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lila-lou · 5 months

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✨ His only exception - Pt. 25/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, hurt, soft Ben, Ben gets hurt

Word Count: 7384

A/N: This is part 25 of “His only exception”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As the days passed and you called in sick for the entire week at Vought, Ben couldn't shake the feeling that he had made a major mistake. Each day weighed heavily on him, his mind consumed by thoughts of you and the uncertain future of your relationship. He knew he had messed up, and the realization gnawed at him with each passing moment.

He tried his best not to pressure you, but every damn second without you felt like hell on earth. He missed you. And it took all of his strength to give you the space you needed.

Still, it drove him crazy. His emotions were like a whirlwind rushing up and down within him several times a day. He could hardly control himself. His chest began to glow again and again, his vision blurred and his heart began to race. If he didn't know better, he'd think he was lovesick. Heartbreak is hard for normal people, but it's even worse for America's first superhero with this past and newfound powers.

He didn't have much choice but to throw himself headfirst into work.

So as Ben continued to make sweeping changes at Vought, you found yourself confined to your hotel room, grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. Despite the turmoil within you, Ben's constant messages provided a small comfort. His updates on Vought's developments and the occasional meme brought a fleeting smile to your face, but deep down, you longed for more.

With each passing day, you hoped that Ben would take the next step, that he would finally express his feelings for you in a more definitive way. Yet, as the week wore on, his messages remained friendly and casual, lacking the depth and commitment you yearned for. The uncertainty of where you stood with him only added to the turmoil in your heart.

As Ben navigated the complex web of corporate politics and power struggles at Vought, his thoughts were consumed by one thing: you. Amidst the chaos and pressure of his new role, he couldn't shake the feeling of longing that gnawed at him relentlessly. Every decision he made, every move he orchestrated, was driven by the desire to exert control in a world where uncertainty loomed large.

He missed you with an intensity that bordered on desperation. Your voice echoed in his mind, your scent lingered in the air, and the memory of your touch haunted him at every turn. Despite the distractions and demands of his new position, you were never far from his thoughts. Each passing moment only served to deepen his longing for you, leaving him yearning for the day when he could hold you in his arms once more.

As Monday arrived, you found yourself steeling your nerves as you stepped back into Vought. Taking your seat next to Jay, his gaze fixed on you, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Your eyes were red and puffy, evidence of the sleepless night spent grappling with your emotions. Dark circles underscored your exhaustion, a testament to the turmoil that had consumed you in recent days.

Despite the emotional upheaval, you hadn't officially ended things with Jay. The weight of that unresolved tension hung heavy in the air, adding to the unease that settled over you as you braced yourself for another day without Ben.

Jay turned more towards you, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Hey", he said softly, his voice laced with genuine worry. "You look… rough. Are you okay? Care to explain what's been going on?".

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. Jay had been there for you during some tough times, but the truth of your feelings for Ben weighed heavily on your conscience. Taking a deep breath, you prepared to navigate the delicate balance between honesty and discretion.

Tears welled up in your eyes once more as you struggled to find the right words. "Jay, I'm so sorry", you began, your voice wavering with emotion. "You don't deserve any of this. It's not you; it's me. I'm the problem, not you".

Your heart ached with guilt as you admitted the truth, knowing that Jay had been nothing but supportive and caring throughout your tumultuous relationship.

Jay's heart sank as he saw you in distress, and without hesitation, he pulled you into a comforting embrace. His arms enveloped you, offering solace and support in your moment of vulnerability. Despite the pain he felt knowing you were hurting, his love for you remained unwavering.

As the usual chatter from your colleagues ceased, you opened your eyes, your gaze meeting Ben's imposing figure clad in his supe suit as he stood in your office doorway. The room fell silent, the weight of his presence palpable as all eyes turned to him.

His gaze was fixed solely on you, and you felt a knot form in your stomach as you instantly withdrew from Jay's embrace. Ben's presence filled the room, his eyes narrowing as he spoke with firmness in his tone.

"I need you in my office. Now", he commanded, his hands clenched into fists by his sides, radiating an aura of unmistakable anger.

As you rose to your feet, the eyes of your colleagues, including Jay's, followed you and Ben as you made your way towards the elevators. It was unusual to see Ben on this floor, and the attention from everyone around you only added to the tension in the air. The silence seemed to weigh heavily as you entered the elevator with Ben, the gazes of your coworkers lingering on you both as the doors closed.

Ben turned towards you, his expression fierce as he spoke loudly, his voice echoing in the confined space of the elevator.

"That's why you fucking left me?!", he exclaimed, his words filled with anger and hurt.

But Ben's outburst caught you off guard, and you realized he had misunderstood the situation completely. You opened your mouth to explain, but before you could utter a word, the elevator dinged, signaling your arrival at Ben's office floor.

As soon as you entered the office, Ben slammed the doors shut behind you, his anger palpable in the tense atmosphere.

"I should go back down and fucking kill him!", he yelled, his voice booming with rage as he paced back and forth in front of you. His fists were still clenched tightly at his sides, his whole body vibrating with fury.

You watched him, a mixture of fear and sadness swirling inside you. "Ben, please, calm down", you pleaded, your voice trembling slightly. "It's not what you think".

Ben's anger simmered as he locked eyes with you. "Then what is it, huh?", he demanded, his voice edged with frustration. "Why did you fucking leave me?".

As you stood there, feeling small and hurt in front of Soldier Boy, you couldn't help but notice the turmoil in his eyes, despite his efforts to hold back his emotions. With a trembling voice, you yelled back at him, "I didn't leave you, Ben! You pushed me away!".

Ben's jaw clenched as he struggled to process your words. "How the fuck did I push you away?", he retorted, his voice rising with frustration. "I've been doing everything I can to make things right, to show you how much I care about you!".

You shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "Buying a house without even talking to me about it, Ben", you replied, your voice shaking with emotion. "That's not showing me you care. It's making decisions for both of us without considering how I feel".

"I just wanted to give you something", he admitted, his voice more quiet now. "Something that would make you happy. A Home".

You took a step closer, the tension between you slowly dissipating. "I know", you replied. "But sometimes, it's not about the grand gestures. It's about the little things… like communication and honesty".

He met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of remorse and determination. "I messed up, didn't I?", he asked, his voice tinged with regret.

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to express your true feelings. "Being with you is all I want, Ben", you began, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. "But I need more than… a house. I need your commitment. I can't keep doing this uncertainty, wondering where we stand".

You met his gaze, searching his eyes for any sign of understanding. "I want to hear you say that you love me, Ben", you continued, your voice trembling slightly. "The way I love you".

But instead of the reassurance you longed for, Ben remained silent, his expression conflicted as he processed your words. It was clear that he still wasn't ready to open up completely, leaving you feeling a familiar ache of disappointment in your heart.

“I need to know where we stand, Ben”, you urged, your voice tinged with desperation. “I can’t keep living in this limbo, not knowing if you’re truly committed to me”.

Ben sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I care about you, you know that”, he said finally, his voice rough with emotion. “But I’m not good at this… at relationships, at opening up”.

You felt a surge of frustration and sadness at his words, the realization sinking in that he still wasn’t willing to give you the commitment you needed. But despite your disappointment, you knew that pushing him further would only drive him away.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to say the words that you knew would hurt both of you. “I’m here for you, Ben”, you began. “I want to support you and be there for you, but… as long as you can’t decide if you love me or not, we can’t be anything more than friends”.

The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, and you could see the pain flicker across Ben’s face as he processed what you had just said. It was clear that your words had struck a chord with him, stirring something deep within his heart.

Ben stood there in silence, his gaze fixed on the ground as he grappled with the weight of your words. His heart felt heavy in his chest, aching with a pain he couldn't quite articulate. Despite his efforts to hold back his emotions, tears welled up in his eyes, betraying the turmoil raging within him.

He wanted to reach out to you, to tell you how much you meant to him, but the words caught in his throat, choked by the fear of rejection and the uncertainty of his own feelings. In that moment, he felt more lost and vulnerable than he ever had before.

As you stood there, watching him, he knew that he had to confront his own demons before he could ever hope to give you the love and commitment you deserved. But for now, all he could do was stand there in silence, his heart breaking with every passing moment.

Overwhelmed by your own emotions, you stumbled out of Ben's office, tears streaming down your face as you rushed toward the nearest restroom. Your chest felt tight, suffocated by the weight of disappointment and heartache. You said the words so clearly, but you also broke your own heart.

As you reached the sanctuary of the restroom, you barely made it to a stall before the overwhelming wave of emotions crashed over you. Bent over the toilet, tears mixing with the bile rising in your throat, you retched violently, your body convulsing with each heave.

