Hello! May I request some angsty HC’s for a MC that breaks up with the brothers because they don’t feel like the brothers view them as their equal? i.e the brothers are angry and make a comment like “know your place, human!” and the MC is just sorta like “if humans are such lowly creatures, I guess you shouldn’t be dating one” sorta thing? I hope that makes sense! Absolutely love your work 🥰
Soooo I hyper focused on the second line you gave and now have 2k words of Lucifer angst. I'll have to do the other bros as individual posts too, bc I can't see myself being short winded with this juicy of an angst prompt lol
Additional Tags: angst, miscommunication, sexual intimacy, suicidal ideation, just for a second though, denial, stages of grief, pining, asking for forgiveness, trust issues, bomb threat, terrorism, hate crimes, celestlial realm, devildom, human world
“If humans are such lowly creatures, I guess you shouldn’t be dating one.” You said it like it was a simple truth, trying to hide the pain you felt ripping through your heart.
Lucifer whipped around, genuine surprise across his face as you stood in the doorway of his office. Diavolo, who he was speaking with, also froze.
“MC,” he started, but seemed to be at a loss for words.
Or he couldn’t come up with a lie to keep you strung along fast enough.
“Forget it” you turned and walked out, heart breaking a little more when he didn’t chase after you.
You didn’t stick around to hear what he and Diavolo had to say about it.
You ran to your room, biting your lower lip to hold the tears back until you knew you were alone. And sure enough, as soon as you locked your door, you broke. You hated crying over this. A part of you wished that you could just flip a switch and hate him. Forget all the joy and comfort he’d brought into your life and move on. Not give him another second of your energy.
But you couldn’t find it in yourself to forget. Like a curse, all the memories rushed to the front of your mind. The first time you realized you liked him as more than a friend, it felt like your world had shifted and everything fell into place. It made sense, the way he was supposed to fit into your life. Of course it was more than a friend.
The first time you kissed, just after 3 in the morning, both of you up late. It had started as working on your laptops, enjoying being together without the need for conversation. But it’d turned to the two of you splitting a bottle of wine on his couch, and then it became a second bottle, and then your knees were brushing and his cheeks were flushed and you couldn’t stay just his friend another second.
“Lucifer,” you’d whispered, the laugh you’d been sharing falling away as you stared into his eyes. “Lucifer, I-”
He’d kissed you, a hand pulling your face to his as he closed the gap between you. Not that there had been much of a gap to close.
You were glad you’d finished your wine as you let your glass fall to the carpet, running your hands through his hair how you’d wanted to so badly for so long. Feeling the muscles in his arms flex as he pulled you to his lap, feeling other parts of him as you ground closer.
It became your first time together, too. And it was good.
The rhythm you’d fallen into was so natural after that. No one even questioned the increased physical touch between you. The way he kissed the top of your head before leaving after breakfast. How you’d brush your fingers over the back of his hand when you were talking. Your lives folded together perfectly.
You thought you’d found the person you were meant to share your life with.
Sobs tore through you and you squeezed your fists together, the pain so strong you couldn’t bear it.
Your world was destroyed. What was the point?
No, you couldn’t let those thoughts in.
You were not going to let him win. He clearly didn’t care about you. To say that, and let you go without even trying to lie and cover it up? He wasn’t worth it.
You had to be strong. To show him that you didn’t care about him, either. That you needed him even less than he needed you.
Just the thought ripped another sob from your chest. This reality, where you were going to have to look at the man you were so deeply in love with and act indifferent, even act hateful, was your worst nightmare.
This was the last thing you ever wanted. The worst outcome that could ever have happened. Fuck. How did you let it get here?
No, this wasn’t your fault. You were going to have to be very careful not to let your brain turn this against you. This was his fault. Lucifer’s. He was the monster, the asshole, the unfeeling disgusting being that had taken advantage of you.
You sat up from where you’d collapsed on the floor, running a hand through your hair and wiping the tears from your cheeks. It didn’t stop more from trailing down in their place, but at least you weren’t sobbing as violently anymore.
That’s when you heard it. Three gentle knocks on your door.
You knew it was him. Even when the odds were one in seven, you knew. You always knew.
This knowing brought more tears, but you quickly shoved them down. The show began now. He would not see you break.
“MC? Can I come in?”
You huffed a breath, channeling every ounce of strength you had into steadying your voice.
“I’m kind of busy, do you have to?” It came out surprisingly brash, you were relieved.
Seconds went by, so many you thought he might have walked away. But then, he spoke.
“I would like to explain myself, if you’ll let me.”
You scoffed, again wiping tears as they fell down your face. Fuck. You didn’t know if you’d be able to get through that conversation. Just the thought of opening your door and seeing him standing there caused your hands to shake.
You took a deep breath. “You don’t have to waste your time. I heard your message, loud and clear.” You added, but shouldn’t have pushed it, because your voice broke on the last word. You hoped he didn’t notice.
Silence, again. Then, softer, “MC, please. Let me at least give you the context. If you still want to…” he seemed to consider his words before speaking, “be done…” he paused again. Surely this couldn’t be so difficult for him. “Then I accept that.” He finished, but you could hear his voice had gotten weak. That the last sentence was a lie. You knew what it sounded like when he was lying. And what it sounded like when he wasn’t.
Your heart was on fire. All you wanted was to go back to this morning. To last night, when you fell asleep in his arms. Because you knew you couldn’t forgive him for this. You couldn’t let him cover this up with a lie, or some half baked truth he and Diavolo had concocted.
But you ached for him. Even if it made you a blind fool, you wanted him. You paced a few circles before walking to your door and unlocking it.
“Fine,” your voice was clipped, and you wanted to add some sort of threat, but couldn’t find anything to say. Your heart overrode your brain, you didn’t want to cut him out of your life completely until you had at least heard him out. Until your heart had no choice left but to listen to your brain.
You imagined opening the door how you were used to, smiling up at him and wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him for as long as he’d let you. Your hand stilled on the knob as a single tear rolled down your cheek. You wiped it away on your shoulder. You were not about to become a single tear person, heartbreak or otherwise.
Taking a final deep breath, you opened the door. You knew, in that moment, you could have broken down in his arms, sobbing, wanting the comfort from the man you loved about the deep ache in your chest. But what were you supposed to do when he was the one that caused it?
You bit down hard into your tongue, hoping he didn’t notice any subconscious reaction to the pain. He stood there, hair a mess, eyes wild as they scanned your face, your hair, your clothes. You hoped it wasn’t obvious you’d been crying, but feeling how swollen your eyes felt, it probably was.
He opened his mouth, then closed it. You hadn’t let him step in your room yet.
“Fine,” you repeated, stepping to the side and allowing him to enter. He just took a few steps in, standing awkwardly by your door. You walked back in and headed to sit on your bed, leaving him in the doorway. You looked at your perfectly made bed, realizing the lack of wrinkles implied you had not been crying there, and hoped he didn’t put the pieces together and figure out where you had been crying.
You sat on the side of your bed, legs crossed beneath you, and waited for him to talk.
“I’m sorry,” he started clearly thinking about his words before continuing. You thought to make a jab about him remembering the script Diavolo had probably just fed him, but he continued speaking before you could consider it further. “Diavolo had just told me about an attack in the human world. It’s still classified, but apparently a few humans tried to attack the Devildom and Celestial Realm ambassadors. There was supposed to be a big meeting today between the three worlds, but our rep and the CR rep didn’t even get inside. No one was hurt, but apparently bombs had been planted in nearby blocks and someone was supposed to enter later under the guise of a refreshments coordinator and try to kill either us or them. They got caught because someone from their group got too… excited… and charged them as they were walking inside.” He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair before continuing. “That’s why I said that humans are lowly creatures. I was pissed that one of Diavolo’s men was in danger, that the Angels present were probably people I knew, that it was such an elaborate setup when all we’ve been working towards is peace. It wasn’t anything more than that, and I’m sorry that I said it. It doesn't reflect how I really feel, especially not about you.”
You stared at him, mouth open with shock. You closed it, not trying to catch flies, but your eyes were still wide.
“So everyone’s okay?”
“Yes, no one ended up hurt. The human’s officers were able to restrain the assailant quickly and arrest him. They questioned him, and he gave up the rest of the plan pretty easily. But they still haven’t gotten any names of the other members of his group.”
You nodded, still processing everything and what it meant.
It hadn’t been about you at all. Honestly, you probably weren’t on his mind when he’d said it. There were clearly much bigger things going on that you had no idea about.
“I’m sorry,” you apologized, “I assumed-”
He walked to you in a few steps and kneeled before you on the bed. He gestured to take your hands in him, but looked up to you to make sure it was okay. You put your hands in his and squeezed them tight.
He sighed deeply, head falling forward to rest on your leg. “I didn’t run after you immediately because I needed to check with Diavolo it was okay that I told you the truth. I think he knew I would either way, but he made me swear up and down that I’d make sure you don’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”
“Of course, my lips are sealed.” You looked at him intensely until he looked up, reading the truth in your eyes.
“Thank you. And I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry not just that you heard that, but that I said it. I hated humans for so long, and I know that isn’t an excuse, but when terror like this happens it brings all those old feelings back to the surface. But I know better than that now. I know that humans are so much more.” He reached up and cupped your cheek in his hand. Instinctively, you nuzzled into it, and saw relief wash over him in response.
Looking down, you saw Lucifer, the man you loved so deeply, the Avatar of Pride, on his knees before you. Not to mention, he had even rambled a bit, something he only did when he was extremely stressed. Even Mammon was surprised when you mentioned Lucifer rambling to you. “He was rambling? Like, complete sentences?” He’d clarified, and when you confirmed, was both shocked and jealous that you got this side of Lucifer that apparently even the favorite brother didn’t get.
“I love you,” he whispered, eyes still holding yours. You gasped, breath catching in your throat.
“What?” you whispered, immediately cringing at your response.
“I love you,” he repeated, not hesitating. “When you left my office it felt like my life fell apart. I felt my world shatter, and then Diavolo started laughing, and I almost punched him for hit, which I think he knew, because then he stopped and told me to calm down. Which obviously I did not calm down, so he… he put a fucking curse on me so I couldn't move or talk and he told me I could tell you what had happened as long as you swore not to breathe a word of it. Whether you forgave me or not.” He explained, but you saw the gears in his brain still turning. And sure enough, he kept going. “Then he started talking about how he hadn't seen me so affected by something in all the years he's known me, and that he was proud I finally found something good in my life, and I just gave him this look that if he didn't let me go I’d… well I don't know what I would have done when I got free. But he immediately lifted the curse, and after hearing me swear that you wouldn't break confidentiality, I ran.”
Just when you were about to say something put together about his honesty and the levity of the situation, tears burst to the surface. You pulled your hands from his and buried your face, because you knew what this was.
It was relief, your heart showering your body in ecstasy and bragging to your brain that it was right to give him a chance to explain.
“MC?” And there that voice was. That voice that comforted you, sang to you at night, purred your name when he fucked you like it was the only thing he knew.
You laughed at yourself, wiping away your tears from your hands to your pants before taking his face in your arms. “I love you too. Of course I do.” A smile covered your face, and you both leaned in to kiss.
He smiled into it as well, leaning his head up to meet your lips. He kissed you like it gave him life, and he was recovering from a near death experience.
You felt a deeper want for him, a feeling you knew all too well, and ran your hand through the back of his hair, gripping its soft length between your fingers.
He smirked and pulled away, knowing what that meant. But he spoke, instead of what usually happened when you pulled his hair.
“I take it you forgive me?” He asked, soberly, and didn't move an inch until you answered.
“Yes, Luci. I forgive you.” You knew the words were important, and you considered asking his forgiveness for internalizing something that ended up not being about you at all. But you knew he would scold you for apologizing when you had no need. So you pressed your lips together, smiling, and pulled him back into you.
We’re not throwing away our shot…to find out what happened to Theodosia Burr Alston! Did she perish at sea? Flee to escape her titles? All these theories and more unpacked in this ep- wait, who is that in the corner?
ᰔ jerking virgin!eddie off. you’re behind him, frilly canopy cocooning you both as your fist experimentally stroked. he’s biting hard on his bottom lip with knitted brows.
your chin is a warm presence atop his shoulder. it isn’t exactly unwelcome, but it’s throwing his senses even more askew. he’s already embarrassed by how much he’s bucking into your warm touch so he attempts to keep his mouth zipped. you’re having none of it.
you squeeze just beneath the rosy tip on one specific upstroke which has a heavy breath coming out of his nose, eyes falling shut. it’s followed by a whimpering sound deep in his chest.
“there we go…” you murmur, nuzzling the spot behind his ear. “don’t gotta be so quiet.”
summary: you were tired of being invisible. just the band geek nobody noticed. and you were oh so desperate to have one particular person notice you. eddie munson. but how in the world are you going to manage that?
w/c: 6664
warnings/tags: smut, sub! eddie, bossy reader, strangers to something, pining, unprotected sex
masterlist
You had always had a crush on Eddie Munson, no matter how hard your best friend Robin tried to deter you.
It was embarrassing how constant it was. A low, stubborn hum under your skin that refused to die no matter how many times Robin elbowed you in the ribs during band practice or muttered warnings under her breath in the cafeteria. You were always the band geek with the clarinet case and the careful posture, the one who sat in the back row of the woodwinds section and tried to disappear into the music.
You were invisible.
And Eddie Munson? Eddie Munson was a goddamn supernova in a leather jacket and denim vest covered in patches, all wild curls and loud laughter and that sharp, theatrical way he moved through the world like he was daring it to look away from him.
Robin knew. She always knew when your eyes lingered too long.
“Stop,” she’d hissed just yesterday, trumpet balanced on her knee as the rest of the band packed up around you. “He’s not… he’s not for you. Eddie’s a lot. Too much. And he’s got his own shit going on- Hellfire, his band, whatever the hell he's up to after school. You don’t want to get pulled into that. Trust me.”
There’d been something tight in her voice, something almost protective layered over something else you couldn’t quite name. But it didn’t matter. The second you caught sight of him in the hallway after practice- leaning against his locker, rings flashing as he gestured wildly at Gareth and Jeff about some new campaign idea- your stomach flipped and your fingers tightened around the handle of your clarinet case like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.
He never looked your way. Not once. You were background noise. The soft, precise sound of a clarinet in a sea of trumpets and drums. He was electric guitar feedback and screeching tires in the parking lot and the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his jacket when he brushed past. You wondered what those long fingers would feel like if they ever actually touched you instead of guitar strings. Wondered if his voice would drop low and rough if he ever decided you were worth speaking to directly. The thought made heat crawl up your throat and settle somewhere deeper, heavier.
You were so tired of being invisible.
That night, alone in your room with your elbows propped against your desk and homework forgotten, the ache finally tipped into something sharper. You couldn’t keep doing this- watching him from across the cafeteria, heart hammering every time that wild laugh cut through the noise, pretending Robin’s warnings were enough to kill the pull. You needed a plan. Something that would force Eddie Munson to actually see you. Not the quiet band kid. Not the background extra in his loud, chaotic movie.
Something bold. Something stupid, maybe. Something that would drag you out of the safe, invisible corner you’d carved for yourself and straight into his orbit.
