This was not a very productive day…but we shall try again tomorrow. I have no choice either way

Target Practice [Drabble]

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict teaches his wife how to handle a rifle...

Warnings: Mostly fluff, a couple of suggestive moments, and one explicit line of dialogue. Married couple teasing each other.

Word Count: 0.7k

Author's Note: This is a request fill from DM chat with a lovely mutual who wishes to remain anonymous. They wanted to see a similar teaching scene to the infamous Kanthony gun moment... but with Benedict and his wife. Sorry it's taken so long to write this and that it's so short, but I hope you still enjoy <3 This is set in the Innocence universe.

“Concentrate,” he murmurs, each syllable elongated, the tone teasing and resonant.

You purse your lips and shoot him a sideways glance, feeling his heated breath dusting your cheekbone.

“Maybe it would be easier if you weren’t crowding me out, husband,” you point out with more than a hint of snark.

Benedict lets out a quiet chuckle.

“I’m merely trying to provide ample instruction, my love,” his voice tinged with amusement as a gust of wind makes the trees surrounding you rustle slightly, whipping the points of his cravat up to tickle your neck.

You hum, sceptical of that assessment. He seems to be doing his darndest to distract you as much as assist you.

“Here, hold it… like this,” his arm snakes around your back and his long, warm, agile fingers curl around yours on the barrel of the rifle. 

“You are just doing this in sport now, aren’t you?” you pout.

“Not in the slightest,” he lilts, “you just have to be the very best at everything, don’t you? So here we are.”

You almost hate how accurately he can sum you up with such an economy of words.

“Now look down the barrel of the gun along the aim line; line up your target with that v-shaped notch and fire at will,” he tutors softly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You take a calming breath and line up your aim with the empty wine bottle he has placed on the old stone ruin in the forest, some distance away.

He is silent as you cock the trigger, but just as your trigger finger moves to fire, he leans right in and rumbles right in your ear.

“I love seeing you handle my weapon.”

The gun fires loudly and ricochets you backwards. 

And… you miss—by a country mile.

Your whole body instinctively reacting to that bedroom voice he can affect whenever he wants to rile you.

“Not fair!” you huff loud and indignant. “I call shenanigans! I demand a redo!”

“All is fair in love and war, my darling,” he chuckles, already turned away to load and prepare his gun for the same shot.

“That was not done out of love,” you counter, brushing a stray hair from your face, “but it was a declaration of war, Mr Bridgerton.”

He guffaws louder. “Do your worst, my darling. I was a crack shot at Eton, and I'm still not bad now,” he simpers, the confidence oozing from him both attractive and galling. 

He really needs to be taken down a peg or two.

To be fair, he looks an innate natural with his rifle as he checks the barrel and lines up for his shot, his hold one of practised ease and years of tutelage. You’re almost annoyed at how good he looks, just how damn attractive he looks—his tan britches and blue overcoat straining in all the right places over his muscular outline. Damn him.

“Now darling, once I’m done tutoring you, maybe you will be this good,” he states airily, shooting you a crooked, sideways grin without taking his eyes off the target.

So you deploy the one weapon you have in your arsenal that obliterates him—every time.

Just as you see his trigger finger squeeze, you lean in and slide a hand heavily over the front of his trousers.

“I am so wet for you right now….” you exhale, biting his earlobe, breathing hot and heavy into his ear.

The gun fires…. And he has missed by a mile too.

He swings his head to look at you, mouth hanging open in disbelief as you simply tilt your head and raise your eyebrow.

“What? You did it to me,” you shrug.

“You brazen little minx,” he growls, and its equal parts impressed and annoyed.

“Husband, you told me, on our wedding night, if I recall, if I were ever in such a circumstance that I should tell you right away,” you continue in that smug tone. “I am merely abiding by your ‘ample instruction’,” you volley, echoing his own words right back at him as it's his turn to quirk an eyebrow.

You squeal as he tackles you to the ground. And there is no more shooting for a while… at least not with rifles.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84

Hello, could i request some angsty ruhn danaan x reader fic. Im thinking some big fight, Ruhn is an asshole and calls the reader some bad names and then has to beg for her forgiveness, it can end however you like. Hope you hava a lovely day

thank you my love, I hope you have/had a great day as well💜

The Morning After

Ruhn Danaan x Reader angst

warnings: alcohol use/drunkenness, mirthroot use

Your blood boiled in your veins, tears stinging at the back of your eyes as you watched your boyfriend across the room. Arm draped across the back of the couch, Ruhn made no effort to push away the beautiful fawn leaning into his touch.

You weren’t usually the jealous type, but party after party of Ruhn entertaining every female that looked his way began to grate on you. Knocking back the rest of your drink, you stumbled through the crowd as you sought the fresh air in the backyard.

A shoulder jostled against yours, Declan’s amber eyes lit with concern as he reached out to steady you. “Are you alright?” his voice echoed above the thumping music.

Tears welled in your eyes, steadying yourself while you glanced to the open patio. “I’m fine,” you choked out, gently brushing his hand from your shoulder to continue your path through the crowd. 

The backyard was quiet, a few couples scattered around who you easily avoided as you found a seat in the lush grass against the base of a large oak tree. Finally letting your emotions spring free, you looked to the stars, sobbing quietly as images of your boyfriend and the females constantly draped over him.

A sigh sounded from your side, the faint smell of leather and mirthroot interrupting your thoughts as Ruhn sat next to you. “Dec said you might need me,” he drawled, so nonchalantly it made your skin crawl.

Your nails dug into the dirt, heat rising to your cheeks as you whipped your head towards Ruhn, eyes wide with fury. His violet eyes tracked you with the slightest hint of confusion, the prince slowly registering your ire. “I might need you? Ruhn, I don’t just need you, I want you. I want to be with you, but you couldn’t care less about whether I’m even there.”

Mascara was running down your cheeks now, emotions spiraling further out of control at Ruhn’s blank, assessing stare. “Ruhn, do you even care about me? You’re always on my mind, and I feel like I’m never on yours. I’m not even an afterthought. You only care if one of your friends says something because it makes you look bad.”

Your head was pounding at this point, the alcohol and tears shed draining the moisture from your body. You forced your bleary eyes to where Ruhn sat, his gaze turned angry and stiff. 

“Well, say something!” you shouted. “Or go back to that fawn you were eyeing, Urd knows you care for her more than me.” Sniffling, you lifted your drink to your lips, only for Ruhn to pull it away.

The cup crashed in the grass on the other side of him, Ruhn’s posture rigid as he stood, towering over you. “How could you say those things about me? How could you even think that I don’t care about you, after all I do?”

Hands flexing at his sides, Ruhn barely refrained from yelling as people took notice around the yard. “You are so clingy and insecure. It’s not my problem that you can’t function on your own without a male’s constant attention.”

Your chest heaved, seething with rage as you prepared your retort, only to be cut off by Ruhn’s dismissive hand. “I could not care less what you have to say right now. Get your shit together, and we can talk tomorrow.” He didn’t turn back around before storming into the house.

Head falling to your knees, you tried to shut out the world and gather your thoughts. You knew you were being ridiculous, but Ruhn’s dismissal of your feelings made you question if those thoughts might be valid. Stumbling to stand, you wiped the tears from your cheeks and started towards the house to head home.

“Hey, hey,” a soft voice sounded, tender hand cupping your shoulder as Declan stopped you. “What happened? I saw Ruhn come through here crying as well, but he wouldn’t talk.”

Shaking your head, you pulled your friend in for a hug, mumbling against his shirt. “I messed up, Dec. I said some hurtful things to Ruhn, but I just really feel like he doesn’t care about me. I don’t think he loves me like I love him,” you admitted, heart cracking in your chest at the mere thought that might be true.

Dec’s arms wrapped around you, the comforting warmth you’d been seeking instantly calming you. “Ruhn cares for you more than you know. I don’t know what that idiot said, but don’t let a drunk night with high emotions ruin what you two have.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, Dec led you upstairs. Stopping at the door to his bedroom, he opened the door and nodded toward the bed. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? I’m going home with Marc, and I’d feel better if you didn’t leave in this state.”

“Are you sure?” you looked to Declan, though your tired legs were already carrying you toward his bed.

A small chuckle escaped him. “Yes, it’s fine. I’ll bring you some water, too. Just get some sleep.”

You couldn’t remember falling asleep, but when you awoke the next morning with the sun filtering in through the windows, you saw the glass of water Dec had left for you on his nightstand.

Memories of last night flooded through your mind, drowning you in doubt and worry while you threw on a spare shirt and dared to pad downstairs.

The scent of salty tears invaded your senses, and you took in the sight of Ruhn crying at the breakfast table, eyes puffy and long black hair a tangled mess. He looked up to where you stood, something like relief flashing over his features as he stared at you as though you were a ghost.

“You’re awake,” he whispered, hands held close to himself, body shrinking inward with insecurity. “Dec texted me that you were staying here. I’m - I thought you might not want to speak to me.”

Taking a tentative step forward, you felt the sharp rays of sun piercing your pounding head, as if to emphasize the many poor decisions from last night. “I think that last night was a conversation to be had, but sober might be best,” you breathed out the last bit with a laugh, wincing at the pain.

“Come here,” Ruhn waved, hand gesturing for you to sit in his lap. You curled into his side, taking a deep inhale before Ruhn scooted a cup of coffee in front of you.

“I fucked up,” he muttered. “I’ve felt like I am smothering you lately, and wanted to give you space last night. It didn’t even cross my mind that you might feel like I could have interest in anyone else. I don’t know, it felt like you were projecting onto me... I didn’t know it was even possible to feel this way about anyone.”

He paused, hand wrapping around your neck as he held you close, breathing in your scent. “I love you, and no matter how much we shouldn’t have had that stupid argument, I shouldn’t have left you.” Violet eyes found yours, sincerity clear within them. “I promise I will never leave you like that during an argument again.”

Your arms wound around his neck, buried in onyx hair as you felt peace for the first time that day. “I love you too, Ruhn.” 

Another shot of pain rang through your head, groaning as you leaned against your boyfriend’s shoulder. “Can we just lay in bed today?” 

A low laugh rumbled through his chest, lips pressing to your temple. “You read my mind.”

Stress Relief

Word count: 3,210

Relationships: Ratchet/Wheeljack

Rating: M

Summary: When Ratchet has overworked himself yet again, Wheeljack knows just what to do to help his favorite medic relax a little.

Warnings: Lots of seggsual material. The whole thing basically revolves around Ratchet getting fucked, though, so..

**********

Ratchet had decided long ago that ‘stress’ was a very broad term.

In the field, he was pressed for time. He had a duty to save as many wounded as he possibly could while helping comfort those too far gone along their journey to the Allspark. Being stuck in the heat of the battle while mechs lay all around him bleeding out was practically a textbook definition of stressful. It was a hands-down stressful experience, and not one he was keen to experience again.

Working late into the night, accompanied by the steady beep of various machinery as he monitored a recovering patient was also stressful, but in a different way. Despite his experience, Ratchet still found himself nodding off at times, only to wake up at the slightest shift in a patient’s vitals. His spark thudded in his chest as he listened for the smallest change in the sounds from his patient, the mildest of hints that the patient’s progress was about to take a drastic nosedive. It wasn’t the heat of the battlefield, but it was still stressful.

Standing over a desk he’d created out of bent, rusty metal as he struggled to decipher the formula for an energy source that was dwindling before his very optics, however, was probably one of the most stressful situations Ratchet had ever found himself in. Despite his past experience of hundreds of years spent running back and forth, assessing multiple patients as he struggled to keep everyone under control, Ratchet hadn’t ever felt anything as troubling as he felt now.

Not only was short on time and supplies, but despite his best efforts, Ratchet knew he was out of luck. If they didn’t find a way off of the Primus-forsaken planet they’d gotten themselves stranded on, and soon, well… Ratchet didn’t even want to think about it.

He rubbed his optics and stood up straight, a heavy sigh escaping him. The base had long since grown silent, and Ratchet was left alone to work in the dim light. The children had left hours before, their respective guardians escorting them home. Optimus had done his best to keep Ratchet company for as long as he could manage, but the prime’s own exhaustion had been evident from the look in his optics. Ratchet hadn’t hesitated to send him to his quarters, but he had to admit that Optimus’ presence had been comforting—if only slightly.

Ratchet’s joints creaked and groaned as he reached for one of the empty crates nearby and dragged it closer. After gently lowering himself back down, he prepared to lose himself in the layers of equations and symbols he couldn’t even *begin* to comprehend. However, when he tried to reboot the console—when had it even turned off on him?—it simply refused to work. He tapped the digital keyboard again, starting to feel rather impatient.

Nothing.

“Great,” Ratchet huffed, rolling his optics as he threw his servos up in the air with exasperation. “What’ll be next, a Decepticon invasion?”

“Mm… not quite,” a familiar voice replied. Before Ratchet had a chance to respond, warm servos wrapped their way around his bulky waist, pulling him in close. “We’ve talked about this, doc. Didja really think I’d just sit by and watch you work yourself to death?”

“Hello, you,” Ratchet sighed, his irritation overshadowed by audible affection. “How’d you even manage to get inside?”

“Trade secrets,” was Ratchet’s only response. The newcomer’s servos trailed up and down Ratchet’s sides, digits slipping in between tender mesh to tug at the wires beneath. “Why are you still awake? I thought we agreed on putting the late nights to an end.”

There was a sense of authority to the words that sent a shudder through Ratchet’s frame. Despite his own exhaustion, he could feel the familiar tingling between his thighs, and he didn’t discourage it. He leaned into the tender servos, pressing his aft against the mech’s codpiece. To his surprise, he could sense a warmth just as intense as his own beneath the thick metal.

“Wheeljack,” Ratchet chided, his words breathy as the wrecker’s servos dipped between his thighs. “I’m busy. If you’re here for another session, I suggest you make it quick.”

“You better watch your tone, doc,” Wheeljack grunted, his helm inches away from Ratchet’s audials. “Or do I need to remind you who’s in charge here?”

Ratchet’s breath hitched in his throat at the words, a burst of warmth spreading beneath his panels. He’d never admit it—not to the rest of the team, at least—, but the evenings he had spent with Wheeljack for the past few months had become a form of stress-relief for him. Without another word, Ratchet allowed the wrecker to guide him into a standing position against the makeshift desk, physically turning him around until he was face-to-face with his partner.

“That’s better,” Wheeljack hummed with satisfaction.

Ratchet watched through half-open optics as Wheeljack lowered himself to the floor, crouched between the doctor’s knees. Just the sight of Wheeljack kneeling on the floor, waiting for access to the slick warmth beneath Ratchet’s panels had him shivering with anticipation. He shuddered as Wheeljack traced a careful digit in a slow, lazy circle over the sealed interface array.

“Open up for me,” Wheeljack said, his optics reflecting the impatience he didn’t try to hide.

Seconds later, the wrecker’s demand was punctuated by the sound of Ratchet’s valve cover clicking open. Wheeljack made a small noise of appreciation as he studied the soft, plush opening, his gaze taking in the way Ratchet’s tender lips clenched and pulsed. Despite their given roles during intercourse, Wheeljack had always loved the chances he got to fully worship Ratchet’s valve for the beauty that it was. Tucked between thick, shapely thighs, the plump lips were truly a sight to behold. With one servo squeezing Ratchet’s thigh, Wheeljack traced the edge of his other servo across the outside, eliciting a shuddering groan from Ratchet.

“Shhh,” Wheeljack hushed the medic as he leaned in, his faceplates inches away from the warm, dripping entrance. “Don’t wanna wake the others, do you?”

A quiet, shaky sigh was all Wheeljack recieved in response. Satisfied with his partner’s compliance, Wheeljack pulled his servo away, only to slip one of his digits between the valve lips, drawing in and out with a soft squelching sound. He raised his other servo to brace himself against Ratchet’s hip before dipping a second digit in, carefully rubbing against the tender node on the outside of Ratchet’s valve.

“You must’ve been expecting me, hmm? Were you waiting for me to come and give your pretty little valve the attention it deserves?” Wheeljack whispered, his soaked digits circling the rim of Ratchet’s valve before gently slipping back inside. “Such a beautiful mech you are. Nice and hefty… Just the way I like it.”

Ratchet’s hips jerked forward into the slow, methodical rhythm, encouraged by the sultry words Wheeljack spoke. He gave a small, keening groan as Wheeljack moved faster, his desperation overshadowing the cool exterior he typically wore.

“You like that, doc?” Wheeljack asked, his own frame growing hot from the intimate display. “You want more?”

“Please,” Ratchet shuddered, one servo gripping the edge of the desk while the other held tight to Wheeljack’s shoulder plating.

Wheeljack pulled his digits free, a soft sound of satisfaction escaping him at the way lubricant dripped from the tips. After taking a few moments to relish in the way Ratchet’s frame had begun to shake, sticky heat radiating from between his thighs, Wheeljack leaned in again. This time, instead of using his servos to pleasure his partner, Wheeljack began stroking over the rim of Ratchet’s valve with his tongue. He sucked on the tip of Ratchet’s node, relishing in the tremors it sent through the medic’s frame, before moving down further. Ratchet kept his servos gripped on the edge of his desk, his frame heaving in each breath as his spark thudded in his chest.

“Are you ready, Ratchet?” Wheeljack asked, momentarily pulling away from Ratchet’s quivering valve long enough to stare up at the medic, who stared back down at him with a look of utter desire.

“Don’t make me wait any longer,” Ratchet huffed, his servos already reaching down to pull Wheeljack up to his pedes. “Please, don’t make me wait.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Wheeljack grinned, slowly rising up to his pedes, “I suppose we can keep moving, sweetspark.”

Ratchet had never been one for pet names, but in the heat of the moment, he couldn’t deny the rush of pleasure it sent through his frame. He drew Wheeljack close, leaving desperate, sloppy kisses up and down the inventor’s neck as Wheeljack prepared himself. Before long, the sound of the wrecker’s spike pressurizing filled the air. Wheeljack’s servo dipped down to fondle Ratchet’s aft, grinding against the medic’s front as he prepared to slip inside of Ratchet’s valve. With every stroke of Wheeljack’s servo, every moment the tip of his spike brushed against his valve opening, the aroused medic gave another soft sound of approval.

Finally, Wheeljack grew tired of teasing. He slipped the head of his spike into Ratchet’s valve, careful not to move too quickly. Ever so gently, Wheeljack pushed deeper until he had completely filled his medic. Then, with slow, grinding motions, Wheeljack started up a steady pace in and out of the soaked valve.

“Frag,” Ratchet groaned, his servos digging into Wheeljack’s plating. “Ohh, frag, Wheeljack—nnghh, please—“

“Talk to me, Ratchet,” Wheeljack panted, the friction increasing as he sped up the pace. “Tell me what you need, sweetspark.”

Ratchet’s servos were caught in a vice grip against Wheeljack’s shoulders, his frame moving back and forth in time with Wheeljack’s thrusting. He threw his helm back with a loud groan as Wheeljack drove deeper, the ridges of his spike catching on tender nodes deep in Ratchet’s valve.

“Oh, yes, please—agh, harder, please!” Ratchet gasped, his voice rising with desperation as he grew closer and closer to his overload. The desk beneath him began to rock, pounding against the table with loud, thundering sounds that echoed through the base. “Nnghh, please—Ahh!”

“Good, that’s good,” Wheeljack panted, his servos braced against Ratchet’s hips as he plowed into the medic’s frame. A low, rhythmic sound of clanging metal against metal was punctuated by the noise of the desk against the wall as the two chased their climax.

A sound between a choked moan and a gargling whine slowly slips out of the sputtering medic’s lips, his frame hot to the touch and his cooling fans on full blast. As Wheeljack’s words sent another jolt of pleasure through his frame, Ratchet couldn’t not beg for more.

“Please,” he moaned, the sound loud and pitiful as he shuddered and jerked against the other mech’s steady pace “Wheeljack, please, more—I need more, I—ohhh, harder, please!”

The shift in position was startling, but Ratchet suddenly found himself being laid down against the cold base floor, Wheeljack’s own shuddering form towering over him. He barely had a chance to speak before the wrecker’s spike was slipping back into the warmth between Ratchet’s thighs.

Primus, he could feel himself teetering over the edge. He’d never been a quiet partner during intimate moments, but this experience was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Sure, their sexual encounters have never been very… well, vanilla, but Ratchet could hardly help the obscene sounds that escaped him, nor could he stop the loud, heavy breaths he sucked in through his vents as he trembled under Wheeljack’s touch.

“Keep talking, doc,” Wheeljack said, his own words punctuated by heavy pants and soft, nearly inaudible grunts. Unlike before, the wrecker didn’t hesitate to begin up a fast, steady pace, causing Ratchet’s frame to rock back and forth into the violent thrusts. “Say my name, yeah? Go on, keep—nghh, keep going.”

Ratchet, not one to disobey the wrecker during their more intimate moments, simply braced himself against the desk as Wheeljack pounded into him, his mouth open wide with sounds of pleasure and approval. “Ungh—ahhh, yes, Wheeljack, yes—frag, harder, harder! Harder, yes—!”

“Go ahead, Ratchet,” Wheeljack groaned, slowing down long enough to lean over Ratchet’s prone form and whisper into his audials. “Overload for me.”