It felt like an eternity before the nausea subsided, leaving you trembling and exhausted. With shaky hands, you wiped away the tears and splashed some water on your face, trying to compose yourself as best as you could.

As you made your way back to your desk, you could feel the weight of your emotions still pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. The concerned glances from your colleagues only served to exacerbate your sense of vulnerability, and you couldn't bring yourself to meet their eyes. They thought Soldier Boy screwed you over a mistake.

Jay, however, was different. He could see past the facade. As you took your seat beside him, he reached out and gently squeezed your hand in a silent gesture of support.

You managed a weak smile in response, grateful for his understanding.

Jay's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as he leaned in closer to you. "Are you okay?", he asked, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.

You took a moment to collect your thoughts before responding. "I'll be fine", you replied, your voice wavering slightly. "Just… dealing with some stuff".

His brow furrowed with worry as he continued, his tone gentle. "Is it… Is Soldier Boy the guy you told me about? The one you were trying to get over?".

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal, but ultimately decided to be honest with him. "Yeah", you admitted quietly, feeling a pang of guilt for dragging Jay more into your personal drama.

Jay’s voice was sympathetic as he spoke, his expression reflecting his concern. “Soldier Boy… he’s a big deal, huh?”, he mumbled, shaking his head slightly.

You nodded. “Yeah, he’s… complicated”, you replied, a hint of sadness in your voice as you thought about Ben’s tumultuous emotions.

Jay sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor as he mumbled, “Well, against him, it was predictable that I’d lose you”.

You felt a pang of guilt at his words.

“I’m sorry, Jay”, you said softly, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “I never meant to hurt you”.

Jay looked up, offering you a small, sad smile. “It’s okay”, he replied, his voice tinged with resignation.

You took a deep breath. "Jay, when I started dating you, I thought Ben was dead", you confessed quietly. "I never expected to see him again, and I needed someone to help me move on. I didn't mean to lead you on or hurt you in any way".

Jay's expression softened slightly. "I get it", he replied. "It must have been hard for you, thinking he was gone".

"It was", you admitted, a hint of sadness creeping into your voice. "But that's no excuse for hurting you. I should have been honest with you from the beginning".

"It's okay", he reassured you. "I'm just glad you're okay and that we can still be friends".

You offered him a small, grateful smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Thank you, Jay", you said sincerely. "For being so understanding".

With that, the tension between you eased slightly, and you both turned your attention back to your work. You had to distract yourself from Ben somehow.

Another week passed, each day dragging on for Ben as he grappled with the overwhelming guilt and sadness that consumed him. He found himself unable to sleep, lying awake in bed for hours on end, tormented by thoughts of you and the way he had pushed you away.

His appetite disappeared, the thought of food turning his stomach as he wrestled with the emptiness that seemed to gnaw at his insides. Even his usual distractions, like spending time with prostitutes or engaging in reckless behavior, held no appeal for him. All he could think about was you, and how he had let you slip through his fingers.

It didn't even matter to him that Butcher still hadn't handed over Homelander. Normally, that would have consumed his thoughts and driven him to take action, but now it seemed insignificant compared to the ache in his heart.

Every day felt like an eternity, each moment stretching on endlessly as he grappled with the consequences of his actions. He knew he had to make things right with you, but he couldn't shake the fear that it might already be too late.

For you, that week felt like a never-ending nightmare. The pain of being apart from Ben weighed heavily on your heart, leaving you feeling hollow and empty. Each day was a struggle to get out of bed, plagued by also sleepless nights and a loss of appetite.

You couldn't shake the feeling of nausea that seemed to accompany every thought of Ben, and there were moments when you found yourself rushing to the bathroom, overcome by waves of sickness. It was as if your body was rebelling against the turmoil in your mind, unable to handle the emotional strain you were under.

The thought of Ben being unable to commit to you gnawed at you, filling you with a sense of insecurity and fear. You needed him to be with you, to reassure you that you were the only one for him, but the uncertainty of his feelings left you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Despite the overwhelming longing you felt for him, there was a part of you that feared what would happen if you let him back into your life.

Each day dragged on, the minutes ticking by slowly as you waited for some sign from Ben that he still cared.

As Monday unfolded, it felt like just another day, despite being your birthday.

The office buzzed with its usual energy, oblivious to the significance of the date for you. Your family called, and a few old friends sent text messages, but beyond that, there were no grand gestures or celebrations.

Sitting at your desk, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness amidst the routine of the day. It wasn’t the lack of gifts or attention that bothered you, but rather the absence of someone special to share the moment with.

On your lunch break, you sat on a bench at the park near vought and munched on your salad, as someone sat down besides you. It was frenchie. You haven’t talked to him in over three weeks since you were still mad.

“Hey”, Frenchie said softly, his voice carrying a hint of hesitation.

You glanced over, surprised to see him there. “Hey”, you replied, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Frenchie spoke again. “I… I know we haven’t talked in a while. And I understand if you’re still upset about what happened with Soldier Boy… But I just wanted to say… I miss our conversations”.

You sighed, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. “I miss them too”, you admitted, unable to deny the truth of his words.

Frenchie hesitated for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, wrapped package. "I almost forgot", he said, his voice softer now. "Happy birthday".

Your eyes widened in surprise as you accepted the gift, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest. "Thank you", you murmured, touched by the unexpected gesture and the fact he remembered your birthday.

Carefully, you unwrapped the package to reveal your necklace, the one that had broken during your first fight against Homelander a year ago. But now, it looked as good as new, thanks to Frenchie's repairs.

You looked up at him, speechless for a moment. "You fixed it", you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Frenchie nodded, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "I remembered how much it meant to you", he admitted. "And I wanted to make things right… to, kinda unbreak the broken", he smiled.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to hug him, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you. "Thank you", you said again, your voice choked with emotion.

As you released him from the embrace, Frenchie stood up. "I have to go", he said, his voice tinged with regret. "But I hope… I hope you'll still reach out to me, even if you don't want to talk to the rest of the team".

You nodded. "I will", you promised, your voice filled with sincerity. "Thank you, Frenchie, for everything".

He offered you a small, reassuring smile before turning to leave, his footsteps fading away as he walked out of the park.

As you sat alone on the bench again, the necklace clutched in your hand, you thought that perhaps, with time, wounds could heal, and bonds could be strengthened once more.

With a sigh, you glanced around the empty office a few hours later, the silence weighing heavily on your shoulders. Everyone had gone home for the day, leaving you to grapple with your own thoughts and emotions.

As you gathered your things and prepared to leave, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness gnawing at your heart. The emptiness of the office seemed to amplify the sense of isolation you had been grappling with all day.

Closing your laptop and shutting down your workstation, you took one last look around the office before finally making your way to the elevators.

Feeling another sudden wave of nausea, you stumbled back from your desk, clutching your stomach as you fought to keep your composure. The queasiness intensified with each passing moment, leaving you feeling weak and unsteady on your feet.

Frantically, you searched for the restroom, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to keep the contents of your stomach at bay. Every step felt like a monumental effort, the urge to vomit growing stronger with each passing moment.

Finally reaching the restroom, you barely made it to a stall before retching uncontrollably into the toilet.

After what felt like an eternity, the nausea finally passed, leaving you feeling weak and shaky. Slowly, you pushed yourself up from the floor, rinsing your mouth and splashing water on your face in an attempt to regain some semblance of composure.

As you leaned against the sink, trying to steady your breathing, you couldn't shake the nagging worry that lingered in the back of your mind. Something wasn't right, and you couldn't ignore the sinking feeling that this was just the beginning of something much more serious.

With each step back to your hotel, the weight of loneliness grew heavier, the absence of Ben a constant ache in your heart.

As you walked through the streets, you couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to engulf you. The city buzzed with life around you, but you felt disconnected, lost.

You missed Ben more than ever, but deep down, you knew that staying with him wouldn’t have solved the ache in your heart.

As you finally reached your hotel room, you closed the door behind you, enveloped once again in the silence of solitude.

Your heart raced as you scanned the room, the scent of Ben´s cologne hung in the air. It was both comforting and agonizing, stirring up emotions you had been trying to suppress.

With a shaky breath, you approached the spot where the scent seemed strongest, as if hoping to find some trace of him left behind.

As you stood there, grappling with the conflicting emotions swirling inside you, a sense of sadness washed over you. It was a stark reminder of just how quickly things could change, how the presence of someone you loved could vanish in an instant.