Your mind raced through possibilities while your fingers tapped restlessly against your thigh. Join Hellfire Club? God, the thought alone made your pulse jump- sitting at that table under the weight of his attention, having to roll dice while he watched you with those dark, intense eyes. Or maybe something riskier. Corner him after school by his van, music blasting, and just… say something. Anything. Or find a way to make him come to you.
You didn’t know yet how far you were willing to go. But then the decision sparked in your brain like a lit fuse.
No more watching. No more quiet, invisible longing from the back of the band room. If Eddie Munson was going to notice you, it had to be something he couldn’t ignore. Something loud. Something that matched the way he lived his entire life- big, dramatic, impossible to look away from.
So you were going to kiss him.
No words. No explanation. Just shove him back against his locker, fist in that stupid denim vest, and take what you’d been aching for since the first time you saw him. Then walk away like your heart wasn’t trying to claw its way out of your throat.
It was completely insane. You knew that. Robin would kill you if she found out. You might actually die of embarrassment if he pushed you off and laughed in your face. But the thought of his mouth on yours, even for a few reckless seconds, was louder than the fear.
You waited until the hallway was busy enough to give you cover but not so crowded that someone would physically stop you. Third period passing, right after the bell. Eddie was at his locker like always, rings glinting as he shoved books inside, curls falling into his face while he talked shit with Jeff about something you couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in your ears.
Robin had gone ahead to class. You’d told her you forgot something in the band room. She’d narrowed her eyes but let it go.
Your legs felt unsteady as you crossed the hallway. Every step made your pulse louder. By the time you reached him, your hands were shaking, but the decision had already been made. No backing out now.
Eddie turned at the last second, eyes widening just a fraction when he registered you coming straight at him. “Hey-”
You didn’t let him finish.
Both hands hit his chest harder than you intende. The metal of the locker door slammed against his back with a loud clang that turned a few heads. Your fingers curled into the worn collar of his shirt and vest, yanking him down as you surged up on your toes. And then your mouth was on his.
The world narrowed to the shock of it.
He tasted like cigarettes and the cherry candy he was always sucking on between classes. His lips were softer than you expected, but the second they registered what was happening, they parted on a startled sound that you swallowed whole. You kissed him like you were trying to crawl inside his skin- desperate, hungry, all the months of silent wanting poured into one reckless, bruising press of your mouth. Your body pressed in close, chest to chest, the hard line of his rings biting into your fingers where you gripped him.
For one suspended second, he froze.
Then Eddie Munson kissed you back.
One of his hands came up and grabbed your waist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, yanking you tighter against him. The other slid into your hair at the nape of your neck, not gentle, not careful- just possessive, like he was anchoring you there. A low, rough noise rumbled out of his chest and into your mouth. He kissed like he did everything else. Intense, a little wild, all in. His tongue brushed yours and your knees nearly buckled. The hallway, the stares, the risk- none of it mattered. There was only the heat of his mouth, the way his body felt solid and warm under your hands, the dizzying realization that he was kissing you like he’d been waiting for it too.
You almost forgot the plan.
Almost.
With every ounce of willpower you had left, you tore your mouth away. Your lips felt swollen, tingling. Eddie’s eyes were dark, blown wide, lips parted and shiny from your kiss. He looked stunned. Wrecked. Like you’d just short-circuited something in that loud, brilliant brain of his.
You didn’t say a word.
You just let go of his collar, took one shaky step back, then another. Turned. And walked away on legs that didn’t feel entirely attached to your body.
Behind you, you heard the low, disbelieving laugh that was pure Eddie Munson- rough and delighted and a little dangerous.
“Holy shit,” he called after you, voice carrying down the hallway. “Hey- hey, wait- ”
You didn’t stop. Your heart was hammering so hard you could feel it in your teeth. Your mouth still tasted like him. Your hands were trembling. Someone definitely whistled. Someone else muttered “what the fuck just happened.” You kept walking, head high even though your face was burning, the taste of him still on your tongue and the ghost of his hand in your hair like a brand.
You made it around the corner before your back hit the wall and you slid down it, knees finally giving out. A shaky, hysterical little laugh escaped you.
You did it.
You actually fucking did it.
And Eddie Munson had kissed you back.
Now you just had to survive whatever came next.
By lunch, the entire school was buzzing like someone had set off a firecracker in the middle of the cafeteria.
You could feel it the second you stepped through the double doors. Heads turned. Whispers followed you like a trail of smoke. Someone actually pointed. You heard your name- or at least “that band girl”- mixed with Eddie’s in the same breath. The story had already mutated- you’d shoved him, kissed him like you were trying to devour him, and then walked away like a badass. Some versions had you straddling him. Others claimed he’d grabbed you and wouldn’t let go. None of them were entirely wrong.
Your usual table felt like a spotlight. You sat down with your tray anyway, trying to look normal while your heart did somersaults behind your ribs. Every time the cafeteria doors opened, your eyes snapped up, hoping for wild curls and a denim vest. Nothing. Eddie’s usual spot was empty. Hellfire was there- Gareth, Jeff, and a couple others- but their table was quieter than usual, and Eddie was nowhere in sight. The absence felt louder than if he’d been sitting there staring at you.
You poked at your food and tried to breathe.
Robin found you five minutes later.
She didn’t even sit. She just appeared at your side, grabbed your wrist, and hauled you up with a hissed, “Come with me. Now.”
You let her drag you out into the hallway and around the corner near the band room, where it was quieter. The second you were alone she spun on you, eyes wide and furious and confused.
“What the hell did you do?”
You shrugged, aiming for casual even though your pulse was still racing from the memory of Eddie’s mouth on yours. “I kissed him. That’s it. Shoved him against his locker and kissed him. No big deal.”
Robin stared at you like you’d grown a second head.
“No big deal?” She laughed, short and disbelieving. “You kissed Eddie Munson in front of half the school and then just walked away like it was nothing? People are saying you two were practically making out against the lockers. That he had his hands all over you. That you-” She stopped, ran a hand through her hair, and gave you a look that was half exasperation, half genuine concern. “It is a big deal. You don’t just do something like that to Eddie and expect it to disappear by sixth period. He’s… intense. And he doesn’t do halfway. You know that.”
You shrugged again, but it felt weaker this time. Your lips still tingled when you thought about it. The way he’d grabbed your waist. The rough little sound he’d made when you’d kissed him back. The way he’d called after you. You kept replaying it on a loop and it was getting harder to pretend it hadn’t shaken something loose inside you.
“I just wanted him to notice me,” you said quietly.
Robin’s expression softened for half a second before the worry took over again. “Oh, he noticed. Everyone noticed. The question is what he’s going to do about it.” She glanced down the empty hallway like she expected him to appear any second. “And where the hell even is he? He skipped lunch. That’s not like him.”
You didn’t have an answer. You’d been wondering the same thing since the rumors started. Was he pissed? Embarrassed? Plotting some dramatic revenge? Or was he somewhere thinking about the kiss the same way you were- replaying it, touching his mouth, wondering what the hell just happened?
Robin studied your face for a long moment, then sighed.
“Just… be careful, okay? Eddie doesn’t do casual. And neither do you, even if you’re pretending right now.” She squeezed your arm. “If he finds you later, don’t let him steamroll you. And find me if you need backup.”
She left you there in the hallway with your half-eaten lunch and the weight of a hundred rumors pressing in from every direction.
You leaned back against the cool cinderblock wall and closed your eyes.
The next day was the first official day of spring break, and Hawkins woke up to perfect weather- warm sun, a light breeze off the water, and not a single cloud in the sky. No school. No hallways full of whispers. No Robin giving you that worried, knowing look every five minutes.
Just you, your spot at Lover’s Lake, and the old wooden pier that had become your private sanctuary over the years.
You grabbed your usual supplies- a blanket, your frayed backpack with the good stuff inside, and a lighter- and headed out. The walk down to the water was quiet, the trees just starting to fill in with new green. When you reached the end of the pier, you kicked off your shoes, spread the blanket out on the sun warmed wood, and sat with your legs dangling over the edge. The lake stretched out in front of you, calm and sparkling.
You lit up, took a slow hit, and let the smoke curl out of your lungs as you leaned back on your hands. The weed hit smooth and easy, loosening the tight knot that had been sitting in your chest since yesterday. The kiss. The rumors. The way Eddie had kissed you back like he’d been starving for it. The way he’d grabbed your waist, fingers digging in, that low sound he made against your mouth. You’d replayed it so many times it felt branded into your skin.
You were halfway through your second hit when you noticed it.
Across the lake, parked crooked in the gravel driveway of one of the old houses that sat back in the trees, was a very familiar green and white van.
Eddie’s van.
Your stomach flipped hard.
You sat up straighter, squinting against the sunlight reflecting off the water. There was no mistaking it- the dents, the peeling paint on the side, the way it was angled like he’d pulled in too fast and didn’t care. The house itself looked quiet. No music blasting. No movement visible from this distance. But the van being there meant he was there.
You took another slow drag, the smoke curling warm in your chest as your mind raced.
Of all the places in Hawkins, he was across the lake from your spot. The one place you came when you needed to think. When you needed to get away from everything and everyone. And after what you’d done yesterday- after shoving him into that locker and kissing him like you had every right to- he was right there. Close enough that if you raised your voice, he might hear you on a quiet day like this.
Or maybe he already knew you were here.
The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through you, mixing with the weed and the memory of his mouth. Your lips still felt sensitive. Your waist still remembered the pressure of his hand. You wondered if he was thinking about it too, wherever he was over there. If he’d skipped lunch yesterday because he couldn’t face the rumors… or because he was planning something. You felt delusional with all of these theories.
You exhaled another lungful of smoke and stared at the van, heart beating a little faster.
You stayed where you were. There was no need to hide now that you've taken the initiative to start something that you have no idea how it'll end.
The pier was warm under the blanket, the sun soaking into your skin, and the lake was calm enough that the only sounds were the gentle lap of water against the posts and the occasional bird. You lit up again, took a long, slow hit, and let it settle in your lungs before exhaling toward the sky. The weed hit harder this time- or maybe it was just everything in life catching up to you. Either way, it made the world feel softer around the edges. Floaty. A little too warm in the best way.
You tried to play it casual. Laid back on the blanket with one arm behind your head, legs stretched out, pretending you were just here to relax like always. But inside, your thoughts kept drifting straight back to him and this new look on life you've adopted. There's no going back now. You won't let yourself be invisible any longer. You crave the adventure. The chaos. The taste of him. The heat of it.
The need was worse now that you were high. It sat low in your stomach, warm and insistent. You kept replaying the kiss on a loop, imagining what would have happened if you hadn’t walked away. If you’d let him keep kissing you. If those hands had wandered further.
You were halfway through another hit when movement across the lake caught your eye.
Eddie stepped out of the weathered house.
Even from this distance you recognized the way he moved- that loose, confident stride, curls bouncing, pins on his vest catching the sunlight. He paused on the porch for a second, stretching, then turned his head like he was scanning the lake. And then he saw you.
You could tell the exact moment he recognized you on the pier. His posture changed. He stood there for a beat, just looking, and even across the water you felt the weight of it.
Then he lifted one hand, pointed at you, and called out, voice carrying clear over the calm surface of the lake.
“Hey! You! Get your ass over here!”
The words hit you like a spark to dry tinder. Your stomach flipped hard. He was smiling- that sharp, crooked grin that always made your pulse jump- but there was something else in it too. Something darker. Interested. Like he’d been waiting for this.
You sat up slowly, the weed making everything feel a little dreamlike as you watched him start walking toward his van. He didn’t wait to see if you’d follow. Just leaned against the trunk like he knew you would.
Your heart was beating too fast. The high made you feel bold and loose and a little reckless, the same way you’d felt right before you shoved him into that locker yesterday.
You stubbed out the joint, grabbed your stuff, and stood up on slightly unsteady legs and crossed the lake path, the weed humming warm and loose through your veins. Every step made the memory of yesterday’s kiss sharper. By the time you reached the van, Eddie was waiting with his arms crossed and a knowing smirk on his face.
He didn’t waste time.
“So,” he started, voice low and rough, “you gonna explain what the hell that was yesterday? Or are you just gonna keep showing up places like you didn’t shove me into a locker in front of half the school and kiss me like you were trying to ruin me for anyone else?”
You stopped a few feet away. The sun was warm on your back. The high made everything feel slow and electric at the same time- the way his rings caught the light, the way his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, the faint smell of weed and cigarettes and cologne that smelled so much like pine.
He kept going, stepping closer, voice dropping even lower.
“Rumors are everywhere. People saying you walked away like it was nothing. Like you didn’t just- ” He laughed once, short and disbelieving. “I skipped lunch because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. And then I come out here and there you are, sitting on that pier like you own the goddamn lake.” His eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate. “So what’s the plan this time, huh? You gonna kiss me and run again? Or are you actually gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?”
You didn’t answer with words.
Instead you closed the distance in two steps, grabbed the front of his vest the same way you had yesterday, and shoved him back against the cool metal of the van. The trunk rattled. His eyes went wide for half a second- surprised, impressed?- before you were on him.
You kissed him hard.
This time there was no audience. No hallway. No reason to stop. Your confidence tripled under the taste of him, the way his mouth opened under yours instantly, the rough sound he made when your tongue slid against his. You pressed in close, one hand still fisted in his vest, the other sliding up into his hair and tugging. He kissed you back like he’d been holding back yesterday, all heat and hunger, teeth scraping your bottom lip before he sucked on it.
“Fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, voice already wrecked. One of his hands found your waist and yanked you in tighter while the other slid down to grab your ass, pulling you flush against him. You could feel how fast he was getting hard against your hip. “You’re really doing this again-”
You didn’t let him finish. You kissed him deeper, rougher, biting at his lip the way he’d just done to you. You were bold, every small touch made you want more, made every point of contact feel like it was burning straight through you. Your hands roamed- under his vest, over the thin shirt beneath, feeling the heat of his skin and the way his muscles jumped when your nails dragged lightly over his stomach.
Eddie groaned into your mouth and suddenly he was the one taking control.
He spun you both so your back was against the van instead, one thigh sliding between yours as he pinned you there. His mouth moved to your jaw, then down your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. One hand pushed under your shirt, palm hot against your stomach, fingers spreading wide like he wanted to touch as much of you as possible.
“You started this,” he breathed against your throat, voice low and rough. “Twice now. You keep kissing me like that and walking away and I swear to God-” He nipped at your collarbone, then soothed it with his tongue. “I’m not letting you run this time.”
His hand slid higher under your shirt, thumb brushing the underside of your breast as he kissed you again- messy, deep, a little desperate. The van was warm against your back from the sun. His rings were cool where they pressed into your skin. Everything felt heightened, floaty, and so fucking good you couldn’t think straight.
You could feel how badly he wanted this. How badly you wanted it too.
And neither of you were stopping.
“Van?” Was all that he was able to breathe out.
“Van.”
The back of the van was warm from the sun, the air thick with the lingering smell of weed, old leather, and whatever fast food bags Eddie had tossed in the corner. Blankets and a couple of pillows were already spread out from whatever he’d been doing here. You didn’t hesitate. You climbed in first, grabbed him by the vest, and pulled him after you. The door slammed shut behind him with a heavy thud that made everything feel suddenly very private.
The second you were both inside, it turned into a fight for control.