Immediately, Ratchet’s entire frame was suddenly alight with a burst of pleasure stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. As a loud, staticky cry escaped him, Ratchet arched up into Wheeljack’s hold, his hips bucking against the wrecker’s frame with enough force for his paint-job to rub off onto Wheeljack. Waves of heat spread like fire from between his thighs into the rest of his frame, tearing a second loud, desperate moan from the medic as Wheeljack kept a steady pace, drawing the overload out for as long as possible. Only when Ratchet’s systems began to shut down, overwhelmed by the sudden skyrocket in temperature, did Wheeljack stop.

The blackout only lasted for a few seconds, but when Ratchet’s optics online again, he found himself staring up at Wheeljack’s smug expression, his frame quivering and his breath coming in soft, shuddering whimpers. A coating of slick, warm liquid dripping between his inner thighs told him everything he needed to know before he even had a chance to register what had occurred. So caught up in the post-coital haze, Ratchet almost didn't notice when Wheeljack finally slipped free of his entrance.

“Feeling better?” Wheeljack asked, one servo stroking up and down Ratchet’s thigh while he stared down at the medic. “Must’ve been a good bit of stress to unpack. Never heard you scream so loud, doc.”

Ratchet turned away, his faceplates heating up with embarrassment. “Let me up,” he huffed, ignoring Wheeljack’s extended servo as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Wheeljack ignored Ratchet’s stubbornness, instead helping the medic up to his pedes. As soon as Ratchet had stood up and settled himself back down onto the storage crate, Ratchet awkwardly cleared his throat. He fiddled with his servos as Wheeljack stood by, not speaking a word as he watched the medic with careful optics.

“Well,” Ratchet finally said, deciding to be the one who broke the silence. “That was… that was nice, Wheeljack. I really needed a break.”

“Uh-huh,” Wheeljack replied. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the medic, his expression unreadable.

Ratchet glanced between Wheeljack and the console, which was still turned off. The familiar tension he felt when dealing with the energon problem—the one problem he knew he’d never be able to solve—began to rise up in his chest. It took all of his effort not to give in right then and there, and let Wheeljack take over for him… again.

“There’s still a lot of work for me to finish,” he added, one servo rubbing the back of his helm as he waited for Wheeljack’s next move. “You can stay if you’d like, but—“

“I didn’t say we were finished, did I?” Wheeljack said, his arms remaining crossed over his chest as he stared down at Ratchet.

At first, Ratchet was a little surprised. He had agreed to trying out a new dynamic in their relationship, of course, but he hadn’t expected Wheeljack to take new roles so seriously. Still, he couldn’t deny the sense of comfort and satisfaction he felt from the wrecker taking the lead—even if it meant he couldn’t finish the work he so desperately needed to complete. However, the feelings of security he felt didn’t automatically mean he was going down without a fight.

“I can’t just quit working now that you’ve showed up,” Ratchet said, his voice lacking the usual tension he typically carried. “Now step aside and let me finish, Wheeljack.”

There was a brief silence between the two as both mechs waited for the other to give in. Much to Ratchet’s frustration, however, Wheeljack was refusing to budge. He opened his mouth, a snarky retort on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t get a single word out before Wheeljack stopped him.

“Stand up,” the wrecker said, motioning with his servo.

“Wh—what?” Ratchet scoffed. He crossed his arms then, glaring up at the wrecker with a look of defiance. “Wheeljack, I told you—“

“Don’t make me ask twice, doc,” Wheeljack cut in, his frown deepening. “I already told you we aren’t done here. Stand up for me.”

Ratchet made a sound of protest, but eventually complied. Once he did, however, he was a little surprised—just a little—when Wheeljack took a seat on the cargo container instead. The wrecker reclined back against the console, using it as a backrest as he made himself comfortable. At the look of confusion on Ratchet’s expression, Wheeljack merely chuckled, then beckoned for Ratchet to join him.

“You can’t be serious,” Ratchet said, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. They were alone, as far as he knew, but he still checked to make sure they weren’t being watched by any fellow Autobots.

“Plenty of room,” Wheeljack said, gently patting the space between his legs. “Or are you too good for snuggling your favorite wrecker now, too?”

Ratchet took a step forward, hesitant. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable—he’d done much more drastic things with the wrecker before, after all, but this… it was new, undiscovered territory for him. It felt good, of course, but it also felt wrong. As if sensing his inner dilemma, Wheeljack leaned forward and gently grabbed ahold of Ratchet’s servo, drawing him in close. He didn’t stop until Ratchet was comfortably situated in his lap, and even then, Wheeljack still adjusted and readjusted their position. Once he was satisfied, Wheeljack glanced down at Ratchet, the medic’s helm comfortably positioned to rest against the wrecker’s chest.

“Comfortable?” He asked, on servo stroking up and down Ratchet’s side, the other interlacing with Ratchet’s free servo.

There was silence at first, and Wheeljack was more than willing to remain convinced that Ratchet had finally given into his contentment and allowed himself this one chance to relax and be comforted. As was to be expected when dealing with the stubborn medic, however, Wheeljack was wrong.

“…you didn’t have to come, you know,” Ratchet whispered, speaking just loudly enough for Wheeljack to hear.

“‘Course I did,” Wheeljack replied. He shifted against the cargo box until their frames were pressed together, their arms intertwined and legs comfortably stretched out over the edge. “I’d never leave you here to sulk all by yourself.”

“I do not sulk,” Ratchet grumbled. After a few seconds of silence, he added, “I… I can take care of myself, you know. I am a medic, after all. It’s my job—“

“Your job is to care for the rest of the team,” Wheeljack said, gently correcting Ratchet as he stroked the medic’s faceplates with his free servo. “It’s my job to take care of you, doc.”

Ratchet made a soft sound of acknowledgment, but didn’t respond. Satisfied that he’d finally won the discussion, Wheeljack wrapped both arms around the tired medic and held him close. Their private, more intimate moments were often few and far between, but Wheeljack was happy to take every chance he could get with the medic. His medic.

October 23rd 

Candlelight

Dear @scyllas-revenge, this one is for you and our other Boromir-fans in the server :D

I love you dearly and I will never be able to express how much your friendship means to me 💖 You are delightful!!

Oc is from this story.

Words: 731

Warnings: nothing, bad soup...

The groan Boromir uttered as the lights flashed and then died held all the frustrations of a man foiled by nature and aware of his helplessness.

Decided to prove to Aubrey that he was not the pampered, indolent royal she might have expected – and to redeem himself for the truly abysmal speech he had prepared and that she had been good enough to amend in long hours of meticulous work – he had invited her to dinner. 

The small cottage he had been granted – for security and privacy reasons – by the gracious government whose esteemed guest he was had the cutest, little kitchen he had ever seen, and he had been eager to make use of it.

When they had been but lads, Faramir and he would sneak down to the kitchens and learn how to make a proper roast and the best potato dishes at old cook’s side; a pang of nostalgic longing overcame him at the thought of a woman long dead and buried now for he had been very fond of the patient, kind woman who had taught him many a good trick and an easy dish that he had devotedly recreated and adapted over the years.

The storm was spewing rain against the windowpanes as if it tried to tear them asunder, eager to hammer down on tender flesh and delicate skin; illuminated by the bleak light of lightning slashing through the darkened sky, Aubrey’s eyes looked huge and unfathomable, but her smile was generous and cheery.

“Candles?” she asked in a soft tone, feeling her way along the kitchen counter; Boromir’s hand brushed hers as he made to open the same drawer she had already started pulling out and she shrunk back in surprise.

“I had a roast in the oven,” he lamented, only minimally pacified by the feeling of cold wax underneath his fingertips as he pulled out half-burned-down candle stumps and a nearly empty matchbox from the messy pile of lost buttons and stray keys.

“And I am sure it would have been marvellous,” Aubrey appeased him without the slightest hint of disbelief or irony in her voice. In the wavering light of the flickering tapers, she looked like the ghostly apparition of a much yearned-for soulmate, Boromir found, akin to the visions the servant girls were seeking in antique mirrors when they stood – in their nightdresses – in dark corridors, holding hallowed lights in their trembling hands.

As she grinned though and nodded at two cans of tomato soup, he had to amend his assessment; Aubrey was beautiful in a vivacious, winning way that could barely be captured by a reflection or even a picture. One had to see her move, smile, speak, or laugh to truly be able to even fathom how painfully alive she was.

“You deserve better,” he moaned, but – remembering his training and evenings in much less hospitable circumstances – he resigned himself to serving a woman he desperately wanted to impress lukewarm soup from a tin can and stale bread from the previous day.

He had half-expected her enthusiastic reaction but was still charmed by the way she ladled the bland fare – only barely heightened by the old spices they had unearthed in a cupboard – as if it was an award-winning dish presented to her on a golden plate by a three-star chef. 

“You are marvellous,” he breathed as he watched her wipe up the last drops of her soup with a handful of bread, smiling mischievously at him and motioning for him to do the same.

Her face went expressionless with stunned surprise upon seeing him so intensely moved by an emotion that she could not easily identify or name.

“How about you tell me more about that?” she then prompted with a wink, ambling over – candle in hand – to the fridge and giving a small shout of cheer when she opened the heavy door. “We shall be here for quite some time as these have to be taken care of before they go bad.”

Boromir doubted that the few bottles of beer and wine would turn sour and become undrinkable within a night, but the idea of keeping this miracle by his side – sleepy and slightly tipsy – was too good for him to resist.

He was a good, honourable man, but – at the end of the day, in a deluge of biblical proportions – he was still only a man.

@fellowshipofthefics some Boromir for your nerves!!!

Lots of love from me (as always)...

-> Masterlist

Could i request Diluc angst oneshot where reader and him get into a big disagreement or argument where Diluc makes them cry and feel really bad about themself so they go and end up hanging out with Kaeya a bit much cause he offered to cheer reader up and Diluc won't apologize. until he see's his s/o hanging out with Kaeya

I actually wrote 2 different versions of the ending for this, but this is the one I decided to go with! If you want the more angsty version do let me know.

Anyway,

Harsh Words

Diluc x Reader

Screaming. Yelling that could be heard throughout the Dawn Winery residence late into the night, heard only by the maids, the night security, and perhaps a late worker or two.

And of course, by the two individuals who held the voices.

It was rather unusual for the two of you to be at odds; and, on the occasion in which you were, it wasn’t nearly to this degree.

But the two of you were outright screaming at each other. It wasn’t even about one thing anymore - it was everything. Whatever you had been arguing about had reached the point of irrelevance; It never should have reached this point and you knew that, but you were under fire and you couldn’t stop.

All you knew was that this was Diluc’s fault, and that you couldn’t take this kind of argument.

“If you just thought about your actions for once-”

You cut him off, “Oh don’t try me with that, you’re the one treating me like I’m an idiot and trying to control my-”

“If you had just listened for once and been less of a selfish bitch then I wouldn’t have to!”

His words had cut far deeper than either of you had expected, and you physically recoiled at the words, a sudden wave washing over you which forced tears from your eyes. The truth in his words was irrelevant - It felt true, even if it wasn’t.

You turn away from him. In spite of your state, he makes no move toward you. None, not even to give you the slightest feel of any comfort. You knew - he wanted the words to cut through you.

You go to the door and slip on your shoes, leaving the room as fast as you humanly could.

You can’t take this anymore.

But you don’t make it past the front door. As if by telepathy, Diluc has two of his night security waiting by the door in a stance showing you that they’re ready to make sure you don’t leave. They block your path, silent in their menace. When you turn around, only then do you notice Adelinde and Hille quietly staring at you. Diluc’s footsteps down the stairs are a slow horror, an even pace which served to only emphasize that feeling of dread; Very easily, this felt like the perfect time to be murdered.

The drawl of footsteps approach, yet cease a few meters away - he’s far too distant to do anything himself. His eyes lock on yours, quietly assessing you.

“Diluc, let me leave.” You hiss through streaming tears. You nearly choke on the tension in the air.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes don’t show any expression, show any remorse or guilt, or even happiness. Truly, there is nothing in his eyes.

“Let me make myself clear: You are not leaving this premises in the middle of the night. Do you understand me?”

“Not even slightly.”

Silence. His eyes flicker, the way they do when he sees an abyss mage, or when Kaeya makes a comment that goes a little too far - pure anger.

“Adelinde, fix up the guest room.”

“No need. I’ll be leaving now.” You scoff.

Diluc tilts his head, peering over you and towards his security as if to say ‘don’t you fucking dare let them through’.

Then another look, and you feel yourself being pushed into the house again, the slam of the doors behind you.

A wave of anger washes over you, and you can’t help the excess of tears that fall, harder now than they had been before.

Diluc holds his ground, staring at you silently. You shake your head and look away, not sure what to do with yourself. Their staring puts you in pure disarray.

“Adelinde.”

“Yes, sorry.” She mutters, bowing and taking her leave in the direction of the guest bedroom in order to prepare it for you.

When she’s gone, you shake your head. “I’m not going to be sleeping.”

“Then stay in your room. I don’t care.” He huffs, turning away and wandering back up the stairs, his footsteps seeming less menacing now.

The argument was done.

Your eyes catch a light outside the window, seeming to exist a far distance away. Maybe it was the fire of a hilichurl camp.

What time was it? Surely the sun would be up soon anyway.

Fine. You would leave then, no matter what.

When you got to your room, you actually did manage to sleep. Not nearly enough; An hour was nothing in the long run, but it was still just slightly enough to not feel entirely exhausted.

Still, the sun was up when you arose, and you lay in the bed, uncertain as to what would happen when you left the room.

If Diluc wasn’t going to apologise, you wanted nothing to do with him.

So, after a little while of resting, it was a surprise to hear a knock at the door. You were summoned to breakfast. Nearly the entire time, you and Diluc sat across from each other - an oddity indeed considering he would always insist that he wanted you seated beside him - this time, however, you were as far from his as possible within the confines of the seated table. The usually empty seat felt hard beneath you, not softened by an everyday presence. Your usual seat to his right - where your plate had been placed before you had taken it to where you were now - was empty.

Neither of you could look into each other’s eyes. The silence, broken only by the light clinks of cutlery, felt burdenous.

You expected him to say something, anything really. You could barely eat the food on your breakfast plate, and without any words, you didn’t feel all too comfortable anyway. You let out a quiet sigh and stood up, tucking in your chair and lifting your plate to take it back to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Diluc’s voice was quiet but the harshness in it was unmistakable.

“I’m not hungry.” You looked down at the plate in your hands. “I’m going to Mondstadt.”

Diluc stood up suddenly, pushing back his chair and stepping close to you. The sudden movement caused you to shutter slightly, and he pulled back a bit. Still, he tore the plate from your hands and placed it on the table. “When you return, be ready to have a serious conversation.”

Oh.

You opened your mouth to speak, but then huffed and turned away. “Right. I’ll look forward to getting yelled at again.”

Diluc scoffed, “Stop acting like a petulant child.”

“I’m not doing this right now, Diluc.” Your feet are moving before you can even think about it. This time, as you approached the door, no one was there to stop you. You left with no present company to watch over you, and you knew that today was going to be a long, long day.

——

Mondstadt thrives with life, as per usual. Because of how bright and pleasant the place is, any spec of gloom is extremely obvious on a day like this.

You took to the adventurers guild to take some commissions. Maybe killing some hilichurls or slimes would take your mind off of it all, or maybe just delivering some needed materials to someone.

The entire time you had been speaking to Katheryn, you felt eyes watching you, but you didn’t want to make it obvious you knew. Alas, it was only moments later that you startled at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder.

“No need to be so surprised.” The familiar voice chuckles beside you.

“Good morning, Kaeya.” You let out a soft sigh, the exhaustion of the day before wearing into you. You thanked Katheryn and turned your attention to Kaeya. His eyebrows twitched and his expression shifted as he studied you.

“What happened?” He asks rather blatantly, eyes clouding over. “Was it Diluc?”

You took a deep breath. “Wanna join me for commissions?”

Kaeya scans your eyes. “As long as you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Come on.” You nod, wandering out of Mondstadt with him.

The slowly falling night brought you back to Mondstadt. You agreed to go to the tavern with Kaeya, a subtle kind of thank you for spending time with you today. It wasn’t like you were doing anything else anyway.

The tavern was already busy before you got there, people crowding around for a nights drink. You subconsciously step towards Kaeya as if shading yourself away from the crowded atmosphere and he is wary of your proximity. He draws you to his side, a friendly notion, and steps inside before you.

Charles waves at you both from behind the counter. Kaeya quickly orders a round of drinks and takes you to a table away from the bar.

“Hey, look who’s been dragged in.” Rosaria wanders over, quietly making soft chatter with you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend some time together.

Kaeya eventually wanders away, grabbing your drinks and bringing them back over.

Time seemed to dwindle away, the mindless chatter with your friends giving you more than ample distraction from anything else that might have been happening.

“Master Diluc! Didn’t expect to see you here today.” Charles’ voice rings out.

Of course, that wasn’t going to last long.

You lift your head slightly, tensing up. Diluc is scanning the room, twisting his wrist lightly as he speaks quietly to Charles; The words miss you. You freeze as your eyes lock. For just a moment you’re caught in that discerning gaze before he nods at you and turns back to talk to Charles. Kaeya draws your attention back away, and you slip back into your conversation, not wanting to deal with anything else.

“I’ll get another round.” Rosaria gets up and makes her way through the tavern, leaning over the bar and making another order for the table.

“How many are we on?” You ask, already flushed from the… how many glasses had you even had?

“Five.” Kaeya laughs, leaning on your shoulder. “But now that the killjoy’s here, he’ll stop us from having our well-earned fun.”

“I heard that.” Diluc scoffed, passing by you.

“Good.” Kaeya wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, more out of a delicate affection than anything else. Diluc’s eyes narrow at his brother, who just laughs in response.

“Get your hands off of-“

“Oh don’t worry, brother. I would never keep them somewhere they don’t want to be.” Kaeya mocks. “You, on the other hand, can’t say the same.” Even with his words, he loosens his hold on you and leans back a bit.

Rosaria returns with your round, greeting Diluc casually as she slips back into her seat. Your pissed off boyfriend wanders away back to his work.

It clicks in your hazy mind that the only reason he’s here is likely because you are. You laugh at the thought, then clink your tankard to the group and drink.

—

As the evening wears down, many people in the bar until it’s pretty much only your group and a few others left there. Diluc lets out a soft sigh as he watches you, trying to soften that jealous pounding of his heart. He takes a sip of his own drink - apple cider, of course. He could never slam back drinks the way that your group currently were. Where had the hours gone?

Oh, no. How many drinks had you had? Whatever was next, he swore to himself that he would make sure that it was watered down. At this rate, you were pretty much welcoming alcohol poisoning with open arms.

Kaeya, wobbly as ever, decides to be the one to approach the bar this time (mostly because Rosaria was leaning against the table, head folded into her arms as she groaned). Diluc shook his head. “No, no. The three of you will drink this whole tavern dry if I don’t stop you.”

“Oh, I’m not here to get any more.” He leans on the countertop. “I just want to know what the hell you did.” Kaeya motions over to you. You’re just giggling at Rosaria’s complaining, leaning over and patting her on the head.

“I’m not talking to you about this.” Diluc leans back, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Suit yourself.” He straights up. “I should probably get her out of here before you say something stupid.”

“I’m not going to be saying anything stupid.” Diluc shakes his head, looking over the list of all the drinks you’ve had this evening. “You’re all wasted.”

“And yet, you haven’t said last call.”

Seemingly to spite him, DIluc immediately does. He signals over to Charles to round up the remaining people. He knew to leave you last.

Kaeya’s laugh is enough to haunt him. “You make this right, Diluc.” He runs his finger over the counter. “Otherwise I will.”

“Get out of my sight.”

The cavalry captain laughs again, then wanders over to your table. He practically drags Rosaria back up, but she pushes away from him and made her own way to the counter - always a good spirit, she paid for her own portion of drinks and left. Being a nun, she probably didn’t need to use the money elsewhere.

Kaeya was two steps away from just carrying you out the door, but through his drunk mind he finds the clarity to understand just how absolutely inappropriate that would be to do, especially in front of Diluc. Alas, you lean on his shoulder as he assists your steps.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Diluc’s voice calls out, as if to stop you both.

“Usual billing.” Kaeya calls back.

“No, no.” You both look back at him. He shifts on his feet, eyes locking with yours. “I’ll be damned if you go home with him.”

“Then damned you are.” You roll your eyes, turning away.

He calls your name softly. “Step away from him. Come here.”

You take a deep breath. “I am so glad I don’t have to remember any of this.”

Diluc places a glass of water in front of you. “Drink this. You wreak of alcohol.”

“And you wreak of your hatred.” You sit down in front of him, knowing that it wasn’t about to get better.

Diluc’s eyes flicker up to Kaeya. “Get out.”

“Not happening.”

“Kaeya, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Their safety is more than enough concern.”

“It’s alright, Kaeya, just wait outside.” You pipe in, not wanting even more stress.

Kaeya agrees, quietly slipping out the door. Charles is told to escort him away, an act which may have varying success.

Either way, you sat in front of Diluc, not sure what exactly to say to him.

“I’m tired, Diluc. I’m tired of this. I can’t put up with-“

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out, interrupting you. “Please, hear me out.”

