#i'm angry that you never seemed to know me at all. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

secret-moonstruck · 2 days ago

Text

NOT SO SWEET REVENGE | k.sn

— Pairing: dom!sunoo x sub!fem reader | (Masterlist)

— Synopsis: Y/N made a comment in front of the others about her boyfriend being too sweet to try anything harder, and he decides to get revenge.

— Genre: smut

— Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, praising, cum inside, making out, clit play, begging, hickeys, cum eating, overstimulation, injuries, slaps, pet play, submission, blood.

— Notes: I'm new to this writing thing, and English is not my first language. Sorry for not writing so well, I wish to improve and bring better and well-written stories.

They were all celebrating Sunoo's birthday, her friend handed her a gift and said it was for the two of you. But as soon as he opened the present you saw him blush, without understanding why you approached to look at the contents of the box, as soon as you saw that they were handcuffs and lingerie you quickly closed the box and took it out of his hands,but it was already late, all his friends had already seen it and started making fun of it.

- Wow, apparently Sunoo's gifts aren't finished yet, you won't receive the real gift until later. - Ni-Ki was teasing him.

- Poor Sunoo. Don't overdo it with him, the child may not be able to handle the gift. - Jake made a mocking joke.

- That was unnecessary. - You scolded your friend.

- What, but the present is your face. - Her friend said laughing. - Don't pretend you don't like these things.

- I already said he's too sweet for that kind of thing. - You tried to whisper to her but Heeseung who was nearby heard you.

- “I already said he's too sweet for that kind of thing” - Heeseung couldn't help it and started laughing. - Lol, I can't believe you have a perverted girlfriend and you are “SWEET Sunoo”.

Sunoo, who was just blushing out of embarrassment for the gift, was now red with anger, you realized that he was really offended and you understood, the jokes out there would hurt anyone's ego.

- Sunoo, I'm sorry. - You approached trying to calm him down.

- You will certainly regret it. - His look scared her, he didn't have his usual sweet expression, his gaze seemed fierce, and his voice was much heavier than normal.

But when he took your hand dragging you to the room taking the box with the gifts you weren't afraid, the way he looked different made you want to know what this angry side of him could show you.

You could hear the others arguing, surely thinking that the jokes might have damaged your relationship, that he was really angry.

At the same time you thought about how he looked so sexy angry you wanted to grab him, you were also getting scared that he might break up with you, maybe he was really offended.

When he opened the door and pushed you inside making you fall on the bed you were already nervous about his silence, but when he turned to the closet looking for something and started talking, you were really scared that everything was ruined because of a stupid gift.

- I always strived to treat you as I thought you deserved. Always ignoring my own desires by always thinking of you first. And for what? So you can humiliate me in front of my friends? Saying I'm not good enough. - He laughed sarcastically

- Sunoo you know it's not that, you are perfect in everything, I would never complain about anything.

- No? But it looks like you've been complaining to your friend, right?

- It wasn't that, I wasn't complaining... Please tell me you don't want to break up with me.

- Break? It depends on the context. - He laughed ironically. - It doesn't matter, I tried to treat you in the best way possible, but if you want to be a bitch I will treat you exactly as you are, a bitch.

He found what he was looking for and turned back to you holding a box that he threw next to you on the bed. Your eyes widened, understanding what he meant by the context about breaking. Why did her always so romantic innocent sweet boyfriend have these things in his closet?

- Get out, put this on. - He threw some things at you and pointed towards the door telling you to go. - I'll give you some of what you wanted. But don't forget that it was you who asked for it.

- Get out? Wear this? But how will I get back?

- You've already made it clear to everyone that you're a bitch, what's the problem? - So many words you never expected to hear from him, it was making you dizzy.

You left the room with the things he gave you. You certainly couldn't leave the bathroom wearing that, the black lingerie might be pretty but it didn't cover anything, and the ears and tail... that was too much, you'd never walk down the hallway wearing that. Looking around you saw a towel and wrapped yourself in it so you could leave, luckily the hallway had no view of the room and no one passed by.

When you entered the room wrapped in a towel he got up from the bed and walked over to you.

- Who said you to cover yourself? - He pulled the towel from his body angrily.

He admired you, looking at every detail of your body, your smile completely the opposite of his normal smile. He always seemed sweet to you, but now his eyes really looked like a fox, a wild fox that was going to devour you.

- I knew it would look perfect on you.

As he walked away you remained frozen in place, feeling a mix of emotions, at the same time being confused, as it seemed like the sweet Sunoo had been replaced, you hadn't recognized him, but at the same time you were loving it, feeling already excited looking forward to what would happen, you loved him for always being so romantic, so careful, but now everything about him seemed different, his posture, his look, his voice, his smile...

- Come here Y/N. - He called her sitting on the bed. His voice seemed to hypnotize you, you obeyed him without even realizing it.

When he pointed to the floor, you again didn't hesitate to obey, sitting on your knees in front of him.

- I ordered it for your birthday. I thought I would never see her using it. - He took what you thought was a choker and tied it around your neck. - It suits you perfectly. Go to the mirror and look.

Standing up and walking over to the mirror you saw him through the mirror, his gaze never leaving you. When you finally saw your own reflection you noticed that it wasn't a choker...it was obviously some kind of collar, and it had your name set in red stones.

Sunoo saw how your initially shocked look showed how much you liked the gift and smiled at you through the mirror.

Little by little they both realized that they were mistaken about how they saw each other, and how they wasted time with a facade of innocence.

You ran back to him happy with the gift, excitedly sitting on his lap, but when you tried to kiss him he pushed you away.

- I think you forgot why we're here Y/N. - As he spoke he attached a chain to the collar around his neck. - Why are you so excited? Have you forgotten that we are here to punish you for humiliating me?

- Sunoo I… - He didn't let you finish, he squeezed your face making you look into his eyes before pushing you making you get off his lap and pushing you away, he wanted to see you.

- If you beg, maybe I will forgive you.

It was obvious what he wanted, you got down on all fours and walked towards him.

- Please Sunoo, forgive me. - You begged, your eyes fixed on his. Now on your knees in front of him again.

- Sunoo? I think you didn't understand. - He pulled the chain on your collar, slightly choking you.

- Master... Please forgive me master! - Now tears rolling down your face, not from fear, but from excitement, why doesn't he fuck you soon?

- Better… But forgive you for what? - Pulling the collar again, this time harder.

- For underestimating you, master. For allowing them to tell these lies about you..

- Very well, but that's not enough. You're not begging enough.

This time he pulled hard on the leash taking you to him before kissing you. This was also different from normal, it was much hotter, more engaging, sexy. You truly looked like a bitch, moans and sighs leaving your lips as he kissed you, your body melting from how hot it felt.

When you stood up a little, wanting more, trying to get closer to his body, he pushed you away.

- I didn't allow that. - His low and deep voice made you increasingly wet, but what really moved you was your face burning, the loud crack echoing through the room when he slapped your face.

First the shock of what happened, but without realizing it you smiled, he also noticed that. You let out a mix of scream and moan as he landed another slap on your face, you could feel the cold ring that was on his fingers against your face, and then the collar being pulled to make you face him.

- You smiled. - He laughed in admiration. - You really are a bitch.

His eyes shining with desire as he saw your face red, your lip bleeding from the impact.

- Oh... I think I hurt your beautiful face. - He said smiling, his tongue passing over a small cut made on his cheek by the ring, then also over the blood on his lips.

Your entire body frozen in place… OK…You were definitely falling more and more in love with him.

Your eyes followed his every movement as he took off his clothes. You always thought his body was perfect, it wasn't too thin, and he didn't have excessive muscles, everything was perfect, his skin that you loved to mark, but always avoided being so obvious...damn it now you didn't have to worry about that anymore. Your mouth watered as you watched him now completely naked in front of you, the veins around his length so inviting...you knew it would be different from other times, and that seemed to make him even more attractive.

He didn't need to call you or pull you, you immediately got on your knees in front of him, but you waited, not wanting to risk doing something without him giving the order.

- Very well, good girl, you are already learning. - He touched her hair like someone praising a puppy. - I don't need to send it, do I? You know what to do. - Sunoo sat back on the bed, leaning back in his arms.

It was just what you needed to hear, when your hands finally touched his cock, you heard him sigh. You pumped him a few times before running your tongue from the base to the tip, catching the precum with your tongue before licking it again, you didn't notice that he was holding the chain around your neck until you felt a tug, and understood that he was getting impatient, soon you had him in your mouth, while your hand was on his balls. He obviously wasn't trying to hide his moans as you sucked him.

You couldn't take it anymore, while he didn't see you, you lowered his other hand to your wetness, pleasuring yourself. But when he felt you moaning against his dick he realized what you were doing, he pulled hard on your collar.

- Do that again and I won't let you cum tonight. - Your tone was authoritarian and you obviously wouldn't disobey.

Taking your hand away from you with a disappointed sigh you turned your attention fully to him, soon he came in your mouth, and you swallowed it all before opening your mouth to show him.

- Good girl, I think I can reward you.

He helped her up and signaled her to sit on his lap, but that was it. Then he took the chain off his collar and attached it to his wrists. All the while you were controlling yourself not to move in search of friction against his thighs, your pussy clenching around nothing, and he noticed it.

- You can move, I'll let you. - He barely finished speaking and you were rubbing against his thigh, your moisture spreading over his skin.

He watched for a while as you looked so pathetic and desperate moaning on his lap, the tail you wore swaying as you moved on his lap, he wanted to leave you there longer but he couldn't wait any longer, he needed to be inside you.

Sunoo removed the lingerie you were still wearing and pushed you down making you lie down and attached the chain to the top of the bed. Then he stopped to observe you for a moment, admiring you, thinking about how many times he could have had you like this under him if he hadn't been so stupid to worry about how you seemed so fragile and he looked so perverted, just to know that you were exactly like him.

Soon he lined up at your entrance, and you felt every inch of him sliding inside you, he didn't need to wait, you were too wet, his movements were fast and strong.

