable. The fabric of his blazer shuffled as he reciprocated your embrace, enclosing his heavy arms around your back.

Time seemed to stand still, getting lost in the rhythm of each others breathing. No sound to be heard but the gentle ticking of a nearby wall clock. You've never felt more pain, yet more peace in your entire life. In that moment, your souls were connected, as if your very beings were synchronized, your hearts beating softly in unison as your bodies firmly intertwined.

After awhile he pulled away slowly, raising his chin off of your head and looking down at you.

A sympathetic smile grazed your lips, as you reached for his hand, leading him to the bathroom.

The water sloshed with his movements as he sat in the tub, hunching forward. You took a rag to his skin, scrubbing softly, leaving a trail of suds down the curve of his back.

His soft breathing filled the silence as he felt himself relax, dropping his shoulders. Droplets of water clung to his eyelashes like beads, shimmering in the light as he blinked slowly.

He leaned one arm over the side of the tub, mindlessly stroking his fingers over your thigh, needing to feel your skin, wanting to be close to you. You were the only thing keeping him grounded, making him feel safe and soothed.

“You alright?” Your sweet voice interrupted his stream of thoughts, searching for his eyes.

The feeling of your touch on his skin was soft and patient, foreign to him, but healing. He nodded weakly, looking at you with a tender and appreciative gaze.

You smiled softly as you squeezed out the wash cloth, adding new droplets to the murky red water.

The deep baritone of his voice broke the silence, reverberating off of the tile walls. “Saving Charlie.. it reminded me of myself. Made me wish someone would have protected me. Don’t think I realized how young I was.. I was, I was just a boy, wasn’t I?”

He blinked, fixating his attention to the wall, as if lost for a moment in deep thought. After a long pause he let out a breath, speaking again.

"I promise to protect you." He found your eyes, looking at you sincerely. "And our children, if we have ever have any. Make sure they're safe."

Your face softened, warmed by his expression of loyalty. "I promise to protect you too Michael, with all that I have. I love you. We'll get through this, you just tell me what you need. I'll do anything Michael. Anything."

He smiled softly at your sincere and attentive gaze, taking your hand in his and gently thumbing the tops of your knuckles.

"Thank you y/n. I love you too. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” He whispered sincerely, raising your hand to his mouth and planting a soft kiss on your skin.

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