“I’m not going to remember-“

“Then I’ll tell you again when you will.” He leans over the counter, not wanting to be apart from you. He calls your name again, as if to hold your attention, “Can we talk about this?”

“I think we talked about this already.” You groan. “Yesterday, plenty of yelling. The Maids and guards can confirm.”

Diluc takes a long breath out. You lift the glass of water and take an even longer sip.

Maybe the barrier of the counter between you made you feel better. But, as tears sprung to your eyes, you felt so, so much worse.

“Do you hate me?” You ask, your voice squeaking. “Do you want to break up with me.”

“No, Y/N.” He reaches for your hands, but you had pushed your stool too far away from him beforehand that he couldn’t. He circles around the bar and gently grabs both of your hands, soft enough in his hold for you to be able to pull away. “Don’t ever say that. I love you.”

“Then, why?” You sob, turning your face away from him, hands still in his. “Why did you yell at me? Why wouldn’t you talk to me this morning?”

“I…“ Diluc stops himself, taking a deep breath. “I was angry. We were both angry.” He shifts, pulling out a stool and sitting in front of you. “I wasn’t acting rationally.”

“When you said you wanted to talk this morning, what were you going to say?”

Diluc hesitates, gripping your hands just a little bit harder. “I was going to ask… I was going to ask if you were happy.” He admitted, quietly. “But I can’t do that. I can’t put you through that.”

You tug him toward you, pulling his hands close to your face. “Why would you say that? I love you.” You sob into his soft skin.

He takes his hands away from your gently, slipping them around your waist and pulling you close to him, into his lap. He tightens his grip. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I’m so sorry. I never want you to cry.” He feels his heartbeat heavily in his chest, a distraught washing over him. “Don’t ever destroy yourself like this again.” He runs a hand over your back.

You don’t say anything. You’re way too drunk for many more coherent thoughts to pass your lips. You lift your head and plant a soft kiss on his cheek, and he softly kisses your forehead, pulling you back to his chest so that you don’t try to kiss him anymore - He wasn’t about to let that happen, you were far too drunk.

Diluc was ashamed of his thoughts. His guilt, rising only when he saw you in the present company of his brother, showing affection and finding comfort anywhere except for him. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, nor to you, but as you cried into his shoulder, he couldn’t help the wave of disappointment in himself that washed over. Why could he never be there for the people who needed him most?

“Come on, finish your water, let’s get you home.” He insists, though he holds you tightly still until you stir.

You take the water, sipping it with a slight indignance. He would have to apologize to you again in the morning, but he would do anything to get you to trust him again.

(Part 2 here)

Pet sitting (Lucifer x Reader)

I said sub Lucifer bullshit. Here it is. GN Reader Pairing: Lucifer x Reader, Mentions of Lucifer x Diavolo and others Genre: PwP Smut Wordcount: ????     Tags: Smut, porn without plot, size kink, sex toys, bondage, over stimulation, Sub Lucifer, nipple play, edging, cock and ball torture, pet play, dirty talk Summary: Diavolo puts you in charge of taking care of his pet while he’s away.

Someone needed to take care of Diavolo’s precious pet while he was away. Normally, that charge would fall on Barbatos, but on the occasion that both of them were gone on business, you were responsible. Luckily, Lucifer was well behaved and knew exactly what to do in preparation for when you came over for playtime. By the time you arrived at the appointed hour in the secluded room in Diavolo’s castle, far away from any prying ears, everything would be set. The lights would be dimmed, but the room wasn’t so dark that you couldn’t get a good look at  Lucifer’s face. All the instruments would be laid neatly on a table nearby. By the time you walked into the room, Lucifer would be nude save for his boxers and waiting for you on all fours at the foot of the bed. “Have you been a good boy?” You asked softly, walking over to him and stroking his face. He pressed into your palm, letting out a soft whimper and nodded. Good pets didn’t speak unless told to. He glanced over at the collar sitting on the sheets and you moved to get it and put it on him. As soon as it was tugged snugly around his neck, it was as if his whole body released all its tension. Whatever stress and worries he had about the world were beyond the doors of the playroom. Tonight, he was your pet and you were going to make sure you played with him. He didn’t need to be told to get onto the bed, though he did regard you with a quizzical expression. You paused for a moment, wondering what he could need, taking in the view of his bulge hanging down between his legs before you spoke. “Hands and knees for now.” you declared and he obediently stayed, keeping his ass in the air, his hands planted just the right distance to keep him stable. You walked over to the bed, your weight dipping the mattress a bit as you joined him. “You’ve been waiting to play, haven’t you?” You asked, your voice soft, the slightest hint of a purr at the back of your throat while you palmed his hardness through his boxers. “Even when you were doing your errands today, I could see how excited you were to have playtime with me.” Lucifer let out a soft whine, bucking his hips into your touch and you pulled away, only to slap his ass. “Oh come now, I know you can behave better than that.” The Avatar of Pride only let out a pitiful whimper, nodding and went back to being the good pet he was, staring straight at the headboard in front of him while you gave him a thorough examination. Your hand caressed his firm ass cheek, giving it a squeeze before you went back to fondling his cock through the last piece of clothing he had on. “You didn’t even fully strip when I came to see you.” you chided, pulling the boxers down his legs. He remained still, letting the garment pool at his bent knees until you allowed him to move. Now that you had access to his cock, you saw how much he anticipated that evening. He was half hard and his dick twitched at random intervals, beads of precum dribbled out of the tip and you tsk’d in feigned disappointment. “Oh how sad. Do I not make you happy?” You cooed, stroking his length and making him shudder. “I know I’m not your master, but I still deserve the same respect, right?” Lucifer let out a whimper, only able to nod in shame as he let you tease his cock until was rock hard and throbbing at your every touch. “On your back, pet. You’re getting tied up tonight for disappointing me so early on.” He was quick to follow your orders, flipping himself over and holding his legs up with his hands and exposing his cock and his hole to you. You took a moment to run your finger down his length and tease his tight hole before reaching over for the hank of rope he had prepared for the evening. You were far from an expert at ties, but having been in charge of a few play times and bearing witness to when Lord Diavolo was in command, you had a fair idea of how he should be bound. With a little bit of trial and error, his legs were neatly folded and bound. His arms were tied to his knees, and Lucifer didn’t need any commands to know he was to keep himself spread wide open for you. “Good boy.” you purred, rewarding him with a lewd kiss and a firm pump of his shaft. You continued trussing him up, dressing him in knotted rope until his body was a work of art. Of course, you were careful to ensure the marks that would inevitably be left behind would be easily hidden under his normal clothes. No one else needed to know just how submissive he could be behind closed doors. That was a secret only a select few were privy to. Looking down at him, you smiled softly, tracing your handiwork and testing the dies to ensure they weren’t too tight on him. Still, you weren’t completely done. Thinner cording was brought to the bed. You took care to bind his cock and balls in a way that kept him from cumming until you were ready. The crisscross pattern matched the one on his body and once you completed the final knot, he was truly breathtaking. “Red really does look good on you.” You smiled softly, getting off the bed to assess the array of toys you had at your disposal that evening. Humming as you looked through the selection, you could hear Lucifer’s breathing hitch whenever your finger traced over something he particularly liked. You would get to them in due time, for now, you needed to make sure he was prepared to last the whole night. Coming back, you affixed a pair of bejeweled nipple clamps to him. The glittering red gems matched the ropes and you couldn’t help but give them an experimental tug earning you a delicious little whine. “Now pet, you may speak. What would you like to do tonight?” You kept the tension on the chain connected to the nipple clamps, pulling at them and making him wince. He blinked, pushing the pain to the side before answering you. “I... I want... I want you to use the toys to fuck me.” Lucifer blushed brightly, the flush traveling down his neck and spread to his chest. No matter how many times he did this, he never got used to admitting what he wanted. It was always a pleasure to see him squirm in discomfort, declaring such debased things from his mouth and confessing to you just what he wanted to happen. “Is that how my pet wants to play today?” You asked softly, squeezing his shaft and fondling his balls. “Well, I’m sure I can oblige to that. But you have to be good first.” With that, you stuffed his boxers into his mouth, gagging him for the rest of the evening while you had your fun. You wanted to start off slow, now that you knew what he wanted. You found a length of chain to attach to the ones already on his nipple clamps and clipped it neatly to the cord that held his cock erect. The tension changed every time his cock twitched and it was a joy to see his expression change with every shift of his body. You couldn’t leave his hole unattended after all. If you were to give him what he wanted later, then you needed to make sure he was ready for what you had in mind. Your fingers grasped a slim anal plug and liberally lubed it up, pressing it into his tight ass and watched with rapt attention as the taught muscle slowly loosened to accept the toy. It was a joy to watch your pet’s body be so obedient, he simply deserved to be rewarded. Once the plug was snugly inside of him, you clicked the button at the base and watched it buzz into life. The way Lucifer’s body arched at the sudden stimulation was magnificent. The chains connected to his nipple and cock tightened as he writhed and accepted all the stimulation his prostate and his body was receiving. To say it was a turn-on was an understatement. His muffled whines were music to your ears and his stifled screams when you pressed a wand vibrator to his cock was simply sinful. Lucifer’s eyes rolled back, drool soaked his soiled boxers and all he could do was accept everything you gave him. He was almost painfully hard, his cock throbbed and beat against its bindings and you simply had to admire how cum still beaded at the tip while you teased him. He could feel himself get closer and closer to orgasm. You were driving him past the point of no return. His climax hit him, even though he could cum he still felt the rush of endorphins rush through his body as the vibrator was pressed firmly at the base of his cock. Lucifer’s whole body tensed as he was awash in pleasure and pain all at once. You were merciful enough to pull the vibrator away from his cock, but you did leave the one in his ass and turned the intensity as high as it would go. Seeing him squirm against his bindings was always a delight regardless of he was being good or not. He let out needy whines, bucking his hips into the air, rutting at nothing, his he used his body to beg for the chance to properly cum. Seeing his desperation, you gave his cock a sharp slap. The muffled scream that came from the back of his throat gave you a rush of power and it was intoxicating to see the usually composed man come undone. Settling between his legs, you tugged his cock towards you, pulling on the clamps and his bindings. He breathed heavily through his nose as he was wracked with pain and pleasure. The feeling of the dry orgasm still resounded in his limbs and his nerves felt as though they were on fire. Still, you weren’t done with him. Once his chest stopped heaving, you took the liberty to pull the plug out of him excruciatingly slowly. The way his expression changed with every inch that slid out of him was divine and for a moment, you wondered if his angelic form had been this beautiful. He gasped for air once the plug was tossed to the side and you rewarded him by also removing the makeshift gag from his mouth. His lips were swollen and glistened with drool, an enticing sight that you couldn’t resist and you helped yourself to a wet, sloppy kiss while your hand pumped his sensitive cock, playing with the chain that connected it to his nipples. He moaned into your mouth, hungrily reciprocating the kiss and leaning into it as much as he could, straining against his bindings to gain more of your reward. “Was I good? Did I do good?” he babbled once the kiss broke. You regarded him with a raised brow, stopping your gentle stroking and gave his cock a hard slap. “Well, I was going to say you were good. But good pets don’t talk unless they’re allowed to.” You chided, this time you slapped his aching balls, making him cry out and you watched with a fair amount of glee when you saw tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He whimpered, pouting magnificently and you felt your chest swell with adoration for the man below you. “Aww, but you know... when you give me such good puppy eyes like that, I can’t help but tell you how good you are.” you cooed, stroking the side of his head. “Now... is my good boy ready to be rewarded with what he wanted?” He eagerly nodded, panting in anticipation for what you had prepared for him. The dildo he chose was a tried and true favorite, but one he always needed some prep for. You were more than liberal with lubricant, coating the phallic object until it glistened in the dim lighting. You didn’t forget to slather his pulsing asshole with a fair amount as well until it was slick and ready for the bulbous head of the toy. “You’re always such a slut for your Lord’s cock, aren’t you, pet?” you crooned, admiring the way his hole stretched out to accept the toy. “Even when you’re away, you can’t help but want him, hm?” He could only whine in pleasure and take deep wheezing breaths as he accepted the toy. “You may speak, pet. But only about how much you love getting fucked like the little pet slut you are by your Lord’s cock.” “Yes, yes. I love it! I love it so much!” He babbled, delirious and giddy when you finally allowed him to be vocal. “I love feeling his cock stretch me and fill me up! I love it when you use his toy cock to fuck me!” He gasped when you slid a rather prominent ridge inside of him. “I’m a good boy, a good slut for what my Lord gives me and the care he provides me!” “Such a loyal pet you are.” You praised, stroking his cock as you continued to press the dildo into him. “All these toys you have and this is the one you always use when he’s away.” “Yes, yes. His cock is the only one that fills me up the best.” Lucifer struggled against the bindings, you could see the light bruising that the ropes were leaving and the thought of knowing you were the ones who put those bruises there only encouraged you to fuck him with the toy even more. “That’s my boy, taking all of this big cock into you.” You sneered, pressing into him and making him adjust faster than he anticipated. He let out a choked cry and the tears started to roll down his face until finally, the shaft was completely inside of him. You could have been nice and let him breathe, but where was the fun in that? As soon as you saw he was fully stretched out, you started fucking him hard, thrusting the toy in and out of him, letting the lewd sounds of sex fill the room and mingle with his screams of pleasure. He was close and you were going to drive him to the brink and beyond that as well. While you continued to plunge the toy into his hole and fuck him as he wanted, you reached over for a pair of scissors with your free hand. A few well placed snips in between thrusts and his cock was free from his bindings. The chain connected to the nipple clamps fell to the side. Carefully placing the scissors to the side, you proceeded to stroke him hard and fast with your free hand while his ass was being pounded by a copy of Diavolo’s cock. “Yes. Thank you. Thank you for taking such good care of me.” He babbled. “No one else pet sits for me as well as you do. You make me into such a good slutty pet!” You felt your heart skip a beat at his praise and gripped the base of his cock hard, preventing him from cumming just yet. “I said you’re only allowed to talk about how you liked to be fucked like a pet slut.” You threatened, plunging the toy into him until the knotted base started to further stretch him out. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I- Ahhh!! Lord Diavolo’s cock fills me up the best! I love it! I love being fucked by it!” “Good boy.“ You praised, pressing the toy into him until it was fully sheathed inside of him, knot and all. Your grip loosened on his dick once more and you resumed stroking him. “Now show me how you like to beg to cum” You commanded, finally allowing him to climax while you pushed the toy as far as it would go into him, rocking it back and forth against his stretched and abused anus. “Ah!! Oh... Oh, please! Please let me cum! I want to cum! You make me feel so good! I’ll be a good boy and cum so pretty for you! I just want to... I want to Please.” The little whine at the end satisfied you and you redoubled your efforts on his overstimulated body. “Then cum.”

He followed your orders with glee, hot, thick ropes of cum spurted from his cock, covering his abdomen and his chest. His back arched violently as he climaxed, his whole body shuddering in its wake. He kept cumming in spurts, his essence splattering against his skin and soiling your hand. Lucifer wheezed, his eyes rolled back in pure bliss and he let out a soundless scream as he was finally allowed to release all his pent up emotions. “Good boy. You did so well.” you purred, crawling up to see his blissed out face and stroking it gently until he came down from his high. “You did make a mess though, so clean it up well, yes?” you cooed, offering him your hand covered in his cum. He happily lapped every drop up, savoring the taste of your skin and his essence. The dildo was still deeply embedded in him and his anus pulsed around it, clenching and sucking it in further while he lovingly cleaned your hand. Finally, the bindings were released. His tender nipples were freed and his limbs were allowed freedom. He sighed in content, his spent cock laying against his abdomen as he let you undo all the knots and ties across his body. The last thing to leave him was the toy he loved so much. The wet squelching sound as the knot popped out of him made his dick twitch and he groaned in pleasure as he was slowly being emptied. “Good boy.” you praised once more, proud of just how much he went through that night. “I’ll be sure to give a good report back to Lord Diavolo of your behavior.” Lucifer rolled over, nuzzling you softly and snuggling against your side. “Thank you for the lovely play date.” He murmured. Now that the scene was over, his submissive side ebbed and his usual demeanor mellowed out as he basked in the aftermath of such an intense session. You laughed softly, enjoying the time you shared with Lucifer as the two of you laid in bed together. You fed him snacks, made sure he drank and was comfortable, offered him soft words of affirmation and plenty of snuggles as he recomposed himself. After a moment of respite between the two of you, Lucifer’s energy returned and there was a proper glint of mischief in his eyes.”You know...” he started, his hands trailing between your legs and rubbing at the obvious arousal there. “I need to properly thank you for being such a good pet sitter.” “Oh, is that so?” you asked, raising a brow and rather intrigued as to how he planned on ‘thanking you.’ “Mmm yes...” He nodded, a smirk spread across his face as he pinned you down, stripping you of what clothes you had in the blink of an eye. Before you knew it, your legs were spread open and a thick, phallic object pressed at your waiting hole. “I know one other person who absolutely adores Lord Diavolo’s cock fucking them relentlessly...”

–– INJURY // YOUNGHOON. 

pairing: orthopedic! younghoon x fem, intern! reader genre: fluff, slightest angst if you close one eye ;; kind of slow-burn grr word count: 6.3k warnings: severe injury, profanities, no more that i know of

“We look forward to working with you,” The chief beams at the three interns which includes you, then jogs back to the emergency room.

“Hey, I'll be the ones handling the three of you, but first, we need someone urgent in the emergency room to help,” Looking rushed, another doctor makes his appearance disheveled. 

“I can help with that,” you mumble, after minutes of silence from the other two.

“Sure, follow me.” He hands a file to the other two and patting your arm, you follow him running to the emergency room.

Hectic wasn’t even enough of a word to describe it. Though feeling nervous, you also felt excitement run up your whole body.

“New patient coming! Car accident victim!” A nurse who just got off the phone shrieked, and you immediately jump to prepare yourself for a really, really long day.

Dragging yourself around after making yourself helpful in the hands of many patients, you had gotten your first break of the day–  at midnight.

“You’ve worked hard today,” The chief shows up right in front of you, smiling. Bowing to him, you give him a relieved sigh. “If it’s okay with you, might you stay here in the emergency room for the whole month? It got kind of hectic today and you handled it well, so let’s save some time to teach the others around again, okay?” He explained, getting a coffee out of the fridge beside you.

“Sure, I’d be happy to be placed here,” Without hesitance, you smiled at him once again and gulped your coffee.

“Thank you,” He mumbles. “You’ll be doing the last assessments of the emergency room and ICU, okay?” 

A month.

You didn’t know where in the middle of that month, followed by another as the other intern after you ditched, have you started to regret agreeing to the chief. You literally had no sleep and only had a ten-minute rest every day, your feet were sore–  but regret vanishes the moment the patients smile at you.

“Hi,” You mumble to the kid on the hospital bed, checking her IV bag and vitals. “Why are you still awake?” You crouch down to her level, beaming at her as you brush her hair back.

“I can’t sleep,” She pouts, her eyes shifting behind you. Throughout your one and a half month of shifts here in the emergency room, this kid–  Jaehee, has been in and out here ever since your first day, making you close enough to open a conversation.

“What are you looking at?” You trail your eyes to where she was looking, gasping as you drop your folder, running to the kid who’s been playing with the oxygen tanks big enough to crush her.

Hearing the oxygen tanks clanking with each other, you grew anxious every step you took and as if you saw your life flash right in front of your eyes, a tank started toppling and the kid simply stared at it.

Picking up your pace, your eyes started to tear up, and planning to snatch the kid away from the heavy tank, your foot bore all weight as you safely carry the kid to your chest, veins popping out of your neck and forehead to stop yourself from screaming in pain.

“..Are you.. o-okay?” You manage to mutter out to the kid, giving her a smile.

She gives you a small nod and runs off to her bed once again, unscathed.

You look back to your feet literally buried under the tank, feeling your body feel hot at the pain that can’t be released. With your trembling hands, you had to gather every ounce of energy to lift the tank off.

“Fucking..” You mumble, trying to contain your sobs. “Shit..” Leaning your head back, with the littlest movement you winced at the pain on your feet that was slowly crawling up to your chest.

“y/n!” You hear a familiar man whisper-shout, as you whip your head to meet the voice. “What the fuck happened?” 

“I'm so sorry chief,” Your voice is rough, you watch him carry the tank off, and even though you still feel a strong amount of pain, lifting the tank off made your body feel light. “I was.. A kid was playing and..” 

“Let’s get this checked, okay?” He didn’t bother letting you finish, looking at the now swollen and trembling foot of yours that he tried hard not to move.

You just give him a nod, sniffing and wiping tears away, letting him do whatever he needed to do.

“You’re gonna need to go to an ortho for this,” He mumbles, still examining your scans with a scrunched face. “I'll get you one, okay? I'm going to call Kevin to get you there,” He explains, the orthopedics building being a mile away from the emergency room you were at.

You simply nodded again, mumbling a small thank you as you, yourself, looking at your poor.. foot.

It can’t be that injured, right?

You tried moving it to the side, only grimacing at the action and earning you a light smack of papers on your head by your chief.

“Kim Younghoon’s free,” He mumbles to himself, immediately calling Kevin, the nurse you had gotten close to.