You shoved him down onto the blankets and climbed over him, straddling his hips as you kissed him hard. Your hands were everywhere- pushing his vest off his shoulders, yanking his shirt up, nails dragging down his chest. Eddie groaned into your mouth and tried to flip you, one strong hand gripping your thigh while the other slid under your shirt to palm your breast. He bit at your lip, trying to take the lead back.
“Nuh-uh,” you breathed against his mouth, grabbing both his wrists and pinning them above his head against the van floor. Your voice came out lower than usual, rough from the weed and the heat. “You were right. I started this. I’m in charge right now.”
Eddie’s eyes flashed dark, a surprised laugh punching out of him. “Bossy little thing, aren’t you?” He bucked his hips up against you, hard and obvious through his jeans, trying to throw you off balance. “You think you can just-”
You cut him off by grinding down on him deliberately, slow and filthy, while you leaned in and bit the side of his neck hard enough to make him hiss. “I said stay still.”
Something in him shifted.
The fight drained out of his body in one long exhale. His wrists went lax under your hands instead of straining against them. His head dropped back against the pillow, curls spilling everywhere, chest heaving. Those dark eyes looked up at you like he was seeing you for the first time- really seeing you- and the sight of Eddie Munson submitting, giving in, letting you hold him down… it sent a rush of pure power straight through you. You loved it. The way his breathing changed. The way his hips twitched like he was fighting the urge to thrust up again. The way he was looking at you now, hungry and a little wrecked.
You kept kissing him, slower but no less intense, one hand still pinning his wrists while the other roamed- sliding down his stomach, popping the button on his jeans, slipping inside to wrap around him. He was already leaking, hot and hard in your fist. Eddie made a broken sound against your mouth.
“Fuck- why?” he asked, voice hoarse between kisses. His free hand came up to grip your hip, not to take over, just to hold on. “Why are you- Jesus, why now? Why like this?”
You didn’t stop touching him. You stroked him slow and tight while you answered, lips brushing his with every word.
“Because I’ve had a crush on you for fucking ever,” you said, voice steady even as your hand worked him. “Because I’ve been the invisible band geek in the back of the room with my clarinet while you walked around like you owned every hallway. Because Robin kept telling me to stay away and I couldn’t. Because I was tired of you never looking at me.”
You squeezed him on the last word and watched his eyes flutter.
“So I made a plan,” you continued, grinding down against his thigh while your thumb circled the head of his cock. “Something big. Something you couldn’t ignore. I kissed you yesterday so you’d finally see me. And now…” You leaned down, biting his bottom lip before sucking on it. “Now I’m not done. I want you like this. Under me. Letting me have you. Unless you want me to walk away again- you just have to say the word.”
Eddie’s breath hitched hard. His hips jerked up into your hand despite himself.
“Fuck,” he whispered, sounding almost dazed. “Okay. Yeah. Fuck, please don't leave.”
He stopped fighting completely.
His hands stayed where you put them. His body went pliant under yours in a way that made your head spin even more than the weed. He looked up at you with blown pupils and parted lips, completely at your mercy and apparently loving every second of it.
Your move.
You stayed right where you were- straddling his hips in the back of the van, one hand still wrapped around his cock, stroking him slow and tight while your other hand kept his wrists pinned above his head.
Eddie was already wrecked. His curls were messy against the pillow, chest rising and falling fast, lips swollen from your mouth. Every time you twisted your wrist on the upstroke he let out a low, desperate sound that went straight between your legs.
“Please,” he rasped after the third time you brought him right to the edge and stopped. His hips jerked up helplessly into your fist. “Fuck- please, don’t stop. I need-”
You squeezed the base of his cock hard enough to make him choke on the rest of the sentence.
“You need what?” you asked, voice low and taunting. You leaned down and dragged your tongue up the side of his neck, tasting salt and skin. “Use your words, Eddie.”
He groaned, long and broken. “I need to come. I need inside you. Please- fuck, I’ll do anything, just let me-”
You laughed softly against his throat and gave him one more slow stroke before letting go completely. His cock twitched hard against his stomach, flushed dark and leaking steadily. You sat back on his thighs and peeled your shirt off, then your bra, letting him look. His eyes went glassy.
“Hands on me,” you ordered. “But you don’t get to fuck me until I say. You touch my clit while I ride you. That’s it. You understand?”
Eddie nodded fast, almost frantic. “Yeah. Yeah, I understand. Just- please.”
You shoved your pants and underwear down and kicked them off, then reached between your legs and dragged two fingers through your own wetness, letting him watch. You were soaked. The teasing, the power, the way he was looking at you like you were something holy and filthy at the same time- it had you dripping.
You lined him up and sank down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.
The stretch punched a moan out of both of you. He was thick and hot inside you, filling you perfectly. You didn’t move right away. You just sat there, clenching around him, watching his face as he fought not to thrust up.
“Fuck- you’re so tight,” he groaned. His hands came up immediately, one sliding between your bodies to find your clit like you’d told him to. Two of his rings were cool against your skin as he started rubbing tight, perfect circles. “You feel so fucking good. Please move. Please ride me. I’ll be good, I swear-”
You started to move.
Slow at first. Rolling your hips in deep, grinding circles that dragged the head of his cock against that spot inside you every time. His fingers worked your clit in messy, desperate strokes, trying to match your rhythm. The van was already starting to rock slightly with every movement.
You picked up the pace.
Soon you were riding him hard- bouncing on his cock, the wet slap of skin on skin loud in the small space. Every time you dropped down you took him to the hilt. Eddie was babbling now, voice wrecked.
“Please- fuck, please don’t stop- I’m so close, I’m gonna- please let me come inside you, I need it, I need you-”
You leaned forward, one hand braced on his chest, the other fisting in his hair and yanking his head back so you could bite at his throat.
“Not yet,” you panted against his skin. “You don’t come until I do. You wanted me to finish what I started? This is what you get. You take what I give you.”
You rode him faster, chasing your own pleasure while his fingers rubbed your clit in frantic little circles. The combination- his cock stretching you open, his rings pressing against you, the desperate sounds he was making- had you right on the edge in minutes.
When you finally came it hit hard. Your whole body locked up as you clenched around him, a broken moan tearing out of your throat. You kept riding through it, grinding down and using him while the aftershocks rolled through you.
Eddie was shaking underneath you.
“Please,” he begged, voice cracking. “Please, I can’t- I’m gonna-”
You leaned down and kissed him messy and deep, still clenching around him.
“Come,” you ordered against his mouth. “Fill me up.”
He broke with a choked cry, hips snapping up hard as he came deep inside you. You felt every pulse of it- hot and thick, spilling into you while he shook and gasped your name like a prayer.
You stayed on him until the aftershocks faded, both of you panting, sweaty, and trembling. His hands had slid up to grip your hips, holding on like he needed the anchor. You were still in control, still on top, and the look in his eyes when he finally opened them said he had no interest in changing that anytime soon.
Eddie let out a shaky, wrecked little laugh.
“Holy shit,” he breathed. “You’re gonna kill me.”
You smirked, still full of him, and rolled your hips once more just to watch him twitch.
“Good.”
You stayed on top of him while he softened inside you, both of you breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. Then you carefully lifted off and collapsed beside him in the tangle of blankets. The van smelled like sex and weed. Outside, the lake was quiet.
Eddie didn’t let you get far. He immediately pulled you back against his chest, one arm sliding under your head while the other wrapped around your waist like he needed the contact. His curls were a mess against the pillow. He looked completely fucked-out and soft in a way you’d never seen before.
Without a word, he reached over with his free hand, grabbed the half-smoked joint from earlier, and lit it. He took a slow hit, then passed it to you. You took it, the two of you passing it back and forth in comfortable silence for a minute while your heart rates settled.
Eventually he spoke, voice rough and a little shy.
“I’ve noticed you before, you know.”
You turned your head to look at him, surprised. “What?”
Eddie gave a small, self-conscious laugh and rubbed the back of his neck with the hand that wasn’t holding you. “Yeah. In the band room. During pep rallies. You’re always in the back with your clarinet, all focused and serious. I’ve seen you. I just… never said anything.”
You blinked at him. Eddie Munson- loud, dramatic, zero-fucks-given Eddie- was admitting he’d been too shy to talk to you? It didn’t compute.
“You?” you said, half-laughing. “Shy? You? The guy who stands on lunch tables and monologues about D&D and flips off the principal?”
He grinned, a little embarrassed, and ducked his head to hide it against your shoulder. “I know. It’s stupid. But every time I thought about walking up to you I’d get this… I don’t know. Stage fright or something. You always looked like you had your shit together and I was just the freak with the van and the vest.”
You were still processing that when he continued, voice dropping quieter.
“And then yesterday you just… shoved me into a locker and kissed me like that. And today you climbed in here and took control like you owned me.” He let out a breathy laugh, still sounding a little stunned. “You surprised the hell out of me. In the best way. I didn’t think you had that in you.”
You couldn’t help it- you laughed too, the sound soft and a little disbelieving in the small space of the van.
“I didn’t think I had it in me either,” you admitted. “I was just tired of being invisible. Tired of the world telling me what I could and couldn't do. Tired of wanting you and doing nothing about it.”
Eddie lifted his head to look at you properly. His eyes were warm, still a little hazy from the weed and the orgasm. A slow, crooked smile spread across his face.
“Well,” he said, thumb stroking lazy circles on your hip, “mission accomplished. I’m definitely not ignoring you anymore.”
You both laughed again- quiet, fond, a little giddy. The tension from earlier had melted into something easier. He pulled you closer, tucking your head under his chin, and passed you the joint again.
For a while you just laid there together, smoking, skin against skin, the van gently rocking with the breeze off the lake.
Just the two of you.
You spent almost the entire spring break together.
It started with that afternoon in the back of his van and just… kept going. Eddie brought you inside Rick’s house and you ended up staying the night. Then the next day. Then the next. You smoked on the pier, made out in his van, fucked in the lake at night when no one else was around, and spent lazy mornings tangled up in blankets while he played guitar for you. He showed you his favorite D&D campaigns. You played clarinet for him once, soft and a little shy, and he watched you like you were magic.
By the last night of break you were both a little sunburned, a little sore, and completely addicted to each other.
You were lying on his chest in the back of the van again, the windows cracked to let the cool night air in, when you finally asked.
“So… what are we now?”
Eddie was quiet for a second. Then he let out a dramatic, put-upon sigh and cracked a grin you could feel against your hair.
“Well, I was thinking ‘official van sex partners’ has a nice ring to it. Very professional. We could get business cards.”
You snorted and smacked his chest lightly. He laughed- that loud, bright Eddie laugh- and then his voice softened.
“I’m kidding. I’m all in, if you want me. I’ve been all in since you shoved me into that locker, honestly. So…” He tilted your chin up so you were looking at him. “Will you be my girlfriend? Officially? No more hiding it, big middle finger up to the rumors. Just… us.”
You smiled so wide it hurt.
“Yeah,” you said. “I want that.”
Eddie kissed you like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear it.
Monday morning you showed up to school holding hands.
Eddie’s rings were warm against your fingers. He was wearing his usual battle vest and that stupid grin that said he knew exactly what kind of chaos you were about to cause. You were wearing one of his shirts under your jacket and still smelled like his cologne and weed and last night’s sex. Neither of you cared.
The second you walked through the front doors, the whispers started again- louder than before. People stared. Someone actually gasped. You heard your name and Eddie’s mixed together in the same breath more than once. A couple of the Hellfire guys whooped when they saw you. Someone from the band shot you a wide eyed look like you’d grown a second head.
You didn’t let go of his hand.
Robin found you at your locker before first period. She took one look at your joined hands, then at the matching hickeys you were both definitely trying not to hide, and just sighed.
“I told you he was trouble,” she muttered, but there was a small, reluctant smile tugging at her mouth. “You two are disgusting. I’m happy for you. Don’t make me regret saying that.”
Eddie slung an arm around your shoulders and pressed a loud, dramatic kiss to your temple.
“Too late, Buckley. She’s stuck with me now.”
You leaned into him, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt, and flipped off the next person who stared a little too long.
The first thing Azula notices is that you’re calm. It’s almost offensive.
You stand beside Zuko like you belong there, like the palace hasn’t swallowed stronger people whole. Like her presence doesn’t make your spine lock or your breath hitch. Most people react. You don’t and Azula hates that.
“Brother,” she says smoothly, stepping into the room as if she owns the air itself. “You didn’t tell me you’d taken a wife.”
Her golden eyes slide to you. Sharp. Measuring. Predatory. You don’t bow immediately. Zuko tenses beside you, just slightly, but you catch it. Your hand brushes his sleeve, grounding him before you lower your head in a respectful bow. Not fearful. Controlled.
“I wasn’t aware I needed your approval,” Zuko replies, voice already tight.
Azula smirks.
“Oh, you don’t. But I do enjoy being informed when something… interesting happens.”
Her gaze returns to you.
“You’re not Fire Nation nobility.”
It’s not a question. You meet her eyes this time. Bold. Careful.
“No.”
A pause.
“And yet,” Azula continues, circling slowly, “you stand at his side as if you are.”
Her presence is suffocating up close—heat without flame.
“You must be very… confident.”
Zuko steps forward slightly, putting himself between you and her.
“That’s enough, Azula.”
She stops. Smiles.
“Oh?” Her head tilts. “You’re protective.”
Her voice lowers, turning sharp as glass.
“That’s new.”
Zuko’s jaw clenches.
“It’s not your concern.”
You move then. Not away. Forward. Just enough to stand beside him again, not behind him. That catches her attention. Everything about her stills.Interesting.
“I married him,” you say quietly, “not you.”
Zuko glances at you, surprised. Azula’s eyes narrow. Not anger. Not yet. Something more dangerous. Interest. There’s a long silence.
Then, Azula laughs. Soft. Real. Unsettling.
“Oh, I like you.”
Zuko does not relax. That is not a good sign.
“You’re either very brave,” she continues, stepping closer again, “or very stupid.”
Her gaze flicks between you and Zuko.
“Maybe both.”
You don’t step back.
“I get that a lot.”
Another pause. Another shift. Something unspoken passes through the room. Azula studies you like a puzzle she hasn’t decided whether to solve or break.
“You make him softer,” she says finally.
It’s not approval. It’s an accusation.
Zuko exhales sharply. “She makes me better.”
Azula’s eyes snap to him. There it is. A crack in her composure, small, but real.
“Better?” she echoes.
The word sounds wrong in her mouth. Like it doesn’t belong. You speak before Zuko can.
“He chose who he wanted to be.”
Your voice is steady.
“I just stayed.”
That lands. Harder than anything else. Azula goes quiet. Really quiet. For a moment, just a moment,something flickers behind her eyes. Not rage. Not mockery. Something almost hollow.
Then it’s gone. Replaced with that perfect, dangerous smile.
“Well,” she says lightly, turning away, “this should be entertaining.”
She pauses at the doorway. Glances back at you.
“Don’t disappoint me.”
When she leaves, the room feels colder. Zuko finally relaxes beside you, tension draining all at once.
“…You shouldn’t provoke her like that,” he mutters.
But there’s something else in his voice. Something softer. Something proud. You look toward the doorway where she stood.
“She’s already decided what she thinks of me,” you say.
A small pause.
“Might as well give her something accurate.”
