You're sitting in your enemy's lap wounded from a fight. Zed's jaw clenched and his eyes hardened as he studies the wound

Zed then dabs at your wound trying to clean up the blood as you let out a hiss from the pain

"This is going to hurt"

Zed warns, pouring alcohol over your wounded arm making you writhe in his lap, panting and muffle your screams by burying your face in his neck. He presses a hand against your hip to steady you and clears his throat

"Y/n." He grounds "Stop moving"