The loud moans echoing through the room, mixed with the sound of the chains that hurt your wrists as you tried unsuccessfully to free yourself, mixing with the wet sound of the contact of your bodies, your names leaving your lips like mantras.

Sunoo's hands gripping your waist tightly, leaving marks.

- Sunoo…please, Sunoo I beg you. - You asked when you were close, squeezing yourself around him, leaving him about to cum.

- That's right Y/N. Beg for me. - He said cumming, but without slowing down, making her cum too.

When he finally managed to catch his breath a little, he laughed, leaving you confused, he seemed to have had some idea.

- Come here. - He said, releasing the chains of the bed and picking you up, your legs around his waist as he carried you to the door, your back hitting her hard.

- Let's show who the sweet child is? - His voice was nothing sweet, his whole body got goose bumps at how his voice sounded in his ear.

You tried to hold back your moans as he quickly pushed himself against you, your nails digging into his shoulders hard trying to keep yourself quiet, which was useless with the noise of your body hitting the door.

- No Y/N, let it out, I want to hear your beautiful voice moaning my name, go, you don't need to hold back. - His hand around your neck tightens, the collar under his fingers tightening even more on your skin making you dizzy.

- Please stop Sunoo, it's too much. - You asked, I was still very sensitive of your previous orgasm.

- Are you sure you want me to stop? - He said, slowing down. But that wasn't really what you wanted, you are close again, if he stopped now it would be worse.

- No, don't stop no, more, I need... - You begged.

- What do you need?

- I need to cum, please master. - Hearing you call him master again was the limit for him, not being able to take it anymore he came, you feeling every drop of him inside you made you come too while his name came frantically from your lips.

Your head falling onto his shoulder as you tried to remember how to breathe. He took you back to the bed and saw how screwed you looked, he removed the plug with the tail and your ear headband that was hanging from your hair, before kissing your chain injured wrists.

- Have you forgiven me? - It was the first thing you said, your voice weak.

- For now, yes. - He responded, pulling her to lie on his chest.

- I never really complained about you. I just said you were so perfect and sweet that I wanted to corrupt you. But apparently you were far from needing to be corrupted.

- It seems that they were both mistaken. You obviously didn't need that much care.

- Yes, we are the same, we are equally mistaken, but now we no longer need masks.

- Exactly, and now that I know that you are not my fragile girlfriend, but a perverted little slut, next time I won't be so nice. - Nice…?

The next morning you felt like you could die from the embarrassment, everyone was wake up and when you entered the kitchen the conversation stopped immediately, everyone's eyes turned to you in shock.

- You could have been more discreet. - Jay scolded them. - We already understand Sunoo's message, next time remember to respect the other residents of the apartment.

Note: I corrected the many writing errors i noticed. Maybe there are still some left. I'll try to pay more attention to this.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #sunoo smut #sunoo x reader #sunoo imagines #kim sunoo #sunoo scenarios #sunoo #heeseung #jay #jake #sunghoon #jungwon #niki #smut #fantasy #imagine

102 notes · View notes

monimccoythings · 2 days ago

Text

Regrets

Hey, Doey survives AU. But Doey thinking he killed you, his good friend, during his grief fueled rampage. Let's just pretend that there was a pit surrounding the area when you have to give him the final blow with the giant saw.

A/N: I was not very much into the Poppy Playtime fandom until Doey's chapter, yeah, I watched some gameplays and all but I was not fully invested in the game. So, I'm not sure about the lore of the characters, if they are still children, if they grew up while being in the bigger bodies or what. So I'm not risking it, and from now on I'm separating them into two categories: mascot (mostly adult with exceptions) and game character (child). So if I get to write anything romantic, I'll write it about the mascot, I don't want to see or read any weird shit that isn't platonic about the game characters.

He didn't mean to.

He hadn't meant to.

Lately it seemed it was the only thing he could repeat to himself, over and over in his head like a broken record.

He had been angry, furious like he had never been before, his friends, his family, they all had perished in the explosion, safe Haven completely reduced to ashes and blood.

That anger soon turned to rage. Due to a lack of healthy ways to deal with it, he started looking for culprits, which led him to you.

Doey-dough could only stretch so much before it broke.

You had been his friend. He thought you understood him, he thought you cared about Safe Haven, about him. Your time together had been brief but he had read once that the strongest of friendships got built in the battlefield.

He had trusted you, goddamn it. You were supposed to be one of the good ones.

THEN WHY HAD YOU ALLOWED THIS TO HAPPEN. An angry voice inside him, driven insane with grief and fury, screamed.

You had been fooled too. How could you have known this would happen? He tried to reason.

You had begged him to leave, to pack his things and take the survivors as far from the Factory as he could, somewhere safer. Dead bodies wouldn't supply them forever, and the constant threat of the Prototype was taking its toll on all of them. He was insanely strong, he surely could punch his way towards an exit.

He wondered why he hadn't listened to you back then. Maybe it was fear of not being able to protect them all shall they leave the confines of the Safe Haven; maybe it was because, despite his doubts, he had so foolishly decided to give Poppy's unhinged plan a chance. Maybe he was scared of leaving the only home he had ever known for the unpredictable outside world. Better the devil you know...

When he rushed back into Safe Haven and found everything in crumbles, he hadn't thought, he hadn't rationalized, he was so consumed by despair he only saw red. He had ignored your apologies, the tears running down your cheeks, your overwhelming grief. All Doey had wanted back then is to hurt back as much as the Prototype had hurt him.

He gave chase like an animal, tearing everything on his path, squeezing and slippering through the tightest holes and corners, ignoring your pleas, your calls to him. While you tried to defend yourself instead of attacking Doey, he went for the kill.

They were afraid of me.

THEY FREEZED ME, THEY KNEW IT HURT AND THEY STILL DID IT.

They had multiple chances to kill me, yet they were still unable to go through it.

That had been your mistake. You had left him there, hoping he would 'cool down' and left while countlessly apologizing for all the pain you had caused.

You had thought yourself safe, despite how broken you felt on the inside. You thought that a whimsy door would be enough to keep him outside. He slammed it open the second you turned around, sending debris and metal flying everywhere. You barely had any time to react before one of his arms smacked you harshly against the rusty railing, sending you spiraling down the pit to the darkness below.

It took him a second to process what he had actually done. Maybe a second too late.

"NO!!" he howled, form becoming unstable, stretchy limbs extending in desperation, hoping to grab you, any part of you, before it really was too late. He just had to reach you, he couldn't let you fall to your doom.

It was one thing wanting to kill you. And a very different thing to actually do it.

When his numerous hands caught nothing but air and darkness, he let out a thunderous roar. What had he done?? He hadn't meant to! You- you just couldn't be- you couldn't be gone. You couldn't be gone because of him.

You had faced numerous encounters with death, you had survived, you just had to. Surely you had used your grabpack to hold on to some scrap of metal, stuck to the walls and were currently making your way up for some payback. Maybe he would humour you this time.

Seconds turned into long and agonizing minutes. He tentatively called out your name, anger long gone and replaced with something heavy in his stomach: dread.

No answer. Just the machinery and the consuming blackness down there. His reptilian form started to decompose when realization kicked in.

They were right. He was made for breaking things. The only thing he could do was get angry and hurt people. And now he had run out of people to hurt.

He was alone. Utterly alone.

He had failed everyone.

His large body wrecked with sobs, body trembling with gentle shivers that cleared the way again for the burning rage inside him to make its pressence known.

There was nothing in there for him anymore. No friends, no family, no hope. What was actually stopping him from bringing this whole place to the ground?

Poppy wanted it to come crashing down, to destroy this hellish place once and for all. Well, then let's give her what she had always wanted. Let's bring this whole place down, let the living proof of humankind's depravity be buried under all the debris.

And let him be buried with it.

Elsewhere, several feet down the pit, a human shaped figure fought hard to not loose concsiousness. Yeah, the hit had been nasty and the fall would have been much worse if you hadn't used the GrabPack to briefly hold onto a rock. The sturdy structure of the GrabPack itself had beared the brunt of the fall, yet you were pretty sure you had a couple of broken ribs.

But you had to get up. Keep moving. You couldn't fall asleep.

With great effort, you managed to stand up and limp towards an opening which lead to another cave.

Just a little more.

Keep pushing forwards.

#doey the doughman #poppy playtime #poppy playtime doey

83 notes · View notes

snowballseal · 3 days ago

Text

My Dearest

Part 4

LaDS Zayne X Foreseer!Reader

Prologue / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Summary: You know you should stay away from Zayne. He represents everything you hate, yet defies every expectation you hold. His life brings warmth to your home, and since Fate is so noticeably silent, you find yourself slipping. Closer and closer and closer. Just who is this man? And why did he end up here?

Word Count: 3442 (it's a long one lol)

Note: sorry this took so long! I'm truly struggling with the pacing. I rewrote this part like three times. I don't want things to move too fast, but I also really don't want the story to drag. Let me know what you think! More backstory will be revealed in the next part so keep an eye out ;)

Warnings: there's a lot of religious speech and terminology at the end, and just a sprinkle of murderous intent from Reader, rightfully so (you'll understand)

---

For all your years, Fate has never been a fickle master. Unrelenting in her kindness or in her fury, but never wavering in between. You’ve witnessed every side she has to offer.

So when you wade into the depths of your magic, seeking answers, seeking anything to help ease the turmoil within your soul, only to find an empty room, a blank book, no hint of what’s to come, you feel almost swept under by the force of your own confusion.

For so long, you’ve devoted yourself to her work. You’ve done all you’ve been asked, revealed truths that society has so desperately hidden. You faced their wrath, you faced their scorn, you bare the scars of their anger. It has driven you to the brink of madness, yet you have always pressed on.

So why has she left you like this? Stumbling through a darkened room with nothing to guide you, no light to show where you are meant to go, even to see where you are stepping.

