Marvel imagines and preferences

Brock Rumlow imagine - Breaking free (part 2)

*narrator voice*

Get ready for the sequel of the successful saga "Marvel imagines and preferences" written and directed by the girl who's trying to be epic, but miserably failing!

Anyway, guys! Thank you all so much for reading, voting and commenting on my story, it means the world to me! I love y'all! ♥o♥

Warning: nudity (they're not gonna have sex, but I like the way you think *wink*), strong language, Jack Rollins' cooking (I would be a little skeptical if I had to eat something he made), um... fluff maybe? Idk...

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Brock carried me upstairs and opened the first door on the left. He walked in and sat me down on the bed in the centre of the room. It wasn't all too big, but it wasn't small either. I looked to my left and through the large windows I saw the small snowflakes falling and I couldn't help but to smile. Opposite of me, opposite of the bed actually, a large flat screen TV hung on the wall and below the TV was a cupboard with a ton of movies. I was really surprised how modern and cozy this house looks.

"So... whose house is this? Brock where are you," I turned my head to the door and saw that he was gone, "Brock!"

"I was down here. Why are you yelling," he appeared at in the doorway with wood in his hands. Then he walked over to the fireplace and started the fire. "I was scared you left me," I said quietly. Being alone in the middle of the woods is the last thing I need!

"I was building a fire. I don't want you to be cold and then Stark trying to kill me because I let his daughter freeze to death," he got up and walked out again. "Well he's gonna try to kill you anyway because you kidnapped his daughter in the first place," I yelled after him. "Here you are with your yelling again," I could tell he was rolling his eyes.

A moment after he walked back in with a wet cloth and the first aid kit under his arm. He sat on the bed and started taking off my clothes. The jacket smoothly came off first. Then as he was taking off my ripped and blood stained T-shirt, I winced in pain. Once my torso was completely exposed, he took the wet cloth and started cleaning the small cuts along my chest and stomach. Then he took the challenge of trying to take off my jeans without causing me pain. The frustration was too much, so he ripped the jeans off my leg and threw them down on the floor. Pain kept washing over me as he examined my broken leg.

"Well the good news is that your leg is not broken, but I wouldn't recommend walking."

"To where," I sassed immediately, "and why would I want to walk when I have a handsome, muscly guy like you to carry me around?"

Brock chuckled and shook his head, "You still haven't changed."

"You told me not to," I immediately defended myself. His face was inches away from mine. I stared into his chocolate coloured eyes and felt a little nervous. I mean the last time I saw him was about almost a year a go. You would be nervous too!

He stood up and took off his shirt and seconds after his pants followed. "Wow, do you really think having sex is a good idea while I'm heavily wounded," I asked in a most dramatic way possible. "God, Y/n! Is sex all you think about? You're taking a shower and I'm just gonna help you," he explained quickly, picked me up and carried me to the bathroom when I heard the door slam and Jack's voice was heard.

"Yo, bitches! The facility is gone and there's a blizzard outside!"

"Good. Now come upstairs, throw Y/n's old clothes away and make us something to eat," Brock ordered him, stripped the remaining clothes off of us and stepped into the hot shower. For the first time in this horrible two weeks, I felt safe and relaxed. Everything seemed so perfect. Brock's arms were wrapped around me and he was kissing my bruised neck and Jack was being a little shit by rambling down in kitchen about how nobody even said Hi or how I didn't kiss his cheek like I always do. Poor little soul!

After the shower, Brock dried us both off and dressed himself first while I was waiting on the bed wrapped in a wet towel and feeling cold. When he was finished, he sat next to me and started helping me get dressed. First his boxers (which were a little big for me) then the black tank top, the black/gray baseball T-shirt and finally his gray sweatpants. (Photo for reference. Yes, it was made by me)

In that exact moment Jack walked in with three plates of pancakes with chocolate syrup. "Isn't that shirt mine," he asked with a puzzled look. "I don't know you did the laundry last," Brock sassed and grabbed the plates.

"It is mine. My ex gave me that," Jack made a disgusted face at which I laughed. He looked at me begged, "please keep the shirt."

To be continued again because I'm a horrible person and it's late and I should be sleeping. Tell me in the if you want me to continue this!