You could only pray it isn’t that severe.

“What in the world happened here?” Doctor Kim–  or as he insisted, just Younghoon, grimaced at the sight of the poorly casted foot of yours.

“Foot got crushed by an oxygen tank trying to save a kid’s head from breaking,” Kevin simply stated, sighing.

“What?!” His face scrunched, looking at you. You only give him a small smile, darting your eyes somewhere else. “You may leave now, Kev. Thank you,” Younghoon mumbles, not even batting an eye to Kevin as you mumble another thank you to Kevin, then leaving you with a pat. “Did you know that an oxygen tank is approximately almost seventy kilos heavy?” He deadpanned, removing the cast on your foot as you hand him the scans.

“Yeah.. Sorry,” You could only mumble, giving him another wary smile as you glance at your foot. “Though I'm sure a kid can’t push down a tank that heavy so I assume the tank that toppled over my foot isn’t that heavy.” You tried explaining.

“y/n, how much do you think oxygen weighs?” He glanced at you, “Even if it is empty, the tank itself is approximately sixty kilos,”

“Right, sorry.” You zipped your lips, feeling embarrassed. “Yeah, a kid has enough strength to push a sixty-kilo tank but not a seventy,” Sarcasm getting the best out of you, but life loves you enough to not let the fine man in front of you hear.

“You’re crazy,” He mumbles, softly placing an ice pack on your foot and takes a seat in front of you. You could only hum, it was crazy indeed. “You know you can cry, right?” He looks up at you, you’re harshly biting on your lip and your eyes continuously tearing.

“Ye–  what?” You didn’t even realize what you were doing until you wiped your eyes and your lips escaped your teeth. 

“Cry. I know it hurts,” He smiles at you, trying to reassure you. “Though.. I haven’t really.. You know, uh, never carried or been.. buried by an oxygen tank,” He slowly mumbles, making you at least chuckle between pain.

So you cry. Messy sobs and sniffs here and there and even took you a caress in the head by Younghoon to calm you down after a lot of poking in your bruised foot which was, you thought, really unnecessary, but you aren’t an ortho so..

“I think it’s my first time seeing you around.” He breaks the awkward tension, and you immediately perk up.

“Uh, yes! I'm an intern, my name is y/n.” You beam after wiping your eyes harshly with your coat, reaching your hand out. 

“Kim Younghoon,” He smiles back, taking your hand to shake and tucking it on his coat afterward. 

“I'm so sorry for taking up your break in the middle of the.. night,” You mutter, fiddling with your fingers. 

“Oh no, it’s okay. it’s actually not my break, it’s just that no one needs an ortho in the middle of the night anyways unless an emergency, that’s why I was sleeping,” He shakes his head and chuckles, and you now just have the time to take in his soft features.

This man was handsome and tall and lovely and kind and– 

“I'm going to fall in love with you if you keep on staring at me like that,” He says out loud enough to break your train of thoughts, widening your eyes in response as you watch him starting to put a cast on your foot.

“I–  uh, sorry..” You utter under your breath, fluttering your eyes in embarrassment. “Is it done now?” You straightened your neck to glance at your feet, unconsciously jerking your foot. “Ow,” You grimaced, earning a finger in your forehead to push your head back.

“You’re going to need to rest this for a month or so,” He nods at his piece–  the casted foot, “Let me see it more than few times every week and we’ll see. Where do you live?” 

You just furrowed your eyebrows, trying to understand everything with a pout on your face.

“But I'm just an intern!” You defended, “I can’t out myself now..” You whispered, fiddling more with your nails and fingers.

“Still, rest is what you need. Sangyeon–  uh, your chief, is a friend so I'll talk to him about it, okay? You did save a life with your foot, after all.” He holds out a chuckle, even finding it a lot of effort to stop himself from ruffling your hair since it was your first time meeting.

You simply let your head down, bringing your foot down too.

“You’re going to be okay, y/n.” Younghoon smiled at you, giving you a pair of crutches. “Just stay at home, and when I call you to check up on that, come.” 

“Okay,” You pout, standing up. 

“Should I get Kevin again? To get you home?” He asks, holding the door for you.

“No, no. it’s okay,” You smile at him. “Thank you again, I'll see you soon.”

“Right– I didn’t get your number.” He mumbles, fumbling in his pockets for his phone. “Here,” He hands out his phone and you immediately dial your phone on it, smiling once again. “I'll see you soonest,” He smiles back, feeling his heart turn a full round beaming at him before leaving.

You turn your back, feeling unimaginably light even with the pain on your foot. Unimaginably light and all smiley– or is it because you just met a handsome man, and will continue meeting him? 

“No, fucking hell,” You mumble, shaking your head. “No! of course not! You just met a man in months, that is. Nothing more. Not the usual Kevin, chief Sangyeon and random patients coming in and out of the emergency room or the other nurses and doctors coming to get your patient’s assessment, not the usu–” Before you know it, you bump against a glass door, groaning.

“You’re absolutely clumsy, did you know that?” Kevin runs up to you, furrowing his eyebrows. Your eyes travel around and realize your feet still dragged you to the emergency room, where it seems a little less packed than normal. “You’re talking to yourself and you’re here,”

“I didn’t even know I was talking to myself, thank you,” Sarcasm covered your voice, shrugging at Kevin. “I also didn’t know how I got here.” You walk back to the nurses’ rooms, sun from the windows welcoming you brightly. 

“So, how’d the check-up go?” Kevin tails you, getting you a can of coffee. “Younghoon’s hot, isn’t he? He’s a friend, feel free to hit him up,” 

“First of all, what the fuck Kevin. Second, yes, he’s handsome as hell but I'm not wasting a single second to hit on someone who’s clearly not interested,”

“How the hell would you even know that?” Kevin interrupts, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I just know. Third, the check-up went normal. He tells me this and that– a few more check ups and then done.” You say, pursing your lips to a thin line when you glanced at your feet, remembering Younghoon’s facial features that got you staring.

“Oh, definitely whipped,” Kevin mutters, shaking his head at you.

“Not.” You simply state, giving him a stink eye.

“Oh honey, not just you.” Kevin excitedly takes the seat in front of you, “You think you need more checkups after that?” He points at your foot, safely tucked against the thick cast. You stare at him confusingly, letting him continue. “That’s just a bruise. God helped you, you’re not injured at all. What the hell will he check? If your bruises are gone?” He sarcastically remarked, rolling his eyes.

“Okay– how the hell will I know, I'm not a fucking ortho,” You hiss at him, but you only received a shrug. “Whatever, Kev. I'll just.. check on the patients.” You stand up, getting your crutches and glaring at him.

“Wait– you aren’t going home?” Kev jumps up, looking at you worriedly.

“I'm not in the mood to be bedridden, sir. Why waste time doing something I don’t want rather make it productive, right?” You smirked at him, closing the door before you and once again, making your way to the emergency room.

The coast is clear.

You look around for a sign of the chief– Sangyeon then started to do your solo rounds.

“Hey..” You remember the kid from last night– the one who played with the tanks, staring at you from her bed. She wasn’t your patient, makes sense that you didn’t find her familiar. “Are you feeling okay?” You smile at her, crouching a little to her level.

“Yes..” She lets her hand fall to your crutches, finding it interesting as her eyes trail to your foot. “Sorry..”

“No, it’s okay hun,” You smile at her, removing the bits of biscuits at the side of her lips. “Just don’t play with it again, okay?” You set your crutches on the side, feeling doubly uncomfortable not just with the cast, but also your crutches on your armpits.

“Okay!” She beams, making you chuckle. You leave after a few minutes, grabbing the crutches to set in your locker as you’ve managed to walk by literally dragging your feet around.

A week has passed and you’re positive Younghoon had forgotten to contact you for the check-up, making you realize that as Kevin said, it wasn’t really necessary. 

After hearing a lot of complaints from Sangyeon from still working even after getting asked to stay at home, you had somehow convinced him that you weren’t going to meddle with the emergencies but just do your last rounds instead.

“Okay, fine. But if Younghoon kills me, I'll haunt you.” Sangyeon exasperatingly sighs, giving you a light hit on your forehead.

“Sure. I don’t see nor feel ghosts anyway,” You chuckle, making Sangyeon do so too, and went on his way to busy himself with patients again.

You decided to settle on the reception table, clearly bored to the brim as you watch people run and pass by. 

“Hey, Juyeon?” You ask the nurse– who had also become acquainted with you after you found out the kid that brought you to your despair was his patient, beside you.

“Yeah?” He didn’t bother batting an eye at you, busy with his own files. 

“Do you need help with your rounds?” You pout at him and he instantly whips his head at you.

“I do, but not yours,” He sighs out. 

“Come on,” You grab his hand. “I'll take the ones out of the emergency room. I'll take just this floor’s wards,” After a few whines, it finally got to Juyeon.

“Fine. Just this floor’s wards!” He hands you a bunch of files and god have you never felt so excited once again.

Making your way to your first ward with a big smile on your face, you scan the file before knocking and opening the door.

You were welcomed by a dumbfounded Younghoon talking to Sangyeon– who was clearly shocked and talking to you with his eyebrows.

“I thought I clearly told you to rest that until I told you so?” Younghoon says in gritted teeth, then looking back at Sangyeon. “I thought you told me that she was resting?” Younghoon raises his eyebrow, looking intimidating even for the older man in front of him.

Sangyeon just stutters and shakes his hands in front of him, dragging the both of you outside after bowing to the baffled patient.

“Stay here, the both of you. I'm going to talk to my patient first.” Younghoon glares then make his way back to the ward.

“I told you to stay in your dept, didn’t I?” Sangyeon whispered with a groan, “He’s going to kill me,” He panics, brushing his hair back.

“What’s so bad with me working? I'm just doing rounds,” You pout, leaning on the wall.

“Oh, I don’t think you understand. Younghoon is the strictest ortho there is,” Sangyeon sighs, whipping his head to your side. “His patients are always his priority and if you’re not going to disobey him, might as well welcome your death,” 

“You didn’t tell me that before I wanted you to make me do my rounds!” You pout, getting anxious by second. 

Before Sangyeon snaps back, the door opens to reveal Younghoon with raised eyebrows, sighing at your state.

“I better leave,” Sangyeon takes his leave, winking at you and mouthing fighting before patting your arm.

You bow at the senior who just left and to the one standing before you, trying to find any excuse to escape the scolding.

“I should go rest, right?” You smile sneakily at him, taking a step but then getting stopped by his stern voice.

“Where do you think you’re going?” you just held your head down, shifting back to your position. “Rest– what’s so hard with that?” 

“I'm sorry,” You pressed your lips to a thin line, playing with your fingers as you stared at your foot.

He just sighs, hugging his own files in his chest as he looked at you.

“Your crutches?”

“It was uncomfortable so I kind of.. set it aside?” You slowly perked up, wryly smiling at him. He gives another sigh, asking you to follow him.

“Go get your crutches and go to my office. Let’s check if you worsened your foot,” His straightforwardness made you pout, making Younghoon melt at the sight. “M-move quickly, will you?” he stuttered, his face getting pale red as he diverted his eyes everywhere but you.

“Sorry, I'm kind of injured.” You softly scoffed at him playfully, a chuckle coming out of your lips as you hand Juyeon back his files, then grabbing your crutches to follow him.

Unlike the first encounter, no one made an effort to put the awkward atmosphere aside. Younghoon just told you to sit down and wait for him, getting scissors and more of the cast to put on your foot.

“Now what did I tell you?” Younghoon deadpans, the moment he had cut off your cast, your foot was more swollen than last time, though not that severe. 

“It’s just swollen..”

“It’s more swollen now!” Younghoon unconsciously snapped, making you flinch. 

“Sorry,” You mumbled, letting your head down once again.

Younghoon’s heart dropped, not meaning to shout at you.

“Sorry.. I.. didn’t mean to,” he started, “I know you wanted to do well on your work, y/n. But this isn’t just a simple injury. though none of your bones are broken, it severely swells. it might cause to inner infections and–” Younghoon stops when he realized he was blabbering things a little too much, sighing as he took the seat beside your foot.

You uncomfortably shifted your foot away from him, earning you a glare before he reaches out an ice pack from the fridge to put atop your foot.

“Either stay here and rest or I'll be the one to bring you home to make sure you rest.” Younghoon simply states and heads to his table, busying himself with all of his files and papers of his patients.

Meanwhile, you occupied your mind by staring at him.

Handsome, hardworking, true to his work and apart from all that, he’s kind and soft-hearted that you barely see, but still, made you feel like it.

“I told you I'll fall in love with you if you keep on staring at me,” He stops your train of thought, smirking at you. “I fall in love really easy, you know,” He rests his elbows on the table and his chin on his hand, staring back at you.

You just darted your eyes everywhere, wiping your palms that had formed sweat on your scrubs. This man in front of you made you crazy nervous whenever you’re around him, and you’re not sure whether it’s because you were scared of getting scolded, or just totally nervous to see a handsome face.

And was flirting with you.

“At this point, I'll melt, y/n.” Tou didn’t even realize you had started to stare again, clearing your throat, your mouth opening, and closing to form words.

“I– I wasn’t though?” You craned your neck, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, really?” He raised his eyebrows, nodding at you.

“There was a bug behind you,” You mumble, and Younghoon almost immediately jumps and runs behind you, his eyes finding the bug. 

You’re telling me, you had the confidence to flirt but are scared of bugs?

The thought made you chuckle until you burst out laughing, making Younghoon confused until it dawned on him.

“You’re joking,” Younghoon hisses, standing upright. He huffs and puts the ice packs away from your feet, getting the cast to put on your foot.

You, once again, stared at him but now with a smile, almost as if you were shooting heart eyes as you quietly observed him put on your cast.

His eyes that held a thousand of stars, his tall nose, his bread cheeks, his plump and red lips–

“Do you want to kiss me?” Younghoon asks, making you dumbfounded.

“W-what?” You stuttered, looking at him in disbelief.

“No, like.. You’ve been staring at me and! I don’t know!” He grows shy at the moment, his actions scaring himself too. He didn’t think before saying what he just said, too caught up in the moment where he was lost in your eyes too.

Contemplating whether it was a real question or just simply him making fun of you, you decided to just stare at your hands and fiddled with your fingers.

“I know you aren’t going back home, so stay in the on-call rooms. I'll ask Sangyeon and Kevin to not!” He pointed his finger at you, “..not do your work at least for a week, after that, you could only do rounds until I say so, are we clear?” 

You just nodded, removing your foot from the seat.

“And, you’re going here every day.” Unnecessary. Younghoon thought, “Don’t even think of laying a finger on your foot. I'll be the one to handle it unless you want me to drive you home to make sure you rest.” He reprimanded anyway.

You weren’t an ortho to judge whether everything he was saying was necessary or not, so you just nod, unconsciously feeling excited at the thought of seeing him again tomorrow.

You came back.

You came back the next day, and the day after, and the day after and the day after– a month. You had developed a big, fat crush on Kim Younghoon– and you don’t know if it’s because how you loved the warmth you felt whenever he plopped himself comfortably beside you while you let the ice pack melt on your nearly-healed foot, while he scrambled on the pile of papers in his hands. 

Or maybe it was the way you felt when butterflies and fireworks burst in your stomach just by.. looking at him. Or maybe, it was in between the lines of his flirty remarks.

“I can’t say I didn’t see that one coming,” Kevin winked, taking the seat beside you after tailing you doing your ward rounds. “Come on, y/n. Just ask him out. I haven’t seen that man out of the comfort of his own work, it’d be nice to have a change.” Kevin pokes your side.

You finally face him, glaring. He catches you off guard by lightly kicking your foot with the cast, not having any reaction but your eyes widening.

“See! Even your foot is an excuse to see him! And god forbid, I, for all, can say you’re not even injured, why isn’t Younghoon saying anything about it? He’s an ortho for fuck’s sake!” Kevin threw his hands up, giving you an exasperated sigh.

“Fine,” You mumble, pursing your lips. “But if anything goes wrong, you’re to blame.” You groan, your attention to the pile of papers in the reception table while Kevin celebrated in the background.

You know it was a dumb excuse. Everything was a dumb excuse for you to escape an awkward atmosphere with your crush– Younghoon. You know that Kevin– or anyone, isn't to blame if things go south.

Yet you still found yourself staring at his office door, a knock away to see his beaming face, knowing that it was his break.

“You can do this,” You pat your chest a little too harshly, as if it calmed you, “You just have to say hey, can I remove my cast now? And uh.. if you’d like.. to get some coffee?” You groan, ruffling your hair in frustration. “I don’t know! I don’t fucking know!”

Your hands unconsciously land on the knob to turn, only to be stopped by a series of laughter resonating in the room.

You don’t know. You don’t know why it hurt when he was only a crush.

You don’t know why it hurt to see him smiling at another woman, just like how he did with you, or how his hands naturally land to her’s to hold, squeezing it. Or maybe how his eyes turned to little crescents along with the heavenly laughter that came out of his mouth.

You don’t know why it hurts.

It was only a crush.

Right?

Then why the hell– just why the hell does your chest felt like wilting? Why did it feel like it was watching the world crumble right in front of your eyes? Why did it hurt more than when you bore a whole oxygen tank on your foot? Why did it feel like your whole body was in pain?

Why the hell were you crying?

You immediately shuffle back and close the door as silent as you can– but honestly, you didn’t know if it was silent enough, nor did you care.

It was a foreign feeling to feel, a pain too unreal to feel.

Did you like him? Did you love him?

But you didn’t bother occupying yourself with these questions– instead, you indulge yourself in the pain, heading to the on-call rooms to finally, rest.

Maybe no one was to blame, but you. For you assumed that there was something more than just the intern turned patient relationship from him to you, or you thought that maybe, just maybe, the originally shy man that was then overly confident with flirting with you, meant everything that he said. 

The ringing in your head hurt more when another ring from your phone disturbed you, and you take a breather before answering it.

“Are you there?” Kevin starts, sounding a little too excited. “How did it go?”

“I don’t know Kev, I suddenly felt sick so.. I'm at the rooms,” You sniff, trying to hide the fact that you were crying.

It was silent for a while, “Are you sure?”  Kevin sounded suspicious of you, and you just wanted to stop the call that instant. 

“Yeah, Kev. I just need to rest this,” You answer back.

“Okay, hun. Rest well and call me if you need anything, alright?” Kevin sighs, not wanting to pry more in case you were telling the truth.

“Actually, Kev..” You trail off, “Do you happen to know another ortho?” You hesitated, knowing that Kevin's instincts would jump. “I just happen to bump to Younghoon’s list of patients and.. I didn’t want to bother him more..?” Coming off as a question rather than a statement.

“I have another friend, I'll send you his details, alright? Although you have some explaining to do.. I want you to rest now, okay?” Kevin heaves another sigh, and you only give him a hum before hanging up.

You could only hope that you could sleep all the pain and foreign, heavy feeling on your chest away.

“Hey, I'm Hyunjae, Kevin told me already.” The man before you smiled, and if Younghoon wasn’t clouding your mind, you would’ve gawked at another handsome man in front of your eyes.

“Uh, yes. Hello, I'm y/n,” You smiled back, taking a seat on his couch. “I uh, just need this removed and.. someone told me to do last scans so,” You smiled wryly, eyeing his actions.

“Yeah, sure!” He was a little cheerful than what you’re expecting, so you let out a light chuckle as he mumbled a little sorry.

If it wasn’t for Kevin cheering you up this morning after you’ve told him what you had seen, and practically begging Sangyeon with a bunch of lame excuses after he was asked by Younghoon where you were, you wouldn’t have felt at least a little better than yesterday.

Hyunjae here, casually opened topic after topic, and after a while, making you comfortable in an instant and Younghoon faded in your mind. He had removed your cast and was now waiting for the results of your scans.

“Where’s your first department at?” Hyunjae asks, propping his elbows on his table to lean closer to you.

“Emergency room.”

“And you’re still in the emergency room?” Hyunjae furrows his eyebrows, “God, Sangyeon needs to learn how to let go of people,” He dryly chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he finally leaned back on his swivel chair. “It’s your fourth month yet you’re still on the emergency room.” 

“That’s because I spent almost two months on rounds only because of this.. stupid injury,” And just like that, Younghoon almost occupied your mind again.

“I can see you’re good on your work,” Hyunjae teased, “so if ever Sangyeon had finally let go of you, why don’t you assist on some of my surgeries?” Hyunjae offered, making you shocked. Your lips formed an ‘o’ as your eyebrows raised.

“Sure, why not,” You beamed, and the newfound smile on your face making Hyunjae chuckle.

After that interaction with Hyunjae, you both had acknowledged each other’s presence every time you had bumped– more likely on your breaks since you had the same schedule.

“Let’s go for lunch!” Hyunjae excitedly wiggles in front of you as he waited in front of your lockers, sending Kevin a wave before walking off with you.

“My treat,” You said, and he jumps in excitement in front of you with a big smile on his face, walking backward.

“What’s the occasion?” He asks, pulling your sleeve to make you walk faster to the canteen.

“The occasion, sir, you bought me lunch yesterday,” You chuckled, letting him drag you as he picked the food to his stomach’s extent.

Meanwhile, a man watches the scene unfold in front of his eyes, the soup in his spoon he held gone cold while his jaw hung.