It is a cruel punishment, far crueler than you expected for saving a sole human life. But these are your consequences, and you must face them for defying the order of life. For simply choosing to follow your own desires. This is how she has decided to teach you a lesson, to make you regret that brief moment of disobedience.

Yet, as you watch Zayne recover, watch him grow in strength and learn more about his character, something deep in your frozen soul curls defiantly between your ribs, whispering so viciously that you were right right right.

Zayne is unlike any other human you have had the displeasure of meeting. He defies every expectation you may have. You expect him to be angry, to grow spiteful with his condition. The weakness brought on by his hypothermia. The limitations of a persistent limp. Like a wounded pup, he is trapped under your care, for which he should hate you.

However, where most men would respond by lashing out, threatening you, and cursing your home, Zayne faces his circumstances with an unthinkable…patience. Not a single complaint passes his lips, not a single moment of frustration, and he seems more than content to wander the endless halls of the Tower on his own, even though he must lean on the walls to support himself. He continues to carry himself with an elegant air of composure, treating the ancient building with nothing short of reverence.

He is a stoic man, you learn. More often than not, his face is drawn into a contemplative frown, always deep in thought, reflective. Yet his eyes cannot hide the depths of his emotions. The way they gleam with unbridled appreciation as he takes in the stained glass in the Tower’s chapel, how they soften with deep gratitude at every meal, and burn with such unabashed curiosity as he searches the tomes of your library.

He is just so undeniably alive. His sole presence fills your home with a new warmth, chasing away the biting cold you have grown so used to.

Watching him exist with such peace, such gentleness, you can’t help but stand in stubborn defiance against Fate.

You made the right choice.

Even if your instincts still bid you to keep your distance. You walk a perilous edge between caution and curiosity. To listen to your desires would draw you closer, would permit you to ask the boundless questions wavering on your lips. Though you’re sure Fate would rather you lock yourself away until he leaves, to build up your walls and allow things to go as they will.

But Fate is silent.

So you make the decision. No man would want to stay in this icy hell forever, so surely you can allow yourself a moment of reprieve, a moment to soak in the strange warmth of his life before he disappears, as they always do.

And who knows, perhaps if you learn more about him, you will find a reason to hate him like all the others. Every man has their sins, a darkness poisoning their soul. Once you discover that, it will certainly be easier to cast him away, to forget about his very existence.

Yes, certainly that will be for the best.

Even if it severs the remaining threads of hope you cling to.

Zayne notices the shift immediately.

After days of wandering the halls on his own, finding magnificent sculptures and walls and walls of fascinating books, but never catching even a glimpse of your robes, he could only assume you were avoiding him.

After a few days, he had resolved himself to the truth - that his time in this place is limited, and so he spends every waking hour memorizing the beauty of it, a beauty not unlike your own. Beyond time. Beyond human.

Given all of that, he can’t help but falter when he sets foot into the library. A familiar chill curls into the depths of his bones, the breath in his lungs stalling as his eyes land on your unexpected figure.

At first glance, one would simply assume you are a human of great beauty, but Zayne knows the truth. He can feel it, the power radiating from your form, even as you drape yourself so effortlessly in the armchair, an old leather tome perched intimately on your lap.

You truly are something otherworldly.

At first, he had seen you as the distant and ethereal demigoddess, the Foreseer with the power to act out Fate’s will in cold calculation, as he had been told. Then, when you allowed him to bow at your feet, he saw you as a vision of refined grace and broken faith, surrounded by insurmountable walls to keep him at bay, to protect yourself.

Yet here, you are something different again. Here, with your heavy adorning furs, surrounded by your single source of comfort, your fierce mask seems to slip away. The low candle light illuminates your face in a gentle manner, embracing the delicate curves of your features, accentuating the thoughtful draw of your lips. You are truly a vision of the goddess tethering herself to earth, hiding the power of your being behind the tender curves of a human form, allowing yourself to be soft, to be something so utterly breakable.

And still, he is aware that you are in control. Over yourself, over the air around you, over the tower he stands in. You are in complete control, and you are allowing him to see you like this.

Something akin to wonder floods his chest.

Why would a divine being like you have such mercy on a man like him?

It is truly a baffling question, one that repeats like a nagging whisper in his mind every waking moment he spends walking through these halls. Along with several others, all questions that draw him deeper and deeper into the mystery of you.

Why have you sought out such solitude? Why have you kept your distance from him yet allowed him to stay? Why do you offer him even this meager amount of trust when you know nothing of what he has done?

Zayne has never coped well with unanswered questions.

“I must admit, I find it odd how you humans like to stare,” you murmur, not once looking up from your book of poems. You can practically feel his gaze burning across your skin, and you don’t need to look up to read the intensity behind such a gaze. “Is it truly striking of me to enjoy my own collection?”

Heat creeps up Zayne’s neck and he immediately tears his eyes away. Hearing your voice is just as startling as your sudden appearance. The cool edge of your tone sets his heart racing, a strange sort of anticipation curling in his chest.

Finally, he has the opportunity to learn more about you.

“My apologies, Foreseer,” he starts, voice surprisingly steady, “It would seem my manners have slipped in my time alone.”

“Hmm…” You bite back a rye smile. Always so ready to apologize. Truly a strange one, this man. “No need for apologies. I am simply here to read in silence, and given the interest you have shown in my collection, I assumed you may want to join me.”

An offer of proximity.

One Zayne does not hesitate to take. If you are willing to bear his presence, he is more than willing to spend hours in silence by your side. Talking is not the only way to learn about someone.

You watch keenly from the corner of your eye as the man shuffles over to your bookcases, still favoring his right knee. A splinter of concern wedges itself between your ribs, small yet exceedingly uncomfortable. It must be causing him a great deal of pain with all his walking.

Did he have this before? Or did he injure himself on his journey? Why does he insist on walking on it if it causes him such pain?

So many questions.

You attempt to dismiss them for now, along with your concerns as Zayne sits down in a smaller chair across the room, an old medical journal in his hands. One he has been eyeing the past few days - you note. He must have an interest in medicine, another unexpected discovery.

All of those questions stubbornly stick to the tip of your tongue, buzzing but unspoken.

Thus begins a tentative pattern of relative peace. The mornings are spent apart, aside from when you bring him his morning meal and an herbal medicine you created, which you leave while he sleeps. In the afternoons, you both find yourselves in the library, reading in silence most days. At first, he sits across the room from you, keeping his distance as you originally requested.

As the days pass, though, you find him drawing closer. As if pulled in by an invisible force. Or as though you are some wild animal, and he wishes to acclimate you to his presence.

It is more than a little entertaining. Even with his overwhelming level of patience, he can’t help but reveal his hand so openly. All humans want something, and for some reason, Zayne wants to be close to you.

While you may not understand it, you can’t deny that you feel the same pull. Perhaps that is why you feel your already weak defenses lowering all together as time passes so languidly. You find yourself more at ease while sharing the room with him, as though his constant, soothing presence is a balm for your nerves, a lullaby that calms the cautious beast locked behind your ribs. Day by day, you feel more confident in your poor decision to save this man’s life.

Enough that you find yourself pushing the boundaries more than you should. It occurs when you notice him wince, none-too-subtle, as he lowers himself into his chair, now mere feet from you.

You break the silence.

“Most would call you unwise for walking on an injured leg,” you hum, keeping your focus on the flowing poems in front of you, “Though I assume you are aware given that you seem to have extensive knowledge of human medicine. Not many can read the dialect of those tomes.”

Zayne blinks, eyes tearing away from his book to look at you. Sharing the silence with you had become so natural, so comforting. Being in your presence is a blessing he doesn’t deserve, and he never once thought of pushing your boundaries to start a conversation, even though his lungs ache with the questions he wanted to ask. So having you address him, acknowledge him, feels like a breath of fresh air.

“It is an old injury, from before my journey,” he answers, voice a bit raspy from lack of use. You tilt your head towards him minutely though, obviously not displeased, so he continues, “And you would be correct. I have studied medicine quite extensively, my lady.”

You falter, eyes locking on the words on the page, but not reading them.

My lady.

A new title. One you have never been called before. And you have been called many things.

As if by instinct, or perhaps from practice after spending so many hours trying to memorize the subtle changes in your expressions as you read, Zayne notices the tension between your brows. And realization dawns on him.

“My apologies, Foreseer,” he sighs, frustration washing over him, at him. What a careless slip. “I will refrain-”

“No,” you cut him off, still not looking up, “I will…permit it. For now, you may address me as you please, Zayne.”

Your nose wrinkles ever so slightly as your own realization washes over you. It’s almost unsettling how soft you’ve become in such a short time. How unbecoming for a demigoddess.

Yet, when you chance a glance up, you can’t find it in yourself to regret your words, not with how Zayne’s usually stoic expression gives way to surprise, followed by a kindled warmth. He’s pleased. Too pleased.

“Thank you, my lady.”

And you hate that you feel just as pleased hearing him say it again, his voice curling around the title with such devotion, as if he reveres you so.

This whole endeavor was meant to reveal his faults, not give you deeper reason to care. You mustn’t get lost in human emotions, lest they tear you apart again, just as they did in your past. Caring too much causes nothing but pain.

Still.

“Does this old injury bother you often?”

You are more than capable of satiating your interest while keeping your distance, aren’t you? .

Zayne gives a rueful smile, one that makes you turn around and question yourself, “The cold makes one’s joints more sensitive which can lead to mild irritation of old injuries. It may worsen my limp for a time, though I assure you it appears more painful than it feels, my lady.”

A part of you wishes to deny such concerns, but you would rather not lie again.

“Why did you not seek medical attention?” You press instead, brows furrowing, “Did you not have a mentor in your studies? Could they not have treated you?”

The air in the library falls suddenly still. Zayne shifts, his jaw clenching as he looks back down at his current book, fingers fussing idly with the pages. A nervous habit. He’s uncomfortable talking about this for some reason, which makes you want to press further, though you restrain yourself.

When he does speak, his voice is impassive, as if mentioning the weather outside, “I was not permitted to have my injuries treated.”