Just then, you spotted a little box on the bed.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the small box sitting on the bed, your heart pounding in your chest with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. With trembling fingers, you carefully unwrapped the neatly wrapped package, revealing a key and a folded note nestled inside.

Your breath caught in your throat as you read the simple message scrawled on the note: “Happy birthday, it’s all yours”.

For a moment, you were overcome with confusion, unable to comprehend the significance of the key and the cryptic message. But then it dawned on you, a sudden rush of realization flooding through you like a tidal wave.

The house.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling with a mixture of emotions. Tears welled up in your eyes once again, and you cursed at yourself for allowing them to fall, for allowing Ben’s actions to have such power over your heart.

But more than anything, you cursed at Ben, for being unable to simply tell you that he loved you, for leaving you to decipher his feelings through cryptic gestures and hidden messages.

With a shaky breath, you wiped away the tears that stained your cheeks, feeling a surge of anger bubbling up inside you. How could he have been so cowardly, so unwilling to confront his own emotions and share them with you?

The weight of his absence felt heavier than ever.

Despite the anger and frustration simmering within you, a part of you couldn't help but long for his comforting embrace, his reassuring presence by your side.

Your fingers hovered over your phone, tempted to reach out to him, to confront him about his cowardice and demand answers for his actions. But as quickly as the impulse arose, you pushed it aside, knowing deep down that reaching out to him would only prolonging the pain and heartache.

Instead, you found yourself lost in thought, your mind wandering back to the realization that Ben had known your birthday without ever needing to ask.

With a heavy sigh, you set your phone aside, knowing that dwelling on the past would only bring more pain. But even as you tried to push aside the longing for his presence, you couldn't shake the yearning for him to be there with you, to hold you close and chase away the loneliness that threatened to consume you.

In the silence of the empty hotel room, you allowed yourself a moment of vulnerability, a moment to admit to yourself that despite everything, you still wished he was there with you.

Glancing at the clock, you realized that it wasn't terribly late. Yet, the weight of the day's events and the absence of anyone to celebrate your birthday with left you feeling drained and disheartened.

With a heavy sigh, you made the decision to retreat to bed, seeking solace in the embrace of sleep. The thought of spending any more time alone with your thoughts seemed unbearable, and the prospect of facing another moment of loneliness was too much to bear.

As you slipped beneath the covers, exhaustion weighed heavily on your limbs, pulling you into the embrace of darkness. Closing your eyes, you sought refuge from your emotions that threatened to overwhelm you, hoping that sleep would offer some respite from the ache in your heart.

With each passing moment, the world around you faded into oblivion, and for a brief moment, you found a fleeting sense of peace.

Ben's footsteps were silent as he entered your room a few hours later, the weight of his actions heavy on his mind. The dim moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your sleeping form.

Standing by the bed, Ben's heart swelled with a mix of emotions. Guilt, remorse, and an overwhelming longing to see you filled him as he watched you sleep peacefully. He needed to be near you, to see you, even if only for a moment.

Quietly, he approached the bed, his gaze fixed on you. His hand hovered over yours, tempted to reach out and touch you, but he hesitated, unsure if his presence would only cause you more pain.

For a moment, he simply stood there, lost in the sight of you, the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed softly. Despite the mistakes he had made, he couldn't deny what he felt for you.

With a heavy heart, Ben finally turned to leave, knowing that now was not the time for reconciliation. You needed your rest, and he needed to find a way to make things right, to prove to you that he was capable of change.

As you stood in the office kitchen the next day, filling up a glass of water, you were startled by the sound of the door closing behind you. Turning around, you found yourself face to face with Ben, his presence unexpected yet undeniable.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you palpable as you met each other's gaze. It was as if the weight of everything that had transpired hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the space between you.

Finally, Ben broke the silence, his voice quiet yet filled with emotion. "I couldn't stay away", he admitted, his words carrying the weight of his remorse and longing.

You regarded him warily, unsure of how to respond to his sudden appearance.

With a sigh, you set the glass of water aside, turning to face him fully. "What do you want, Ben?", you asked, your voice tinged with a mixture of sadness and vulnerability.

"I know I messed up, but I fucking need you (y/n). Only you, okay?".

His words hung in the air between you, the weight of his sincerity and determination evident in every syllable.

Tears welled up in your eyes once again as you listened to Ben’s earnest plea. His words tugged at your heartstrings, igniting a glimmer of hope within you, but beneath the surface, there lingered a deep-seated pain that refused to be ignored.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you met Ben’s gaze, your voice trembling with emotion. “Ben, I… I want to believe you”, you began, your words halting as you struggled to find the right ones. “But until you can’t even say you’re sorry, I can’t do this. I need more than just empty promises. I need you to let me in, to show me your emotions, to tell me what you truly feel”.

Ben’s expression faltered, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he searched for the right response.

As Ben's expression faltered, you could sense the struggle within him, the conflict between his desire to make things right and his inability to express his emotions openly. His uncertainty mirrored your own.

Instead of addressing your plea for him to confront his feelings, Ben's voice wavered as he spoke, his words a clumsy attempt to change the subject. "Did you… Did you get my present?", he asked, his tone hesitant, his eyes flickering with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

His question caught you off guard, a sharp contrast to the weighty conversation you had been having just moments before. The sudden shift in focus left you feeling disoriented, unsure of how to respond to his attempt at diversion.

Swallowing back the lump in your throat, you nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, I did", you replied, your words tinged with a hint of sadness.

Ben's gaze softened, his heart aching to touch you, to wipe away your tears and ease the pain he had caused. But despite his longing, he remained rooted in place, unable to bridge the emotional distance that separated you.

For a moment, silence enveloped you both, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

Unable to resist the pull of his emotions any longer, he reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands. His touch was tender, his thumb brushing away the tears that stained your cheeks.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his touch. But as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, you sensed a shift in his demeanor, a sudden realization dawning in his eyes.

"Hey", he murmured softly, his voice tinged with curiosity as he studied your face intently. "You smell… kinda funny… minty".

His words caught you off guard, the unexpected observation pulling you out of the emotional haze that had enveloped you. You blinked in surprise, unsure of how to respond to his comment.

Beneath the surface, however, Ben's mind raced with a flurry of thoughts and memories, his senses suddenly overwhelmed by the familiar scent that clung to you. It was a scent he knew all too well.

Confusion clouded your expression as you pulled back slightly from Ben's touch, his words leaving you bewildered.

"Ben, what are you talking about?", you asked, your voice tinged with confusion and curiosity.

Ben's expression softened. "I don't know", he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with resignation. "It's just… familiar, somehow. Your scent".

Before you could press him for more answers, a sudden thought crossed your mind, and you couldn't help but voice it.

"When was the last time you slept, Ben?", you asked, your concern evident in your voice. "You look exhausted".

Ben's response was a shrug. "I don't fucking know", he rolled his eyes. "Maybe Monday, maybe Sunday".

The admission sent a pang of worry through you, the realization of just how much Ben had been struggling weighing heavily on your heart.

Ben sighed deeply, a sense of resignation settling over him as he realized that his attempts to reconnect with you were falling short. Despite his longing for reconciliation, he knew that he wouldn’t get anywhere with you in his current state.

“Just to go to the fucking house. It’s safer for you to stay there”.

You swallowed hard. With a resigned nod, you acknowledged the urgency in his plea, understanding that there was more at stake than just your fractured relationship.

"Okay", you murmured softly. "I'll go to the house".

As you turned to leave the kitchen, a surge of concern washed over you, prompted by the weary exhaustion etched into Ben's features. Despite the tension between you, a part of you couldn't ignore the worry gnawing at your conscience, the need to ensure his well-being outweighing the hurt you felt.

But before you could voice your concern, you hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Instead, you simply met Ben's gaze, your eyes reflecting the depth of your concern.

"You need to sleep, Ben", you said gently, your voice filled with quiet insistence. "Take care of yourself."

With that, you turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Ben alone with his thoughts.

With the day's work behind you and Ben's plea echoing in your mind, you made your way to the hotel lobby, your bag slung over your shoulder. The weight of uncertainty settled heavily on your shoulders as you prepared to face whatever awaited you at your old apartment.

Exiting the hotel, you hailed a cab and directed the driver to take you to your former residence. The familiar sights and sounds of the city passed by in a blur as you rode in silence, your thoughts consumed by the events of the day.

As the cab pulled up outside your old apartment building, you sighed. Gathering your resolve, you stepped out onto the sidewalk and made your way inside.

The familiar corridors felt strangely empty as you made your way to your former apartment, the silence broken only by the echo of your footsteps. Unlocking the door, you stepped inside.