Younghoon had wondered where the hell you were the whole week, not visiting him for the daily unnecessary checkups, yet here you were– with his friend, having lunch that probably wasn’t the first time looking at how close you were.

He wanted to run to you, drag you to somewhere he wants to, just to be alone with you, yet he doesn’t know why he wanted to. He has a crush on you– yes, he didn’t resist the fact that he was attracted to you and your amazing personality, or clumsiness, but it was only a crush.

Why the fuck was he so ready to break Hyunjae's fingers when he removed something on your cheek? Why the fuck was he so ready to punch the smile off of Hyunjae’s face when you both were laughing about something?

Why the fuck was he storming out of the canteen when his bread, his beloved bread, was still untouched?

All he knows is that he was determined to talk to Hyunjae that day, not tomorrow, not on that week, but as soon as possible, or he could possibly burst.

So he waited in front of his friend’s office, anxiously tapping his foot as he thought of the things he could say to the man.

“Oh, Younghoon!” Hyunjae arrives, and Younghoon mustered all of his strength to not snap in front of the man, only muttering a finally under his breath. “Why are you here?” Hyunjae innocently opens the door for him with a smile on his face.

“Nothing.. Have you had lunch?” Younghoon knew how to approach the subject you, and he didn’t waste a minute to talk to Hyunjae about it.

“Yeah! I just had one with y/n,” Hyunjae plops in his seat, the smile not fading one bit as he caressed his stomach.

“Oh! You know y/n?” Worked, Younghoon thought, just as how he knew Hyunjae. 

“Yeah, she’s an intern held by Sangyeon. Do you know her? Oh! Were you her doctor before me?” Hyunjae sits up curiously. “She went to me after her injured foot healed, asking for last scans and removing the cast so–” 

“Wait a fucking minute,” Younghoon glares at Hyunjae, “You’ve removed her cast?” Younghoon scoffs dryly, not believing what he just heard.

The excuse he’d been using for a month.. How dare Hyunjae..?

“Uh.. Yeah?” Hyunjae furrows his eyebrows in confusion and Younghoon, finally, burst.

“She’s my patient, you..” His face scrunched, finding the right words to insult, but not entirely, the man in front of him, “Psycho!” And he ran out of the office to find you.

It might be because Hyunjae snatched his patient, or maybe just because you didn’t let him explain who the girl he was with the time you barged not so quietly into his office as you were literally missing in action, or also maybe because he just really, really missed you and have no more excuse to keep on seeing you now that Hyunjae had removed your cast.

“y/n!” Younghoon shouts as he sees you just before opening the staff’s room, and you jump at the sudden appearance of the man you’ve been successfully avoiding for almost half a month now.

“..Hi,” You smile, as you see his eye drop to your foot, “Oh! look, it’s completely healed,” You nod at him and you sense his annoyance radiating off him.

“You’re my patient.” Younghoon blatantly says, glaring at you. 

“Uh.. Okay..” You dragged, confused at everything that was happening as you tried understanding his point.

Younghoon, frustrated, threw his head back and put his hands on his hips. 

“Why didn’t you let me remove your cast?!” A small pout forms on his lips as your heart swoons for the nth time for him.

You literally just stared at him with furrowed eyebrows, confused and lost with what tantrum he was throwing.

“I don’t know, I guess?” You shrugged, opening the staff’s door and silently praying for someone to be there to escape the exchange you’re having with Younghoon.

Yeah, there was no one around.

You sighed as you took a can of coffee in the fridge, Younghoon tailing you.

“She was my sister!” Younghoon breathes out, his eyes closed at the surge of frustration he was feeling.

“Excuse me, who?” 

“The one you saw me with, in the office! I saw you leaving and I literally ran after you, but goodness, even with your casted foot, you hide fast, and literally missing in action the whole week! I’ve asked Sangyeon, you’re sick, I asked Kevin, you’re resting. So I thought, wow, for a whole fucking week. then after another week, I see you with Hyunjae, laughing, eating and for all I know, you’re still sick and resting– as said not only by Sangyeon and Kev, but your whole department I’ve asked!” he explains– rambles.

Your heart felt.. light. happy and you feel those butterflies and fireworks on your stomach once again.

But still, you didn’t know why he was so persistent in explaining everything.

“Uhm, okay?” You sink on your place, taking a sip of your coffee awkwardly.

“What I'm saying is, I like you, okay? Now could you please just go on a date with me?” 

The coffee on your mouth bursts right in front of his face, and you watch in horror how it dripped from his chin.

“Holy shit,” You mumbled, scrambling your way to getting wet tissues as Younghoon stood there dumbfounded and eyes closed, but still a growing smile on his lips. “I am so terribly sorry,” You chanted continuously, wiping the coffee off of his defined face.

Younghoon lets you, opening one eye to peek at you as he finally lets a chuckle out of his mouth, snaking a hand on your waist to pull you closer.

“I'm only forgiving you if you go on a date with me,” He smiles softly, waiting for your answer.

Your shoulders sag, letting your lips curl up as you continued to wipe his face.

“Sure, I'd love to go on not just one date with you,” You smile back, feeling your heart jump as he breaks into the sweetest smile you had ever seen.

pump it (derogatory) - continued

<pt. 1>

warnings: herein lies the smut :) word count: 2238

you slowly lower yourself onto your knees, feeling your cheeks flush and your jaw clench. he doesn't take his eyes off of you, the amusement dancing on his features makes your stomach twist and turn.

"go on", he repeats, putting out his cigarette onto the ashtray beside him. it's as if his attention is solely focused on you now.

your hands, resting on your thighs, ball into fists as you maintain his gaze. this man was sick! if only you hadn't stopped and hesitated out there on the road. if only you hadn't followed him inside and taken the bait. he snickers, standing at full height as he strides over to you.

"need some help?"

 he hadn't been particularly tall when you'd first met him. was it the new angle?

"if this is some sick prank you're pulling, i'd like you to stop", you spit, looking up at him with what you hoped was complete indignation in your eyes.

belphie tilts his head, the corner of his lips forever quirked upwards as he places a hand atop your head.

"what makes you think i'm not being serious?"

that hand runs through your hair, settling comfortably at the base of your skull and he tugs. there's no pain. it's merely a demonstration. you're more than looking up at him, quite literally in his grip and he bares his teeth at you, grinning and exposing incisors sharp as knives.

"besides", he mutters (though it's hard to miss his words with his blunt nails digging into your scalp), "you seem like the type of person to pay their dues properly."

he emphasizes that last part and you drink in the sight of his collar. the top two buttons have been left undone and the material creases as it stretches over his chest. he seems to appreciate your close assessment and with that, he's shoving your face down towards the familiar, pale tiles.

you try to dig your nails into the smooth surface to no avail, protesting as he brings you down closer and closer-

"wait- i can- can't we- can't we work something out?!"

his breath tickles your ear and you think he's probably also knelt down to do so.

"what? would you rather use your tongue elsewhere?"

you blink rapidly, trying not to shiver at his proximity or his low drawl. you can see your shadow reflected in the tiles inches away from your nose and you take a deep breath as the next question leaves you.

"what did you have in mind...?"

he clicks his tongue and tugs you by your hair to have you look at him once more. he'd been squatting down.

"like i said, clever."

as he stands up, his grip on you remains. you inwardly release a sigh of relief. bullet successfully dodged.

and then your eyes zero in on the bulge in his pants and you swallow thickly. of course, of course it was going to be that in the end. only, this didn't seem so bad...? you'd be lying if you said it hadn't turned you on in the slightest to be made to lick the floor. especially when that'd come in the form of an aegean-blue-haired man with veins on his forearms that could make you cry.

perhaps you stare a moment too long.

"listen, if this makes you uncomfortable, we can stop."

"oh", you reply.

his suggestion comes out as more of an afterthought and you're taken aback by his unanticipated generosity (a common theme of tonight). the reasonable and logical part of your brain says yes, yes let's do just that. let's stop and leave this place. but the more irrational, impulsive side of you wonders how he'd taste...

belphie must've mistaken your tone because he removes his hand and you're left feeling distinctly unsatisfied.

you grab it, placing a chaste kiss inside his calloused palm and he twitches. it's your turn to smile at him.

"that's funny", you say, mind already made up.

he doesn't pull away from you. instead, he squeezes your hand and you pull him closer by his belt. a maneuver that rewards you with another twitch and a soft gasp.

"you don't seem like the type to second-guess yourself."

slowly, you undo the leather and he watches with intent. if he'd felt shocked, he doesn't show it.

"somehow, i don't want you to hate me. is that weird?"

his confession makes you pause, only briefly, and then you're palming him through the cotton. he shuts his eyes. you note how long his eyelashes appear, their shadows dotting his cheeks.

"i don't really want you to hate me either."

the two of you share a look. one that precedes an exchange of understanding. you realize that he isn't capable of frightening you as you pull the waistband of his boxers down, freeing his erection.

"so how about i make up for my clumsiness like this? is that okay?", you ask, mouth mere centimeters away from the head of his dick.

"definitely okay", he murmurs.

and you take him into your mouth like someone starved. it's hot and hard and the veins on its underside have you moaning around his length. you guide his hand back to your hair and he fists it.

"fuck", he whispers.

fuck, you think.

the change in your attitude spurs him on to bury himself to the hilt inside your mouth and you try to regulate your breathing, attempting to relax your throat.

"god, you feel good..."

you hum appreciatively at his praise and he bucks his hips up, causing you to grip his thighs as a means of holding him in place. and jesus was he built. you stroke the hard muscles trembling underneath your hands and he groans - a delicious sound.

"hah, mm, can i fuck your face like this?"

he's doing his best not to move, and you carefully slide him back out of your mouth, much to his disappointment. you swirl your tongue around him and lick a strip down the side, only to suckle on a spot near the base of his dick and he shivers.

"what's the magic word?"

the blush on his cheeks matches the blush on the ends of his ears and you grin up at him. he shrinks slightly under your gaze, becoming increasingly aware of the power dynamic at work.

"p-please..?"

"good boy", you coo nonchalantly, petting his thigh.

his dick twitches this time and you giggle, batting your eyelids at him.

"ah...into that sort of thing, are you?"

he scoffs, his façade ruined as you move your hand along his cock and squeeze. a whimper leaves him and you act on the urge to stroke him, eyeing the expression of pleasure on his face. his hips start to move on their own accord.

"please just- just keep going."

"hm? like this?"

"no- with your mouth", he says hurriedly, adding a "please" that only serves to boost your ego. this was more to your liking.

"alright belphie, i'll give you what you want since you asked so nicely."

he's about to snap back but you glide your tongue against his slit, leaving whatever insult he was about to spew to die in his throat as you graze your teeth against the sensitive skin of his dick while taking him back in.

"oh, jesus...fuck."

like a distant memory, you realize that he tastes distinctly sweet. an ode to his bodywash you suppose.

"mmmh", you moan around him and he jerks his hips.

you caress his thigh as your other hand snakes its way up to his ass, and you squeeze. he grunts, glancing down at you with a type of dizzy look in his eyes that sets your own lust ablaze. you swallow around him once and he tries to keep still.

only, you encourage him, pushing him further into your throat by the hand on his ass and he clutches at your hair with desperation.

"wait, are you- are you sure?"

you nod, ignoring the drool dribbling down your chin and he hisses as you swallow around him again.

"alright, okay", he pants, "i'm not gonna hold back."

and that's as much warning as you get before he's rocking into your mouth, head thrown back in ecstasy as he chases his own high.

it's surreal, how good it feels. how each time the tip of his cock brushes against the roof of your mouth and the back of your throat, you descend further into a state of rapture. so maybe you had an oral fixation, so what?

you close your eyes and focus all your attention on relaxing your throat, on accommodating his girth and not choking on your own saliva.

he must like the sounds he hears coming from you because belphie's groans get louder with each thrust. there's a familiar haziness to the way you feel and a warmth in your gut that encourages you to slacken your jaw that little bit more.

"fuck, fuck, i'm gonna cum too qu-quickly, your mouth feels too fucking good."

you moan, getting off on how dazed he looks and the airy lilt to his voice. you knead his ass cheek, feeling it flex with each thrust and he starts to get sloppy, not bothering to stifle the small moans that leave him or the curses he manages to stutter out.

"i'm gonna cum, i'm gonna cum", he whines.

in that split-second you'd decided to blow him, you'd also decided that you'd let him cum in your mouth. and so, you make no move to let him retreat, using both your hands and cupping both his ass cheeks to keep him in your throat as he unravels.

"ah- mm!"

the hot liquid comes in heavy spurts that otherwise would've made you choke had you not been prepared for it.

you continue to swallow, even as he stops cumming and backs away from the over-stimulation. eventually, you give in, coming off his dick with an obscene noise.

at least you aren't the only breathless one. you lick your lips and he groans at the sight of them all pink and puffy and wet.

"fucking hell."

"well", you say, wincing at your own raspy tone, "we don't need more of a mess to clean up, do we?"

he laughs, and you chuckle with him.

belphie's about to help you to your feet when he looks up and sees the color painting the horizon outside. it's almost dawn. shit. he'd forgotten himself. the time, the place, everything.

"hey, listen", he says, looking at you with distress knitted in his brows. "you're going to wake up in fifteen minutes and you'll barely remember anything that's happened."

the sudden shift in his manner gives you whiplash, and you're left utterly frazzled. what? wake up? fifteen minutes?

"you'll think this is an abandoned gas station and leave. but..."

and he contemplates, ponders even, the possibility of tying himself to you.

"but if you call this number, in precisely thirteen days, you might be able to reach me."

was his voice fading? or were you simply drifting farther away?

"thirteen days, remember. remember that for me, will you?"

he looks...sad, and that bothers you. you try to lift your hand except it feels too heavy, too sluggish and your eyes start to shut of their own accord.

"remember for me."

.

.

.

your phone buzzes and you jerk awake, smacking your head on the wheel as you try to locate it. had you fallen asleep? as you track it down, you realize it's your friend calling.

"hello?"

"hey! where are you? we agreed that you were going to meet us here last night. is everything okay? were you asleep?"

you frown, yawning and stretching out the kink in your neck as you rub your eye.

"yeah, um, i got a bit lost and i must've fallen asleep. don't worry though, i'm uhh...", you trail off, glancing around for a sign.

an abandoned shopfront is all you see. the letters of an empty and unserviceable kum-n-go blink back at you, bouncing off the rays of the early morning sun.

"i'm not entirely sure where i am", you begin, catching something out of the corner of your eye. there's a map on the passenger seat beside you. a map that shows you're not far off from the designated stop off. "oh, actually, i'll be there before lunch."

"great, oh my god, please come quick and save me from this madness. the lads have started drinking already."

you laugh, turning the ignition on and driving out of the parking lot.

"i'll be there as soon as i can."

as you hang up and toss your phone to the side, fragments of your dream come back to you in startling definition. coffee, huh? yeah…yeah, that sounds like a good idea.

the highway is pretty much deserted given the hour and you put the pedal to the metal. rolling down the windows, you breathe in the crisp air and rub your neck. it’s still sore and your throat, your throat feels almost…raw.

you open the glove compartment to take out some lozenges and you haphazardly pop one into your mouth. the sweet taste threatens to trigger a memory. as you suck the candy, ignorant of its medicinal tang in lieu of the artificial honey flavoring, you wrack your brain for an explanation. a number comes to mind. thirteen. what on earth could that mean...?

Yo! Could I get an angst fic with Hubert, where the reader has lost an eye in battle?

Losing an eye in battle 

Uwaa~ this was more fun than I thought it would be! Thank you so much for requesting! I had to rewrite this a couple times because I think I misread your ask or smth at first haha idk whats up with me--anyway,, I hope you enjoy it ><

>genre: mostly angst

>pairings: hubert x reader (gn)

>warnings: mentions of blood, injury, fighting, the reader losing an EYE and implications of death (tell me if i missed any !)

‘You can do this, (name), after all, you’ve made it to the final stretch’ you hyped yourself up as you marched into the battlefield beside Hubert. The both of you were stationed at the back of the battalion to focus on supporting the front liners. Were you scared? Most definitely. Although this wasn’t your first battle, there was something nerve wracking about this battle being a huge step towards an end to this bloody war. But no matter how much you try to convince yourself, you couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in your gut that told you that something was going to go wrong. 

Hubert, your ever reliable classmate and the man you adored, noticed the tense expression on your face. He clears his throat, loud enough to catch your attention. “As we approach this big hurdle in achieving Lady Edelgard’s goals, let’s keep up the good work” although it was awkward, you could tell that the man was trying to encourage you and it definitely helped to clear your noisy mind, even just a little. 

You flashed the man a small smile, a determined look shining upon your eyes. This gesture made a rare smile play on his lips as well, the corners of his eyes softening slightly. As you watch the brunet’s broad back move farther into the battlefield, you realise that he too, was feeling anxious about this battle. And as strange as it sounded, you were comforted by this fact, hastening your steps to join him in the battlefield.

The first few battles were pretty tame, supporting Professor Byleth from behind, covering the professor whenever there was the slightest bit of an opening in the professor’s movements. But after a while, maybe it was because you weren’t paying attention but you found yourself separated from the professor. 

Mumbling a curse under your breath, you survey your surroundings to find yourself in a torrent of dust and smoke. You feel dread pool the bottom of your stomach as you see a large silhouette approaching you. 

You assume a defensive stance as the figure becomes clearer and clearer as the ring of dust and smoke settles, a chill creeping up your spine as you see a head of blond hair coming into view. 

Dimitri’s gaze upon you hardens as you retain your defensive stance. Although the two of you certainly weren’t close, the thought of having to kill a person he used to be schoolmates with left a bitter feeling in his mouth. “...I have to do this...to stop this senseless killing. I will stop you from taking away another life here and now!” and with this, his resolve hardens and the air around him shifts. You steel yourself as you prepare yourself for the man’s next course of action, taking a deep breath.

His slow strides quickly sped up and he began charging towards you at full speed, his weapon raised up in the air. You were slightly taken aback by the man’s speed and you scrambled to avoid him and made a pathetic attempt to injure him before he reached you but whatever you tried seemed to have no effect on him as he continued to charge towards you.

As a last resort you used up whatever energy you had left in you in an effort to widen the distance between the two of you and it worked, so you thought. Although you managed to put some distance between you and your assailant, it was futile as the prince flung his javelin in the air with surprising speed, aiming for your head. 

You didn’t register the javelin flying towards your right eye quickly enough, only noticing it when it was too late. Almost immediately, you feel a blazing hot pain blooming from the right side of your face, spreading all the way down to your neck. A shout rips through your throat as you fight to clutch the right side of your face in favour of clutching onto your weapon as you continue to attack. 

You felt dizzy from the amount of blood you were losing and you could feel your consciousness slip away with every movement you willed your body to take. You honestly had no idea how you had the strength to continue swinging your sword and you didn’t know how long you could keep it up. 

In a last ditch attempt, you mustered all the strength you had left to shout at the top of your lungs in hopes of attracting the attention of others. As the battle went on, so did the throbbing of your head, screaming at you to lay down and stop moving. Gritting your teeth, you desperately latched onto whatever consciousness you had left.

Just as you were about to take another blow from the prince, you felt a strong wave of magic strike down from where Dimitri was standing. And with this, you felt hope surge through your veins as you looked around the battlefield with urgency. A growl leaves Dimitri’s grit teeth as his eyes land on Hubert. 

Hubert, however, didn’t relent in his attacks, not giving the blond a chance to recover from each of his spells. Eventually everyone else gathered to fight against Dimitri and at that point, any resistance the prince put up was futile against the whole army. But still, he continued to fight until the very end. And before you knew it, it was over. The battle has been won and all there's left to do is to put a stop to Rhea and the remaining soldiers of the church. 

All the adrenaline from the battle had faded and you had become more faint with each step you took. This did not go unnoticed by Hubert. He hurriedly excused himself from Edelgard’s side, something the ever loyal servant would never do under normal circumstances and walked towards your weakening figure. 

“(name)!” Hubert called out to you, worry evident in his panicked voice. The sound of Hubert’s shout brought you out of your daze, making you snap your head towards the source of the voice. You wince at the dizziness your sudden movement brought you and suddenly, your body couldn’t take anymore and your knees buckled from underneath you. The only thing you could hear as your consciousness faded was the sound of hurried footsteps towards your person accompanied by someone’s worried shouts.

When you came to, you were laid on a soft bed with a killer headache, unable to see out of the right side of your eye. In a panic, you sat up from the bed and assessed your surroundings the best you can as your blurry vision slowly clears up. You felt a sharp pain in your head, particularly at the right side as a result of your sudden motion. A pained groan escapes your lips as your hands instinctively shoot up to clutch your head. You feel for your right eye only to feel bandages wrapped around the right side of your head.

You remember now. The javelin, heading straight towards your right eye as you failed to do anything about it. It’s gone now. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door creaking open slowly, a black shape emerging from it. “You’re awake.” a certain classmate’s voice of yours came out of the blurry figure which you came to recognise as Hubert’s as your vision focused on it and you could properly make out its features. He was carrying a tray which contained a bowl of soup and a glass of water which he placed on the table at the side of the bed.