Not permitted? A frown mars the gentle curve of your lips. Are humans truly so cruel to each other? You have experienced their cruelty yourself, of course, but you had thought they might treat their own kind with greater care. To force a man to exist with such pain for the remainder of his life? It is nothing short of vulgar.

A bitter kind of disgust festers on your tongue. If you were to meet such humans, you fear you might tear them apart with just as much cruelty and throw their flesh to the snowy beasts of the mountains.

“Who would deny you such simple care?”

“That is of little importance, my lady,” Zayne dismisses with that same rueful smile, “I do not wish to burden you with my troubles. My injuries are merely a…reminder.”

His assurance does little to ease the glimmer of rage behind your expression. And Zayne can’t tear his eyes away. He has witnessed such fury before, has been at the mercy of human wrath, but yours burns with the force of the world, violence bridled by righteous judgement, as though you wish to punish those who have done this to him.

You are truly a goddess. Untouchable in your grace and unyielding in your abhorrence. You do not disguise your emotions behind fragile politeness, and instead control each and every feeling like a tool, a weapon. The world would fall at your knees if you so wished it to.

It leaves him with a trembling urge to kneel at your feet once more. Though that would likely make you uncomfortable, so he remains settled in his seat, admiring from a distance.

You let out a slow breath, reigning in your anger with practiced ease. If he does not feel contempt for his past, then it is not your place to hold on to it. Instead, you choose to press a little further.

“Then I have another question, I suppose. Did you travel here seeking refuge from your kind?”

“Perhaps.” He worries one of the journal’s pages between his thumb and middle finger, letting the texture soothe his mind. “I had little choice in the matter, as I could not live in the kingdom any longer. In honesty, I hardly believed that the Tower of Thorns existed at the time. It sounded like a mere legend. As did you, my lady.”

You huff out a low sound, something between a laugh and a scoff, “I wish more believed I was a mere myth, then perhaps I could finally escape from your kind.”

Zayne’s brow furrows. This is the first thing you’ve shared of yourself. He studies the slight tinge of exhaustion in your features, as if a sudden weight has been draped over your shoulders. It is not lost on him, the standard you must hold yourself to as the Emissary of Fate, how harsh you have to be to protect yourself against his kind. It must feel…suffocating.

“You do not like humans.”

It’s not a question. Merely a conclusion in no need of a direct answer.

Still, you give one.

“No, I do not,” you hum matter-of-factly, leaning back into your chair. “Do you not feel the same after all they have done to you? Maiming you and chasing you from your home?”

“I-” Zayne falters, jaw clenching again. He should, he wants to, but, “I do not know, my lady.”

A beat of silence passes between you and it is as though you can read his conflicting desires.

“Then I shall hate them for you.”

Zayne inhales sharply. It is a solemn oath, as though you wish to take the weight of such a decision from him, as if you are not already carrying enough.

“My lady, the sins I have committed-”

“Are of little importance to me,” you murmur easily, almost startling yourself with how true the words are. “All humans have their sins. Those who fail to repent will suffer at Fate’s hands, and it is my destiny to warn them despite how I detest them. If you believe your sins to be so great, then I suppose I must warn you too.” Your eyes linger on him, somber and ancient, like that of an old painting. “Find a way to atone and move forward. I have chosen to give you a second life, and I will be sorely disappointed if you waste it. Do you understand?”

Swallowing around the thick lump in his throat, Zayne nods, “Yes, Foreseer. I hope my answers today have not displeased you.”

The faintest hint of a smile pulls at your lips, a glint of amusement softening your gaze, “They have not. I have actually somewhat enjoyed this conversation. While vague, your answers have offered me insight. For now, you have my interest.” You stand, straightening out your robes as you do. You brush the nonexistent dirt from the fabric. “You may initiate conversation in the future, if you wish, though I make no promise that I will engage. For tonight, however, I will be retiring to the main hall.”

You need time. Time to think. Time to reflect on your words, his words, all of it. Away from the devout attention he offers you, that seems to blur the lines of your rational thought.

Though, just like always, you waver in the door frame as you attempt to leave, something causing you pause.

Until the words pass your lips, “Have a good evening, Zayne.”

Yes, perhaps you cannot keep your distance, as you already seem to care too much. Perhaps this is destined to end in catastrophe and his sins will prove too gruesome for you to excuse. Perhaps you will have to seek your own atonement when it is all said and done.

But for tonight, you will relish in the shock-turned-wonder in Zayne’s eyes when he notices the intricately woven staff that appears with a flurry of magic light as you leave. In this, you find no regret.

For tonight, you will merely take it one step at a time.

Fate’s consequences be damned.

---

I hope this wasn't too wordy - I got a bit carried away at parts, and I couldn't bring myself to simplify any of it. I also worry there is too much back and forth in Reader's thoughts/emotions. Anyways, let me know what you guys think so far, and maybe what kind of scenes you'd like to see!

Tag List: @pirana10 @antivanblessing @animecrazy76 @xx-riffraff-xx

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace reader insert #reader insert #x reader #lads x reader #lads zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne x reader #zayne x reader #love and deepspace x reader #foreseer reader #series #religious imagery #lads #lads zayne #zayne #zayne x you #we're getting there i promise

69 notes · View notes

lycheeloving · 1 day ago

Text

Second chapter!! Happy Valentine's day <3

Bruce finds you at work and doesn't leave you alone.

< first chapter

The next day at work, it all feels like a fever dream. Did you really meet Bruce Wayne? And talk to him all night? You feel a bit nauseous just thinking about it, but you just remind yourself that you'll never see him again. Even if you did get along really well...

Whatever, you'll just daydream about kissing him in the moonlight, that's just as fun as the real thing, right? Not that you could compare it to the real thing, you'd have to kiss someone at some point to know what it's like.

Maybe you should have kissed Bruce yesterday, he certainly seemed like he would have been ok with that, but that was probably just wishful thinking anyways. Oh well, too late now.

The bell that lets you know somebody entered the store rings and rips you out of your thoughts. Fuck. You hate when there's costumers, which is why you chose to work at the shittiest bookstore in Gotham. And are hiding in the back.

You're supposed to say something like "I'll be right with you!", but you're not going to do that. You hate talking loudly. Especially to strangers, especially when you can't even see them. But you never even say anything when you're out in the front and making direct eye contact with them, so whatever. You just hope they won't ask you for help with finding anything, just having to ring them up is bad enough...

Why do you have to get costumers at all? Fuck, you should really look for a job with less contact to people, but this is the best you've been able to find so far.

You reluctantly leave the safety of the back room, only to find a guy in an oversized hoodie and sunglasses absolutely beaming at you. Why is he looking at you like that? Should you know him?

Only when he takes the sunglasses off do you realize that it's Bruce. No way, how did he find you? You feel your palms getting sweaty.

"Finally! I found you! Do you know how hard it was to find this book store with the minimal description you gave me?"

Not hard enough, apparently, considering that he was able to find you this soon. It hasn't even been a full day!

He's still smiling at you. "I've been to multiple book stores this morning! I'm so glad you told me you'd be working today, or I would have had to ask everyone if you're one of their coworkers!"

"Yeah, well, if I had wanted you to show up here, I would have given you more details, probably." You deadpan, hoping your voice isn't shaking.

He's not deterred, he just keeps talking as if you hadn't said anything: "Wanna get lunch with me? When's your break? We could go to that café around the corner that I saw on my way here!"

Is he not getting that you don't want him here? Well, you do want him here, but you don't. You want him to think you don't want him here so he'll leave before you can embarrass yourself.

"I can't leave for my break, I have to stay here. I'm the only one working right now, I can't just- just lock up and get something to eat." Your boss actually allowed you to do just that, but when you came back from doing it the first time, an angry costumer was waiting for you and yelled at you for 10 minutes about how it's rude to just close the store in the middle of the day. You don't want a repeat of that, so you started eating your lunch at work whenever there were no costumers. Which is almost always, luckily.

"I could go get you something and we can eat here! It doesn't seem like you get a lot of costumers so we won't even be disturbing anyone!" Why is he so persistent? Can't he go talk to some supermodel or something?

"I'm not hungry." You kind of are, actually.

"That's fine, we can just talk! I just wanted to spend some time with you. You know, I haven't clicked with anyone like this in a long time, I couldn't just let you go."

Wait, is he serious? Well, why else would he go through the effort of looking for you... But still, you can't quite believe it. Are you being pranked?

"You should go. What if costumers start showing up? I'm sure you don't want some weird fan to recognize you."

Bruce ignores what you say and stays. He talks to you for about half an hour, well, mostly he talks at you, until he has to leave because his lunch break is over. You just stand there, perplexed. Does he really want to hang out with you?

He returns the next day. And the next. And the next. Every day, always during his lunch break. It takes a few times until you stop trying to ignore him, a few more times until you start actually talking to him, and a few more times until you agree to eat lunch with him. Not go anywhere else, just eat your own lunch at the bookstore.

You can't stop yourself from trying to push him away a little bit, though.

You put down your fork. "You know, it's rude of you to keep visiting me at work, where I can't just leave. This is basically harassment."

"If you want me to go, I'll go. Just say so, and I'll never show up here again, I promise."

You don't want him to leave. Well, you do, because you don't want to get even more attached, but you don't, because, well, you're getting attached. You can't bring yourself to make him leave.

You huff and roll your eyes. "Whatever." You pick your fork back up and continue eating.

He tries to suppress a smile. Gross. He's so cute.

Whenever he catches you playing a silly game on your phone (which is basically every time he enters the store, as you love slacking off), he insists on befriending you on it if possible, so when you're not hanging out he'll send you a booster on your candy-crush-esque game, or play against you on a quiz app.

Sometimes he uses the chat option there to tell you to go to sleep when it's late and he catches you playing, even though he's obviously awake as well! Hypocrite. It makes you smile every time.