With a heavy heart, you began the task of packing up the remainder of your belongings. As you worked, the hours slipped away, the sun sinking lower in the sky with each passing moment.

Finally, as the last box was packed and your car loaded with your belongings, you took one last look around your empty room.

With a deep breath, you closed the door behind you and made your way to your car.

As you stepped outside, your thoughts consumed by the events of the day, you were startled to see Annie and Hughie walking towards you. Their unexpected presence caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help but tense up as they approached.

“Hey”, Hughie greeted, his voice hesitant as he met your gaze. “Are you… Are you moving out of the apartment?”

You nodded tersely, the tension between you palpable. The rift between you and the team had grown too wide to ignore, and staying in the apartment no longer felt like an option.

“Yeah”, you replied shortly, your voice tinged with bitterness. “I am”.

Annie’s expression softened, a flicker of concern crossing her features as she regarded you. “Is everything okay?”, she asked gently, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal to them.

“I’m fine”, you replied curtly, the words coming out sharper than intended. “Just… Just need some space”.

Annie took a step closer, her eyes reflecting a mix of regret and sincerity. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry for lying to you", she began, her voice soft with remorse. "We never meant to hurt you".

But despite her apology, you couldn't bring yourself to accept it.

"I appreciate the apology, Annie", you replied coldly. "But sorry doesn't change what happened. It doesn't erase the fact that you lied to me, that you betrayed my trust".

Annie's expression fell, a sense of helplessness creeping into her features as she realized the depth of your pain. "I know", she whispered. "And I understand if you can't forgive us. But please know that I never meant to hurt you".

You met her gaze, the weight of her words sinking in. Despite the bitterness that still lingered within you, a part of you couldn't help but acknowledge the sincerity in her eyes. But even as you stood there, grappling with conflicting emotions, you knew that forgiveness wouldn't come easily, if it came at all.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from Annie and Hughie, your resolve firm as you made your way to your car.

With a heavy heart and a sense of determination, you drove towards the house Ben had urged you to go to. As you parked your car in front of the residence, a wave of uncertainty washed over you. But despite the apprehension that gnawed at your insides, you knew that staying here was the safest option for now.

Gathering your belongings, you stepped out of the car and made your way to the front door. The key that Ben had given you felt heavy in your hand as you unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The house was quiet. But as you walked through the rooms, a sense of calm settled over you. This was your sanctuary now, a place where you could find solace amidst the chaos that had consumed your life.

With a determined sigh, you began to unpack your belongings, each item finding its place in this new, unfamiliar space.

This was your new beginning, a chance to rebuild and redefine.

As you stepped into the kitchen, you found a big birthday cake on the table, together with another little box.

Surprised by the sight, you approached the table slowly, your heart pounding with a mixture of curiosity. The birthday cake stood proudly in the center.

Next to the cake sat a small box, meticulously wrapped in beautiful paper adorned with a delicate bow. Your fingers trembled slightly as you reached out to pick it up.

Carefully, you began to unwrap the package, your breath catching in your throat as you revealed the contents within.

As you peeled away the layers of wrapping paper, your breath caught in your throat as you beheld the contents of the box. Nestled within was a delicate necklace, its design exquisite and adorned with intricate details.

Your fingers traced the smooth curves of the pendant, marveling at the craftsmanship that had gone into its creation. A diamond “S” adorned the back, while a majestic eagle with sparkling diamonds adorned the front.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips, as you couldn’t help but feel a sense of amusement at Ben’s choice of design. The symbolism was not lost on you - the “S” representing his name as a supe, and the eagle, a nod to Ben’s supe suit. It was his way of showing that you still belonged to him.

With a gentle sigh, you fastened the necklace around your neck, the cool metal resting against your skin like a reassuring embrace.

With the necklace now adorning your neck, you took out your phone. Your fingers hovering over the screen as you composed a text to Ben.

"Thank you for the beautiful necklace", you typed. "It's stunning, and I truly appreciate the thought behind it".

With a deep breath, you hit send, the message disappearing into the digital ether as you waited for a response. The seconds stretched into minutes, the silence of the house enveloping you as you anxiously awaited Ben's reply.

Finally, a notification chimed, signaling a new message. You eagerly opened it, your heart racing with anticipation.

Ben's response was swift.

"I'm glad you liked it", he wrote. "I hope there was a little smile on that beautiful lips of yours, even if just for a moment".

A pang of longing washed over you at his words. With a sigh, you set your phone down.

An hour later you were sitting on the bed, your heart skipping a beat when you received another text from Ben. The words "I miss you" illuminated on your phone screen. It was a simple phrase, but it carried a weight of emotion that left you breathless.

For a moment, you were at a loss for words, the gravity of Ben's admission sinking in. It was the first time he had openly expressed his feelings since the rift between you had formed, and it left you feeling both vulnerable and hopeful.

With trembling fingers, you typed out a response, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find the right words.

"I miss you too", you wrote, the words spilling from you with a sense of raw honesty. "More than you know".

As you hit send, a sense of anticipation washed over you, mingled with a tinge of apprehension. The silence that followed was almost palpable, the weight of Ben's response hanging in the air like a delicate thread.

Finally, a notification chimed. With bated breath, you opened it, your heart racing.

Ben's words were filled with vulnerability and longing, a glimpse into the depths of his emotions that he had kept hidden for so long.

“I know I’m not good with words”, he wrote. “But I want you to know that I’m trying, for you. I want to be better, to be the man you deserve”.

Your heart swelled with a mix of emotions as you read his message, the weight of his admission weighing heavily on your mind. Despite the hurt and frustration that had led to your decision to take a break, a part of you couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope.

"I hope so", you typed, your fingers hesitating over the screen before hitting send. It was a simple response, but it carried the weight of your uncertainty and longing.

As you awaited Ben's reply, another wave of nausea washed over you, causing your stomach to churn with discomfort. With a sense of urgency, you set your phone down and hurried to the bathroom, the overwhelming sensation of sickness threatening to overtake you.

Barely making it to the toilet in time, you doubled over in nausea, your body wracked with involuntary spasms. It was a stark reminder of the physical toll that the emotional turmoil had taken on you, a manifestation of the stress and uncertainty that had consumed your life in recent days.

As you struggled to regain your composure, a sense of frustration washed over you, mingled with a deep-seated exhaustion.

———————————

A/N: Well, that was definitely not my favorite chapter and I found it extremely difficult to write it… but I'm looking forward to the next chapters. Stay tuned! Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 26

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #soldier boy x you #soldier boy fanfiction

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written-in-flowers · 2 years

Text

Toxic Revenge (AegonxReader)

Pairing: Aegon II x plussize!reader

Word Count: 5k

Genre: smut, just pure smut.

Tags: cheating from both sides, toxic revenge cheating, mentions of infidelity, cunnilingus, thigh worship, thigh job, breast play, nipple play, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, body worship, edging, aegon being a total perv and you’re into it lol

Summary: You’ve recently learned that rumors about your husband, Aemond’s, infidelity are true, and you’re not happy about it. So, rather than wallow in self-pity, to take a late night visit to his brother’s chambers.

A/N: got tired of reading cheating fics and the reader doing nothing about it. Lol, also in a super TGC brain rot and horny af lately. Enjoy.

Part 2: Nameday: The Picnic

****

'It pains me to inform you of another matter, my lady, but it is something that weighs heavily on my mind. Prince Aemond has recently been spending his nights with a servant woman in the castle. He has become very enamored with her, favoring her counsel over those of Ser Criston and myself. Twas only last night I caught the prince abed with the woman, tangled like two young lovers-'

You stopped reading the letter. Ser Harrold meant no harm by informing you of your husband's possible infidelity. As a knight, he took vows of honor and nobility. You supposed he wrote this to take a burden of knowledge off his shoulders. You held the scroll in your hands, reading his report from the battlefield once more. A part of you hoped it wasn't true. The thought tore your heart to shreds. You wanted to fool yourself into believing Ser Harrold harbored affection for you, hence why he'd make up such a slanderous lie. But, further proof laid in Aemond letters. You’d stupidly written to him with Ser Harrold’s accusation. You’d hoped he’d clear up the misunderstanding, but he did not. He only confirmed them.

‘Yes, I’m afraid what Ser Harrold wrote to you is true. It pains me to write this to you. You have made a strong effort for our marriage, but I do not feel the same. I have tried to love you, Y/N. You are a witty, clever, honorable woman, and any man would be lucky to have you. I tried to find some semblance of love for you, and I have, but not in the way you’d hoped. I love Alys. She understands me. She cares for me in a way no other woman has-”

You pushed the memory from your mind. The tears stung in your throat every time you thought about it.