“...How was your rest?” Hubert asks with a tone you’ve rarely heard from him. Turning your body to face him, you could see that he wore an expression of worry, his brows furrowed and his normally sharp eyes were soft.

You opened your mouth only to close it again. You didn’t know what to say. On one hand, you wanted to lie and say everything was fine but you knew there was no way in hell you could say that. Especially not with how you no longer had two eyes to look through. Hubert knew that and yet he couldn’t do anything but watch as you sat on the bed with a bitter expression. 

“I prepared some soup for you. I feel regretful for having to keep it light since you are still in the midst of recovery but rest assured, I will prepare something better once you recover.” Hubert spoke, breaking the tense atmosphere. Gently moving a tray table over your lap, he places the tray of soup on it. 

Watching as you simply stared at the food in front of you, Hubert felt a pang of guilt hit his heart seeing your dejected state. He knew all too well of the consequences of war but all this time he thought that it was okay, as long as it was for her lady Edelgard but now, all he wanted to do was end this war as fast as possible, as naive as that sounded. If only he had gotten there more quickly, and then maybe you wouldn’t have to lose an eye. Then maybe you needn’t have suffered. 

Clenching his fist tightly, Hubert drops into a curtsey “Get some rest” he couldn’t do anything for you right now but offer you his silent support. And right now, you need time to yourself. As he left the room, Hubert threw you one last glance, his heart tightening at the way you aimlessly played with your food, a blank expression on your face

okay i know this was a bit short but i might make a part 2 on my own time. im not too experienced in writing fight scenes so i feel that the fight scene was a little wonky >< i will try my best to improve so please tell me some of your opinions on it ! any sort of feedback is very much appreciated and i will try my best to take them to heart in order to improve my writing

Giiiirl, imagine you are on Baal's side, you are a general and commanding an army against the rebels' own general, Gorou.

You are all cocky and confident, your years of experience just keeping you aware enough so you won't be consumed by your pride. But oh, your face, when after all of those carefully thought out strategies and intensive training, you end up losing to that mutt.

He is insufferable. Even though his face and body is caked in a mixture only war can give-- blood, sweat and dirt, his smile is the biggest, smuggest thing you have ever seen in your life as a warrior. It does not help that you are on your knees, back stretching forward as the grip he has on your jaw tugs you up with such a force you won't ever believe an archer, a long distance fighter, would posses. The bodies of both sides lay scattered on the defiled land, but the purple spots decorate the most, as his last men stand straight and proud behind him, just as yours do, but the lack the attentiveness. Their tired and bored countenance ticks you in a wrong way. Why they don't look happy by this result?

Does your failure was already predicted? As if this end was something that was already calculated. Taken in account.

The man holding your jaw in a bruising grip let go of you, a mere blink of respite as the next second your left cheek explodes in pain, your vision swaggers for a second as you fall on your right side from the streght of that blow. You shut your eyes and concentrate on your breathing; the fight left you completely drained, as much as your brain screamed at you to stand up and attack that man, your bones and muscles protested as you tensed in hopes of getting up, but ultimately you only made yourself look pitiful.

Gorou turns to were his men are, his gaze lingering for a second on your laughable attempt. His focus switches to the army as he starts to pace from one side to the other, the victory was already decided, but the energy from the feat itself brought a surge of emotions within him.

Another quick glance at you, and something on his mind switched. He was wondering what to do with you; killing you off felt as a meaningless action, as the Shogun won't care for someone as low as yourself. You only were deployed to fight against them to gain time for the real force, to prepare and learn how strong the rebels actually are. With how confident you looked hours ago, it seems that your benevolent Shogun forgot to grace you with such knowledge before sending you off with a bunch of newly trainees.

"First of all, congratulations, my friends, for this well earned victory" Gorou began. The group of men on front of him quickly acknowledge his words, paying attention to what he had to say.

"Even if the outcome resulted as to what we--" He turns around, your eyes opened when he began speaking. You both made eye contact, and Gorou's smirk transformed into a full smile. Was it okay for him to fill such giddiness at the sight of your equally wounded pride and body? After all, he was the one to bring you into that state, he was the one to put you in your rightful place with just one arrow, kneeling on the dirty battlefield as the geo power incased on the arrowhead did its job in petrify you.

The glint of defeat on, dare he say, those gorgeous eyes of yours really made them stand out. Actually, as he approaches your form, he's starting to see some other appealing features he couldn't notice from a longer distance. What was the Shogun thinking, in even allowing you a spot within her number when you clearly weren't made for war?

"--Expected" his pause brought your attention to what he was actually saying. So they had all of this calculated...

"But now, all that is left to do, is tend to the wounded and take care of the dead. Yours and their sacrifice will bring an end to this stupid decree in no time. We need to prepare for tougher, real..." He gives you a glance "...battles from now on. Don't let this win get in your head"

The crowd quietly cheers between them, some of them patting each other on the shoulder for a job well done. All of that camaraderie made your stomach hollow, as you recognise the same speech you have told to your former men after a battle well fought. Those piercing blue eyes of his made you painfully aware of the consecutive part of giving a victory speech, about what is waiting for the losing side, the pit in your stomach grew in size and you really wished that it could swallow you whole before the man in front of you does.

Gorou thrills in your despair. That pretty face of yours plunging into dark dephts, your mind weaving one horrifying destiny after other speaks a lot of your character, as only those who have layed a cruel end to those before them can conceive. He knows what kind of thoughts those are, but as much of a monster as you are viewing him now, he won't do such a thing. He was quite merciful while deciding what your fate will be, even if he didn't pondered a lot in the few minutes after your fall, you are but only a child with a weapon, sent to die by that horrible woman.

And something he prides himself of, is learning from mistakes. He won't throw away something that can fulfill very well other duties than warfare ones.

"Sir! If I may--" a voice spoke between the masses of helms and spears.

"I know, I know. The general" Gorou waves off his hand, his eyes never stranding away from your form for far too long.

A groan escapes your body as his foot steps on your ribcage, not too hard but your weak body sense as if he had nails attached to the sole, your skin felt cold and as if it was being prickled by a ton of needles. He pushes your your body with a gentleness unexpected from an enemy, until you were lying on your back. The new position put pressure in the arrow wound on your right/left shoulder, your dominant arm, and for a second you were grateful of the rigidness granted by the geo element yet covering half of your arm or else you are sure you would have cried in pain, the last thing you want now is to show more weakness that what you are displaying.

"What I am going to do with her... I didn't know myself when we first begun this battle" Gorou continued. He removed his shoe from your chest to your side on the floor, so you'll be cage between his legs while he looks down on you. His arms crossed across his chest and he tilted his head to the side, as in assessing you, taking on your face just as covered in grime as his but not diminish your beauty in the slightest. He really made a good decision in regard of your fate.

The soldiers stood still, the atmosphere felt heavy like the air on a hot summer afternoon that feels stuffy on your lungs as your breath in. Their general had an unseen aura surrounding him, his usual careless actitud makes everyone forget that there's an animal side to him, although they aren't sure they will presence it for the first time, their captain is definitely switching towards that side... they even feel a little bit of pity for the woman under him.

"But as I see her like this, beaten, it makes me remember something of old, that the victorous usually sow. Can you guys guess what it is?" He squats over you, sweetly combing a couple of strands of hair out of your face.

Whispers break among the army after the question. One of them raised his hand, no barely 18 years old as he was one of the shortest in comparison to his bigger and wider shouldered comrades. The young recruit promptly lowered his arm as the general wasn't looking at their direction but that didn't stopped him from answering, eyes shining with excitement:

"They take something as a token of their victory, sir!"

Gorou hummed in affirmation. "Yes, they did. A spoil of war, if you may"

Dread washed over you. He wasn't going to kill you, as a way to demonstrate their superiority? To be taken as a trophy, a possession... He surely won't mean that, right? They are going to torture you and extract every drop of information that you have, until the last thing left in you is blood to shed on their hands as your usefulness is cut short like your troath.

You needed to say something. Anything, as long as it would arise anger within the young male, anything as long as you aren't degrade far from what you have been.

Gorou raised his eyebrows as you coughed. He wasn't expecting a monologue from you but neither silence. Your sudden wish of speaking made the men jump into action, their spears pointing at you with such terrifying speed made you realise furthermore that this battle was destined to end like this, another stripe to the tiger just like a new blow to your pride.

"Just kill me already. I won't say anything, and if given the opportunity, I will end it myself" you spat. You tried to transmit all of your pain, hate and shame in one stare, you won't go happy until you make that man see what you feel, how big your abhorrence is to his being.

All the males stare in silence, until the general himself chuckled. Your cheeks burn with rage, your teeth clenched together as you tried yo surf this flare of emotions. How dare he laugh like that! He already won and you won't speak a thing about the Shogun, why acting like that? Isn't the rebels supposed to act with nobility and fairness?

Gorou took a breath in. He's happy he didn't went for the traditional route and killed you.

"Aw, now you just proved me correct, sweetheart. I'll enjoy making you into a proper wife"

All of that just to say "Imagine being taken as Gorou's prize and he makes you his whore wife" LMAO

(Also? In the part that reader coughs? I wanted to put that Gorou spits on your lips because you looked thirsty AODJFJDC)

THIS 🙏 yes i’d love to be gorou’s housewife he should really take me in and train me to obey him . please i’d do anything for him

AND pleasee omg ... if u actually put that in i’d die on my chair it’s too hot i can’t hjnhnggrh

Everything Means Nothing (If I Ain't Got You)

Fic Week Day One: Favourite Character/Pairing

His ears rang as bullet after bullet flew past him, embedding themselves into the walls and floor, barely missing him as one grazed his ear and another landed only a few inches away from his knee. Without thinking, his arm instinctively shot out, wrapping around the body next to him and holding them in a tight grip as he rushed towards the door, using his own body as a shield against the rain of bullets still pouring down on them. It was mostly due to his years of training and experience that he made it as close to the door as he had but even with luck on his side, it was only a foot away from the exit that a bullet finally found its target.

With a pained cry, he shoved the girl forward, paying no mind to gentleness as ripples of agony tore through him. Her knees connected with the hard floor before a hand grasped her arm and pulled her out of the line of fire, tugging her up and dragging her away as quickly as possible. A different arm stretched out in front of him, catching him hardly a moment before he collapsed, the pain of the bullet landing in his back pulling him down faster than gravity ever could.

A warm body pressing against his own was the last thing he was aware of before everything became a blur of colours and vague shapes that he didn't care to distinguish. He was pushed every which way, less than willingly giving up control of his body, until he was suddenly horizontal despite having no memory of lying down. He tried to force his focus to turn to the voices around him but he quickly gave up, each word amalgamating into a cacophony of grotesque sounds that he eventually began fighting against, attempting to cover his ears but finding that his arms were too heavy to lift. It was a blessing when everything finally faded to darkness.

The repetitive beeping of what he assumed was his alarm was playing incessantly in his ear, shrill and loud and feeling as though it was slicing directly into his brain. He tried to force himself to roll over, needing to shut off the sound before it carved a permanent place into his skull, but he discovered that he couldn’t so much as twitch a finger, no matter how much he tried. A slight panic rushed through him, lighting his veins with fear as case after case flooded his head, reminders of where he could be and what could’ve happened to make him this way. Knowing that he needed to remain as calm and collected as possible in order to figure out his situation, he pushed them down, focusing instead on what to do next. 

It took a few seconds longer than normal to shuffle through his thoughts - God, he wanted to smash that alarm to pieces - but before long, he realised that the next logical step would be to open his eyes and assess the situation before jumping to the worst conclusions possible. The panic from before fought to overthrow him when his eyelids seemed to be almost glued shut but he repressed it further, shoving it to the very back of his mind until there was no way he could reach it. 

Suddenly the darkness seemed much less like a blessing and more of a curse that he couldn't break free from as he tried again and again to peel open his eyes to no avail, his breathing picking up pace the longer he was stuck. He needed to calm down. He needed to focus. He needed to assess the situation. Okay, he thought to himself, if I can’t see and I can’t move, what else do I do? I feel.

He centred every bit of his attention on his fingers, trying with as much effort as he could muster to figure out what he was lying on. It was soft, he noticed. Slightly scratchy but not altogether uncomfortable. Vaguely familiar, as was the smell - he’d definitely been here before. His own bed, possibly? No, not quite that familiar. A friend’s house? If it was, he didn’t know whose.

He clenched his jaw, almost resigned to being trapped in never-ending nothingness until he realised what he had just done. He’d clenched his jaw. He’d moved. Only the slightest amount, but he’d moved nonetheless. A spark of hope flickered inside of him and he didn’t put it out - if he was able to move his jaw, perhaps it wouldn’t be long until he could move his hand or open his eyes and finally find out where he is. The hope was a good thing. The hope would wake him up.

With a new found sense of determination, he attempted to move his hand. Just a little, he thought, just a twitch would be enough. He tried again and again, practically shouting at himself inside his head as the hope fought to stay alight and not dwindle. One more try. Just one more. His heart was beating so hard he was sure it could be heard outside of his chest and if the rest of his body could be felt, he was sure there’d be sweat building on it. It was as the disappointment was beginning to set in that he finally felt it - the smallest of movements. His index finger raised ever so minutely before immediately dropping back down.

The joy building inside him almost threatened to burst, he didn’t know what to do with it all. Filled with adrenaline, he pushed further. Each and every fibre of his being was concentrated on his hand until eventually he felt it again; both his index and middle finger twitched, enough that they stayed elevated for at least an entire second. Muffled voices attempted to force their way through the thick blanket of darkness covering him but he wasn’t able to make out the words. Initially that worried him, a sudden intense ball of anxiety forming at the bottom of his stomach. Random voices surrounding him when he couldn’t move; when he couldn’t see? There was no way that was anything but trouble. But he pushed on. He was so close to gaining the control of his body back, he could feel it. He had to keep going.

Disregarding the voices that had since quietened, another attempt was made, this time even more successful than the last. His whole hand slightly flexed, and he was able to wiggle his fingers a small amount. The voices returned even louder than before they had faded, one speaking over the rest. Without warning, an unexpected pressure seized his hand. 

Fight or flight suddenly activated, he fought to free himself. Whoever had him had clearly noticed his movement and was trying to restrain him, or possibly even drug him into unconsciousness. His hand curled up into a fist, preparing to throw a punch before he even knew who he’d be facing. He didn’t care who it was or how many of them were around him; all he knew was that he wouldn’t be going down as easily as they hoped.

With as much strength as he could gather in his sluggish state, he swung. His eyes still hadn’t opened but he felt the connection; heard the thud of skin hitting skin. That first contact was all the fuel he needed, both hands coming up and viciously flying through the air, striking anything close enough. Something cold pressed against his skin - a hand, he realised - and he didn’t give it a second thought before aiming in that direction. 

He didn’t stop thrashing until everything went dark once again, but only after his eyes briefly opened and he caught a glimpse of the white ceiling directly above him. 

--------------

The next time he regained consciousness, there was significantly less of a struggle. His eyes slowly fluttered open, seeing only a blur of white until he registered that he was facing a tiled ceiling. He blinked slowly at it, unable to wade through the fog that was his thoughts enough to make sense of where he was. His eyes drifted shut as he took a deep breath and cast his mind back to the last thing he could remember.

They’d been called out for a case, he knew. Women were being abducted and found three days later, their bodies beaten horrendously. The team had worked the case for several days before a solid lead was finally found, but only after another victim had been taken. They were racing against the clock to find her, knowing that it was only a matter of time before she suffered the same fate as those before her. He was the first to reach the warehouse. He was aware that protocol dictated he stay outside and wait for backup but when a scream erupted into the otherwise silent air, he rushed in, gun ready to fire and his bullet-proof vest wrapped securely around him. 

Everything that happened after was too vague to work out - everything but the throbbing pain that had spread throughout him like a wildfire. He’d been injured in some way. So where was he now?

That was the moment he remembered. The darkness. The paralysis. The hands touching him.

A sharp breath was taken in as his eyes flung open, forgetting his injury as he tried to sit up but quickly being reminded of it as the pain erupted once again and he fell back to the bed. A weak moan fell from his lips as his eyes slammed shut, the world around him swaying and spinning even after he was shielded from the bright lights by the darkness of his eyelids. A soft hand came to gently rest against his forearm and for reasons unbeknownst to him, he didn’t move it away. The blood rushing to his ears had drowned out the sound around him but now as his heart beat was beginning to slow down to a less concerning pace, the faint hush of a voice whispering soothing words to him was heard.

“It’s alright,” the voice said. “You’re alright. You’re in the hospital. You’re safe. You’re okay. I’m here with you.”

Ever so slowly, he began to calm down. The pain was no longer unbearable; the panic was no longer overwhelming. He was safe, the voice had said, and he trusted the voice. Eventually his breathing evened out and the dizzying world slowed to a stop, and so he opened his eyes to take in the room around him, though the bright lights he was immediately greeted with made that difficult. His squinting must have made his discomfort obvious as only a moment later, the hand on his arm disappeared, only to reappear once the light had been turned off. 

The room was bathed only in the evening sunlight from the windows and it helped tremendously. No longer struggling against the light, his eyes opened wider and he looked at the man in front of him. Though everything was still blurry, he could still tell who it was.

“Spencer,” he breathed out. 

A gentle smile was sent his way. “Hi, Derek.”

“What- what happened?”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed, whether it was in concern or annoyance Derek couldn’t tell. “The unsub shot you. Don’t you remember?”

He sighed, and Spencer began lightly rubbing his hand back and forth on Derek’s arm. “I remember leaving for the warehouse but nothing much after. Did we find Abigail?”

“We did. You saved her.”

This time his sigh was in relief. “Good, I’m glad to hear that.”

“And how are you feeling?”

“How am I feeling?” Derek’s eyes filled with mirth. “I feel like I just got shot.”

Spencer rolled his eyes jokingly. “You’ve been shot before, you can deal with it.”

“Ouch, pretty boy. You’re a doctor, you should be nursing me back to health.”

“For once, I’m glad I’m not actually a medical doctor. I’m not sure I could take having someone like you as a patient.”

“Someone like me?” Derek repeated, smirking. “Someone with dashing good looks and the sense of humour to match?”

“Someone who gets himself into so much unnecessary danger as if he has some sort of death wish.”

The sudden seriousness in Spencer’s voice made him pause, smirk falling off his face as he tried to catch up with the unexpected topic change. He couldn’t tell if Spencer was still playing along with the joke or if he was genuinely upset. “I’ll be honest with you here - I have no idea how to respond to that.”

It was Spencer’s turn to sigh, the corner of his mouth turning downward as his hand stopped stroking Derek’s arm and remained still. “You could’ve died today, Derek.”

“Spencer,” Derek started, tone conveying his confusion, “we have dangerous jobs. Any of us could die anytime we go on a case. Any of us could die even just walking out of our houses. You know this.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened noticeably, his voice quietening down into a low sound that Derek strained to hear. “I know that we have an above average chance of death compared to most regular jobs, but that doesn’t mean you have to make that chance any more likely than it already is.”

“Is this about me not waiting for backup? Spencer, I heard her scream. I wasn’t just going to leave her there. And we got her, didn’t we? Abigail is safe and sound. I don’t regret my decision to go in.”

“I’m not-” Spencer made a small distressed noise before restarting. “I’m not asking you to regret your choice. I’m asking you to be more careful the next time another choice like this comes up.”

“Be more careful?” He repeated. “That’s pretty rich coming from you. We both know you would’ve done the exact same thing. At least I had the common sense to not take my vest off.”

Spencer turned away, drawing his hand back and running it through his hair before placing it in his lap. “It doesn’t matter what I would’ve done. We’re not talking about me.”

“And why not? You’re always rushing in and trying to save the day. You’ve gotten hurt on the job more often than anybody I know.”

Their eyes met, a fire behind Spencer’s that Derek had never seen. "I'm not important in this situation. You need to be careful."

"I'm an FBI agent, I'm as careful as I can possibly be."

"That’s not good enough! You got hurt today, Derek, but you survived. You might not be so lucky next time." 

"That's a risk we signed up for when we joined the FBI." They stared at each other for a few seconds, time passing slower than humanly possible until Derek lightly shook his head. "Why are you lecturing me on being safe? This could've happened to any of us."

Spencer was silent for long enough that Derek thought he was going to just ignore the question, but eventually he answered. "Because people need you. Your family needs you." He opened his mouth but instantly closed it again. "The team needs you."

Once again, silence filled the room. 

"I don't know what you expect me to say here, Spencer. I'm just doing my job. It's a dangerous job, but it's mine."

"I know it's a dangerous job, but- but-" His words seemed to be caught in his throat.

"But what?"

"But you don't understand how terrifying it is!" Spencer suddenly burst out, much louder than he had been. The volume didn't help Derek's steadily building headache but he didn't say anything, half shocked into silence by Spencer's outburst and half convinced that if he spoke, Spencer would never say what he needed to say. "You don't understand what it's like to watch you go out in the field, knowing that this case could be your last. I know that you can do your job but it doesn't stop this fear from grabbing hold of me every time you leave for an unsub and refusing to let me go until I see you again. You're more than capable of doing your job, Derek, but I don't know how capable I am of watching you walk out that door one more time."