One day while you're eating lunch together, a few months after he first showed up, he puts down his fork and says: "I think I need to make this more clear. I am interested in you romantically. I want to date you."

You almost spit out your lunch, but manage to swallow it without choking. "H- Wh- Huh? What?"

"We can just be friends, I'd love to be friends, we already are friends, in my opinion, but I would also love to date you. So if one day you decide that you want to date me, please let me know."

You already want to, but you will absolutely not be informing him of that, thanks. Asking for what you want? What are you, a well adjusted person? You blink owlishly at him instead of saying anything. That should suffice as a response, right? No, you should probably say something.

"...Look, even if I was interested in dating you—", which, again, you literally are, but why would you tell him that;

"—you're famous, and at some point it would come out that I was dating you, and the paparazzi would publish one single picture of me and I'd immediately panic so hard I would pass out and die. This—" You point your fork between the two of you. "—is already risky enough. Whatever this is, anyway."

Bruce, as always, chooses not to address the parts of what you were saying that were clearly your anxiety speaking and simply grins.

"So you do want to date me? It sounds to me like you're just looking for excuses. Don't worry, if I don't want anyone to know about you, noone will! People don't tend to recognize me when I'm not wearing a suit, especially in environments where they're not expecting me, so anywhere outside of my workplace and fancy parties. It's worked so far, hasn't it? Not a single person has recognized me here! Dating won't change that. So, if you do want to go on a date with me, just say the word. Please."

What word? Wait, he means that metaphorically, right? No, but seriously, what would you say, how would you say that without sounding totally weird?

"That's not what I was saying. At all. Stop misinterpreting me." You roll your eyes at him. He changes the topic, but he keeps smiling until he has to leave.

Lying awake that night, you think about what he said. Does he actually like you? Or is he just pretending, because he likes a challenge? Knew you'd be difficult to get close to, and he gets a kick from being someone's first relationship, kiss, everything, and then leaving them? You feel nauseous and you suddenly feel cold. How are you supposed to figure this out? You try to tell yourself that it's only your anxiety speaking, that Bruce is actually a nice person and wouldn't do that, but you can't quite convince yourself.

The next day, your way home after work (and after pretending your conversation with Bruce yesterday didn't happen, which luckily he played along with), you see something on the ground that reflects the light in a way that catches your eye.

What is that? It's kind of hidden behind a trash can.

You take a step closer, hoping it's not some kind of trap, but you can't think of a villain who would hide shiny things on the floor to kill civilians. At least not in that color, the Joker would make it colorful, and this object appears to be... black?

Oh, it's a Batarang! You've never seen one up close, but they can't be super rare with how often people online post about having found one, there's even one guy who collects them and has an entire wall plastered with them. Allegedly. People online are saying that most of them are probably replicas, but you can't tell, as you've never seen a real one. Until now.

That makes you think, just how many Batarangs does Batman have? More than enough if he let's random people keep them. You think about picking it up and taking it with you. It would be really cool to have a Batarang...

You reach out towards it, but stop right before you touch it. Is it stuck in the floor? Fuck, just how sharp are those things...?

Maybe you should leave it here, you'd just cut your hand open on it, trying to get it unstuck.

Plus, maybe Batman will find this one if you leave it here, and then re-use it! Reduce, re-use, recycle, Batman!

You leave it where you found it, after taking a few pictures of it as proof.

The next day, Bruce asks you if you did anything interesting yesterday, like he does every time he sees you. Usually you'd say no, but you did find that Batarang... Would Bruce care about that?

While you're contemplating, Bruce says: "You'd have said no by now if nothing had happened! Come on, please tell me?"

Fine! Whatever! You'll tell him, even if he'll probably think it's boring.

"Ok, so, on my way home yesterday... I found a Batarang. And, um, it got me thinking, well, first of all, how many of those does that guy have? If he's just leaving them lying around like that, right? Oh, and, it was so sharp, it was stuck in the floor, though I guess maybe that just means Batman is really strong? Either way, I thought he doesn't kill, right, but considering what he's working with it's a miracle no criminal has ended up dead yet, right?" You stop rambling, realizing that Bruce hasn't said anything yet. At least he appears to be amused.

"You have a lot of thoughts about Batman, huh?" He grins. "Yeah, he must have tons of those things, I've seen the posts. Did you take it with you?" He didn't respond to your killing thoughts... Oh well, you did give him a lot of information all at once.

"No, I didn't... But I thought about it! I mean, it seems like that's what everyone else is doing, but with it being stuck in the floor like that I was worried I would cut my hand open trying to get it unstuck! And with my luck there would have been germs or poison on it and my wound would have gotten infected, like, immediately, and I would have died. So I left it there for Batman to hopefully find again. I mean, he should probably be reusing the ones he already has, right? Reduce, reuse, recycle, I'm just helping Batman be more climate friendly!" There you go, rambling again.

Bruce seems almost too amused at all of this.

"Well, do you want it? I can come with you when your shift is over and help you get it unstuck, if you want. If nobody else has already taken it. I'm sure Batman won't mind. And if it ever comes out that he's not trying his best to be climate friendly, I'll personally go kick his ass, I promise."

"Uh. Um. You don't have to do that!"

"...Kick his ass or go get the batarang for you?"

"I meant getting the batarang, but also please don't fight Batman. He'd wipe the floor with you. No offense."

"Well, first of all, I think I'm just as strong as Batman-" You roll your eyes at him. Dork.

"And second of all, I don't have to get it for you, but I want to. Please let me?"

Ok. Fuck. Whatever. This is the first time you'll be seeing him outside of work, excluding your first meeting.

"Uh. Ok? I, um, my shift ends at 8."

"I'll pick you up in front of the store, then. It's a date!"

"Uh! No, well, yes, but, it- um-"

"I'm just teasing you." He winks at you. Winks! Is he trying to kill you? You turn your face towards your food so you don't have to look at him. Asshole. Stop being so hot.

Later, at 8, he's already waiting for you in front of the store while you're locking up.

"Ready to go?" He smiles.

"Uh, yeah! Sure!"

You start leading the way to where you found the batarang, talking about whatever comes to mind on the way.

Finally, about halfway on your way home, you reach the place where the batarang should be. You hope it's still there, but somebody else could have taken it. You push the trashcan it was behind to the side, and...

There it is!

"Look, it's still here!" You turn around to Bruce, smiling. He smiles back. You fight the urge to giggle or hide your face behind your hands, he needs to stop being so cute.

"Didn't you say it's stuck in the ground? Why wouldn't it be here anymore?"

"Uh, you said you'd help me get it out? Somebody else could have done the same thing!"

"Right. But they don't have my getting batarangs unstuck from the ground skills."

You roll your eyes. How often could Bruce have come in contact with a batarang? His only advantage compared to you is that he's stronger and not afraid of cutting his hand open. At least that's what you think.

You watch as he grabs the batarang and gets it unstuck in seconds. Seriously? It was that easy?

"Woah. I think I would have been able to do that myself, that looked super easy. Sorry to have made you come all this way..." Apparently it wasn't stuck in there as much as you thought? Even if a considerable part of it disappeared beneath the ground. Hm. Weird. Maybe there was a batarang shaped hole there before it landed there? Or Bruce is just a lot stronger than he looks.

"No, I'm glad I came along! I wouldn't have wanted you to cut yourself accidentally." He wraps the batarang in a piece of fabric. Some kind of rich people tissue, maybe.

"Let me carry it home for you?" He looks at you in a way that makes you melt a little bit. Ok, fine.

"Oh, uh, sure!" You did enjoy walking around with him. And not just because walking with someone in Gotham is safer than doing it alone.

"Also we could maybe order dinner? And eat together at your place?" And let him into your apartment that's not cleaned up? That looks shitty even when it is cleaned up?

"Don't push it."

"Or we could go somewhere? I'll pay, of course."

And absolutely embarrass yourself and make him never want to see you again and talk about you to journalists that you're a horrible person, which gets published in every newspaper ever so you have to move and change your name? Ok, maybe that was a bit dramatic.

Bruce can clearly see the anxiety on your face.

"It doesn't have to be a date, if you don't want that."

Be brave! Be brave! You can do this!

"Uh." You almost choke on your words. "And... if I do... want that...?"

You might actually pass out, this is horrible. If he doesn't respond in less than a second, your flight response is going to win and you'll run away. And quit your job, so he can't find you again.

"That would be wonderful! We can take it slow, ok? Absolutely no pressure to do anything you don't want to do whatsoever, I promise."

You nod, not feeling brave enough to say anything. Maybe those were your last words ever.

"So... Dinner at your place? As a date?"

You nod again. Shit, fuck. Are you actually going to date Bruce Wayne? What were you thinking? Wait, does going on one date even mean you're 'dating' him? What's the definition here?

You start walking again, leading Bruce to where you live. If he hates your apartment and leaves and you never see him again that's fine and you'll be able to handle it, right? But that won't happen, so calm down. But if it did happen, you'll be fine and ok and fine. It's fine! Oh fuck, what if you misunderstood him? Did he even mean dinner tonight? Are you embarrassing yourself by assuming he'll come with you right now?

Bruce walks right beside you and starts talking again.

"I'll order. What do you want?" While saying this, he puts an arm around your shoulder. You tense. Woah.

"You said you'd take it slow!" Look at that, you can talk again.

"Too much?" Yes. But also no. But yes. But no.

"I don't know! Maybe?" He takes his arm away and you can breathe again, but somehow at the same time you miss his warmth.

"Don't worry, I'll take it so slow. The slowest. You won't regret dating me, I promise. This'll be so much fun, you'll see." He smiles.

You don't know about that, but you do know that at the very least it'll be interesting. You hope he won't notice you looking up what the definition of dating is on your phone while he's ordering food later.