And it angered you.

This unfaithfulness shamed your family, his family, and you. Most importantly, you. You and Aemond did not know each other well. Your wedding happened days before he set off to fight in The Riverlands. Yet, you’d believed your short courtship to be pleasant; the beginning of a blossoming romance, you’d thought. When he arrived at Storm's End on Vhagar, intimidating and mysterious, you'd been the most eager of your sisters to wed him. You didn't mind his sapphire eye, his steely stare or soft spoken voice. You liked it. When he chose you out of your sisters, you bordered between anxiousness and excitement. You recalled your heart hammering in your chest when he first spoke to you. You both stood off to the side during a feast, talking low in shadows where you’d have privacy. Nothing inappropriate happened, but you’d hoped the close proximity and slight intimacy might arouse desire in him. He didn’t seem bothered that you weren't the prettiest of your sisters, nor the skinniest. You both talked cordially, and he even laughed at your dumb jokes. Things could have been nice. It could have been good. You’d be a fool to wish for a fairy tale romance, but you’d wanted a genuine connection, at the very least.

He didn't appear to feel the same.

You hurled the letter into the nearby fire, watching the parchment curl and blacken in the flames. Images of Aemond holding some sultry, seductive, petite, woman flashed through your mind. You saw him kissing her. You saw him declaring his love for her, and having children with her. She must be special if Aemond Targaryen forsake his wedding vows for her. Hot tears blurred your eyes. What is worse is that you will be blamed for his indiscretion. Everyone will point at you and say nasty things: you're not pretty enough to tempt him or you're not worthy enough to be bedded by a prince or you're barren and therefore useless to anyone. Your worth in the world is decided by men, and they'll decide that you are the problem. Visions of your father, disappointed and shaking his head crossed your mind. It made you weep harder. You couldn’t help hating the woman you saw in the mirror..

Because your wide hips, pudgy stomach, thick thighs and arms made you stand out from your sisters, who are all tall and slim. You knew it worked against you with suitors, and you’re often a joke at court, but you take it in stride. You don’t give the laughter any satisfaction, and you used your wits to get your revenge. Having handsome, strong, tall Prince Aemond on your arm made you feel special; you felt being his wife meant you weren’t so ugly after all. Yet, now reading that Aemond entangled himself with another woman, made you rethink that entire narrative. He’d picked you because your father constantly pushed you on him, and he needed an alliance with House Baratheon. At least if he was unfaithful, people wouldn’t question why.

Aemond is allowed to cavort around with however many women he likes. You, on the other hand, are not afforded the same privilege. Should the roles be reversed, you'd be vilified. You could not stand the unfairness. Aemond could have his fun, but not you? He was allowed to break his vows, but not you? When you’d been the dutiful wife, waiting for his return and to begin a true marriage? No. You won't let him get away with it. You'd show him. You'd show him that just because he doesn’t find you attractive doesn’t mean others don’t. And you knew exactly how to hurt that inflated ego of his.

"Ada," you called to your handmaiden, wiping your cheeks and standing straight, "Fetch me a bath. Sprinkle some jasmine in there. I do love the scent.”

Ada and another handmaiden briskly acquired a hot bath, the water smelling of fine jasmine flowers and soothing to your skin. You ran the same oil through your hair, letting it loose instead of in the usual braids. You’d remembered what Aegon told you about jasmine flowers. He’d told you, lips inches from your ear, that it made you smell divine. He’d lewdly noted the scent alone, and knowing it came from you, aroused him immediately. At the time, you’d scoffed, rolled your eyes, and walked away from him, but the words lingered in your mind. Aemond never said things like that to you. Not even on your wedding night, when he’d made his first attempt at bedding you.

Thinking on that night now, you understood why he had trouble getting it hard. It made you angrier. If he thought your body disgusting, he could have said it instead of lying and saying he’d drunk too much.

Aegon’s suggestive, highly inappropriate comments did not stop at your wedding feast. Whenever within close range of you, the new king felt compelled to engage with you. He’d look over you with lustful, seductive violet eyes, and whisper something obscene in your ear.

‘I’d give up my crown if it meant I could spend a night buried between those luscious thighs of yours.’

‘My bed is quite cold these days. You’re more than welcome to warm it for me. Naked, preferably.’

‘I swear The Maiden really does live in your sighs. Let me praise her by making you sigh with my tongue.’

The comments once made your skin crawl and your stomach lurch. You thought it was incredibly disrespectful of him to flirt with his brother’s wife. Yet, as time went on and then Aemond left, those words haunted you some nights. You did once imagine the licentious, depraved, silver-haired man ripping your dress and having his way with you. You once hoped he might give into those desires and take you like a desperate, feral demon. You used to feel guilty having these thoughts, considering these things, because you were married. You had a husband whom you liked, and wanted to be closer to. Aemond showed some interest in you, so you’d hoped to make things work between you both. Reading Ser Harrold’s letter, and reading Aemond’s, you realized that was all a lie.

During your bath you pictured Aemond. You saw him in bed now with that woman, caressing and kissing her while you waited for him here at home. Your blood boiled thinking about it. He might be buried inside her at this moment. He might be spilling his seed into her; the same seed he'd spilled into you on your wedding night. It didn't take root there, but that didn't matter. Not now. Not after what you're about to do.

Or rather who.

Your handmaidens dressed you in a nightgown of baby blue silk and sheer fabric. Its plunging neckline revealed some of your chest, and the silk belt cinched your waistline. The robe you wore covered most of you, but when left loosely tied, the opening gradually parted in every step. An outfit made for getting Aegon Targaryen's attention. You dismissed your handmaidens for the night, waiting for them to leave before lighting a candle. Holding it by the base, you carefully snuck out of your bed chambers and down the hall. After becoming King, Aegon moved into his father’s old bed chamber. You thought it might be disrespectful, considering the sickly king had died there, but Aegon did not mind. Perhaps in some way, he sees bedding whores in his father’s bed as a slight to him. You slowly walked through the hallways of the holdfast, not coming across a single soul until you reached Aegon’s bedroom door. Ser Erryck stood outside, manning his post stiffly in his white Kingsguard cloak and gold armor.

“Evening, Ser Erryck,” you said, “I’ve come to see His Grace. It’s an important matter.”

“Evening, my lady,” he bowed. “Forgive me, but The King requested not to be bothered after hours.”

“I understand, but I just received word from my husband, Prince Aemond, and it simply cannot wait until morning.”

“Yes, my lady.”

He opened the door to the chambers, and spoke into the room, “The Lady Y/N Targaryen, Your Grace.”

Aegon sat slumped in a chair by the fire, gazing into the flames and downing the last of his wine cup. He looked over to Ser Erryck first, about to scold him for interrupting, before his eyes landed on you. Violet eyes stared down your body, no doubt taking in the provocative outfit you’d chosen. He put his wine cup aside, and straightened up in his seat. Wearing a nightshirt, you could see the pale body underneath through the loose neckline. Aegon did not have his brother’s strong, lean body. He appeared softer in features and muscles. You liked it. You did not feel so inferior next to Aegon. Your cheeks burned when you spotted the intrigue growing in his eyes. Especially when your robe opened oh-so slightly to show the sheer fabric underneath.

“Thank you, Ser Erryck,” Aegon nodded, “You may go.”

“As you wish, My King.”

“Good evening, Your Grace,” you said softly as Ser Erryck closed the door. “I hope you have been well.”

“It’d been a rather dreary night until you appeared,” he said, allowing you to enter the room. "Wine?” he asked, nodding to the pitcher and wine glass next to him.

“No, thank you, Your Grace,” you shook your head, coming closer and standing in front of him. The light behind you caught in your gown, showing off the curves the robe hid. “I’m afraid wine is not the reason I’m here tonight.”

“Then what is the reason for this late visit?” he asked, turning his ring around on his pinky finger thoughtfully. His eyes left your face and scanned down your body again. “Has your husband written to you?��

“I’m afraid not,” you stepped closer, the robe opening completely once you reached him. “He’s fighting in The Riverlands. I doubt he has time for me these days.”

“What a shame that is,” he said, staring at the cleavage your dress revealed. “Were I him, I would’ve taken you with me. A beauty like you shouldn’t be out of her husband’s sight for too long. Who knows what might happen when he isn’t around?”

“Perhaps we should find out, Your Grace.”