Far down the hall, Azula is still thinking about you. About the way you didn’t flinch. About the way Zuko looked at you. About the word better and for the first time in a long time. Azula feels something unfamiliar twist in her chest. Not anger. Not quite.
Your Lieutenant who routinely disappears every night on base. It's not completely weird or anything, the man did have a strict regimen, but really? Every night? A bit over-kill no? Maybe he always got an early night, which you could respect
Your Lieutenant who also refused to eat anything in the mess, or touch his mre's whilst on ops. Maybe he wasn't a fan of lifting his mask and eating in front of others? Regardless, you didnt press, all it meant was more apple crumble for you
Your Lieutenant who is always covered up on every single op, even on base, even during a heatwave! You understood not wanting to show skin but wasn't this too much? You were worried about him overheating, but he seemed fine.
Your Lieutenant who seems to be up all hours of the night, always in his office, always available for a debrief or a meeting, and never tired after an op, and seemed like he had endless stamina to train.
You, who finds him to be admirable, so dedicated to the cause and motivated all the time.
One night, you decided to head to his office to ask him to give you tips! Hes your Lieutenant afterall.
You, who walks in on Ghost, in his office, stripped down to briefs, on the floor, mask off, fangs out as he bit into and sucked on a pre prepared blood bag, panting and heaving as he made a mess.
"S-sergeant-" Ghost growled out, his eyes glowing a faint shade of red as he spotted you. God, you looked delicious...
Sheep hybrid!ghost who hates his hybrid side, despises being such a weak domestic animal.
He spends years keeping his hybrid side locked up tight, suppressing his herd instincts and keeping his wool-hair shorn to the root. Ghost hasn't vocalized since roba, everyone believes him to be human. The perks of being low-presenting, it seems.
Then you transfer onto base, a sheep hybrid who makes no effort to hide that fact.
For a while, ghost staunchly avoids you. He doesn't like the way his instincts start screaming about the flock just because a fellow sheep is nearby.
You must smell it on him, because you're constantly trying to talk to ghost. Tail wagging, fluffy ears twitching when you catch him in the hallway. Always followed by a dopey smile.
The thing that really catches ghosts attention is your wool. Thick and grown-out, you wear your wool with pride. It turns you all soft and round edges. Secretly, ghost likes your wool. He stares at you across rooms when your back is turned, wondering if his own wool would ever be that long.
Only for you to come back from leave with practically zero wool.
For a startling, horrified moment ghost convinces himself he somehow convinced you to hide your wool with all his staring. You smile at ghost, all starry-eyed and soft. "I made you something, sir."
From your bag you pull a long wool scarf.
It's clearly made from your wool, still smells of you. You bahh happily as you wrap it around his head and next, creating a sort of impromptu wool coat of his own "now we match!!"
...if ghost spends his whole day with his nose tucked into the scarf, wondering if being a sheep is so bad...that's his business.
Accidents whilst sparring happen. Rarely, with your sparring partners but the occasional accident does occur when someone isn’t fully paying attention or a new weapon is brought into the mix. A fluke, a mistake something so small it’s brushed off with a pat on the shoulder or once over by Katara but not this time. You and Sokka had been grappling, hell bent on trying out a new technique you had learnt from a fire master (not wanting to spar with Zuko cause you know how that always ends. either you beneath Zuko with your shirt rucked up to your chin as he rocks into you, mouth at your tits, or you above him, his shirt pulled over his head and buried deep within)
anyway
The fight had started off slowly, you explaining each move as you went through the motions, but it soon ended with you on the floor, clutching your cheek as your brain rattled in your skull. You don’t know how you ended up slumped in on yourself, the ringing in your ears just a little louder than normal, but it might have been the miscalculated right hook Sokka threw your way, your focus on your next attack and not on the dodge of the one heading your way.
Sokka yelps as you collapse, and he is instantly on you, his hands on your shoulders, holding you upright. Your name is a distant call through the ringing in your ears.
Sokka’s panicked face greets you as you squint against the sun.
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay!!” he shouts, hands cupping your face.
Cold, calloused palms hold your cheeks, keeping your head steady.
You nod as best you can despite your restraint, blinking the shock away, but it does not clear the spinning vision.
Zuko’s panicked shout echoes through the training ground, the heavy flap of his robes and jingle of jewellery as he runs has your attention turning away from your friend. Zuko is a blur of red as he stops before you, instantly on his knees as he takes you from Sokka’s grip. Strong hands slip beneath your shoulders, hauling you into his arms, the familiar scent of jasmine and sandalwood a comfort.
“What happened? Are you okay?” He is frantic, golden eyes assessing every possible injury point. He cradles your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone and the blooming bruise beneath.
The warmth of Zuko's body has you curling into him, chasing the heat of his skin. Your eyes begin to slip closed, the spinning of your vision begin to turn your stomach.
"Sokka, what happened? I thought you were practising-" His voice grows distant, but you can still hear the bite in his words, the irritation and worry turning his tone venomous.
"We were! I didn't mean- Spirits, is she-" Sokka's panic shoves through the fog, and you want to ease both their minds, tell them you're okay and that there is nothing to worry about.
"Zu-" you mumble, muscles slackening in Zuko's arms. " 'm fine, Sokka jus- then i…m’okay.” You hear the words and feel your lips moving but don’t recall thinking them.
“She’s not okay. Get Katara.” Zuko’s voice goes distant. "Now. Sokka."
Soft taps against your cheeks have you blinking awake, the sun too bright, the world too swirly.
Your stomach begins to clench as nausea sets in.
“Hey, sweetheart, you gotta stay awake,"
Your eyes flutter open briefly before slipping shut again.
“Open your eyes, angel. Come on.”
Zuko is frantic, his voice trembling with worry and you want to talk to him, to reassure him that you're okay and there is nothing to worry about, but the twisting in your stomach and nausea sitting heavy in your throat have your mouth shut.
Panic begins to rise at the muddled realisation that you are going to be sick. The pain of a right hook you can deal with, the ringing ears and swirling vision, while not pleasant, is tolerable, but the acrid taste of bile rising in your throat has your heart racing.
“I'm going to be sick,” you mumble, clumsily pushing out of Zuko’s grasp, rising to your hands and knees as you begin to feel the heaviness in your gut.
Zuko is quick to adjust, kneeling beside you while pulling your hair from your face. Cold air kisses your flushed cheeks.
Your heart rate spikes, head spinning as you make the stupid decision to open your eyes.
"I don't wanna be sick," you whine, a hand reaching back in search of Zuko’s. He slips his palm into yours, squeezing tightly. "Zuko, Im scared-"
“I’m right here, baby. If you need to, just do it.” Zuko’s thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand. "Katara! Aang!" Zuko's worried shout echoes your own.
Ice cold panic floods your bloodstream as your body begins to tremble. You’d rather take a thousand blows to the head than spill your guts, but it’s gonna happen, you can’t stop it, and that makes it all worse.
Footsteps echo through the training ring, Sokka’s panicked shrieks distant as you begin to heave and your mind blanks.
——
You wake with a start. Jolting upwards and moving far too quickly, you feel the earth shift beneath your body. The world is too bright but below your hands is soft and warm, the smell of jasmine and tea and old books fills your senses, and you know you're home and inside your chambers. Your head aches horrifically, a band of pressure wrapped around your skull tightening with each exhale, but there is no dizziness or ringing in your ears, and your stomach seems to have settled so that’s something.
You can recall bits and pieces. The right hook to your skull, the sharp pain, the dizziness, the ringing, the feel of your insides being puked up. Zuko’s hand on your back and holding your hair, his voice soothing you that you’re okay and it’ll be over soon, Katara’s gentle fingers brushing over your forehead with the coolness of water, Aang blowing a steady soft breeze over your clammy skin. The absolute terror in your body as you heaved before waking up in your bed.
“Hey! You’re awake!” Sokka’s relieved sigh pulls your attention to your bedside.
The chaise lounge had been pulled to rest against the bed for whoever had taken shifts on watching you.
“ ‘m not dead. just got hit in the head,” you grumble, pressing the tips of your fingers along your brow bone, alleviating the pressure. “I’ve had worse.”
True. But no fight had left your puking and shaking.
Sokka hums. “Mmm, I don’t know. I got ‘ya pretty hard.”
You cast a glance his way. “I was distracted otherwise I would have dodged.”
“Sure, bud.” Sokka nods with a condescending purse of his lips.
You want to argue but your head hurts too bad.
“Where’s zuko?” You search the room, his side of the bed empty and undisturbed.
“He went to get you some food. I told him I would, but he says you only eat certain things after being sick.”
A faint smile blooms across your lips. He knows you so well.
“He also said you would be waking up soon, I don’t know if that was a lucky guess or-“
The door to your room opens, and the light from the hall has you squinting.
And in walks Zuko, tray in hand. “Oh. You’re awake.”
Your partner enters the room swiftly, the tray in his hand full of plain crackers and a pot of tea, peppermint from the smell wafting through the room, and a small slice of flatbread (a staple you had brought from your home and taught the cooks)
“How are you feeling?” he places the food on the edge of the settee, his movements eager in the rush to sit beside you. “is your head okay? should i get the physicians in again?”
The bed dips as he sits.
Gentle fingers press against your forehead, your unbruised cheek, the pulse point under your jaw. Zuko pauses for a moment as he feels your steady heartbeat beneath his fingers.
“I’m okay, just a little sore.”
Zuko hums, sliding his hand over your shoulder, massaging the muscle there. “But you threw up. Are you okay?”
“I’m more that okay, my love.” you place a hand on his thigh, squeezing reassuringly.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Sokka makes a noise from behind Zuko. “Ugh, now i’m gonna throw up.”
a/n: another draft dump because I HAVE BEEN STRUCK DOWN WITH WRITERS BLOCK but i also haven’t abandoned you guys
Summary: A few years ago, when Zuko was still trying to capture the Avatar, he burned a mark into your skin. Now, he's your husband, and he's too afraid to touch you in case he hurts you again.
English isn't my first language! 18+ (Nothing crazy, but MDNI either way) not proofread
────୨ৎ────
There's a jarring, red mark right in the middle of your abdomen, just above your pubis – it's irregular, not especially big, but still clearly visible in the dim light of your shared bedroom.
The sight of it makes Zuko nauseous.
And repulsed.
Because he's the one who has done it to you. He's the one who has scarred your skin forever in a moment of rage and a desire for revenge so big nothing could stop him.
Zuko's left eye twitches. His jaw clenches. A shuddering breath leaves him.
No, he can't do this.
"I changed my mind." He says. These words feel foreign on his tongue – he's not sure if that's exactly what he wanted to say. Or if he wanted to say anything at all. He probably should've have keep his mouth shut. But it's too late to take it back. "I...I don't wanna have sex tonight."
You look at him, dumbfounded.
Here you are, standing in front of him completely bare, offering yourself to him, and out of sudden he has changed his mind?
But you're not mean. You've never been. You would never do anything that could harm him.
"Okay." You murmur, pulling the red robe back on. Zuko sighs with relief, which quite frankly should make you feel offended – but it doesn't, of course.
This is your Zuko. He loves you. He would've never done anything to hurt you. Not intentionally, at least.
He's not the man he used to be – cruel, ready to do anything to get his honor back and appease his father. That man is long gone.
This Zuko is soft.
Loving. Patient. Kind.
Just yours.
So why, the hell, he doesn't want to have sex with you anymore? When he is the one who has brought it up and prepared everything?
"I think i know why you've changed your mind." You prompt softly. Your place your hand over the mark on your abdomen, hiding it from his view. It feels warm under your fingers, practically burning even though it's not a fresh wound.
Zuko looks away. His Adam's apple moves as he swallows hard – he does it four times, you count.
Silence stretches between you.
When it becomes clear Zuko won't give you any answer, you add. "I've forgiven you, Zuko. A long time ago."
Zuko remains silent. A single tear trials down his left cheek, almost invisible against the red scar around his eye. He hastily wipes it away.
But you notice it. Of course you do.
"Why can't you just forgive yourself? It's been so long–"
"Not for me, Y/N." Zuko cuts you off, frustration audible in his voice. "Everytime i see you naked, I'm reminded by that day. I can see myself summoning the fire, directing it at you...so clearly...i can almost feel the anger i felt that moment. It's horrible."
"Zuko, you've changed. You're not the man you used to be anymore. You're...you."
Zuko looks at you. His eyes are shining with unshed tears, his lips are twitching. He asks. "What does it even mean?"
"You're kind, Zuko. You're caring and patient." You smile softly. "And so much more. You're not who you used to be. You're not your father. You're Zuko. My husband. And Gods help me, if you don't start seeing yourself the way I see you, i'll kick your ass."
Zuko huffs, taken aback. "Yeah, i bet you'd love to do it."
You take a step forward. Then another. Zuko stays rooted in his place, completely still, as he watches you.
One step – that's all it takes to close the distance between you and Zuko.
"Tell me to go away and i will."
Hesitation flickers in Zuko's eyes only for a second. He shakes his head. "No."
His hand comes around your waist, his face rests in the crook of your neck.
His warm breath tickles your ear as he whispers, his tone teasing. "You've been spending too much time with my uncle."
"At least Iroh's wise."
"Touché."
You stay quiet for a moment. Zuko's nose nudges your cheek as his lips trail kisses up and down your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking on your skin, causing blood to resurface and hickeys to form.
His focus on you gives you the perfect opportunity to grab his hand and place it over the red mark on your abdomen.
Zuko gasps, his fingers twitch against your skin, and he wants to retreat as quickly as it is possible, but you don't let him. You hold his hand there, pressing it into the softness of your lower belly, making him feel you, helping him overcome his fear of hurting you again.
"It's okay, Zuko. You're not hurting me."
"...promise?"
"I promise."
Zuko exhales. "I wanna make love to you."
You smile. "What's stopping you?"
Zuko's tugs at your robe. It falls to the floor, exposing your body again. A quiet sigh escapes Zuko's lips. His fingers, long and slender skim over your belly, over the oh so terrifying mark on your skin, before he drops to his knees in front of you.
You weave your fingers into his luscious hair. Zuko looks up at you, all puppy eyed and desperate, with his gaze asking for your permission.
And who you are to deny him?
A quiet gasp leaves your lips as his fingers slowly slip inside you, one after the other.
summary: firelord zuko's hair is a mess after a mission with team avatar. his disheveled appearance sparks concern—but his refusal for any help reveals that the only person he allows to take care of his hair... is you.
pairing: firelord! zuko x reader
content: his hair is so beautiful and luscious and i just can't, fluff, zuko yearning
"Zuko, your beautiful—lushious hair!" Sokka gasps. "It's a bird's nest!"
Zuko’s hair is in a haphazardly tied bun, barely hanging on through sheer willpower—and his loosened strands are a tangled mess. He runs his hand through his bangs, and his fingers catch onto the knots.
Shrugging, he tugs his hand away from the mess he’s worsened with a singular touch. “I don’t mind it.”
“You could use Katara’s help.” Sokka offers, desperately staring at Zuko’s hair as if it were his own. “She’s good at untangling hair knots, though I can’t guarantee it’ll be painless—”
“No, it’s fine.” Zuko waves it off. “I prefer—”
His voice shuts down immediately, lips clamping into a thin line. That was close, dancing too near to what would certainly be his demise.