#bruce wayne x reader #x reader #reader insert #dc x reader #batman x reader #lycheewritings

56 notes · View notes

acourtofthought · 2 days ago

Note

Wait I think you’re taking my previous “ask” incorrectly. I am not saying that Azriel shouldn’t be blamed or that Elain should accept Lucien immediately. I am in fact advocating that BOTH she and Lucien take the time they need to accept the bond. All I’m saying is that Elain stans keep doing this thing where they make it seem like Elain should not be blamed at all or that she should never be blamed as much as other people.. repeatedly. It really is infantilizing her because she is an adult and she knows full well that her relationship with Azriel will not be the "smoothest" because she does have a mate. So I don’t know why Azriel seems like he’s the only one responsible. I'm only saying they are BOTH consenting adults in that situation.

I don’t even like Azriel (I think he's a creep at times) and Elain’s okay so I have no problem seeing it from both sides. Azriel’s an ass in that BC period. But Elain shouldn’t be treated like she has no say in the situation, as if it’s all Azriel’s fault. Yes he's way older and should know way better, but she participated in it knowing full well that no matter what happened between her-Azriel-Lucien it would be hard. I think at times Eluciens are too similar to Elriels. One side makes it seem like Lucien will force the mate bond or sth and the other makes it seem like Azriel forced Elain to like him. Elain is an adult. An adult. Elain stans from both Elucien and Elriel truly act the same when it comes to her.

Idk if you will post the answer to this or not, but it's just food for thought I guess. I like Elucien and I think they’re endgame, but my god, both Elucien and Elriel stans annoy me when it comes to Elain. I will not be shocked if Eluciens start acting like Elriels soon, getting angry every time Elain isn’t shipped with Lucien.

Again, I completely disagree with everything you've said. Yes, there is a portion of the fandom that babies Elain but Elucien's are typically not on that side of it. From what I've found, some Gwynriels and some Elucien's take it to the opposite extreme of E/riels. Where Nesta is allowed to be as bitchy as she wants because of trauma, that she's really got a good heart despite it yet the second Elain finally snaps back, "she's not that nice". Where Elain is "manipulating others to do her bidding" though the text literally tells us she's tired of them treating her like a child and telling her what she can and can't do. What exactly should we be blaming Elain for? The cabin? Don't you think at some point it's ok to move beyond that since it's been how many years? Since she already gave a really heartfelt apology to Feyre and owned up for not doing enough back then? Since she now goes out of her way to cook for Feyre's household? To care for the gardens at Feyre's home? We know that will not be Elain's home in the future therefore everything she's doing is going to benefit Rhys and Feyre only. Should we blame Elain for Az telling her they were a mistake? I'm not quite sure what you think she did wrong there. "She knew their relationship wouldn't be the smoothest". I can't believe you're even saying such bullshit. When has any SJM situationship ever been the smoothest? Feyre agreed to marry Tamlin when she knew she wanted Rhys UTM, should she apologize to Tamlin for accepting his proposal? Though I'm guessing you probably think we should blame Elain for not doing more for Nesta though you might have missed the part where Nesta literally said she had her life and they had their's which means she didn't count Elain as part of her life. Where Nesta literally ran the other way when Elain wanted to approach her in the market. Where Nesta told Elain she was boring and accused her of being the reason their father was dead. You know why Nesta was able to be there for Elain over the years? Because Elain never hurled out insults to Nesta and didn't actively push her away. But sure, let's blame Elain for choosing not to be a punching bag. That is not infantilizing, that is showing respect for a girl who is learning to stand up for herself.

E/riel and Elucien stans might annoy you but boy have you ever annoyed me.

22 notes · View notes

zepskies · 2 days ago

Text

I know you're telling me not to worry in your AN, but I can't help but worry. 😬😬😬 That supe virus was nasty AF in season 4.

In those breaks, he scoured the Internet for answers and tried to keep his frustrations over it quiet with little grunts and a deeply creased brow.

As ominous as this situation is, there's something really cute about picturing Ben doing this lol. He loves her fr fr. 💗

“I told you not to worry. I’m alright,” she says, her throat dry and her voice coarse. Her words are meant to soothe her husband. She can see the worry shimmering in his juniper eyes. She’s lucky he’s not a supe anymore, or he would’ve gone nuclear a while ago.

Small favors? 😅 Your worldbuiding with the cure vs. the virus is so interesting here. I'm wondering how they're going to get her better at this point if they can't make her a non-supe...

And admittedly, she knows she might be in denial. If true, it seems like a cruel trick the universe is playing on her. Giving her all she’s ever wanted and take it away immediately after? It definitely feels like a cosmic joke all the Gods are laughing about. But deep down, she knows it’s true. She knows she’s screwed, but she doesn’t know how to tell Ben. He’ll lose his shit. She knows he’s not built for this.

But that moment where she literally coughs blood is so visceral. 😭 Really well done, even though my heart is in my throat now. 🫠

Ben pulls the knitted wool blanket up to her shoulders and gently kisses her temple. It’s been two hours since she’s fainted in the supermarket, and she’s still burning up.

So sweet. 😭 I was expecting his call to Victoria lmaooo, aaaand it went about as well as I expected loll. You've soothed my worries that she was the one who might've had something to do with the reader getting sick, but I'm still on the edge of my seat on how you're going to fix this...

“I know where the fuck it is,” Ben grits, his brow densely creasing with a mix of confusion and angry suspicion. “What exactly do you think I’m gonna fucking do with it?” “Shoot me.” Her eyes are steady and firm, his voice is sterner. “No.” The word booms through the living room, threatening to quake the earth and shake books off their shelves.

I felt that No in my chest, jeezus. 😭😭

“Well, if you’re behaving like a fucking baby…” he retorts and patiently follows her frantic steps. “You also won’t find fucking scissors and pills, either.” “Ironic coming from you,” she scoffs, opening and shutting cabinet doors in the desperate search for something strong enough to put her out of her goddamn misery. “Yeah, how do you think I knew which shit to hide, huh?” he asks rhetorically and takes a careful step closer, cornering her between counters and appliances. “Would you stop that now and fucking talk to me?”

Oh my Goddd their rehab days coming to bite her in the butt loll. But good on Ben for learning something! 😂

“Is that you or the fucking V talking, huh?” Ben has never said it out loud before, but he hated how that blue shit changed her. Sure, it only amplified certain parts of her that he supposes have always been there, but it made her less caring, more arrogant, too.

Honestly I could see this. 💔 The V changes people, typically for the worst. And with her, I feel like she was kinda quick to suggest divorce after everything she and Ben had been through.

He feels a flood of relief rush through his body. Thank fucking God, because he’s totally been bluffing.

lmfaoo. I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. 😂

She had barely gotten that. She stupidly sacrificed it all for him, and he still wishes she would’ve never done that. He was supposed to die that day with Homelander. It had been his time. Not hers.

Aww not the survivor's guilt!!

“You selfish fucking prick! You can’t even let me die in peace?!” she grits through her teeth, fighting another surge. She feels the nausea too, like a parasite trying to flee its host through her throat. “Look, I’m fucking sorry, but I had to take the shot, alright?!”

OhGodohGodohGod!! Her anger is so valid, but also, I can't help but root for Ben's side on this one. 😅

She sends him a weak smile and mouths, ‘I love you, too.’ And all there’s left then for him to do is staring at a closed bedroom door. And waiting. Fucking waiting…

oooooh the waiting. But at least it's not a long wait!! loll So excited for the grand finale tomorrow!! I have a feeling Ben's gamble is gonna pay off, thanks to the one time he paid attention to science. 🤓

Lover – Part 2

Series Summary: Free from his past, Ben’s trying to move on and find a little drop of happiness in this new world. But when he finally holds everything he ever wanted in his hands, it threatens to slip through the cracks, and he has to fight one final time with everything he’s got to keep it.

🫡 Catch up here! Sequel to Rehab & Video Games.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language & mature themes, established relationship, Soldier Boy x wife!reader, human!Soldier Boy, angst with a side of hurt/comfort, sickness & generally gross descriptions thereof (the Gen V virus says hello 👋 – with minor adjustments), tw: mentions of euthanasia & suicide, sprinkles of fluff between

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Don't read too much into the whole virus situation, guys. I promise this is a full fix-it, and that annoying little bug is just how we're gonna do that 😜 Come tomorrow, all's well because we all know the V stands for... I do this joke every year, don't I? Never mind! Happy reading! 💕

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 2: Lovesick

Ben’s worried. Y/N keeps saying she’s fine.

They stroll through the supermarket. Benny pushes the cart in front of them, racing down the aisles.

She woke up this morning around eleven o’clock after a thirteen-hour sleep. He’d held a small mirror under her nose several times at night to assure himself she was still breathing. She never woke up. She’d looked so peaceful it had almost been creepy.

She also sweat through her sheets and jittered like a leaf in the wind. He tried to hold her when she was freezing and gave her distance when she was ablaze. In those breaks, he scoured the Internet for answers and tried to keep his frustrations over it quiet with little grunts and a deeply creased brow.

The hard lines on his face are still there, though. They never left.

Ben isn’t entirely clueless, however. Sure, he’s spent some four decades locked away, then came back for a short period of time to a world he can barely understand, only to be put to sleep and experimented on some more for a couple of years. People don’t really expect him to follow the news at this point, and they’re not wrong in their assumption – he rarely ever gives a shit.

But he remembers how she’d given him an update of the world’s dire state when he’d first gotten to the clinic. She’d mentioned a virus – one designed to kill any supes. The plan was to wipe everyone out. Biological warfare, they’d called it. It hadn’t come as a surprise to Ben. He’d seen this all before. Hell, he’d even helped with some of those things back in his glory days.

The virus had been one more reason, one more need for the cure. It had been the perfect deal: If you can’t kill ‘em, cure ‘em. But once that infectious little vial was opened, well, it had been hard to put the genie back inside.

The cure acted as both a vaccine and a remedy against the virus. Soon, the pesky little thing was pushed back but was never quite eradicated. It had eventually slowed its progression but never became any less deadly.

Now, instead of quick and painless, there was agonizing and torturous.

But Y/N can’t take the cure. He might as well kill her this second out of mercy.