You let the robe fall from your shoulders to the ground. Aegon’s jaw dropped. Aemond never gazed at you this way when you’d offered yourself to him. He merely nodded and bid you forward. Aegon stayed glued to your body. “What did he do?” he smirked knowingly.

“Your Grace?”

“Up until this moment you’ve spurned my advances,” he said, standing from his chair. “I’ve offered myself to you multiple times, and each time you rejected me. You’ve been quite adamant that you are a married woman who will remain faithful to your husband even outside of his presence. Despite my brother showing no interest in you beyond his marital duties, you’ve stayed faithful.” He approached you, eyes now meeting yours. “He must’ve done something to bring you here so late at night, nearly naked and mouth watering.”

You never expected him to question it. You’d imagined him simply diving into it, grabbing you and kissing you hungrily. Instead, he stood sneering with amusement in his eyes. Were his advances merely jests at your expense? Was it a humiliating mistake to come here? The Seven would punish you in such a way. You’re far from their favorite devotee. “Ser Harrold wrote to me,” you admitted, “And told me that Aemond has been bedding another woman. She’s a servant woman at Harrenhal. I didn’t want to believe it, but then I asked Aemond and he…”

“And so instead of simply taking it, you’ve come to his brother’s chambers in the middle of the night as some sort of revenge act?” he guessed. He snorted, “Baratheon pride really isn’t a myth, then.”

“I have been nothing but faithful to him,” you snapped. “I’ve tried connecting with him. I tried being the good wife who loves and cherishes her husband. I only expected him to at least respect our vows rather than forsake them for some bastard whore.” The words spewed from you quickly, and it was hard to contain them.

Aegon snorted at your sudden outburst. “I’m surprised,” he said, “I didn’t think my brother had it in him. Though, this might be the only time I’m disappointed in him.” He closed the gap to inches, his eyes looking over your features as he said, “If you were my wife, I’d never want another woman again.”

“Huh, that’s quite difficult to believe.”

“Alright, alright,” he admitted, “I’d probably ogle or mentally fondle other women, but I’d never bed them…” you gasped when he wrapped an arm around you, and pressed you to him. “Not when my wife is a soft, luscious, curved beauty created by The Maiden herself just for me. I’ll confess I’m quite jealous of Aemond,” he toyed with the belt at your waist, warm fingers brushing your skin. “While I was wallowing in grief up here, he was in your bed enjoying the best parts of you.”

“Wallowing in grief, Your Grace?” you laughed at his choice of words.

“Grieving over the fact I was married to my sister and not you.”

You knew it was all bedroom flattery. He most likely did not mean a word of it, but you didn’t care. “I imagine you miss her company greatly,” you said, remembering Queen Helaena and her tragic death.

“I do. We didn’t have much in common, but she was my sister,” he sighed. “But, the Gods might take things away from us…to only put even better things in our paths.”

“Such as?” you giggled.

“Taking my wife and bringing my sister-in-law into my arms instead.” He traced the neckline of your gown, and you shuddered. “I will warn you, my lady,” he whispered between you, leaning into you, “Once I’ve had you, I’m not going to stop. My mother claims I have a rather addictive personality.”

“I can see what she means,” you replied softly, meeting him in the middle, “But perhaps I should see it for myself?”

Aegon gave another grin before finally kissing you. The taste of strongwine filled your mouth, the freshness touching your tongue as he slid inside. Aemond usually kept it stiff and chaste. Aegon easily sunk into his desires, holding you by the hips and deeply kissing you. It wasn’t unenjoyable. You liked how his soft lips pecked yours in between deep kisses; how his breath dampened your skin and tongue batted with yours with passion. Not too sloppy or sticky. You could feel his desire for you behind every kiss. It was as if he were putting it to memory, in case you should pull away and change your mind. Your hands on his shoulders, you gripped them softly and felt around to the nape of his neck. He’d bathed tonight. You could smell it on him, and inhaled it all. Fingers sliding into his silver waves and curls, you gave the roots a light tug to encourage him further.

“To my bed,” he muttered, pink lips darker from the hungry kisses. “If I’m to bed you, it’ll be somewhere comfortable and spacious.”

“Spacious?”

“So I may have you however I like,” he replied, kissing you deeply once more.

Guiding you to the large bed beside the solar, he untied your belt and casted it aside. You lifted his night shirt off his body, revealing his nakedness underneath. As you’d imagined, his overindulgence in food and wine left Aegon softer than his hardworking brother. His muscles are not as defined as Aemond’s, yet you still saw them in the natural lines of his body. You liked it. Removing your nightgown in a fluid motion, he pushed you to the bed and gazed down at you. You looked away shyly for a moment. Nobody ever stared at you how Aegon did right now. Not even Aemond. With your husband, it was often in semi-darkness where he did not have to look at you. Aegon soaked in your figure in the dim lighting from the fireplace and from the open window nearby. You noticed his cock twitch between his legs, and felt your sex immediately pulse.

You jumped at the sudden touch of his hands on your knees, keeping them spread so you’re fully exposed to him. Feeling so vulnerable to your husband’s brother excited you more than worried you. Aegon stared down at your center, licking his lips, before looking up to your breasts. You gazed at him in return. You saw his torso, his narrow hips and soft thighs; his cock was bigger than you’d expected. You often joked he must have a small cock if he has to pay for sex, but it appeared the opposite. You bit your lower lip imagining it inside you. Aemond had a nice one too, definitely worth it, but he seemed to want it elsewhere instead of in you.

“Are you only going to stare?” you asked in a giggle.

“Forgive me,” he breathed, hands running down your thighs to your hips. He gave them a gentle squeeze that made you shudder. “I have longed for this moment for ages,” he said, “I want to savor every moment before the night is done.”

His hands left your thighs for your stomach, his body leaning forward as he felt up your body. He stopped at your breasts, and your clit throbbed again. You watched Aegon cup both breasts delicately, taking in their suppleness and hardening nipples. The pads of his thumbs rolled over the center of each nipple, causing you to shiver from the small spark of pleasure. His eyes locked with yours as he kissed one of them, pleased with your reaction he did the same to the other. Gripping one of them to pinch your nipple, he licked a small strip up the opposite side. The tip of his tongue slowly swirled around it before finally his lips sucking on it gently. The sensations traveled down your body to your center, which started to dampen from his touch. He repeated the action again, letting the flat of his tongue cup it before he sucked. He then kissed his way to the other side, doing the same there until you whimpered. His pinching fingers rolled your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He kissed all around your breasts. He occasionally nibbled on the flesh to hear you whimper from the action.

“Oh, those sweet little moans,” he mumbled, dotting kisses up your chest to your neck. He let his weight settle on top of you, his warm cock pressing to your pussy. “I could listen to you whimper and moan forever.”

“Aegon,” you gasped when he grinded his hips into you.

“Say my name again,” he whispered in your ear, “Say it just like that.”

He continued grinding into you, and you continued muttering his name. His shaft pressed against your soaked sex, using your juices to slicken himself. Aegon kept you close as he kissed you again. Mixtures of mumbles and moans filled the space in the bed. He continued groping your breasts and rubbing your nipples since you’d given away your pleasure at it. Aemond was nothing compared to this; he never pleasured you this way. He’d done the bare minimum to finish the job. Aegon spent ages kissing and caressing your body. Your excitement built up when he started going downwards. He did not skip over anything. He pressed his lips to the rolls of your stomach, and wide hips. He lingered at your inner thighs, biting and kissing each side as he continued smoothing his hands over you. Your arousal grew feeling his mouth move closer to your core. You’d never had anyone there before. Aemond only touched there. So, when Aegon briefly kissed the velvety folds of your sex, it was entirely unknown to you.

He was not hasty. Aegon kept the pace slow as he kissed up and down the slit of your opening. He let his tongue naturally spread the lips over time, simply sliding on them until your body let him in. You kept your grip on the bed as each lick made you want even more of him. Soon, Aegon spread your legs further apart, hands underneath your thighs and mouth cupping your hardened clit. You could feel exactly where his tongue was, sliding around the hood and underside in gentle swirls and flicks on your pussy. His growls and groans vibrated against you lightly, and you bit your bottom lip when he did it particularly hard. Your back arched up from the bed when he quickly lapped his tongue across your clit and had your eyes falling shut to soak in the sensations. He went deeper into your center as he poked his tongue inside you. You buried your hands into his hair to keep him there and let you grind into his face. Aegon did not protest, staying still to let you enjoy his tongue. Aemond was nothing like this. Not at all. You could become quite addicted to it.

“I’m going to guess my brother’s never tasted you before?” he could see him smirking as he rapidly swiped your pussy folds.

“No,” you breathed. “Not once.”