Derek blinked at him, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. All he'd ever wanted was to hear that his feelings - the desire, the affection, the terror, the love - were mutual, but he’d given up. He'd accepted that he'd have to move on; that Spencer would never feel the same way about him. He tried to push down the hope rising in him, knowing that this might not be the confession it sounded like, but it refused to be quenched.

"Why is it different with me? Why don't you act like this with Emily? Or JJ?" He asked. His heart was racing, the words he so desperately wanted to admit were at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't speak them aloud. Not yet. Not until he knew it was reciprocated.

"Because I'm in love with you, God damnit!" 

His eyes stretched impossibly wide, clearly shocked at himself for the outburst he presumably hadn't planned on saying. Derek froze, every atom in his body igniting with so much joy but so much panic that he couldn't utter a single word. The lack of an answer must have made Spencer uneasy, Derek realised, as words tumbled out of his mouth faster than he could process.

"I'm sorry, that was probably- I shouldn't have- I don't- you don't have to reply to that. I should just go."

It wasn't until Spencer was halfway out of his seat that Derek reacted, a hand rushing forward to grab that of the man in front of him. Spencer stopped when he felt the fingers wrapping around his own, freezing momentarily before slowly turning back around without removing his hand.

"I do understand," Derek confessed, watching the way Spencer's eyes widened ever so slightly. "You think I don't feel that same exact way about you? Every time you go to a takedown and talk to the unsub, it takes every part of me to hold myself back from running after you. The only thing that stops me is the fact that I know you can do your job."

The bobbing of Spencer's Adam's apple was visible as he gulped, looking into Derek's eyes as if he would find the words he wanted to say within them. The seconds stretched on until one of them finally found the courage to speak.

"Derek, I'm not- you know I'm not good at this. I think there's something in between the lines of that and I'm really sincerely hoping that there is and I'm not just making it up but I can't tell if it's me imagining it or if you're genuinely saying what I think you're saying and if you're not saying that then this is going to be really embarrassing and I don't-"

"Spencer," he interrupted, shaking his head fondly before taking a breath, "you're right. I'm…" Derek paused, a sudden fear taking over him. He looked into Spencer's eyes, seeing the anticipation and excitement that was in them. Spencer must have sensed his trepidation as he placed his hand back where it was before, resting gently on Derek's forearm. The instance their skin touched, the anxiety calmed. He breathed in deeply once more and smiled softly at him. "I'm in love with you."

The look in Spencer's eyes was something that Derek knew he would never forget even if he never saw it again, though he would do his absolute best to recreate it any chance he was given. The glint of happiness made his eyes shine brighter and the slight disbelief made them open wider, showing Derek even more of that colour that had long ago become his favourite.

"You mean that?" Spencer asked softly.

"Of course I do," he replied at the same volume. "How could I ever meet somebody like you and not instantly fall in love?"

Spencer's face split into a grin, unshed tears making an appearance at his waterline as he sat back down in his seat. "You're so cheesy."

"Cheesy is a good thing, pretty boy. Everybody loves cheesy."

His smile dropped into a mocking seriousness. "I'm lactose intolerant."

"Oh, you are?" He laughed, receiving a mirthful 'mhm' in confirmation. "Well, I guess you're really gonna have to figure something out because you're about to get a whole lot more cheesiness in your life."

The hand on Derek's forearm drifted down towards his wrist, the light touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. Their fingers interlaced before Spencer delicately squeezed. He looked up at Derek with such a tender look on his face that Derek envied Spencer's superior memory, if only to commit just this one scene to a permanent place in his brain.

"I think I can definitely figure something out." He said. "Just for you." 

"I quite like the sound of that." For a moment they simply smiled at each other, Derek's thumb stroking the back of the hand that was in his before he noticed something now that his vision had cleared. His other hand raised, cupping the face looking down at him. "What's this?" He asked, referring to the red mark staining Spencer's skin at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, that's, um…" Spencer's own hand lifted, resting on top of Derek's. "You probably don't remember the first time you kind of woke up, do you? You freaked out a little."

"I remember," Derek said quietly. "I did that?"

"You did, but it really does look worse than it is. You know I bruise easily. It doesn't hurt at all, it was pretty much just a light slap."

Derek sighed, knowing that Spencer was telling the truth but not liking it anyway. "Still, I'm really sorry."

"Well, there is one way you could make it up to me." Derek felt the small smirk stretching the skin beneath his hand.

"Oh? And how's that?"

Spencer's eyebrows raised slightly as the smirk grew wider. "Kiss it better?"

A grin found its way to Derek's face. "Is that the doctor's orders?"

Spencer nodded, pretending to be serious. "Absolutely, it is. It's the only cure actually."

Derek hummed. "Well, if the doctor says so."

He leaned forwards and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Spencer's mouth, looking into Spencer's eyes as he pulled back slightly, barely an inch between them. He watched as they flickered shut, immediately missing the brown and gold. Pressing forward again, he finally did what he had wanted to for years.

When their lips touched, there were no fireworks, no sparks, but there was definitely something. Something that filled his entire body, made his nerves light up and his skin feel as though it was on fire in the most pleasant way possible.

He wanted to kiss Spencer forever, and he intended to do just that.

Pandora’s Box. Yan Chrollo x Reader

Warnings: Medicine mention, descriptions of anxiety, and implied minor character death. Word count: 2.7k.

A simple plan is the best kind to have. 

The less variables at play, the higher your rates of success are. You’ve anticipated some margin of error, a safety net of sorts, to be used if necessary. Everything within your realm of influence has been taken into account. Your friend in a car meeting you at a dead spot, a train ticket purchased with a prepaid visa card on a VPN, and a few precious pieces of jewelry to be pawned off at a later time. Scraping these assets together is a commendable feat, having to skulk around to make it this far.

Nothing feels out of the ordinary, you think. Your preparations are almost complete. All that’s left is to wait to ensure the beast in hiding cannot come for you.

Prayer doesn’t traditionally feel worth the effort -- any god that’d allow you to be subjugated to a hell such as this is no god worth pleading to -- but tonight is different. Tonight you pray to any deity that may spare you some pity, that this plan may succeed without a hitch. The time signals the beginning of the next phase, the most vital aspect. 

Tonight’s soup had an additional ingredient, a generous helping of sleep inducing pills. To avoid suspicion, you partook in the meal as usual, hoping to cancel out the effects later by ingesting a gratuitous amount of energy drinks. It served the original purpose of fending off fatigue, but not without presenting a unique set of problems of its own. The caffeine has served to heighten your anxiety, upping what was already a nerve-wracking experience to a new level. 

Your guts feeling like they’re rearranging themselves, your body not capable of forgoing fidgeting a single moment. No longer can you tell if it’s nausea, stomach pain, or hyperventilation. Maybe it’s everything at once. All you know is that you’ve never had your body working against you more than now. Every nerve is frayed, your senses on high alert to any shadow or noise.

Deep breaths no longer bring you reprieve. Each raggedy breath you manage to squeeze out is an accomplishment, overshadowed by the fear that he might hear you. How irrational a thought, that Chrollo would be capable of picking up on the differences in your breathing from afar. It doesn’t matter how illogical the worry may be. With Chrollo, you’ve learned that nothing is impossible. To expect the unexpected has been the mantra of your mind these past few months. 

Just a bit longer... I need to know he’s asleep for sure. Or else it’s over.

Your foot taps against the ground in a frantic rhythm, ears ringing like funeral tolls. The last time you dared peak into your shared room with Chrollo, he was supposedly fast asleep, out like a light. What should’ve been a cause for victory brought nothing but a fresh wave of dread. A guessing game ensues. Trying to decipher his body language from earlier for hints only serves to make you feel worse. You’ve been so cautious, walking on sheets of thin ice at every move. Chrollo hadn’t acted out of the ordinary to your knowledge. Not that he has a way of acting ‘ordinary’ anyways, your limited understanding of his person having to suffice. 

Should everything be going according to your design, your friend will be in position to pick you up. There’s no more stalling, the point of return ahead of you.

It’s time.

You do a final check over your mental checklist. Your backpack is stocked with the necessities: toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a filtered hydro flask, non perishable foods and your train ticket. To any onlooker it might look like you’re going hiking. Sporting worn sneakers, loose-fitting clothes, and having your hair pulled away from your face. This is really it. The culmination of sneaking around behind Chrollo’s back for months, unfolding before your very eyes. Everything is falling into place as it’s meant to.

You walk to the door. 

Each step you take is quiet as can be. Every shuffle of clothes, or the slightest of creaks from the floorboards, causes you to wince and pause. This penthouse has served as your personal circle of hell for months on end, the walls absorbing your cries and screams. You despise this place with every fiber of your being. The antique décor, the ancient texts that lay strewn about, the scent of sandalwood that you find nauseating. 

Ghosts of the past return to haunt you as you walk through different areas. Swirling around your head, they threaten to consume you, chipping away at your resolve. His hypnotic voice resonates in your mind like whispers of the serpent in the garden, tempting you. Weighing you down. Not even your own mind is a safe haven from his speech that disguises itself as flowery, when the reality is far more sinister. Chrollo’s words are constricting vines, lined with thorns, embedding themselves deeper into your flesh the harder you try to pry them out. 

“Don’t you remember how difficult your life was before me?” 

Another step.

“All those people who left you, who took advantage of you?” 

Your hands shake around your small, homemade EMP. It’s made from spare parts you managed to find around the penthouse, clumsily assembled through trial and error. The pulse it emits is next to nothing. Copper coils threaten to fall loose at any second when you raise it to the security system by the door. Holding your breath, you press down on the trigger. The device lets out rapid clicking sounds, the security monitor flickering before going blank. 

“I know you’ll come around.” 

Finally, come the excessive locks on the door. The compressed air you said you needed for cleaning is next up. The can is cool against your trembling fingers, white specs decorating the locks as you spray them over. With some persistence, they come undone, one after the other. Unshackling you from the depths. You open the door that’s mocked you relentlessly for months, withholding your prized freedom. 

“But even in the event that you don’t...” 

The surrounding world is a blur of colors. Your eyes don’t focus on any object for too long, scanning your surroundings for potential threats. It feels as if your stomach is in your throat when the elevator starts its descent. He had you up on the fiftieth floor? 

You fixate on the screen, numbers not flashing by fast enough for your liking.

40. 

20.

5. 

1.

“Well. There are always ways of overcoming inconveniences such as that.” 

It’s an extravagant lobby. Far more luxurious than you could ever have hoped to afford, this building being one of the most exclusive in Yorknew. The person at the front desk calls out and you ignore it. You must look mighty suspicious, not that you care. The priority now is escape. Running out the revolving door, crisp autumn air greets you. You’ve never felt more grateful for the bustling streets of the city. Even at night the city remains awake, making it easier to blend in. No one out here spares you a second glance as you weave in and out of fast paced crowds. 

23rd street. That’s where you’ll meet up with your friend, who will then transport you to the subway. Glancing up at the signposts, you realize you’ll be in for some walking. There’s no letting your guard down. Constantly looking over your shoulder, all you see are the faces of strangers. You’ve never felt so grateful to be a part of a crowd. 

Finally, after walking for what feels like an eternity, you spot your beacon of hope. A clothing store’s bright neon sign, which your friend sits parked in front of. Since these stores are closed this time of day, the crowd that once surrounded you have thinned out, yet you try not to fixate on the lack of cover. Jay walking across the street doesn’t prove to be an issue. The pollution from the city hides the stars behind a layer of smog, streetlamps your lone source of light.

Heart hammering in your chest, you tap on the window of her car with urgency. “Amelia, it’s me. [First].” 

You hear the doors unlock. 

Taking it as a sign she heard you, you waste no time swinging into the passenger seat of the car. Amelia immediately turns the keys, car humming to life. Your chest heaves with exhaustion from the draining events. This is it. The second to last step before you reclaim your freedom. It’s almost like a dream, the light at the end of a long tunnel. Amelia’s appearance is just as you recalled it. Hazel eyes, tan skin, long black hair, and an average build. Your heart leaps at the sight of her.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” your friend confesses in a hushed whisper. “[First], what... what happened? You completely fell off the face of the Earth for months. Then you contact me out of nowhere? What’s going on?” 

It isn’t easy meeting her eyes, so you don’t. “I... I don’t know if it’s safe to talk about it. The less you know, the better.”

She takes a moment to assess you before sighing. “Alright, I can tell this is serious. Just... I’m glad you’re alright.” 

Amelia begins driving without another word. Silence hangs in the air, offering a time to reflect. Your plan, Chrollo, what you’ll do next... it whirls around your head like a vortex. A gut feeling refuses to leave you alone whenever you picture his face. A dreadful thought that this entire escapade was too easy. Is it just your paranoia? It could very well be. Hugging your backpack closer to you for comfort, you’re startled by Amelia suddenly speaking up.

“The subway station, huh,” she reminiscences aloud, eyes flickering from the road to you. “So you’re leaving Yorknew?” 

There’s no way to continue dodging her questions. “... Yeah, I am.” 

“Where are you going?” 

It’s natural she’d have lots of questions. Had the situation been reversed, you’d have plenty of your own. For her wellbeing you don’t want to indulge more than necessary. Lying to someone who is helping you lives a sour taste in your mouth. It’s for her sake, you remind yourself. Having to involve Amelia in this at all was the last thing you wanted to do. 

“I’m going to Zaban City. I have some extended family there.” 

Amelia hums in confirmation to your story. “Your cousin, right?” 

“Right.” 

She stops pressing that particular subject, likely sensing your apprehension. You take advantage of the peaceful atmosphere and close your eyes. The sleeping pills from earlier are starting to grow more prominent. Losing consciousness is the last thing you need right now, but indulging in some much needed rest sounds too inviting. 

“There was something else I was wondering about.” Amelia starts, earning your attention. Looks like sleep will have to wait for later. You yawn, stretching your weary limbs, and wait for her to continue. She smiles, dark eyelashes fluttering shut in deep thought.

“Oh, sweet [First],” she whispers your name in the gentlest of tones, and looks over at you. “Why are you so selfish?” 

You blink, the words not settling in immediately. “What...?” 

She continues without missing a beat. “You used to be so envious of me. Always pretending to play nice, because you were too passive to say how you really felt. How you hated me.” 

“Amelia? What are you talking about? I... I never hated you, what--” 

“Even now you can’t bring yourself to admit the truth,” she sighs. “Not that I’m surprised. You’ve always cared way too much about what people think. Why would now be any different?” 

Her unexpected attack on your character has you shifting in your seat. Every word that leaves her lips is in her voice, yet feels so different than her normal character. Did something happen in the time Chrollo took you away? Anxiety rears its ugly head at the line of questioning. You take a sudden interest in your fingers, playing with them on your lap. 

“I don’t understand where any of this is coming from.” You admit, eyebrows furrowing together. The shift in atmosphere is tangible. What was once a warm reunion under stressful times has corrupted into a frosty confrontation. These insecurities of hers that laid dormant in your heart... why is she bringing this up now? In your most vulnerable hour? Nothing is making sense. These ugly feelings of yours were only ever confided in one person. 

“You knew it’d be a danger to my life to contact me. You knew that, and still you did it all the same. I wonder why that is. Could it be... that you wouldn’t care if I died? If I was tortured for aiding your escape?” 

Your heart drops. This knowledge... how can she know any of this? Amelia used the word escape, clear as day. Is that a coincidence? You look over at the car door, seeing it’s locked. Something’s not right here, you deduce. I don’t know what it is exactly, but something is very wrong...! 

She continues on. “I really do want to know what your justification for this is. Out of everyone you could’ve picked for help, you specifically chose me, knowing the danger it’d bring. Did you think I’d be spared in some sort of miracle?” 

The spare moonlight streaming in illuminates Amelia’s face, highlighting how pale her skin looks. Veins that would normally not have been so prominent have a blue tint, her lips a similar shade. Your eyes drop to the unnaturally large scarf that surrounds her neck. It’s not that cold out yet, why is she wearing something so cumbersome? Reaching out with unsteady hands, you pull the fabric back. Your gut feels like it’s been punched at the sight, eyes widening in horror. 

On the back of her neck is an antenna, with bat wings on the end. 

Shit! Shit, shit, shit-- 

In a frenzy, you stretch forward, searching for the button to unlock the car door. The second you find it, it’s pressed, and you unbuckle your seatbelt. You hear her speaking up again. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst from your chest as you jump out the car, grateful it isn’t going too fast. Skin meeting asphalt, you hiss at the pain, rolling onto your side. None of that matters now. How did he do it? He has to be nearby, maybe you can still make it to the station in time. Your head hurts from the impact, legs wobbling like jelly. 

It’s difficult to focus. You grit your teeth, utilizing the remnants of your strength to get to your knees. Why did the caffeine have to wear off so soon...? It was going so well. You finally had your chance, your time to take back your life. To go back to how things were. Struggling to get to your feet, you throw your backpack off, praying the lost weight will help you get up. 

“You never answered my questions,” calls a deeper voice. You gulp back acidic bile as a hand is extended in front of you. “I was hoping you would.” 

Your head hangs down. It’s over. For a transgression such as this, you imagine you’re in for quite the punishment. How funny a thing fate is. Similar to streams of rushing water, there are many twists and turns, leading you down paths you never wanted to go. Fingernails dig into the sensitive flesh of your palms, the pain anchoring your wandering mind to reality. All other parts of your body have lost feeling. Numbness is what you’ve come to know. 

The devil incarnate bends over, taking your tearstained face into his fingers, and lifting it to meet his eyes. An abyss of grey stares back at you, devoid of humanity. Taking pleasure in besting you yet again. Disappointment is mixed within an interest to see what you’ll do next. There’s no smile on his face as you’ve come to expect. You see an empty shell of a man glowering down at you, from a place just out of reach. 

“I can’t say I’m too pleased about this, [First]. We’ll need to have a long discussion, don’t you think?” 

I don't see how this could happen in Ascendance but I'm a sucker for the 'only one bed' trope!! What are the reactions of the ROs?

Ohoho, I see how that could happen, but it's highly unlikely that I'd actually put it there... how perceptive of you! I love this trope too! Let's go!! 🥺

Elya would already assume that you'd want him to sleep on a couch, or somewhere else. Starts preparing himself to bed, changes into comfy clothes, ties his hair up, grabs a few blankets and a pillow, and naturally starts leaving. If you're also reserved and/or shy, that is pretty much how it would go, with the addition of a few loving looks and goodnight wishes.

If you're the kind of person that takes a step forward and says that you wouldn't mind sharing a bed, he'd instinctively assess your aura to see if you're actually comfortable with it or just being kind (he's trying to control this impulse, but he dreads overstepping limits, especially with you). If you're actually serious about it, maybe surprisingly for you, Elya would be 100% comfortable with it, excitedly blushing a little bit, for spoilery reasons. Expect to wake up comfortably entangled with him.

The grin that'd take over Ian's features would be the widest one you've seen on him yet. "Oh no, what a deadlock, darling!" - He'd say, grinning at you and watching even your slightest movements, like he did the first time you met (in this lifetime). Ian feels your aura way better than he reads it, meaning that he'd sharpen every one of his senses to see how you react to the scenario. If you're shy, reserved, or just overall uncomfortable, his features would soften at once. "I saw a comfy couch just in that corner, I'll sleep there, if you don't mind". He'd gently try to make it sound like it's his preference, not yours.

If you're more on the blunt side, my god, lol. He would be thrilled to feel this impression from your aura. "Left side is mine! And I cling". Usually sleeps shirtless, but wouldn't even think about it that night, just because it'd feel like pushing his luck for him. Will always instinctively wrap his arm around you and intertwine your legs at night, so you might want to consider carefully if you'd actually want to sleep together before having a conversation about it.

With the exception that the temperature of the room would go 📈, Joana would put her hands in her pockets and turn to you calmly. "Would you like to share the bed or have me sleep somewhere else?" - She'd ask, firmly. You sleeping anywhere other than the bed is simply not an option, mind you. Given your delicate state (still awakening) she wouldn't fully trust your aura to be accurate on your feelings, wanting to couple its impressions with the response you'd give. If you're on the shy side, Joana would go "Aight, Immout" jk, lol. But she would gently make her way to a couch or something while talking to you about your day and your plans together for the next day, making the situation comfortable, somehow.

If you are comfortable with sharing a bed, her cheeks would turn pink and her voice would become slightly higher-pitched (a rare occurrence, I'll let you know). Apart from that, your bedtime routine would go *very smoothly* and the comfortable talking would happen all the same. It'd probably feel like the two of you have been doing that every night for a while *grins*.

To answer this scenario, I focus on you because all of them would be very comfortable and willing to share a bed with you, for a reason or another, even if Elya might make it seem like that's not the case, at a first glance ❤

Hope you enjoyed it!

Metanoia BTTB3

Warnings: smut; fingering, aftercare; mentions of rough night; yandere actions, plotting manipulation, mentions of abductions; mafia mentions vaguely. don’t interact if younger than 18

this chapter switches a bit between POV's. I'm sorry, I just wanted to get it all out in one part. Next chapter won't be like this one.

With his little lover worn out and passed out in his arms, Namjoon had time to think. She had asked for this assuming it was a one time thing. But hopefully Namjoon had been thorough enough that his sweet girl would be begging for him to return. After weeks of not having any real contact with her, having her in his arms like this was euphoric. He wasn't ready to give this up. He was ready and willing to seduce her or even just take her back home with him.