When she woke up from her beauty sleep this morning, she admittedly looked better. She said she felt better. Ben still didn’t believe her. She barely touched her food, picked at her breakfast, and ended up only eating the leftover crusts of their son’s toast. He watched her from his periphery as he nursed his coffee in the kitchen, stoically worrying more.

Y/N coughs once more next to him as they pass the frozen food aisle. Ben eyes her cautiously. She’s done it all morning. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to help her or how to stop it. Not even the blue vial could help him fix it. He doesn’t even know if it’s real yet. Is it normal? Is he overreacting?

She coughs again. He shakes his head and bites his tongue.

“You okay?” he checks gruffly, his voice thick with tension and concern, but he already expects her answer.

But deep down, she knows it’s true. She knows she’s screwed, but she doesn’t know how to tell Ben. He’ll lose his shit. She knows he’s not built for this.

She coughs again into a used tissue, which she has stored in her pocket since last night. Her tongue tastes something metallic – copper and iron. And when her eyes land on the white cloth, they notice spots of a deep, scarlet red.

She stops walking then and swallows thickly, her hands trembling as her eyes transfix on the blood. Ben halts as well when he realizes she’s not moving. He sees the panic in her face, sees she’s a lot paler now than the night before. Her skin looks clammy, her eyes red, weary, and dazed as if she had just taken a hard hit from one of his blunts.

“What’s wrong?” Ben asks and steps closer. He cocks his head at her, the creases of his brow now harsh lines. She seems out of it, confused. She doesn’t even seem to understand his question, let alone be capable of answering.

Her mouth opens, but instead of words, she only inhales shakily like it’s the last breath she’ll ever take. Ben barely reaches her fast enough when her eyes roll back into her head till there’s only shining white and her knees begin to buckle.

Ben pulls the knitted wool blanket up to her shoulders and gently kisses her temple. It’s been two hours since she’s fainted in the supermarket, and she’s still burning up.

He caught her just in time before her head hit the linoleum. He shooed away a group of concerned strangers that had gathered around them, assuring them that his wife was fine and just experiencing a minor dizzy spell. He sold it with a humorous eye roll and chuckled the word “women” before grabbing the kid and carrying her quickly out of the store and into the car. If she hadn’t been out cold, he’s certain he would’ve heard several objections to that comment.

Ben knows he can’t take her to a hospital, however. No one knows she’s a supe, and these days, they don’t receive the best treatment – too many bridges burnt after Homelander’s reign of terror. People have become angry, fearful, and distrustful.

Again, he feels a little responsible. He’s sure Soldier Boy had laid some groundwork for that, too.

Softly, the door to their bedroom clicks shut, her phone in his hand as he searches her contacts. His shoulders tense as he reaches the one he needs. His jaw tightens as he holds it to his ear and waits for an answer.

“Hey, I figured you’d call. Already fed up with the wrinkly dick and coming back?” Victoria Neuman’s voice sounds through the speaker, causing Ben’s hair to stand up on its ends.

Chalk on fucking board, he thinks and bites the anger back. He hates talking to that bitch, hates being nice, and hates asking for favors. But he swallows the acrimony down for the sake of his wife.

“It’s me,” Ben grits and feels his jaw beginning to ache. Why the fuck does everything hurt all the time? It’s something he figures he’ll never get used to – every time his back cracks and creaks in the mornings.

“You have exactly five seconds to tell me she’s not locked up in your basement before I make a few calls and let hellfire rain down on you, you decrepit piece of antiquity,” she bites her threat, but Ben can hear the concern in her voice, although he doesn’t give it too much weight. She’s probably faking it like her orgasms.

“Look, I wouldn’t fucking call if it wasn’t serious, you cunt,” Ben snaps and squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing the surge of fury and impatience out of his temples.

His admission causes a beat of silence on the other end. “What’s going on?” Neuman then finally asks and swallows down her own snarky remarks.

Ben licks his chapped lips before pushing the words out. “She’s-… she’s sick.”

There’s another long pause. “She can’t be sick. She’s a supe.”

“I fucking know that.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah…”

They both sigh (and both hate that they have something in common).

“I-… I have the cure,” Ben says and bites down on his tongue immediately after. He doesn’t want to show her all his cards.

“You can’t give it to her. It’s going to kill her,” Victoria reminds him firmly.

“The fucking virus is gonna kill her too, right?” Ben’s eyes drop to the floorboards that hold the solution to all his problems underneath.

“Yeah, it is,” Victoria admits. “What are her symptoms? You sure she’s not just pregnant?”

“I fucking hope not.” There’s a sentence he never expected to say. But– “I haven’t fucking cum inside of her for months.”

“Charming,” Neuman retorts on the other end.

“Wait, do you fucking know something? Did she cheat on me?” The grip around the phone in his hand tightens. Was that why she forgave him so fast and said she believed him?

“Unfortunately, no,” Victoria replies with obvious disappointment. Ben refrains from releasing the sigh of relief he feels. “Believe me, I’ve tried to get her cockdrunk on someone else…”

If Ben still had super-strength, he would’ve crushed the goddamn phone in his hand. Instead of exploding, he closes his eyes and takes a deep fucking breath, though. Ten… nine… eight… Where’s your happy place?

“Why the fuck are you calling me? What do you want?” Victoria’s voice snaps him out of his fatal fantasies of tearing her limbs off one by one.

“What d’you got in your labs? You gotta have a new cure, a new sample, fucking something,” Ben says but doesn’t even know what he’s asking. He’s grasping at straws, hoping to stumble upon an answer.

“If they’d found something, I would’ve already given it to her,” Neuman says.

“You fucking sure about that?” Ben doesn’t believe a drop of what she’s tellimg him.

“Yes,” Victoria still insists. “Look, before you give it to her, I’ll ask around, make a few calls, okay? See if there’s any possibilities to stop this.”

Ben’s hands tremble, his jaw quivers as he desperately tries to steady himself. “Thank you, fucking hurry,” he forces out in a murmur and immediately hangs up.

Y/N stretches with a grumbling sigh as his hand gently caresses her head. He presses his lips to her burning temple, her weary eyes fluttering open.

“Hey, my love,” Ben says, his deep voice soft as if he’s singing her a lullaby. “How are you feeling?”

She yawns and fights back the sleep in her eyes. “Still tired.”

“You’ve been sleeping for five hours,” he tells her and watches as she curls into the couch cushions with a coughing fit. He lowers down to the carpeted floor, stroking her back till she strenuously takes a breath again. “I think we need to talk about it now.”

Slowly, she meets his gaze, and he sees the fear shimmering in her eyes behind a thin veil of tears. She knows what this is, what her body is fighting, and Ben wonders how long she’s known without saying anything. He guesses she knew right from the start. Sometimes, he forgets he likes to pretend she isn’t really smarter than him.

But then, the fear morphs to determination. She nods, swallowing. “The gun’s in the safe in the closet.”

“I know where the fuck it is,” Ben grits, his brow densely creasing with a mix of confusion and angry suspicion. “What exactly do you think I’m gonna fucking do with it?”

“Shoot me.”

Her eyes are steady and firm, his voice is sterner.

“No.”

The word booms through the living room, threatening to quake the earth and shake books off their shelves.

“Ben–“

“You fucking listen to me, I’m not fucking killing you. End of discussion,” he snaps furiously. She’s not sure she’s ever seen him this angry before – not even when she said they should consider a divorce. Although, this seems to be a different kind of anger – one that cuts deeper.

“Sid shot Nancy,” she says quietly, hoping it appeals to him in some dark, ironic twist.

“She was stabbed, and they could never fucking pin it on him,” Ben shuts her argument down. “Ain’t fucking happening. I’m sorry, but you’re not gonna be the last person on my kill list, love.”

She forces a wry but weak smile. “It’d be a mercy killing. Euthanasia.”

“I’m familiar with the fucking concept,” Ben huffs tiredly. His hand then dives into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a small vial that holds yellow liquid.

Her lips part in shock as her eyes fix on the familiar cure in his grasp. “How long have you–“

“Stole it from that black site while you and that Neuman cunt were busy yapping about policies,” Ben explains. “I also took something blue. Figured I could use it at some point.”

“Still wanna be Soldier Boy, huh?” Her voice sounds almost bitter, mocking. A small part of her has always hoped she’d be enough for him someday. That he didn’t need the fame, the money, and the fake heroics. That he’d love himself enough to not rely on a façade.

“No,” he replies to her surprise and watches her straighten a bit on the couch. “I’d fucking do it for you.”

“I don’t want that,” she tells him firmly, hoping he still remembers her words even when she’s gone.

“I know that. Why the fuck do you think I haven’t done it yet?” Ben says with a raised brow and as much patience as he can find within himself. Chats like these aren’t his strong suit.

“So, this is your idea?” She cocks an eyebrow at the vial in his hand, her look pointed. “You don’t wanna kill me quickly, but you’d rather watch me die in fucking slow-motion?”

“It’s better than nothing,” Ben argues, the lines on his freckled face hardening again. Why does she have to be so fucking stubborn all the time?

Ironically, she thought the same thing about her husband.

“For who? You?! You can’t be that fucking selfish,” she spits and rises from the couch with a shaking head.

“Funny. I was just about to say the same fucking thing to you,” he returns with the same fire.

She thunders into the bedroom and slams the door shut before he hears her rummaging through the closet. Annoyed, he rolls his eyes once the first expletives bleed through.

“Where’s the fucking gun?” she snaps as soon as the door flies open again.

“Already hid it somewhere you won’t fucking find it,” he answers slyly and purses his lips as she storms past him into the kitchen.

She lets out a deep sigh of frustration when she finds both the knife block and drawers empty. “Seriously? Did you fucking baby-proof the house while I was asleep?!”

“Well, if you’re behaving like a fucking baby…” he retorts and patiently follows her frantic steps. “You also won’t find fucking scissors and pills, either.”

“Ironic coming from you,” she scoffs, opening and shutting cabinet doors in the desperate search for something strong enough to put her out of her goddamn misery.