“What a shame,” he said, using his thumbs to spread your lips and attack your clit directly. “I’m certainly enjoying your sweet taste. I cannot get enough.” When you brought him back onto you, he chuckled, “And it seems you cannot either.”

“It feels so good.”

To be honest, you thought he’d be terrible. The quality of the sex had not entirely mattered to you; the act alone would’ve been enough for you. But, you were pleasantly surprised. Eventually, he went back up your body, his hand replacing his tongue and focusing on your wet pussy. He kissed you deeply once more, and you whimpered into it.

“I could do this all night,” he muttered, slipping two fingers against your entrance. Your hole fluttered at their touch as if it needed to be filled by them. “Should I, my lady? Should we lay here like this? My hand and mouth on your sweet cunt while you lay on the verge of an orgasm the rest of the evening?” He pressed the fingertips to your entrance once more, and let his thumb brush on your sensitive clit. “It’s a very tempting thought.”

“Aegon, please…”

“Please what?”

“Put them inside me,” you begged. You grind your hips to his hand, “Please, fill me and make me cum. Please.”

He groaned at your pleas, whirling his thumb and making you moan loudly. “Keep begging,” he grunted, continuing the torturous action. “I want to hear my brother’s gorgeous wife begging for me and my fingers.”

“Fuck, Aegon, enough with the games,” you pleaded. “You’ve always wanted me. Now you have me, and you won’t fuck me into your mattress?”

“Oh, I certainly will,” he kissed your nipple, adding to the pleasure burning in your loins. “But, I’m going to make you beg first.”

You whined feeling his fingers continue circling your pussy. You clung onto him as the teasing went further, gripping his shoulders until your nails dug into his skin. This only amused him. Aegon kissed you whenever you became too loud, and stopped his teasing whenever he sensed an orgasm. You worried he might actually do this the entire night; he might never let you finish or push his fingers inside you.

“Aegon, please,” you moaned, “Please, put them inside me. I want to cum all over them; I want you to do things to me that your brother could never do. I need it so badly. I’ve wanted it. Please.”

He chuckled, “That’s what I like to hear.”

“He doesn’t make me feel like this. He could never make me feel like this,” you whined. “Please, Aegon. Fuck me. Fuck me how you’ve promised every time you approached me.”

At this, he finally sunk his fingers inside you. Both middle and ring fingers slipped fully into you; his palm pressed up to your clit, pushing and tapping on it while he fingered you. It sent you into an entirely new wave of euphoria. You held onto him as his fingers found a spot that made you squeal into his shoulder. Soon, your entire body trembled and shook underneath him. Aegon withdrew his fingers right as your orgasm arrived, and quickly sheathed his cock all the way. Having him stretching and stuffing you so easily elevated your orgasm. Aegon did not start off slow. He was not gentle or soft, which you loved. Pinning your wrists to your chest, he slammed his hips into yours over and over as you rode out your climax. Your entire body constricted, and you became numb to every sensation around you.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet,” Aegon panted as you finally came down from your high. “Not at all.”

Despite the satisfaction, you wanted more. It’d been so long since anyone touched you at all, let alone like this. You scooted further up the bed so Aegon could kneel between your thighs. Lifting your legs to one shoulder and holding you by the knees, Aegon slipped his cock between your squished thighs. You moaned at the thick shaft sliding over your stimulated pussy steadily. It split open your folds once more and the thick vein underneath grazed your clitoris each time. The stickiness spread all over your inner thighs and made a faint squelching sound in every thrust. The obscene sounds aroused you further. Aegon showed his appreciation for your thighs by gripping and grabbing handfuls and holding onto them. His head fell backwards in pleasure, huffing and whimpering pathetically at his rutting. You purposefully squeezed your thighs around him, crossing your ankles over his shoulder to keep him locked inside them. Aegon reached forward to grope your breasts again. It was like a teenager humping a pillow.

“Do you only plan to stuff yourself between my thighs?” you chuckled breathily.

“I couldn’t resist the temptation,” he laughed in a moan. “I love them. I wish you’d walk around naked simply so I may see them whenever I please.”

“You’re The King, Your Grace,” you said in a sultry tone. “You’re allowed to see whatever it is you want to see.”

“And now I want to see your ass. Flip over. Now.”

You did as told, and rolled over. Ass up in the air, face in the messy tangle of sheets, you couldn’t help pushing your hips towards him. A sharp smack to one buttock made you yelp and then giggle from the naughtiness of it all. Aegon spanked your bottom a few more times as he slipped himself back inside you. Keeping you down to the bed with one hand, he smacked both sides of your ass and occasionally your pussy. The light stinging didn’t distract from your new flow of arousal at all. It added onto it. Once your bottom burned from the repeated smacks, Aegon shoved himself back into you. You both groaned in relief, your bodies finally connected again. Hands grabbing onto your hips, Aegon bottomed up into you over and over. His tip brushing your insides again made your eyes roll back. You never thought it’d be this good. You wanted him to keep going even if he stopped. This time, he started gradually though you wished he’d keep the same flow as before. He kept a gentle pace in every thrust, and it drove you nearly feral.

“Aegon,” you whimpered, pushing into his hips so your bodies smacked together, “Fuck me. Please, fuck me.”

“Fuck you, eh?” he chuckled, planting himself firmly behind you as he said it. Soon, he began pounding you, making your body jiggle and ripple in every thrust. “Is this what you want? Huh? Is that how you want it?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

You were positive that poor Ser Erryck must hear you from outside. Good. You wanted him to hear it, so then he tells everyone what he heard. Aegon kept the fast pace for as long as his body allowed, occasionally stopping for a breath before continuing. You never wanted him to stop. Soon, your next climax came burning hot inside you. It shot up through you, squeezing your eyes tight and clenching your jaw as you grunted.

Hearing Aegon’s heavy breaths, his sporadic thrusting told you he was near. You helped him ride through it by bouncing in time with him. Despite the burning in your thighs, knees, and arms, you kept going until you felt him grip you tighter than before. Hot cum shot over your walls as Aegon finally finished within you. He kept himself buried to the hilt, whining and whimpering your name. The logical side of you knew this was wrong, but the pleasure outweighed sense.

Aegon rested on top of you, arms around your waist and lips pecking your shoulder. You both laid there for a moment to collect yourselves before Aegon slid off you. In the glow of your orgasm, you couldn’t find it in you to feel any shame. You turned your head to see Aegon beside you. Sweaty, panting, with flushed cheeks, it was an image you could get used to. He felt you staring at him, and looked over at you.

“Is it what you hoped for?” you asked him.

“So much more than what I hoped for,” he laughed in a breath. “So much more. My brother is a lucky man.”

“If he cared about that, anyways.”

“Well, if my brother won’t satisfy his wife,” Aegon rolled onto his side and pecked your lips, “It looks like I’ll have to step in for him.”

“I certainly don't object to it.”

He smiled and kissed you once more. You stayed in Aegon’s bed that night. You knew word will carry around the keep eventually, and you hoped it did. People knew about Aemond and his servant woman. People will know about you and The King. You hoped Aemond heard about it, and was as hurt by it as you’d been. He cannot shame you and not expect you to do anything about it.

You rested in Aegon’s arms with the knowledge that at least someone desires you, even if it is Aegon.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x yn #house of the dragon #hotd drabbles #hotd fanfiction #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #tom glynn carney

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clarionglass · 11 days

Text

archangel 2.0 (game master cinematic universe, part 8) | read on ao3

“Absolutely not,” Siobhan said when she rounded the corner to see Sam’s evil doppelganger coming the opposite way down the corridor. “Whatever plans you’re cooking up, I’m not in the mood for them today.”

Other Sam just shrugged at her. “No plans. Perfectly innocent, that’s me.”

“Like hell,” Siobhan replied. “You’ve already fucked with me once, I’m not believing that for a second. Why are you even here, anyway? I know for a fact you shouldn’t be filming today.”

“You people commandeered my home, not the other way around,” Other Sam said with clearly forced patience.

Siobhan just hummed in response, noncommittal and suspicious, and Other Sam tilted his head to examine her closely, then straightened, pleased with what he saw.

“You never really liked me, did you, Siobhan?” he asked, a faint smile of satisfaction playing about his lips. “You always had a feeling that something was off. You know, it's funny what the subconscious remembers, even when it didn't really happen.”

“God,” Siobhan bit out with an impatient roll of her eyes. “Fuck. Yes. I know you wiped my memory, well done you, you can stop fucking gloating about it.”

“Aw, you think I'm talking about that? Oh, no. You've seen me before. Trusted me, even.”