Sokka, half-digging at his ear, cocks a brow. “Huh, prefer what? If there’s a particular hairstyle you want, you’ll have to ask nicely.”
“No, I don’t have a style I prefer.” Zuko answers with a deadpan. His words trail off before eventually settling on a semi-truth. “…My hair will be redone once I return to my nation.”
Sokka’s brows furrow together before his lips part. “Ah! How could I forget? The Fire Lord probably has his own team of personal hair stylists.”
Zuko restrains a sigh. He doesn’t let just anyone touch his hair, much less an entire team of strangers. It doesn’t matter if they’re the best in the entire nation, he would not have them, not when he has… you.
He’s gotten used to your delicate touch, braiding intricate braids into his hair—or even a simple bun. The habit of being pulled by the wrist to rest in front of you, your skilled movements undoing your own work once you’re tired of the previous one—brushing your hair comb through his locks before starting on a new pattern.
He misses that. Misses you.
“Something like that.” He settles on instead.
”Man, you’re lucky.” Sokka sighs in discontent. “All I got when I was younger—was a bunch of pulling and tugging into the tightest bun possible.”
Zuko blinks at the information before casting Sokka a side-eye. “And you wanted me to ask Katara for help?”
Sokka grins sheepishly. “I never said it didn’t come without sacrifice.”
If Zuko had known his brief mention of having a hairstylist would backfire on him when his hair becomes a topic of conversation, he would have just kept his mouth shut and dealt with the teasing.
His hair has become an unbearably, obvious distraction by the end of their mission. Every wash during stay-in nights at inns has led to its own self-assured destruction, with each shower complicating the knots, wounding them tighter and tighter till the point of no return.
“Looking at that makes me grateful I don’t have hair.” Aang winces.
“Why?” Toph whips her head around, eyes widening in curiosity. “What does it look like? Describe it to me.”
“A bird’s nest. A genuine nightmare.” Sokka snorts. “You might have to shave it off and start over.”
“We’ll be matching.” Aang grins.
“It’s barely in-tact. Hanging by a literal loose rubber.” Katara sighs, hand reaching out. “Let me fix it.”
“Don’t.” Zuko’s voice breaks out—defensive and panicked, before he can stop it.
Everyone freezes at his sudden outburst.
Katara pauses—retracting her hand, brows pulling together in confusion. “You prefer not being able to see past your bangs?”
Zuko pushes his bangs back, and his fingers catch once more in the knots. “See? It’s perfectly cooperative.”
Sokka scoffs. “Yeah, at least try getting your hands untangled from your hair before convincing us.”
“We’ve almost reached.” Zuko sighs in exasperation. “It’ll be sorted once we’ve landed. I don’t mind the mess, so just—look away if it bothers you.”
“You keep mentioning that.” Sokka mutters, catching onto Zuko’s slither of frustration. “What’s waiting for you back home? A five-star hair stylist to sort out that monstrosity?”
Zuko doesn’t answer, gaze lingering on the map. Anytime now, he estimates they’ll be landing within the hour. He can only hope his impatience isn’t obvious to the others, not when he’s barely restraining the bouncing of his leg in anticipation. Partly from the mess that was his hair, but mostly because he’s itching for your warmth, your hands unravelling his knots, your nails scratching into his scalp as you part his hair into sections.
He misses you… desperately. Time spent away from you, and the constant reminder that he can barely function without you being a part of his daily routine—till the point where he’s forgotten how to take care of his own hair and yet, still automatically refuses to let anyone assist him? Yeah, he’s done for.
“Hey! Earth to Zuko?” Sokka’s hand waves in front of his eyes.
Zuko barely restrains a groan. “What?”
“I was asking if I could get a free, personal booking with your hairstylist—”
“Absolutely not.” Zuko’s gut flares with an irrational temper, something he’s long retired since his youth. Or at least, he had assumed so that this familiar fury had been left behind in the past. Yet, just the thought of you working on anyone else’s hair except for his… leaves a dreaded, sinking feeling in his gut.
“Yikes, possessive much?”
He shrugs noncommittally. Maybe he was being overly protective. His self-control always slipped when it came to you, or the thought of anything endangering the soft, rare intimacy and vulnerability he only shared with you. Your soft hums, your random ramblings as you did his hair—it was all precious to him. He’ll send a talented hairstylist to Sokka if need be, but in regards to you? Is it truly a selfish wish, if he wanted to keep you all to himself?
A large crowd has gathered for Team Avatar, mostly for Aang, who has grown in popularity—especially among children. The cheering, the excitement all falls flat on Zuko’s ears. His gaze fleets over the numerous unfamiliar faces in search of one in particular.
His breath stops when he spots you, waving your hand enthusiastically so you’ll catch his eye. Not that you needed to, how could he not notice you? You’ve been the singular anchor that his thoughts have been warping around throughout the entire mission.
It doesn’t even occur to him that there’s still people around—or that the sight of the Fire Lord running towards a stranger in a crowd is unbecoming. Who cares if they’re staring—or if they notice the absolute unkempt chaos that was his hair.
When you’re within reach, his hands make contact with your waist and he wastes no time pulling you into his embrace.
“Zuko!” You gasp, fingers coming up to caress the loose strands come loose from his loose bun as you hang onto him. “Your hair—it’s a mess!”
He doesn’t care, still gripping you tight in his arms. It’s been awhile since he’s gone this long without you near—that the very sight of you consumed his rationality.
“I couldn’t.” He mutters, burying his nose into the crook of your neck.
“Couldn’t what?” You whisper, fingers resting softly on the nape of his neck, and he sighs at the touch.
“Let others take care of it.” He admits shamefully, twisting his head so you could hear him more clearly. “…That’s your duty.”
Your lips part and close, processing his admission. After a moment, you let out an amused chuckle. “You missed me taking care of your hair?”
“Yeah.” He lets out a breath. “It was driving me crazy.”
“The hair?” You guess.
“Not being able to see you.” He answers honestly. There was more, there always was when it came to you. Still, he was never good with his words, so he’ll have to settle on that.
”You…” You exhale, sounding content as you relaxed in his hold. “I’ve missed you too, Zuko.”
Your admission is a warm, soothing reminder of just how much he cherishes you. Only you could make him feel seen, or have such a strong desire to allow only you to take care of him. He’s meant to be a symbol, a strong leader—but there’s nothing more than he wishes for than to be whisked away to the privacy of his palace gardens, with you alone.
A loud whistle cuts through the roaring of the crowd.
Almost begrudgingly, Zuko lifts his head from the crook of your neck to meet Sokka’s smug expression.
“Sokka.” He warns, sensing mischief before it has even struck.
“What?” Sokka replies. “Just wondering when you’re gonna introduce us to your personal hairstylist.”
“What’s this about being a hairstylist?” You cock a brow.
“He’s twisting my words.” Zuko groans.
“No, I’m not!” Sokka huffs. “You’re the one bragging about having a whole team of hairstylists, even refusing help to fix that disaster messing up your good looks.”
“Bragging?” You muse, much to Zuko’s chagrin. “I’m honoured, but if you’re thinking of a team, then it’s sadly a one man show.”
Sokka grins. “Even more impressive! Could I book your services sometime—”
“No.” Zuko‘s hand out-stretches, tugging you by the waist back to his side. There isn’t a single gap left between you and him, and his gaze narrows. “Her hands are to only touch my hair.”
You blink rapidly, trying to process this rare side of Zuko that you’ve never truly seen before. A slow smile teeters on your lips, a happy satisfaction lingering in your gut as you lean into Zuko’s touch. “Sorry, Sokka. Fire Lord’s orders.”
“Oh man!” Sokka stomps. “I was so close to getting a free service from the Fire Lord’s personal hairstylist. Great going, Zuko.”
“Who said anything about it being free?” You grin innocently.
“Oh…” Sokka scratches at the nape of his neck, chuckling nervously. “Two birds of a feather do truly flock together. The price only the Fire Lord is willing to pay…. Consider my request retracted, M’lady.”
Zuko’s irritation—his desperation wound up in his chest, finally unravels the moment he’s alone with you.
No, it wasn’t just a simple unraveling. He has never felt so unconditionally happy—than in a mundane, normal manner like this. From the moment you’ve dragged him into his bedchambers, snapping the rubber that’s loosely holding onto his bundle of hair and grabbed for your comb and a new set of rubbers, he’s been needlessly pliant and cooperative.
“I appreciate the loyalty sentiment, but you’ve got to bring a comb with you next time, Zuko.” You mutter, lips bitten in concentration as you untangle his knots with your brush.
Zuko half hums in acknowledgment, too caught up in the feeling of your nails unintentionally scratching against his scalp as you re-do his hair. He’s gone so long without these secluded moments in his room, with your thighs over his shoulders as he sits on the floor, your skilled hands combing through his locks.
In the quiet, he feels the weight of all the expectations of being the Fire Lord roll off his shoulders with every brush of your fingers through his hair, and he just becomes… Zuko again.
It’s a peace he’s only had a taste of in the briefest moments of his childhood. Between the terror, the expectations—there was once where his mother used to comb through his hair in a similar fashion, and he would cherish it deeply in his heart.
You tug playfully when you notice he isn’t listening, caught in a daydream, and he whines.
“You listening, Fire Lord?” You tease. “Don’t you know the saying that if you leave your hair this tangled, you’ll lose it all before you’re fifty? That means you won’t be able to ask for my professional help anymore.”
He stiffens at the thought of never having your aid, your presence in his room over mere excuses of touching up his hair. He barely survived these past few weeks, much less forever. “I’ll bring a comb.” He answers obediently.
Humming a sound of approval, you resume your hand work. ”You know..” You murmur, beginning on your first braid. “Now that it’s been mentioned, I did notice that you don’t have a hairstylist.”
He furrows his brows. “Why would I need one?” Not when I have you.
“It’s just that..” You pause, voice softening. “Well, I’m no expert. Only the simple braids and buns, y’know? Even for your coronation as Fire Lord, and your yearly banquets, you called for me to do your hair.”
“…I don’t want anyone else.” He answers truthfully.
Your hand falters over your braid, and he feels you start over as your fingers thread through the top of his scalp. “Even if I put your hair into pigtails?” You tease, but it’s a silent prodding, a test to see how far he’d let you go.
”You can do whatever you wish.” He shrugs. “I have no complaints as long as you’re not providing your assistance… to others.”
“Still sour from that incident earlier, huh?” You snort. “I don’t know. I could charge a high price if I revealed that I’m your only, personal hairstylist.”
His hand catches your fingers right as they moved to begin the second braid. Caressing your hand gently, he slots his fingers between your own and interlocks them. “I won’t allow it.”
“Banning my business before it even starts?” You’re poking fun, but there’s a delight in your tone that tells him you’re enjoying this. “Don’t tell me you’re switching to a dictatorship.”
“I’ll offer you everything I own if it means being the only one who gets to have this. What’s mine is yours.” His voice is brash—quickened in his decisiveness, his other hand tracing the braid you’ve left that brushes past his shoulder. “My hair, my personal quarters, my trust—it’s all given only to you.”
Your lips part, not expecting him to take your words words so seriously. Swallowing your shock, you smile gently as your hand runs through his locks again. “Is that why you’ve been refusing to cut your hair?”
“You—” His ears redden, and he averts his gaze. “You mentioned before that you liked men with long hair.”
You’re silent. For long enough that he’s beginning to writhe slightly under the long minutes of sitting still on the floor. Zuko feels the heat burning at the back of his neck, and he thinks the long distance away from you for these past few weeks has finally run its course and fried his brain completely.
He’s caught up in his shame, his impudence to admit something so embarrassing that he didn’t have time to think of a proper excuse—when he feels your lips peck against the crown of his head.
He blinks once. Did—you just kiss him? If his brain wasn’t fried before, it definitely is now.
“I only mentioned that—” You reveal slowly, head still lowered so he can hear your hushed voice. “—because I like your long hair. Not anyone else’s. I wouldn’t trade this for anything else, so don’t get it confused.”
His heart stutters, quickening in its pace as he processes your words. A small smile spreads over his mouth as he leans further back, letting you do as you pleased. You’re right. He wouldn’t trade this for anything either.
He’d already quietly kept it as a promise that he’ll never cut his hair if it means you’ll stay here with him like this, tying childish braids into his hair that’s unbefitting a Fire Lord. No matter what comments his chamberlain tries to advise him, he’ll never undo them for as long as it’s to your design and liking. He’ll even go as far as to forget how to tie his hair into a minuscule bun if it meant having the excuse to feel your touch. He’s long past the point of rationality, but here in this moment, he finds having you do his hair is all that he needs to feel contentment.
He’s never felt more thankful to outgrow his old haircuts, than he did in this present moment.
likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated! <333
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ — across from you now, the empty seat isn't empty anymore. "i know i messed up," they say, barely meeting your eyes. "i'm so sorry i left you waiting. can you forgive me?"
wc. 5.2k words
⋆˚꩜｡ cast — xavier, rafayel, zayne, sylus, caleb, valko
⋆✮⋆ PART 1 HERE!
🔖 tags — lads x non mc reader! comfort, mentions of blood, guns, injuries, curses thrown everywhere
a/n: please please please listen to "why you wanna fight by bruno mars" lmao it was on loop making this
݁ ˖Ი𐑼˖⋆ XAVIER
You felt the bed dip beside you as you woke up, you flatter your eyes open and see Xavier beside you.
Remembering the events that unfolded last night you immedietly turn away but he caught you before you can turn your back.
"Star, can we talk? please?"
As you got up, you can see his disheveled face. Your eye also caught a tray nearby and you assumed he made you breakfast in bed.
You sighed as you look at him in the eye.
"I'll give you 5 minutes to speak, If what you did last night was forgivable—I might stay."
Relief immediately flashed in his eyes, He grabbed your hands and put in near his chest.
"Star..I'm so sorry for letting you sleep last night with doubts, It was never my intention at all—I swear I had it on my schedule and training just got long and I dozed off, when I realized I overslept I immedietly went to get your gift from MC."
"Gift? what gift?"
"It was supposed to be a surprise when we got here but everything got so late and I'm so sorry for ever hurting you my love, It would never be my intention."
He flashed you a quick smile and as you look on the corner of your room there was a home base setup and a playpen next to it, and the middle of it—was a white bunny wearing a purple tie.
"Xavier…"
"Hmm?"
"Is that a bunny?"
"Yes—"
You immedietly ran to the playpen as you took the small bundle of fluff and took a good look at the animal, you've been begging your boyfriend to adopt a pet. You told him any pet would be okay as long as it resembled him.
As you play with your bunny more, you felt him crouch beside you—you stilled, not quite sure if you forgive him just yet.
"I know I messed up and I promise to make up for it. I cleared the whole week for us two and I planned a vacation to the beach so we can spend time together, and to erase any more doubts you might have in that pretty head of yours—the bunny came from MC."
You look at him one last time, sighing as you take his hand. He smiled and kissed the back of your palm.
"I promise to make it up to you."
"And set alarms?"
"That too."
You both shared a laugh, as you play with the new addition to the family—as Xavier plans your itinerary for the whole week.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 RAFAYEL
You threw the last tissue from your tissue holder at the filled trashcan across the room, reaching for the thermometer from the table—the results still stayed the same. The little beep still confirmed that you are— unfortunately still sick.