“Yeah, how do you think I knew which shit to hide, huh?” he asks rhetorically and takes a careful step closer, cornering her between counters and appliances. “Would you stop that now and fucking talk to me?”

“You don’t wanna talk to me,” she retorts. “You just wanna fucking pump me full of poison, so you get to feel fucking good about yourself again.”

“You think that’s it? I’m fucking jealous?” He arches a brow and crosses his muscular arms over his broad chest, his offense hiding behind amusement.

“Aren’t you?” she bites back.

“It’s me, you asshole,” she snarls.

The look on her face breaks his heart into a million pieces. He almost doesn’t recognize her anymore, and he knows reaching any sense of clarity or humanity within her is impossible at this point.

“You sure about that?”

She doesn’t reply, just shakes her head at him and opens the fridge. Her shoulders still for a second, and Ben knows at that moment she’s found something and is thinking of a plan to outfox him.

His gaze swerves to the full beer bottle that has found its way into her hand. She’s quick when she breaks it forcefully against the countertop, the golden-brown liquid splashing onto the floor. But Ben’s faster and bruisingly clutches her wrist, spinning her to face him. Tears sting her eyes as she fights against his hold. Ben knows she’s not using her full strength on him, though, and is almost curious as to why.

He’s not sure Soldier Boy would’ve shown the same hesitant restraint, even if it had been her.

“What the fuck are you doing? Let me fucking go,” she grits through her teeth.

Ben only shakes his head, his gaze on her stern as he tightens his grip around her wrist.

“You want me to fucking melt you into a puddle?” she threatens.

“Fucking do it,” he challenges her defiantly without a blink of a single eye. “If you wanna do this, you’re gonna have to step over my fucking body first, ‘cause there’s no way I’m letting this hand go unless you drop that fucking bottle. What’s it gonna be?”

Her nostrils flare in sync with the heavy rising and falling of her chest, her glare deadly. Slowly and mutinously, she opens each finger till the bottle crashes to the floor and shatters into sharp daggers at their feet. As soon as his grasp on her loosens, she breaks down and falls into his arms, sobbing against his chest.

He feels a flood of relief rush through his body. Thank fucking God, because he’s totally been bluffing.

He wraps his arms tighter around her, holds her closer, and nuzzles his face into her hair. “I know. It’s okay, sweetheart…”

“I’m fucking scared, Ben,” she cries, and he swallows the thick lump in his throat and forces his own tears back into his skull.

“I know, I know…” He cradles her head, resting his chin on her crown. “You know, admittedly, I’m-… I’m a little scared, too.”

She peels from his chest and meets his forest green eyes, amusement dancing on her lips. “Well, I’m glad you’re not a cold-hearted psychopath.”

Ben curls his lips, cheeks reddening. This is what he gets for opening up. “It’s my job as your husband to take care of you. Be a strong front.”

She rolls her eyes back dramatically and groans into his shirt. “You know, it doesn’t make you less of a man for feeling things.” She teasingly grins up at him. “In fact, I think only guys with the biggest dicks can pull it off.”

His lips tug at a smile. “I know what you’re doing.”

She locks her arms around his neck and pulls herself to his height for a scorching kiss. And Ben can’t fight the feeling this is meant to be their last one.

“Don’t get weird when I’m gone, okay?” she tells him then, and it feels like the beginning of a list of last wishes. “No reverting back to full asshole. No blue shit.”

“Christ, you’re not fucking dying,” Ben replies, his deep voice calm but firm.

“Ben, denial will only make it worse,” she says, her heart cracking at the forlorn look on his face. “You can’t fix this. There’s nothing you can do. It’s okay.”

Ben shakes his head wordlessly, and she knows the conversation is about to be over. There really isn’t more she can do, either.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to bed. You need some rest,” Ben says and already scoops her into his arms before she can respond.

Y/N’s head rests on his broad and bare chest as he holds her tightly in his arms. The skin-to-skin contact seems to soothe her, which is good because he plans to never let her go. If he just keeps her here right next to him, she’ll be fine. She won’t leave him.

She’s talked some when she wasn’t out like a light, but Ben could tell her mind was getting hazy. She talked about her parents and her childhood, something she rarely ever does.

They had never really talked a lot about their respective pasts altogether. They’d covered the basics, but what actually happened didn’t matter as much. They knew they’d both done things they weren’t proud of. But the point of their relationship had always been a clean slate – a fresh start.

She had barely gotten that. She stupidly sacrificed it all for him, and he still wishes she would’ve never done that. He was supposed to die that day with Homelander. It had been his time.

Not hers.

She snores softly in his arms. Her heartbeat is faint, her breathing shallow. An hour ago, it used to be labored, each breath a struggle. She’s so hot he’s afraid she’ll melt in his embrace. He knows she doesn’t have long anymore. He’s running out of time.

Carefully, he stretches his arm to reach for the glistening yellow vial on the nightstand. He pops the lid open and stabs the syringe through the top, drawing it to the brim.

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his green eyes. What if he makes it worse? More painful? What if he kills her?

Victoria’s words ring in his ears. There’s a chance the virus accepts the cure. A loophole, if you will. The cure’s deadly for two-timers, but if they were also infected with the virus, the cure could piggyback on that. One in eighty rats had survived the ordeal before they stopped the trials. Ben didn’t understand the rest of the scientific mumbo-jumbo, but he knows those aren’t great odds.

Still, it’s something.

Ben doesn’t have the luxury to be picky about solutions, though. What he thought were minutes turn to seconds once her breathing stops entirely.

He rolls up the sleeves of the oversized shirt she’s wearing, one of his, and looks for a good angle on her forearm, just below the elbow. He’s not a doctor, he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing or where it should go best, but that one time he did heroin in the 80s, he’d put it exactly there, and it had been fine.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he mumbles into her hair and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

One rough prick through her steeled skin, and the needle is in. He empties the liquid in one swift motion before discarding the used syringe back on the nightstand. He cautiously slides out from underneath her then and ensures she’s lying comfortably on the mattress. He doesn’t want to leave her side, but he knows her powers might short-circuit soon.

Ben remembers the stories from other supes at the rehab clinic – the agonizing pain, the feeling of puking your organs out before the rest follows. Flickers of his own process trickle into his mind. He can’t remember most of it, but he remembers how they’d locked him up in a nuclear-proof prison at some point during the procedure.

For now, he prefers not die by a rain of acid if he gets to pick.

His hand gently caresses her head. He’s not even sure she’s still alive. She might not, and he may have been too late. All for nothing.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers and takes her hand in his. It feels cold and lifeless, but he still tries. He’s not ready to let go yet. He’s not sure he’ll ever be. “I know you can beat this shit like everything else. We’re this fucking close. Just a little more…”

And then, there’s a flicker of something – a weak tap of a finger against his palm. There’s movement behind her eyelids and a twitch of her brows.

“Sweetheart?”

There’s a groan, her hands gripping a fistful of bedsheets as she coils into the mattress, muscles contorting. He gently rubs her back, trying to help her as the pain tears through her.

“Hey, hey, you’re good. You’re alright,” he soothes and feels the guilt bubbling in his stomach. He hates that he did this to her, but he did it for love. The knowledge barely makes it better, however.

“Oh, fuck, Ben!”

She usually screams those exact words for different reasons, and Ben notes the soft tones of annoyance and anger that are lacing her voice.

“Did you give me the fucking cure?!”

Ben draws his lips into tight line and nods. Admittedly, she might not have fully consented to the procedure. But he prefers her furious with him for the rest of her life over dead. Besides, he’s her husband – shouldn’t the decision be his? Like pulling the plug? That’s a thing, right?

“Motherfucking–“

She bites down on her tongue and swallows her curses with some blood as another surge of pain takes control of her body. Her fingernails claw at her forearms as if she’s trying to scratch it out of her system. If Ben could compare it to anything, he’d probably go with a demon exorcism.

“Look, I’m fucking sorry, but I had to take the shot, alright?!”

Y/N groans in loud exhaustion, and Ben’s not entirely sure if it’s because of the pain or a little bit because of him, too.

“Ben, you need to fucking leave,” she presses through her lips, her stern gaze finding his.

He can tell by her look that she’s not saying it out of anger. She’s not saying it because she doesn’t want him to stay and never see him again. She says it because she’s trying to save his life.

Again. The fourth time.

Her name falls from his lips, but she shakes her head as she stumbles out of bed and pushes past him towards the bathroom.

“Leave,” she tells him with more urgency. “Close the door. Go now.”

Ben stills with a hand on the doorknob and looks at her. He can’t leave her like this, can he?

“I’ll be fine. I promise. Please go,” she says as if she can read his mind, steadying herself against the cool wall. She can feel it everywhere, trying to escape her body.

His breaths are ragged, his heart is hammering against his ribs. “I fucking love you,” he says through the sting of tears in his eyes. He says it like it’s the last time he gets to say it while she can still hear him.

She sends him a weak smile and mouths, ‘I love you, too.’

And all there’s left then for him to do is staring at a closed bedroom door. And waiting. Fucking waiting…

Part 3: Lovestruck – TOMORROW 💕

Ah yes the waiting game 😂🫶 Are you excited for the finale aka the happy end tomorrow? After this, they truly deserve it haha

🩵 Tag List

☕️ Ko-Fi

💭 Talk Dirty to Me

TAGS:

Forevers: @alwaystiredandconfused @lyarr24 @supernotnatural2005 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@thebiggerbear @star-yawnznn @thej2report @misatxox @spnaquakindgdom

@americanvenom13 @lamentationsofalonelypotato

Soldier Boy: @deans-baby-momma @snowayumi

Rehab Series: @nancymcl @sparkydonugh

#lover #rehab sequel #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x wife!reader #human!soldier boy #soldier boy x supe!reader #soldier boy series #soldier boy fic #the boys #the boys amazon #the boys x reader #lovely mutuals #zepskies reads

43 notes · View notes