How could he convince her to leave with him? With the way his world worked, he could just steal her and hide her away. But knowing her father had deep connections, he was hesitant to start trouble here when he was working so hard to establish his name on this side of the ocean. And so he started to work her father into his plans, the man would be a useful pawn in Namjoon's game. Maybe an arranged marriage? Namjoon didn't have long term plans to keep the man in his life but he was willing to let the man dwell in the corner (where he could be watched) if it meant he had his sweet angel, he grinned, placing a kiss to her forehead. Maybe some kind of a business deal or even an alliance could be made. It was an option but Namjoon knew it was only the beginning of possibilities for a solution to his dilemma.

Namjoon couldn't help the anger that surged through his veins at the thought of how simple it was to get to her. She couldn't defend herself, had no one to protect her. Namjoon was already taking initiative to remedy that as well.

There were only a few people he would trust with her safety, and once they were done with their current missions or recovered enough from the last someone would be on their way to keep track of her personally. Yoongi would be done first, Namjoon would call him to sit in for awhile, just until he could figure out a more permanent plan. He didn't like pulling Yoongi away, with the man being so good at what he did, but for his jagi, he wanted the best. In his arms, his sleeping beauty pushed away from him and the blankets, still too hot and exhausted from their tango. Not wanting her to get too far, he helped loose the blanket from her body, pulling her into his side comfortably and letting her head rest on the deep blue silk pillow case rather than his arm, his freed arm going under his head. An arm still around her small body, fingertips tracing unseeable patterns over her smooth, sun kissed skin.  This was something he absolutely wanted to get used to.

Glancing at the clock, it read close to four a.m, he'd have to leave soon. He had a meeting at 8, and it probably wouldn't be the best idea to show up in the same clothes he wore the day prior. He wanted to be here for when she woke up, he knew she'd be tired and sore and would need the help becoming human after all he put her through. Not to mention, being here when she woke would leave a better lasting impression. And would create a bond stronger than an embarrassing one night stand. Namjoon considered sleeping for an hour or so but he didn't want to waste any time sleeping here. He did plan to take advantage of her unconscious state to add some security to the house. Plan already formulated and decided on, he carefully unraveled himself and freed his legs from the tangle she had made getting comfortable in her sleep and placed a lingering kiss to her plump pink lips. She huffed a shuttered sigh between her lips, her eyebrows creasing before he placed a kiss there as well, soothing her back into rest as he snuck out of the bed. He figured the house could burn down and she wouldn't wake up. He'd kill anyone who tried to light a match here but the sentiment stood true as he grabbed his bottoms and pulled them on.

He dialed Taehyung, the man was close by, no doubt and might even be busy with his own one night stand but he could come when he was done to set up a system and stick a few wire taps and cameras here and there. Maybe even her phone and purse. Taehyung and Yoongi would know best when it came to those devices and where they best fit, but Yoongi wasn't near. And Taehyung was. Maybe he'd leave Taehyung on watch until Yoongi could come... but maybe the bugs would be fine until the trap was adequately set. Decisions, decisions. Namjoon hummed and got to work.

Ava’s POV

Waking up was a chore on good days. Even after she had drank too much those few times in her life the hangover had nothing on the pounding in her head at the moment. And her body..... she groaned, pressing her face as deeply into the pillow as she could. Sore didn’t describe it adequately and she didn’t even know where to begin to assess. The ache between her legs was probably the worst, her lower back came in second, her arms and legs felt like jello and she could feel the multitude of bruises and hickies coating her entire body. She didn’t know what she was getting into with the random foreign man from the diner. From the diner she regularly visited, she must be an idiot. If her throat wasn’t so dry and cracked she’d groan again, but she could feel a coughing fit coming on any second. But that man... Namjoon.. her legs clenched together as a spike of pleasure went through her body from just thinking about him. He was thorough. And obviously heavily experienced. She couldn’t tell if she was lucky or not to have him be her first or not. On one hand maybe he just ruined all her future experiences and on the other maybe since her father was forcing her to settle down, and she’d be stuck with someone awful, this was a god send. Like at least she got to experience this one time. She wasn’t expecting to be so pleased with the encounter. None of her friends stories and of their first had been this exceptional. Maybe they downplayed it, but Ava highly doubted it. All her friends liked to show off, flaunt their stuff, and boast about what they have.

The next thing she wasn’t expecting was for an arm to tighten around her back and pull her close. Her heart stopped. With eyes wide she craned her neck up from where she was lying face down to meet his gaze. And immediately gulped. He still had a bit of fire in his gaze. Ava glanced away, biting her lip and pulling her hand up to rub her face.

“Good morning.”

Namjoon already had a deep voice, she knew that from the talk before this- encounter.. and it got even deeper during their... intercourse - she cringed just thinking about how awkward this was getting - when he was giving low commands, but his raspy morning voice was sexy and it was doing something to her insides that she wasn’t prepared for.

She cleared her throat, still not brave enough to meet his gaze, “good morning...” what was she even supposed to do? She didn’t have the experience here, all her friends did the walk of shame or pretended to sleep while their partners did and yet here he was laying in her bed and grinning rather smugly, looking at her like he was ready to do it all again. Her legs clenched again at the thought. Why did she bring him here? She’s rich. He’s obviously rich. They could’ve gotten a hotel room somewhere, and not done this in her home- in her bed. She didn’t realize how low his hand was drifting until he softly stroked between her legs, and she was moaning rather shamelessly.

Ava had thought she couldn’t handle any more, but the way his fingers were moving slowly and feather light, her mind was shutting down and her body relaxing under his touch.

“Does this feel good jagi?” Namjoon’s lips are pressed against her temple. “Is it too much?”

Ava couldn’t process his words properly, but at the thought of him stopping she shook her head quickly, messily flinging her hair everywhere.

“Please.”

He applied slightest bit of pressure, carefully checking to see if she was wet and was satisfied to feel her dripping. He inserted one finger, curling it and pressing his thumb to the bundle of nerves at the same time. Her gasp was followed immediately by a high pitched moan.

“More.”

Namjoon grinned, adding a finger but continuing his slow, sensual speed. He didn’t want to break her after the night they had. He watched as her breathing got more and kore shallow and labored, she tilted more onto her side then her front and gripped his arm tightly. Her face scrunched up in pleasure, and her body moving on instinct with his fingers. Namjoon leaned down to connect his lips to hers, matching his tongue with his fingers movements and had her breathless in seconds. He moved his lips to her jaw, adding another beautiful mark, one much more visible than the others he had left and mumbling against her throat, “let go jagi,” she whimpered, clinging tighter to him. “I’ve got you.” And that was all it took for her to come undone against him.

The sounds she made were embarrassing in her mind, to say the least but she truly couldn’t help it as she rode out and came down from her high. Collapsing back in a heap, she cried out, flinching and body tightening as he removed his fingers.

He placed soft kisses all over her face, grinning as he did so. “Let me help you.” Was all he said before sliding his hands underneath her body and lifting her effortlessly.

Had it not been for the orgasm he had just given her, this would’ve been so much more awkward and embarrassing. However, her mind wasn’t all there, the pounding had subsided a bit with the pleasure coursing through her, and she was blisses out and did nothing more than lean her head against his shoulder as he found the bathroom. He set her on the toilet, softly telling her not to love before he went to the tub. Figuring it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing she’d done in front of the man, she tried to pee. Which felt much worse than she thought it would, all the muscles in her lower body were screaming at her and in between her legs weren’t much better off.

With the bath going he came back for her and eased them both into the warm water. She wasn’t too sure what happened then because she was in and out of it. But she remembers plenty of soft kisses and sweet murmurs against her skin as he helped her wash and dry and get dressed before tucking her into bed.

“Do you work today?” He asked, one knee on the bed where he just set her in and covered her snugly. She muttered and shook her head, bleary eyes barely seeing him, but feeling his fingers caress her cheek. “Then rest.” Such sweet words, her body and mind immediately agreed and started shutting down the rest of the way. “I’ll see you soon.” He promised with a kiss to her lips. No reply and she was out.

The Songbird (Zuko x Reader)

-> Takes place during “The Promise” comic timeline, about a year or two after his coronation and Zuko is 18 years old here.

Fire Lord Zuko is trying his absolute best to make good on all his promises. To his nation... his hopes and dreams of restoring it to what it was before Fire Lord Sozin’s reign. To the rest of the world... in helping them heal the wounds that his ancestors have inflicted on soo many innocents.

No, he doesn’t want any of them to forget or for history to be rewritten. He proudly shouldered the burden from all those heinous crimes against humanity, to serve as a reminder, especially for himself. Of what happened if kings or leaders become arrogant and greedy, if power is unchecked. The kind of leader that to Agni he prayed, he would never turn into.

And everyday he paid the price, even though it’s not even his to begin with, but still it passed down from generation to generation. Like a snowball, growing bigger with each tumble down. It’s taking its toll on him to the point that it’s not even possible to hide how worn out he is. The dark circles under his eyes more prominent than ever, sunken cheeks, hollowed eyes. But Zuko would never yield, not until he knows he has righted all the wrongs. But with each day, Uncle Iroh realized he has to step in or else this load that torment him would ended up killing his nephew. Literally.

And he has just the solution in mind.

———————————————————————

“I think we should establish an official court entertainers for this palace.” Uncle Iroh said in between sips of another one of his exotic tea.

Zuko merely looked up briefly from the correspondence that he has in hands, “There are more pressing issues than extravaganza, Uncle.”

“Indeed, indeed. But entertainers would bring life to this dreadful palace, Fire Lord Zuko! Agni knows the staffs and ambassadors need it. With all that’s been going on with the rebellion within this capital, we all deserve some distraction.” Uncle Iroh continued. “There is an unrest brewing in this palace, people are scared for their safety. We need to contain it and what’s more delightful than musics or dances to bring people together?”

Zuko only hummed and shifted his attention back towards the letter. His frown returned as he let out a loud sigh and slumped in his chair.

“Any news that I should be aware of?” Uncle Iroh asked. If Zuko doesn’t want to consider his idea then maybe he should try another approach and let him vent first.

“It’s about the Harmony Restoration Movement... I launched it with the aim of transferring the Fire Nation colonials back here to their true home. But new disputes arose and now we risked war with the Earth Kingdom if we don’t handle this delicately.” Zuko answered. “How am I supposed to deal with both this and the civil war that we already have in hand within the nation, uncle?”

“As I said before, Zuko. Sometimes we need to step back and renew one's assessment. To see the big picture instead of braving the storm without any solid plan in mind. That would be both foolish and futile.” Iroh replied, letting his words sinks into his nephew’s mind.

Zuko squared his shoulders and sit straighter, putting down the letter that he has been holding for hours and look at his uncle. “About that court entertainers idea, is there any candidate that you have in mind?”

Uncle Iroh mentally pat himself in the back and let himself smile now that he got Zuko where he wanted him to be. “There is this band of traveling musicians from North Chung-Ling that I constantly heard about. They said that the mysterious lead singer’s voice is so lovely that it can put whoever’s listening into a trance. I only know that they nicknamed her as ‘The Songbird’ but other than that nothing else, and I for one would like to find out.”

Zuko nod his head a few times, “Then I should find someone who can reach out to them and invite them here.”

———————————————————————

A month after the invitation has been sent out and the palace received the confirmation that this famed band accepted the offer, preparations are made. Not only to welcome and host them for the time being but also for the ball where they will perform before the ambassadors from other nations and all the palace staffs. Turns out Zuko haven’t had the slightest inkling as to how popular they actually are before he made the announcement and suddenly the whole palace is in a frenzy. Everybody wants to go and watch the performance.

And the night that they’ve all waited for is now upon them. Sadly Zuko cannot welcome them himself because he was held up in the meeting so it was only Uncle Iroh who greeted and escorted them. He has heard from the tittle-tattle exchanged between the staffs though that the band consisted of 9 person and they’re all women.

It’s been a while since Zuko got to relax and enjoy the luxury that came with his position. And not many know that their Fire Lord is actually a huge art nerd especially for theater, but music performances has a special place in his heart too. He could only hope that this band lives up to their reputation.

———————————————————————

Zuko sit at his ornate covered throne (minus the wall of fire that usually accompanied every reigning Fire Lord) and he’s embarrassed to admit that he may or may not be shaking from anticipation. Tapping his right foot on the floor to ease some of the tension. Even Uncle Iroh noticed his behavior and looked at him questionably to which Zuko only waved his hand in dismisal.

The Throne Room is crowded with people dressed to the nines in elaborate robes and gowns. But the center of the room remains empty for the musicians before they take their place there any minute now.

Some minutes later the door opened and nine women stepped in. Their colorful dresses so different from what he’s used to seeing amongst his people in their go-to black and red. Their hairstyle elaborate and completed with large hairpiece accessorized with beads, pins, tassels, or fresh flowers.

“Qitou” Zuko thought to himself. That’s why he recognized the style of hair from the time that he spent as a waiter in Jasmine Dragon. The women in the upper ring of Ba Sing Se sported that kind of hairstyle.

He spied them carrying various musical instruments ranging from pipa, guzheng, dizi, and others. Holding it close to their chest as if it’s a baby.

When they reached the center, they wordlessly take their designated position forming a half circle but left an empty space right in the middle of their formation.

Before Zuko could watch any further, the door swung open again and the last of the member entered. It’s her.... The Songbird.

She walks as if she’s floating, the fact that her feet are covered by her trailing dress produced an even more dramatic effect. But it works in her favor, Zuko realized, as all eyes in the room immediately goes to her.

There is something magnetic about her, he could feel it as he drink her in, a tug in his chest. She graced him with a small smile and a bow before she took her position and motioned to the rest of her companions that she’s ready.

Melodies filled the room as the musicians played their instruments expertly, hands moving with little to no effort as if it’s all already imprinted to their muscle memory.

Zuko never thought that it’s possible for her to dazzle him even more than she already did, but that was before she opened her mouth and starts singing that heavenly tune. After that, Zuko knew that he’s a goner.

He clings to the lull of her voice, letting it fill him, resounded in him. He never felt this serene ever since he found out that his mother had left. But The Songbird managed to accomplish the impossible and made him feel alive. Truly live instead of just existing.

It seems like he’s not the only one who she won over. Uncle Iroh’s gapping like a fish, some of the palace staffs eyes are either glazed or filled with tears, and the ambassadors for once are not in each other’s throats.

If he wasn’t convinced earlier on making them this palace’s official entertainers, he sure is now.

———————————————————————

On the next day after the ball he immediately approached one of the members when he saw her in the hall to inform her of his offer so that she can tell it to the others and discuss their decision.

He doesn’t need to wait long for in that same night he just got himself an official court entertainers.

Starting from there he invited them to play at dinners and afternoon tea times. Any excuse that he can get really to see her. Y/N... that’s her name, the girl who has been living in his head rent free ever since she walked into his life.

Sometimes it’s only her that he called for to sing for him as she strums her pipa. Her voice accompanying him while he sorts through correspondence, writing back a reply, or draft up a plan.

Zuko and Y/N grew closer and became friends, they share about their day to each other. All that they’ve been up to before they finally got the time to enjoy each other’s presence.

Spending soo much time with him daily makes Y/N aware of certain things. The most pushing matter is the fact that the Fire Lord is close to burning himself out yet there’s no sign of him stopping anytime soon.

“You know you should get more rest, you look awful.” Y/N said to him that night instead of jumping to another song as she just finished the last one.

“Ouch you’re hurting my feelings, Y/N. Do I really look that bad?” Zuko replied but his manners is all teasing.

“I don’t mean that you look ugly, I don’t think you’re even capable of it. It’s just that you look like you’re about to drop dead anytime, Zuko. It’s killing me to see you this exhausted but I couldn’t do anything to help it.” She murmured, looking at him tenderly, the man she has grown to care for much more than she ought to.

Something in her words served like a lock that turned open the vault of Zuko’s hidden emotions, to the ugly burden that he insisted on bearing alone. He let his guard down and made himself vulnerable in front of her, all his raw emotions on display.

“I have trouble sleeping, because of nightmares mostly, but some nights sleep just doesn’t found me at all.” Zuko confessed, the words pouring out before he could think it through.

The encouragement in her eyes made Zuko go on and he told her all about the things that troubles him so. The rebels inside the capital planning to usurp him, the conflict with the colonies, the impending possible war with the Earth Kingdom, even his own insecurities about his credibilities to rule. He bared it all to her and once he finished, he saw no judgement or pity in her eyes, only understanding.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to be you... but you have been so strong, Zuko. And i’m proud of you, I bet so is your uncle, the Avatar, and the rest of your friends. Please stop doubting yourself too much, you’re capable of achieving soo many incredible and revolutionary things. And I want you to know that I believe in you.” Y/N said as she slowly took his hands in hers, running her fingers across his knuckles.

And Zuko felt himself beaming, because for once he truly believes that he is indeed capable and in the end he’ll figure it all out. All thanks to her, his Songbird, if she even wants to be his.

———————————————————————

Zuko and Y/N talked late into the night and she ended up falling asleep right where she sat in a divan across from his bed.

When she woke up sometime later, she saw that it is already 1 in the morning. And she felt like she’s overstaying her welcome by being in his chambers, it wouldn’t be appropriate at all if a servant were to discovers them.

So she stretched her body, hearing some cracks from the stiffness, but then she heard a whimper. It’s coming straight from Zuko’s bed where he’s trashing around and getting himself all tangled up in his silk blanket. At this rate she’s afraid he might accidentally choke himself to death.

Y/N lowers her feet to the rug covered floor and slowly padded her way to his bedside. She went down on her knees and reached out a hand to rub his hair back, hoping that he could feel her touch and that it would call him down from his nightmare.

“Shhh....shhhh” She cooed to him, her heart broke in her chest when she saw how pained he look. “It’s alright, Zuko. I’m here and it’s just a dream.”

Zuko flung himself up, his eyes wide open. Chest heaving frantically and she can see the sweats trailing down the side of his head.

It took him some time before he calmed down and became aware of her. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

Y/N shaked her head, “Don’t worry about that, is it always this bad? the nightmares?” She asked him, her heart fluttering over the fact that he’s aware of her hands holding his yet he doesn’t pull away.

“Yeah... sometimes even worse, this is actually a mild episode compared to the others. Some night I actually woke up screaming.” He said as he lowered his head, avoiding her eyes.

But she softly grasped his chin and tilted his face back up, “Hey now don’t shy away from me, we’re way past that don’t you think?”

“Do you want me to sing you a song? I’ve been working on it for some time, it’s for you actually.” Y/N said.

Zuko stammered over his words, “Y—you wrote me a song?”

“Uh huh, scoot over if it’s a yes.” To which Zuko gladly did and gave her a generous amount of space.

“Sorry if it’s a weird request but can you hold me?” Zuko asked timidly.

Y/N answered with a nod and smile at him as she tugged him close, letting him rest his head on her stomach and draped her hands on his sides. Once she deemed that he’s comfortable enough with the position, she took a huge breath and starts to sing.

Sweetheart, you look a little tired when did you last eat?

Come in and make yourself right at home, stay as long as you need

Zuko’s eyes found hers as he listened to the words that she wrote with him in mind. A weary smile bloomed on his handsome face at the realization that all this time she was paying attention to how he has been doing.

Tell me, is something wrong? if something's wrong, you can count on me

You know I'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat

He gulped, hard. This girl with a golden voice, wrote all this... for him? Agni, this is too much for him to even process. He could barely calm his heart, it’s pounding so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if it actually burst.

Like a force to be reckoned with

A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss

I will love you with every single thing I have

Y/N forced herself to hold his searing gaze, every part of her body feels warm and alive at the way that he’s looking at her. Like he’s truly at awe and he doesn’t deserve any of this. But she continued, pouring her feelings into every single word so that he would understand, could see how wonderful he is in her eyes.

Like a tidal wave, I'll make a mess

Or calm waters, if that serves you best

I will love you without any strings attached

There is a hidden but lingering promise in this song, one that Zuko founds himself debating whether or not he dare tread to. Because he knows that if he took that one step in, he could never go back.

No, I don't want to talk about myself

Tell me where it hurts

I just want to build you up, build you up

'Til you're good as new

And maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too

Zuko reached out a hand and rub her cheek, marveling in the softness of it under his touch. He felt her breath hitched for just a second but she never faltered.

And what a privilege it is to love

A great honor to hold you up

Zuko let out a chuckle as he heard the word honor, how different he perceived it now from a few years ago.

She reached the final lyric and the song came to an end, for a while they can only look at each other.

“Thank you.... it’s lovely, you’re lovely.” Zuko murmured to her, with a hand still on her cheek.

“I’m glad you like it.” Y/N said, smiling down at him as she relishes in the feeling of his soft strands between her fingers.

“Would you stay here with me, Songbird?” He asked, hope alit in those amber eyes.

“Yes.. yes,” She replied. “Tonight, tomorrow, the day after that... as long as you want me here then I won’t go anywhere.”

Zuko grinned, “Then you’ll be staying here for a long, long time.”

Y/N leaned down and planted a kiss on the crown of his head, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

So they stayed, together in that bed, all tangled up. For the first time in forever, the nightmares didn’t come and Fire Lord Zuko got the best sleep of his life.