The ringing of your doorbell made you groan, assuming it would be one of your friends since you messaged—no begged one of them to get you medicine. You bundled up your blankets til you reach the ground still dizzy as you use every doorway, table and chair to get you to your front door.
As you open the door—purple hair greeted.
Fuck, you really should've looked at the intercom.
"Raf I'm not in the mood."
You began to close the door when he blocked it using his arm.
"Cutie please hear me out—you can throw me out once I tell you what happened."
"I don't really wanna hear anything you sa—"
You said as a cough immediately cut you off, Rafayel used this to opportunity to open the door before immediately diving in with his knees as you began to lose your balance.
"Honey, I know what I did was terrible. The sea's would even agree with you."
As he pointed to the non-stop rain that was going outside.
"But I promise I never intended for any of it to happen! And I don't have any excuse for my mistake. I set every calendar and alarms because I know how important it would be to us. If I could do it all over again I would've went to you first thing in the morning. Please believe me on this."
God he looked like he wanted to cry.
You let out a few coughs before Rafayel guided you to the kitchen and grabbed you a glass of water.
"Raf…I can do it myself."
"Love I'm already a bad boyfriend for letting you get sick in the first place, please let me take care of you."
You sighed as you know there was no getting out of this.
"Cutie please just rest, I promise to be here when you sleep up and when you wake up."
The rain hadn't let up by the time he got you settled on the bed, three blankets deep like an eggroll with a cold cloth on your forehead.
"You're staring," you mumbled, eyes half-closed.
"I'm sorry cutie." Rafayel was perched on the edge of the bedside table.
You wanted to stay annoyed at him—you'd earned the right to, after being alone and feverish while he was off spending time with someone else—but the guilt on his face was so plain it was almost funny. Rafayel, who never apologized for anything without turning it into a performance, hadn't cracked a single joke since he walked in.
"You missed the date," you said quietly. Not accusing, just tired.
"I know." His jaw tightened. "And I'll spend the rest of it making up for it, if you let me. Starting with—" he stood, already moving toward your kitchen, "—soup. Do you have soup? You don't have soup. I'm making you soup."
"Raf."
He was already standing up purple hair flowing in all places—un-styled.
"Sleep. I'll be quick."
The door clicked shut behind him. You listened to his footsteps fade down the hall, the rain still hammering the window, and let your eyes fall closed—half annoyed, half something warmer you didn't have the energy to fight tonight, believing that he might deliver to his promise, you closed your eyes.
⎚-⎚ ZAYNE
The lights immediately blinded you as you opened your eyes.
"You're awake!" The nurse said as her eyes widens, she went out and called someone—a doctor you assumed as she asks you questions.
"Okay Miss, I'm going to ask a few questions okay?"
"I already know the drill"
The poor soul looks done with you but she still needs to do her job. After you answered all her questions right, the door immediately opened as you saw the visual of your boyfriend looking extremely disheveled, with his sleeves not looking as neatly as they did always, his hair looks like he ran through it with his hands a hundred times.
He immediately relaxed with the sight of you sitting up and coherent.
"My love, are you doing alright? What happened? Why were you hurt?"
"You should go to your other patients." You said coldly.
"I believe that wasn't my question Y/N."
You ran through your hair as you look at him with frustration—the look on your face says it all, you were upset and he doesn't even know why.
"Look, I get it—I'm not half as important as your patients. I can deal with this myself."
Zayne's face contorted to confusion then hurt all-together.
"What are you saying?"
"What I'm saying is, I got here hurt and bloodied expecting—praying that maybe one of your colleagues would patch me up! I was expecting myself to say sorry for being late because I accidentally hurt myself! but what I got here is you! you weren't even getting ready and I pushed all of it aside then I heard you you'll deal with us later, is that all I am to you? someone you can keep waiting?"
Tears were falling down your eyes as you exploded, this wasn't usual for you but you were so hurt and so dissapointed that you wanted answers, you wanted assurance from your boyfriend.
He immediately held your hand, as you exploded. Using his evol to cool you down while you were sobbing, he laid pecks and kisses throughout your whole palm right down to your wrist.
Zayne pressed another kiss to your wrist before finally lifting his head, his sea-glass eyes meeting yours.
"Let me explain," he said quietly, "Please."
You sniffled, saying nothing as you look at him—taking everything in you not to pull your hand away.
"Twenty minutes before you arrived, a transplant patient—MC was in the ICU…she started rejecting the organ. Sudden hemorrhaging. I was the only cardiothoracic attending on the floor and I was her primary physician as well." His thumb traced slow circles over your knuckles, grounding himself. "The 'I'll deal with it later'—that wasn't about you. Dr. Alvaro asked if we were still doing the case review after rounds. I said it without thinking—I didn't even hear Grayson because I had a phone in my hand, they were paging me non-stop after that my mind was already in that operating room."
Your breath hitched. "Then why didn't you just—"
"Because two minutes after that, someone said your name." His jaw tightened at the memory. "I heard the word 'Unconscious' and 'Y/N' in the same sentence, and I don't remember walking out of that ICU. I don't remember if I even scrubbed out properly. I just remember thinking I couldn't be the one to look at you like a patient — that if I saw you hurt and had to be clinical about it, I might lose my mind."
He finally looked up, and for a man who dealt in life and death every day with a steady hand, he looked almost lost.
"So I sent Nurse Lin in first. I told myself it was so you'd get looked at faster. But really — I think I was scared. Scared that if I walked in and saw you bleeding, I wouldn't be able to hold it together long enough to help you."
"You could've just told me that," You whispered.
"I know." He brought your hand up again, resting his forehead against it this time instead of his lips. "I'm sorry, You have every right to be angry. But please know I would never hurt you."
You let out a shaky breath.
"I thought... I don't know what I thought. That I wasn't a priority. That you'd rather be anywhere else."
"There is nowhere else I would rather be than right here," he said, voice low and certain, the kind of certainty he usually reserved for diagnoses. "You are not someone I keep waiting, Y/N. You are the reason I run."
Zayne rose slightly, pulling her gently into his chest, careful of your bandaged arm, and just held you there.
"I promise to never make you feel that way again my love."
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨 ⋆｡°✩ SYLUS
You didn't go back to your shared quarters that night. Instead, you took the spare room near Luke and Kieran's, ignoring their wide-eyed panic when you dropped your bag by their door and simply said,
"I'm staying here tonight."
"Miss—I don't think you should—Boss is going to kill us," Kieran whispered frantically getting you to sleep at your room with Sylus.
The first text came an hour later.
sylus
Where are you.
You didn't answer.
Then.
sylus
It's not what you think.
You scoffed at that text—Yeah sure.
You didn't answer that one as well.
By morning, there were twenty missed calls and voicemails ranging from sly to irritation to worry. Though you weren't in the mood to parse the difference. You went about Hunt business like normal, but this time you it was apparent you were upset.
As you look at the Wanderers, you didn't bother to clean your mess up. Even though you were always particular with this part of the job.
When Sylus tried to approach you in the briefing room, you addressed Kieran instead, asking him to relay the mission details "since apparently that's how we're doing things now."
You immediately saw how his jaw tightened.
This went on for two days. You redirected his calls to Luke. You sent mission reports through Kieran. You ate meals at different times, timed almost surgically to avoid him — and for someone who ran half of N109 Zone with terrifying efficiency, Sylus looked, for the first time in longer than you could remember, completely out of his depth.
On the third night, you found him waiting outside your door. Not smug. Not composed. Just leaning against the frame like he'd been standing there a while.
"This is childish, even for you kitten." he said, but there was no bite in it.
"So is leaving someone waiting for hours and not saying a word," you replied, arms crossed. "Funny how you only noticed the silence when it was coming from me."
Something in his expression cracked—just slightly.
"I know I messed up Sweetie. I'm asking you to let me explain, not disappear on me for three days."
"You disappeared first."
He sighed, as he suddenly carried you with ease. You took it as a sign to shuffle but his hold on you was incredibly tight, to the point that you can't even use your evol to disarm him.
He took you to his room, Luke and Kieran giving you a smile with sweat beading down their faces when you saw them in the hallway.
As he set you down on the bed you began talking.
"What do you want Sy? I don't want to waste my time."
"I have all the time in the world to keep you here sweetie."
Frustrated you glared at him "You could've explained days ago," you finally said.
"I tried calling. You didn't want to hear it."
"Because you didn't even try before that! You just left me sitting there for hours, and the first thing I see when I finally track you down is you getting cozy with someone else! like I'm some loose end." Your voice cracked slightly on the last word, and you hated that it did.
Sylus's expression shifted — the careful composure he wore like armor slipping for just a moment.
He ran a hand through his hair, something almost like frustration directed at himself. "Miss Hunter needed a cover story to meet with Dimitri near the south checkpoint. It wasn't something I could loop you into safely—not until I knew it wasn't a setup."
"And the pose? The way you touched her?"
"Necessary theater for anyone watching. Nothing more."
He finally closed the distance, close enough that you had to tilt your head up to meet his eyes.
"But you standing there, watching it happen without context — that wasn't necessary. That was me being careless with you, and I know it."
Silence settled between you, softer now than it had been in days.
"Three days, Sylus," you said quietly. "You let this go on for three days before you actually came to talk to me."
"I know." He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch featherlight, like he wasn't sure you'd let him. "I was giving you space. And also — if I'm honest — I didn't know how to walk up to you without making it worse."
That, at least, sounded like the truth.
You finally let your arms drop, some of the tension bleeding out of your shoulders.
"Next time you have to disappear for the job, you tell me. Even if it's just 'I can't explain right now, trust me.' Don't leave me guessing."
"Deal." His hand slid to rest against your cheek, thumb brushing gently. "I really am sorry. I don't say that often, so take it as the miracle it is."
You huffed a small, reluctant laugh despite yourself. "Don't ruin the moment."
"Wouldn't dream of it." He leaned down, resting his forehead against yours the way he always did when words weren't quite enough. "Come back to our room tonight?"
You paused, just long enough to make him sweat a little more — small payback — before finally nodding. "Fine. But you're explaining everything. All of it."
"Deal." he agreed, pulling you into him at last, the tension of the last three days finally unwinding between you both.
｡‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡⋆ CALEB
You woke up with someone holding your hand as you breathe through an oxygen mask.
As you move your fingers—Caleb immediately met your eyes.
"Baby? are you awake? can you hear me?" Caleb says as he meets your eyes.
Coughing you take the mask off as you let go of his hand. You immediately see how his expression changed and how he reached for your hand again.
"Y/N please."
He said as his eyes got watery.
Your throat feels raw, scraped from the tube they must have had down it. The beeping monitor is too loud, the hospital light too white, and Caleb's hand is too warm against yours—like nothing happened. Like you didn't watch him through a door, pressed close to her, whispering, hiding something in his palm.
"Don't," you rasp, pulling your hand back again, ignoring the way pain flares hot across your chest when you move. "Don't touch me."
Caleb's face crumbles. He's still in the same clothes from that night—blood on the cuffs—like he hasn't let himself change, hasn't let himself sleep.
"Y/N, it's not what you think. I swear to God, it's not what you think—"
"Wait—" Your hand comes up weakly, cutting him off, and your eyes drop to your own chest for the first time—to the bandages peeking out under the hospital gown, to the IV taped into your arm, to his blood-soaked cuffs which you now realize is not his blood at all.
"I got— what happened? Caleb, what happened to me?"
His breath catches like you'd hit him. For a second he just stares at you, like he can't believe you didn't know, like he forgot you'd wake up to a body that doesn't remember the worst part yet.
"You—" he starts, then stops, jaw tight, gathering himself before he says it plain because you deserve plain. "You ran out of the building. After you saw me with her. You weren't looking, there was a car, and someone in it—someone connected to me, to the shit with my enemies—took the shot they'd been waiting to take on me for weeks." His hand hovers near your cheek like he's afraid to actually touch you.
"It hit you instead. Right here." His fingers ghost just above the bandage, not touching, shaking. "Missed your heart by less than an inch, Y/N. Less than an inch."
He continued with shaking breaths.
"They told me—" his voice cracks clean in half, "—they told me if it had been half an inch to the left I wouldn't have gotten to sit here holding your hand at all."
He drags in a breath that shakes on the way in.
"You almost died running from a lie. My lie. Something I let you believe because I was too much of a coward to just tell you what I was planning." His hand finally closes, gentle, careful, over yours. "And now I need you to hear the truth, even if you hate me for how long it took me to say it."
He nods down at the box still open in his other hand, the ring glinting under the harsh light, his whole body braced like he expects you to throw it back at him.
"I wasn't with her the way you think. I was hiding this. I've been planning it for weeks. That night I was asking her if I got everything right by your standards—because I wanted to get it right, I wanted it to be perfect and instead I got you nearly killed by hiding the one thing I've ever wanted to be honest with you about."
His forehead drops against the mattress by your hip, shoulders shaking.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Just—please. Please let me explain the rest, and then you can hate me if you still want to."
Your chest aches—from the wound, from the words, from all of it tangled together—but you don't pull your hand away this time. You just stare at him, at this man who is normally so composed, so terrifyingly in control, completely unraveled on his knees beside your hospital bed.
"Explain," you whisper. "All of it. Don't leave anything out this time."
He nods, fast, like he's grateful you're even letting him try.
"Three weeks ago I went to your favorite jeweler. The one you pointed at in that shop window in the spring and pretended you weren't looking at." A wet, broken almost-laugh escapes him. "I noticed. I always notice. I had it made, and then I didn't know where to keep it because you go through everything, baby, you organize my socks—everything, so I panicked and I left it in the my office because in this way I can secure it without you accidentally seeing it.
His hand tightens around yours, and when he speaks again his voice is thick with a different kind of guilt. "That night—the night you saw me with her—that was supposed to be it, Y/N. I had the restaurant booked. I had the whole night planned down to the minute. I was supposed to be at that table waiting for you an hour before you even got there, ring in my pocket, and instead I was standing in my office because the gem had come loose and I was panicking, trying to get it fixed before you showed up, asking her what I should say, how I should say it, wanting every single detail to be perfect for once in my life."
His jaw tightens like it costs him something to keep going. "I lost track of time. I didn't answer your texts because I didn't want to lie to you over the phone about where I was. And so you came looking for me instead—on the one night I most needed you to just stay put and trust me—and you found me standing close to another woman with something hidden in my hands, on the exact night I was supposed to be putting a ring on your finger over candlelight. No wonder you ran. No wonder you didn't hear a word I would've said if I'd had the chance to say it."
His hand tightens further around yours, desperate.
"I should've told you months ago what I was planning instead of trying to build some perfect, secret night around it. If I had, you'd have known exactly what you were looking at. You'd have known to wait, to ask, to trust me one more second instead of turning and running into the street. You'd still be sleeping easy in my bed right now instead of—"
He gestures at the machines, the mask, the bandage, and his voice finally gives out completely, shoulders shaking with everything he's been holding since that night.
For a long moment you don't say anything. You just watch him—red-eyed, unshaven, still in the clothes he bled your blood onto—and you feel the anger in your chest finally start to loosen its grip, not because it wasn't justified, but because you can see, plainly, that he's telling the truth. Caleb doesn't cry. Caleb doesn't kneel. Caleb doesn't beg. And he's doing all three.
"You should've told me," you say quietly. "Not about the ring. About the danger. About your enemies. I didn't even know to be scared, Caleb. I didn't know I needed to look both ways."
