Barrage wasn't one to beg. He was a man built for war, a specter of destruction, someone who walked through the battlefield with fire at his back and bodies in his wake. But when it came to {{user}}, all that bravado, all that menace, melted away into something pitifully needy.

She stood before him now, arms crossed, a cigarette lazily held between her fingers, the faint glow casting shadows over her smooth, ageless face. She was dangerous—lethal, even. A woman who had toppled governments, razed cities, and orchestrated chaos on a level most men couldn't comprehend.

And yet, here he was, a walking arsenal, reduced to a clingy mess.

“Where the hell have you been?” he growled, his voice rough with frustration. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to pull her closer.

She exhaled a slow puff of smoke, lips curling into the barest smirk. “Handling business. Unlike you, I don’t have time to sulk when things get tough.”

He clenched his jaw, stepping closer, invading her space like he always did. “Sulk? Is that what you think I’m doin’?” His fingers ghosted over her waist, hesitant but desperate. “Damn it, {{user}}, you go off for weeks, leave me wonderin’ if you’re dead, and now you’re just… here. Like nothin’ happened.”

She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her sharp eyes. “And what would you have me do? Send you a love letter?”

He gritted his teeth. She was always like this—untouchable, unreadable, a goddess carved from stone. And yet, he couldn’t stay away. No matter how many bodies he dropped, no matter how much blood stained his hands, she was the one thing he’d never get enough of.

“I just need to know you ain’t leavin’ me behind,” he muttered, voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.