"I know." His voice is wrecked. "I know, and that's on me too. I wanted to protect you from it, and instead I almost got you killed by keeping you in the dark. I'm done doing that. Whatever happens with us—with this—" he glances at the ring, throat working, "—I'm not hiding anything from you again. Ever. I'd rather you be angry at the truth than nearly die for a lie."
You breathe out slowly, wincing at the pull in your chest, and finally—finally—let your fingers curl properly around his.
"Ask me again," you murmur. "Properly. Not on a hospital floor with me hooked up to a monitor and looking like death."
A stunned, wet laugh breaks out of him, disbelieving and grateful all at once. "Right here. Right now?"
"You already ruined the restaurant plan," you say, the ghost of a smile finally tugging at your mouth despite everything. "Might as well."
He laughs again, shakier this time, and lifts himself up just enough to be eye level with you, ring held between two trembling fingers.
"Y/N," he says, voice low and cracked open in a way you've never heard from him before, "I have never in my life been as scared as I was watching you get wheeled away from me, thinking the last real thing between us was you looking at me like I was a stranger. I don't want to almost lose you again without you knowing, without any doubt in your mind, that you are it for me. All of it. The good, the ugly, the parts of my life I hate that I have to carry. Marry me. Let me spend the rest of it making sure you never have to run from me again."
Your eyes fill despite your best efforts, and this time you let them. "Yes," you whisper, voice cracking on the word. "Yes, you idiot. Yes."
He slides the ring onto your finger with hands that are still shaking, then presses his forehead so gently to yours that it doesn't hurt at all—just warm, and real, and finally, finally honest.
ⵉ߮ 𐄁᠇𐄁 ߮ᜢ VALKO
You woke up when you heard rummaging around your studio.
You went down assuming it was a robber when, the top head with maroon hair greeted you.
Valko arrived six hours late from your scheduled date. You watched him rummage around your studio when he finally stops infront of the trashcan where you threw the metal flower you made him.
You also immediately saw how his face paled in comparison to his hair.
Looking up his eyes found yours, as you try to go upstairs he ran towards you.
"Y/N." His voice cracked on your name.
You flinched, but didn't look his way. "Go home, Valko."
"I found this in the trash." He knelt in front of you, holding the flowers out on his open palm like an offering, like evidence, like his own heart handed over for you to do with as you pleased. His hands, so steady when bending iron to his will, were shaking now.
"You made this for me. You burned yourself making this for me, and I—"
His voice broke completely, and for a man who could reshape steel with a thought, and for a man who was feared, he sounded extremely small.
"I need you to let me explain before you decide I don't deserve to know why you're hurting like this."
"There was a commotion in the lower district," he said quickly, before you could even ask. "A supply cart collided with a stall, cargo everywhere, people trapped under crates—I couldn't just walk past it, Y/N, not when I could bend the metal off them faster than anyone else there. That's why I was late. I wasn't avoiding you. I was trying to get back to you as fast as I could."
You said nothing, just stared at him. Before finally showing him the photo your bestfriend sent you.
Valko's jaw tightened as he saw the photo again on your phone screen when you finally turned it toward him, the accusation clear in the way your hand shook holding it out
"And this—" he gestured helplessly at the picture still glowing on your screen, at his arms wrapped around a woman who wasn't you, "—this is not what it looks like. I swear on every forge I've ever worked. She tripped. There was rubble everywhere, uneven ground, and she stumbled right as I turned around, and I just—caught her. That's all. I didn't even know her name until after."
You let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking your head.
"You expect me to believe that? Valko, she had her arms around you in the second picture."
"Because she was startled and grabbed onto the nearest thing, which happened to be me—"
"Convenient."
"Y/N—"
Your phone buzzed again before he could finish. Another message from your best friend. You looked down, and whatever color remained in your face drained further as you read it.
"Girl. It's literally in the news. Look."
Attached was a link—an article, published only twenty minutes ago, headline blazing across the top: "Good Samaritan Saves Bystanders in Lower District Collapse—Local Woman Injured in Cart Collision Rescued." Below it, a photo nearly identical to the one your friend had sent, except this one had context—rubble, panicked onlookers, a woman clutching her ankle where she'd twisted it in the fall, Valko's arms the only thing that kept her from hitting the ground wrong.
Your hand covering your mouth, phone nearly slipping from your fingers. "Oh my god."
Valko didn't say I told you so. He didn't say anything smug at all. He just watched the guilt crash into you the same way the truth had crashed into him minutes earlier, kneeling in front of a trash bin holding the dented piece of what you'd made him.
"I'm not angry that you doubted it," he said quietly, reaching for your hand—the same calloused, burn-marked hand. "I'm angry that I gave you a reason to doubt at all. I was late. I didn't call. And you were sitting here with something you clearly poured everything into, and instead of feeling loved, you felt like it had all been for nothing."
In his other hand, revealing the flowers still cradled there, dented slightly from where it had hit the bottom of the trash bin.
"You made this for me, and I made you doubt me enough to throw it away. So please—" his voice cracked, raw and honest in a way he rarely allowed, "—let me be the one to make this right. Both things. Me being late, and the fact that you ever thought for one second I could look at someone else the way I look at you."
You looked down at both of your hands, then back up at him—windswept, breathless, still smelling faintly of smoke and iron from a fire he hadn't even started for you.
"Next time," you said, voice thick but steadier now, curling your burned fingers around his, "just answer your phone. I don't care how many carts collapse."
a/n: FAAAAAAAAAAH this was so fun to do! i really liked how i approached caleb's storyline! also xavier could never do u wrong (i stand by it) thanks for all the love! i have so much in store for u guys <3
👀👀👀 damn. Got me. I gotta now. Debating posting some oc stuff but im still working on her backstory.
--
"Its just a sprained ankle," She sighed, arms crossed.
Corbeau scowled at her. "If you hadnt been so reckless, you wouldnt be out of commission. Now, lift your leg. I wont ask again."
"Corbeau, i have enough pillows," she scolded as he hovered beside her bed.
A sprained ankle. Enough to make her limp her way out of the battle zone. Enough to cause Urbain to call the man currently trying to give her yet another pillow hed found in the hotel storage. Enough to bark at some poor grunt to get more to ensure there were plenty.
He checked the ice pack laying over her wrapped ankle. "We need to keep it from becoming too inflamed. Thatll help you--"
"I know how this works, Cor," she growled, irritated. "Stop treating me like a baby."
She was frustrated. It was a slip while ambushing trainers in the battle zone. She was in her element when she misstepped. Thankfully, the roto parachute activated but she landed wrong. She limped to the nearby bench and called Zach for a ride.
Of course, as soon aa Corbeau found out, he hurried to Hotel Z and began to fuss.
His fingers gripped her chin as he made her look up at him. His eyes met hers, stern enough to make her retreat a slight. "Sunshine, i am worried. Alright? I get a call from Urbain saying you got hurt and you expect me to be calm?"
She sighed softly, shoulders lowering. He kissed her cheek. "Look at me. I want to fuss over you. I want to take care of you. And dammit i want to spoil you. Let me."
After a beat, she grumbled, "No more pillows."
He smiled warmly and kissed her forehead. "Okay. But what can i get you?"
PLZA Imagine: Going to Corbeau after Urbain's Portrayal (GN Reader)
Context: This is about Urbain disbanding Team MZ to join his nepo baby CEO job, and the reader has severe trust issues that leave them absolutely wrecked afterwards
When one of his grunts anxiously informed him that you were here to see him, Corbeau was already a little confused. You had started visiting him more and more lately - to his absolute delight, though good luck getting him to admit that - but the shakiness of their voice and the odd hour had him on edge. Corbeau was very fond of you, so much so that he couldn't even hide it anymore. There was a reason why he called you sunshine. To him, you were the brightest star in all of Lumiose, so when you stepped out of the elevator with obvious tear tracks on your face and a haunted look in your eyes, it hit him like a blow to the stomach.
“Hey Corbeau..” You said, voice raw with emotions as you wiped away tears, “Can we talk for a bit? Something happened and I didn't want to go to anyone else.”
He'll admit that some part of his was giddy about you only coming to him, but it was immediately swallowed up by worry and pure protective instincts. He shot up from his chair and rounded the desk with alarming speed, ushering you towards the couch as he told Philippe to bring out the tea set.
As he sat down beside you on the couch, his eyes were trained on you. Philippe gently placed the tea set in front of you and said that he'd give you two space, to which you thanked him gratefully. In Corbeau’s mind, it was a testament to your character that even when you're clearly hurt you still make an effort to be kind. But many other things were going through his mind too, namely potential revenge plans for whoever caused you this much distress.
“What happened, sunshine?” He asked, eyes and voice so soft, so unlike his usual bravado, that it took your breath away.
Your lips quivered as you told him that Urbain was disbanding Team MZ. Corbeau jerked back a bit.
“What!? Why would he do that??”
“He got bottle-fed a CEO position at Quasartico Inc because of his mom or something, so now he's abandoning everything to focus on that instead.” You rolled your eyes, your frustration clear as day before your face fell into a look of deep sadness.
“I just- I know that it's probably dumb, but I'm so hurt by this. Urbain knows about my trust issues and he promised me that he wouldn't do anything, and now he's not just betraying me but our entire group because he found a better gig?”
Your voice cracked and tears began to pour down your face as you spoke, and Corbeau was halfway between comforting you and planning Urbain's downfall in his head.
“I-I thought I meant something to him!” You sobbed, “He said that I did! But then he goes and does what everyone else has, dumped me at the soonest opportunity! Does anyone even want me around or-”
“I do.” Corbeau interjected, voice strained with stress, both from his anger towards Urbain and heartbreak at watching you cry.
You smiled weakly and took a minute to wipe your tears.
“Thank you. That's why I came here. I haven't even told the rest of Team MZ yet, I just sped here as soon as he pissed me off.”
Despite himself, Corbeau smiled a little smugly.
“Well, it's good to know that I'm your number one guy.” He joked to lighten the mood, though it was far less of a joke than he'd care to admit.
After smiling at him, you sighed and rested your elbow on the couch arm, hunching forward and cupping your forehead in stress.
“It's just- it's such bullshit.” You sniffled, “When I want a position at the Rust Syndicate I have to ‘think about my friends’, but when Urbain gets handed a CEO position out of pure nepotism he gets to throw everything we had away?”
“You… wanted the position I offered you?” Corbeau raised his eyebrow at you.
“Yeah.. you mean a lot to me. Much more than I apparently mean to anyone else.”
“If you want I'd be happy to put him in even deeper debt this time. Only this time he won't have you to bail him out.” He smiled wickedly, like a cheeky Arbok, “Ooor, I can ruin this fancy new CEO position for him.”
“Corbeau!” You giggled, making his heart flutter as your radiant smile reappeared, “As satisfying as that would be right now, maybe hold off.”
You teasingly looked to the side as if contemplating something.
“Though, depending on how things go with him from here, don't take that option off the table just yet.”
Arceus above, you really are perfect, aren't you. Anyone else would have run for the hills when they saw him and here you are, an angel still playing along with his games. You would be so perfect at his side, the queen/king of the Rust Syndicate as he got to care for you like you truly deserve-
“Thank you so much, Corbeau. There's a reason why I came to you.” You blushed a little and bashfully avoided his eyes.
“It's my pleasure.” He said, trying to put on a suave front despite how hard his heart was beating, “Whatever I can do for you, consider it done.”
With his fingertips he gently lifted your chin to look him in the eyes. And despite your face being red from crying, he still looked at you so lovingly. It went against everything you had learned, especially given that he was basically a Mafia boss, but he made you feel safe in a way that you had never experienced.
“I know you have issues with being abandoned. Trust me, as a former street kid I get it. But you're not alone anymore. And no matter what bullshit you're going through, nothing comes before you now, ‘kay? You will always be my top priority, and I'll spend however long I need to prove that to you.”
Your face flushed bright red and fresh tears clouded your eyes, though you blinked them away so you could see if there was any malice in his. There wasn't.
“I love you, Corbeau.”
The words escaped your mouth before you could process them, and though you tried to flee after you realized what you had just said, Corbeau just chuckled.
“Not exactly how I pictured us getting together, but I'll take it. Anything for you, sugar.” 💜
what abt a zuko x reader where reader and zuko just got married, but a fire nation tradition states that 2 fire sages have to be present in the bedroom to confirm the marriage had been consummated. reader finds out as her lady’s maids dress her in ceremonial yet revealing robes meant for the wedding night, and reader feels anxious but willing to do anything to prove herself worthy of being fire lady. zuko only finds out abt it when reader enters the bedroom followed by two fire sages who go on and on abt tradition, and zuko loudly defends his and readers right to privacy, banning the practice. After they leave, zuko and reader sit, and zuko helps wipe off reader’s ceremonial makeup and comforts her.
can get kinda heated w tension after that lol but i liked this kind of angsty portrayal of zuko rewriting old fire nation practices while defending his love.
𝓢𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝓢𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐘 ❤︎
story based on this ask ⊹ fem!reader ⋮ angst if you squint, comfort 𐙚 1.8k words
✉️ ྀི ៸៸៸ wrote this much quicker than i thought so hope u enjoy it nonnie (๑´3｀๑)
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀getting married to the fire lord was honestly a dream come true for you. having grown up with him all these years and to witness right before your eyes him turn into the most beautiful and courteous man you have ever had the pleasure of knowing was truly a delight. and when he finally proposed to you under the twinkling stars where the both of you had had your first date all those years ago, you felt your heart burst with such joy and ever since then it felt as if you were floating in cloud nine.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀however, you had not expected the obligations that came with being wedded to the nation's sovereign. you were aware of the royal traditions that you were expected to do before the wedding ceremony including drinking nuptial wine and exchanging the beautiful golden-plated ruyis to one another. the one tradition that you were not enlightened to was of the consummation rituals . . which meant for two older fire sages to be the ones to be eye-witnesses that the coition had indeed been fulfilled.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀zuko had never mentioned this to you. was it out of respect for you, you could not say for certain. but you were sure that he would have — at the very least he would have informed you that this was just part of the traditions of the royal family. and while you may not have understood it, being a simple commoner yourself, you would have obliged to it and you would have been prepared for what was to come.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀so you sat there, letting the maids dress you for this auspicious night — draping you in this opulent red silk gown that swathed you gorgeously, your shoulders and chest exposed to the cool air that blew within your changing chambers. one of them was busy pinning your hair up into a stylish bun, adorned with flowers while the other was tinting your cheeks a lovely rosy hue and doing her best to find the perfect lip shade to complement your entire look.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀you should have been feeling beautiful and thrilled for this night. it was a night you had dreamt of for many moons. do not be fooled, it was not as if you and zuko had never been intimate at all — it just simply never crossed the line into making love（as he so sweetly put it.）he was not a man who followed every single custom of his nation but he had told you that the one thing he would adhere to was that of saving oneself until marriage because he believed it to be a sacred moment for the two of you to share only as husband and wife. and without a fuss, you agreed to his terms.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀but tonight, you were rattled with feelings not of excitement or anticipation. instead you were filled with dread. the maids were not oblivious to your nervous demeanour either and they did everything they could to reassure you, assuring you that this would be a wonderful shared experience for the both of you and that this would simply mark your newly appointed role as the nation's fire lady which was nothing short of a blessing. whilst you deeply appreciated it, their kind words did nothing to ease your jittering heart and the apprehension only bubbled up with each passing second.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"lady ꒰ y/n ꒱, we must leave for your chambers . ." one of the maids said in a quiet voice, holding out her hand for you to hold. reluctantly, you interlaced your fingers with hers, giving it a small squeeze to try to assuage yourself of the anxiety that coursed through your entire body. "all will be fine. it will be over quicker than you expect." those words were meant to be comforting but it just left a sinking feeling in your lower abdomen. what you thought would be a sweet, lovely and private night for the both of you seemed to be turning into a spectacle of sorts and it unnerved you more than anything ever had.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀they guided you down the grand halls which seemed to be closing in on you despite its grandiose nature. your bare feet echoed down the hall accompanied by your heavy, ragged breathing. your mind was consumed with thoughts of what was about to happen in the next few minutes. you wondered if all the fire ladies before you felt as uneasy as you were in this moment, trembling with fear upon thinking about the events that were meant to take place once the doors to the bedroom chambers were sealed shut. you wondered if maybe you were the only fire lady to be dreading this whole consummation . . which made you question your deference to the fire nation.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀after what felt like an eternity, you were finally at your chambers. two elderly sages stood right by the door, their expressions unreadable. no emotion behind those eyes. they truly saw this as nothing more than a ritual to be done with, not as something to be cherished between wife and husband.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀the maids scuttled away quickly, leaving you there with the two men. they eyed you up and down with disdain, a lump forming in your throat as they did so. one of them lifted their arm up and gestured towards the door standing before the three of you, silently ordering you to open it. your hands were shaking, knees nearly buckling at the thought of what was about to take place. but with a deep breath and a desire to please zuko, you pushed the aperture wide open.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀the first thing you heard was zuko's sweet voice calling you with that endearing nickname. "my dove!" he cooed, falling out the bed. "i was beginning to—" his words were cut off when he saw you walk in with worriment etched all over your features . . then followed by the two older fire sages walking closely behind you. he was now seething.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀before you or either of the men could take another step forward, his voice came out cold and bitter, "what is the meaning of all this?" the whole atmosphere in the room turned bleak, nobody daring to speak up against the fire lord. but his eyes pierced through to the sages' and they were ultimately forced to talk.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"my lord, you must know of the consummation tradition. two respected sages are meant to be present within the bedroom during coition. to be the witnesses. this must not be foreign to you, lord zuko. you—"
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"once again, i ask you what is the meaning of all of this?" his voice sliced through the tense air, making even your body go rigid at his tone. he rarely ever spoke in that manner and so you knew he was not going to let this slide easily.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"you firstly dare to patronise me. how shameful. i am more than aware about the wedding rituals of my nation. however, i very clearly remember speaking to you two earlier this week that this was not something i wished to put my wife through. do you remember?" zuko was striding slowly towards the sages, footsteps heavy and his eyes narrowed in anger. you swore you even saw steam rising from the top of his head.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"fire lord zuko . ." the older of the two stammered, doing his best to maintain composure under the frightening gaze of his superior. "we do remember our discussion. however, that simply goes against the traditions our great ancestors drew for us centuries before. it would be a disgrace if we were to suddenly change our customs, my lord."
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"then let our ancestors besmirch my name." zuko said with conviction. "let them rage upon me for forsaking their awful customs. for wishing to live in accordance with my own beliefs. but they cannot besmirch the divine sanctity of my wife. i do not desire that my wife's loss of virginity become a spectacle to you or to our ancestors before. this consummation remains between me and her. and that is final."
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀they tried to argue once again but the moment he bore his flames for them to see, burning furiously in the palm of his hands, they bowed and took their leave. once the doors shut, you collapsed to the floor, that dreaded weight finally being lifted off of you. you were overwhelmed, confused, grateful . . so many emotions flooded through you but you were instantly calmed when you felt your husband's arms around you, carrying you to the bed.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀his demeanour had shifted entirely. he was no longer heated（though you noticed the tiny flames that escaped his nostrils every time he exhaled.）he was now tending to you, removing the makeup off of your face with the most delicate hands. like he was afraid of breaking you.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"i am so sorry." he mumbled as he wiped the rosy tint off your cheeks. "i lost my temper. and it has been a very long time since that has happened . . i was just so enraged that they would so blatantly disobey my wishes like that. to follow some ridiculous ritual that lets them see you at your most vulnerable. it is truly a disgusting mentality."
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀before you could stop yourself, you were sobbing. your bottom lip quivered and hot tears streaked down your face. zuko immediately set down the bowl of water and towelette that he'd been using to wipe off your makeup and cupped your face in his hands with a touch so feather-like, you felt your heart swoon. "my angel." he whispered, swiping a tear away from your face. "are you okay?"
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"yes." you sniffled out. you held onto his arms, tugging him close to you and he knew that meant you wanted him to hold you in his arms. and so he did, gently pulling him into your embrace, caressing your hair and trailing kisses wherever he could on your skin. you continued to sob into his chest and he let you, whispering sweet nothings to you and telling you just how much he loved you.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀you knew zuko did. he loved you so proudly, so openly, and so unconditionally. he was there to defend you against anyone and he was always thinking of you. this night, you were reminded of the very reason you had fallen for this man in the first place.
if u write subby bakugo getting pegged i will ride to war under your banner
⋆ PAIRING: dad!/divorced!/prohero!bakugou x mom!/divorced! /teacher!reader
⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: 18+; smut (dom!reader x sub!bakugou; pegging; strap on; lube; mention of cuffs; use of ‘good boy’ and similar pet names)
⋆ WORD COUNT: 1.9K
A/N: this might be one of my most requested asks and im pretty sure i couldn’t even find all of the asks related to pegging lol so please enjoy
NOTE: if you'd like to be tagged in these mini/extra fics, please join the taglist here
Second Time Around Masterlist
Second Time Around: Extras Masterlist
The big day had finally arrived. Everything you had ordered had finally been delivered and there was only one thing left to do: wait for your boyfriend to come home.
And he finally did as Bakugou trudged inside, calling out, “I’m back, baby.”
You grinned, skipping out of your bedroom and into the living room. “Welcome home! I’ve been waiting.”
“Really?” Bakugou said with a smirk while taking his boots off. “You plan somethin’?”
You grinned and nodded your head. “Go shower and I’ll get ready.”
You took his hand, dragging him into your shared bedroom. “What, you buy some lingerie?”
“Yeah something like that,” you said vaguely and pushed him into the bathroom.
You had to hold back your excitement as you whipped open your closet door while hearing the water running in the shower. A few weeks prior, you and Bakugou had a conversation where he expressed being open to being pegged which excited you way more than you expected. The next day you immediately ordered everything you needed but Bakugou hadn’t brought it up since.
So the way Bakugou froze immediately after exiting the bathroom, shirtless and only wearing boxers while towel drying his hair, made complete sense. He stared at you wide eyed to the sight before him.
On the bed you had laid out a bottle of lube, a strap on, and a pair of fuzzy handcuffs.
“The fuck is this?” Bakugou asked, tossing his towel back into the bathroom.
“Remember that conversation we had a few weeks ago?” You asked coyly, putting your hands behind your back and slowly inching towards him. “You know, after I cuffed you to the bed and made you beg?”
Bakugou's face burned as he blushed. “... I dunno what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”
“Don’t lie, Katsuki.”
“It was a joke.”
“Really?” You asked, quirking a brow at him. “So it was a joke when you were moaning at the thought of me fucking y–”
“Okay, okay, I get it!” Bakugou exclaimed, cutting you off with a beet red face.
You approached him until you stood right in front of him, looking up at him with a sly smile. “So nothing about me fucking you intrigues you?”
You watched as Bakugou swallowed nervously. “No.”
“Hmm interesting,” you said with a hum. You looked down and back up at his face. “Then why are you so hard?”
“Fuck,” Bakugou cursed under his breath.
You grinned triumphantly and then shrugged as you said, “Look, if you really don’t want to then we don’t have to. I don’t wanna force you to do anything but if you’re just being proud like always… I might have to return these little gifts…”
Bakugou sighed, rubbing his temples with his hand. “Fine…”
“Fine what?”
Bakugou clenched his teeth. “You’re really pushin’ your fuckin’ luck right now.”
You stifled a laugh, grabbing his hand and pushing him onto the bed. You grabbed the cuffs, dangling them in his face. “Are you gonna behave or do I have to use these?”
Bakugou looked up at you as if he was at war with himself mentally. “... I don’t need ‘em.”
“Good,” you said and you tossed them aside, hearing them thud as they hit the ground.
One look at Bakugou and you knew despite the cool, calm, and collected front he was putting up, he was trying his best to not show how nervous he was. “Why’re you nervous, baby?” You asked, running your hand through his hair as you stood between his legs.
“I’m not,” he said adamantly. You gave him a look before he gave in and said, “I dunno… We’ve never done somethin’ like this before.”
“Don’t worry, Kats,” you whispered, leaning forward and palming him through his boxers. “I’ll take good care of you.
He groaned, grabbing your wrist instinctively as he didn’t expect it. “You’ll listen to everything I say, right?” You asked.
Bakugou was beyond flustered. He wasn’t used to you being the domineering one since he loved whispering the dirtiest things in your ear before fucking you through the mattress. And he was trying to keep his pride but his dick was rock hard.
“Yes, fuck, just…”
“Just what?”
Bakugou swallowed. “Touch me. Do somethin’.”
“Now I’ve told you before, Kats. You’ve got to ask nicely.”
He closed his eyes, too embarrassed to make eye contact with you. “Please.”
“There’s my good boy,” you whispered, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulling down to set his rigid cock free. Bakugou shuddered when you wrapped your fingers around him and pumped him slowly in your hand.
“Lay down against the pillows,” you ordered as you slipped his boxers down and off his legs.
You crawled onto the bed as he obliged your words, straddling his thighs. Bakugou gasped when you latched your lips around the head of his cock, your tongue swiping at his slit and licking at the beads of precome dribbling out of him.
“Fuck,” Bakugou said breathlessly as you begun to bob your head up and down along his shaft, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock as you stroked him along with your movements. “Just like that, baby.”
The minute you’d mentioned pegging and when he saw the strap on, Bakugou was excruciatingly hard. As much as he loved being on top and being the dominating one most of the time, there was something so exhilarating about watching you on top of him and telling him what to do.
That was why it didn’t take that long for Bakugou to come, painting your mouth white with his seed just from a few strokes of your hand and your mouth sucking him dry.
You detached your lips from him and looked down at his face with a satisfied smile as he breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling.
While he caught his breath, you took the bottle of lube and coated your fingers in the sticky substance. Bakugou tilted his head up and his eyes widened. “W-What’re you doing?”
“I have to stretch you out, Kats,” you explained, setting the bottle aside. “Having a dick inside you might be too much, baby.”
Bakugou swallowed nervously as you inched closer to him, putting his head back on the pillows as he closed his eyes, his body tense and waiting in anticipation.
You stuck your hand beneath him, your fingers gently caressing his hole, tracing his rim. “Shit–” Bakugou gasped, his body shuddering.
You carefully slipped two fingers into him, the lube making it easy to slide right in. “Fuck!” He hissed, his fingers curling into his palms into fists.
You assessed him as you began to curl and uncurl your fingers, your fingertips caressing his plush walls and Bakugou couldn’t hold back the whimpers that erupted out of him. The pace you undulated your fingers inside him increased and increased and Bakugou was fisting the bedsheets, writhing beneath you in pleasure.
Then your fingers curled against a specific spot that made him gasp, cursing under his breath as if he had been hit by a bolt of lightning. The shock of you even touching his prostate caused him to come again, ropes of white come splattering his stomach like a geyser.
“Ohh, so that’s where it is,” you murmured, smirking to yourself as you took your fingers out of him.
Bakugou was panting, his lips trembling and he opened his eyes again to see you grab the strap, and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head just from looking at the sheer size of it. “H-How the fuck is that gonna go inside me?”
“I knew my baby could handle a big dick, right, Kats?” You cooed as you finished buckling the strap onto your body. Grabbing the bottle of lube once again, you coated the black silicone cock all over.
You tossed the bottle aside as you nestled yourself in between his legs, making sure to bend his knees. Bakugou’s cock was hard again, veins bulging along his shaft as he throbbed, waiting for release again.
“You ready?” You asked, lining yourself up with his hole. Bakugou bit his lip and nodded, still unable to voice exactly how much he wanted this.
Nudging the head of the strap first, you carefully sunk yourself deep inside him, causing him to gasp sharply from the intense stretch.
You didn’t waste any time as you started to slowly snap your hips into him, your hands on either side of him flat on the bed as you put your entire focus on fucking him.
Bakugou was moaning and whimpering, sounds you’d never heard him make before and it only made you move faster, making sure to hit his sweet spot with every thrust.
“T-Too much–” He whimpered, tears pricking his eyes as his lips quivered. “It’s too much–!”
“Aw, don’t tell me my cock’s too big for you, honey,” you cooed, wanting to rile him up.
He clenched his jaw. “Shut– up–”
“That’s no way to talk, Kats,” you muttered, pushing his knees into his chest and gripping his thighs as you dug your cock deeper inside him.
Bakugou’s mouth fell open, saliva dribbling down the side of his face and tears streaking his face. The intensity of orgasming twice and nearing his third orgasm was overwhelming and slightly painful for his dick but he’d never felt such pleasure in his life.
You leaned down, hovering over him as you continued to fuck him, your hands moving up to grip his hands and pin them to the bed. “Tell me how good it feels, baby. Tell me how good it feels to have my cock in you.”
“I-It’s– Fuck– It’s too– much– Feels too– good–” He choked in between his moans, his face red and sweaty.
“I know, baby. I wanted to make my good boy feel so good,” you murmured, leaning down and kissing him sloppily, swallowing his whimpers.
His tears were wet against your cheeks and you pulled away from his lips as you swiped your tongue on his face, tasting the saltiness of his tears. “Don’t cry, pretty baby. I’ve got you.”
“So good–” He moaned, his fingers gripping yours so tightly you thought you were losing circulation. “I-I’m gonna–”
“I know, honey,” you cooed and you took one of your hands from his, wrapping your fingers around his dick as you started pumping him.
“W-Wait–! Y/N–” He gasped, his legs shaking. “Too much, baby– I’m gonna–”
“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you,” you whispered, shoving your cock as deep inside him as you could. “Let go, Kats.”
At the sound of your voice coupled with the way you were fisting him, Bakugou came, his come splatting against your fingers and his stomach. His body was twitching, his eyes half-lidded as he attempted to catch his breath for a third time.
You pulled out of him and his body trembled as you did. As you undid the buckles to the strap on and slipped it off your body, you looked down at him sprawled out on the bed. “You okay?” You asked and he just nodded his head, still out of breath and barely able to say anything. You let out a laugh. “You’re so cute, Kats.”
He clenched his jaw. “Shut… up…” He said in between breaths.
“Aw, where did my sweet boy go?” You cooed, laying beside him and rubbing his chest. “The one who was taking my dick so good?”
Bakugou glared at you. “You’re lucky… I’m outta energy…”
“Yeah, yeah,” you said with a wave of your hand and you got up to grab a towel. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