Other Sam smiled, and when he spoke next, his voice was different. “Enough to vote for me, as it happens.”

“What the fuck?” Siobhan asked, genuinely bewildered, because that voice was eerily familiar. Though it hadn't crossed her mind in nearly 20 years, it used to be everywhere, back in her uni days. Political advertisements, news briefings, Question Time; you could barely turn on the TV without hearing it.

“Oh, good,” Other Sam said instead of answering, back to his usual accent and clearly pleased with himself. “I was worried I mightn't have kept the voice.”

“But that was—” Siobhan began, and faltered. It was English, for a start, pitch perfect in a way that didn't feel like a put-on accent. The range, the register, the cadence—they were all slightly different from Sam's, but somehow just as natural. Firm and authoritative, but in a friendly way. The voice of a politician you would be happy to vote for. The voice of a politician she had voted for, in fact, seventeen years ago.

“That was Harold Saxon,” she said in disbelief. “You can't—no. Do you mimic voices, or—”

“Oh, no,” Other Sam replied cheerfully. “That was me. He was me.”

Siobhan just looked at him flatly. “You can't expect me to believe that.”

“Believe me or not, it's true,” he said. “It's a fun little thing called regeneration.”

Siobhan's eyes narrowed. “And what's that?”

Other Sam mustn't have been expecting her to call him on that, or had revealed more than he planned to, because to Siobhan's private delight, he looked suddenly uncomfortable. He folded his arms, closing himself off—but even so, was unable to fully hide his unease, fingers tapping out a restless tic on his upper arm.

“Quirk of Time Lord biology,” he answered shortly.

“You're not getting away with a half-arsed answer like that,” she snapped back. “What does it mean?”

He paused, weighing his words carefully, even as the jitters in his fingers betrayed him. “We don't die,” he said slowly. “Or, we do, but… it's not permanent death. We change.”

“Change what?”

Another pause, another careful consideration of how much to reveal; silence, except for that faint, almost imperceptible tapping.

“Everything,” he replied eventually. “Face, body, even the way we think, to an extent. Every single cell, overwritten.”

“Bullshit,” Siobhan breathed. But—it was just something to say. Deep in her heart, she believed him.

Other Sam just shook his head. “I was Harold Saxon,” he said—not an insistence, but a fact, solid as stone. “You knew me, Siobhan. The whole world did.”

It was too much to be true, but it couldn't be a lie. She felt the disquiet building in the pit of her stomach, felt her own knotted fingers start to fidget, drumming out a quiet rhythm.

“Why?” she asked. “Harold Saxon was PM for a couple of days, then had some kind of mental break and was never seen again. What did you have to gain from doing that?”

“That's only what happened the second time round,” he said softly. “The first time was much more interesting.”

Something didn't feel right. The world felt unstable, like at any minute, the wallpaper that was the backdrop to reality would start to sag and peel. But Other Sam had the answers, it seemed. And there was security in knowledge.

“What do you mean?” Siobhan asked.

“You know what happened,” Other Sam said. “Even if it didn't happen, not really. But I can show you, if you want.”

“Please,” she breathed, and Sam's exact double met her eyes with all the gravity of a black hole.

“Do you trust me, Siobhan?”

And the funny thing was, she did. Despite it all, despite everything she knew and everything he had done, she couldn't help but believe in him. Everything he said sounded rational, reliable, reassuring—a port in the storm.

She nodded.

“Good.” He smiled, then, slow and broad, and she trusted that, too. “I'm glad, because this might be… uncomfortable.”

Other Sam pulled out his microphone from inside his jacket pocket and aimed it at her. It made a strange buzzing noise, the tip glowing bright, and suddenly she was bent double, clutching her head as pain a thousand times worse than any migraine she'd ever had splintered through her skull.

It was like nothing she'd ever felt before, and she couldn't escape the agonising clarity as memories she had previously believed to be whole and solid peeled apart into two mirrored pieces.

On June 20th, 2007, Siobhan Thompson voted Saxon in the UK general election.

On June 23rd, 2007, Siobhan Thompson watched the TV in the university caf as Prime Minister Harold Saxon shot the US President dead, and the broadcast of an apparent “first contact” suddenly cut to a black screen.

On June 23rd, 2007, Siobhan Thompson watched the TV in the university caf as Prime Minister Harold Saxon shot the US President dead, then looked out upon his domain with satisfaction as the sky opened wide like a mouth, spilling out millions and millions of bladed metal spheres that laughed with the voices of children.

On December 31st, 2007, Siobhan Thompson spent the night partying with friends, ringing in the new year with hopes that 2008 would bring nothing but good things.

On December 31st, 2007, Siobhan Thompson spent the night tossing and turning in a fitful sleep after another day slaving in the labour camps, producing resources for the Master’s war to come. Her days consisted of nothing but work and sleep, with barely a thought to spare about what the new year would bring, but if she had been pressed to name a hope—it would be for relief. In one form or another.

On June 24th, 2008, Siobhan Thompson thought about America. It held the promise of a bright future, maybe a career in her chosen field of archaeology, or maybe any number of exciting new opportunities. It would be scary, uprooting her entire life to move halfway around the world, but oh, it would be worth it. All she had to do was jump.

On June 24th, 2008, Siobhan Thompson thought one word, the one word that united the entire planet. It held the promise of a bright future, the revival of a god and the downfall of a devil, the world unfolding with possibilities outside the confines of the labour camps that were all she’d known for the past year. It was scary, placing her trust—her life—in nothing more than a story, but oh, it would be worth it. All she had to do was believe.

Both timelines were true. One had been reversed when the paradox that sustained it had been broken, but Siobhan couldn't deny that they both had happened. Impossibly, the parallel sets of memories were carved equally deep into her mind and body, the life she knew existing side by side with the ghosts of trauma.

In the present, she looked at Other Sam—the Master—with abject horror.

“You can’t have,” she whispered, eyes wide.

“But I did,” Other Sam replied cheerfully, and god, it was a mindfuck, aligning the atrocities of the year that never was with the familiar face of a friend she’d known for years. The deaths, the labour camps, the slavery, the shipyards, the radiation pits; all to feed a war that would reach across the stars, and all masterminded by the man who now stood in front of her as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“And now you’re here,” Siobhan hissed. “From fucking… god-emperor of the Earth to just working at Dropout, huh?”

“Oh, all of that was the old me,” Other Sam said innocently. “I’ve changed. In more ways than one,” he added, with that little peering-at-his-hands gesture that Siobhan recognised from the Deja Vu recording.

She scoffed. “And I’m supposed to just trust that?”

“You did a minute ago,” Other Sam replied with a faint smile.

Her heart sank. She had. She undeniably had. She’d let him fuck with her brain without even questioning it, because when he asked, she’d trusted him implicitly, even when mere moments before she was questioning him with all the suspicion she could muster.

Which meant, worst of all, that that feeling of trust hadn’t come from her.

“How did you—?”

“The Archangel network,” Other Sam said, not even bothering to hide his smugness. “Remember that?”

Of course she did. It was the best carrier, back in the day, before it went offline—shortly after Harold Saxon was removed as Prime Minister, as a matter of fact. She’d used it. Everyone had used it.

“Good, wasn’t it?” he continued. “A low-level psychic field, moving your thoughts to exactly where I wanted them. And even though the satellites were taken down, that was still nearly eighteen months of conditioning.”

“Fuck you,” Siobhan breathed.

Other Sam grinned. “Can’t do it across the whole planet anymore, but one-on-one, well, let’s just say I have a rather… magnetic personality. So if I give you that same stimulus…”

He began drumming his fingers again, and this time, Siobhan could see it for what it truly was. Not a fidget, but a signal, written deep into her subconscious seventeen years ago—abandoned, forgotten, but never truly gone. And she had echoed it so readily, she realised, had been sucked into the pattern without even noticing. Tap tap tap tap, tap tap tap tap, tap tap tap tap.

Trust me, it said somewhere deep in her brainstem, soft and insidious and unable to be ignored. Believe in me. And—

“Stop it!” she snapped, clenching her fists to still her traitorous fingers.

Other Sam raised his eyebrows, the picture of innocence. “Stop what?”

“You know exactly what,” she growled, holding onto her anger like a shield. “The drumming.”

He laughed, a bitter little huff of a sound. “If only you understood the irony of asking me that. But fine, if you insist.”

As she felt that creeping influence leave her, Siobhan let her hands relax, but not her mind. “Don't you ever try that on me again.”

Other Sam just pulled a mournful face. “But it's so much fun!” he protested.

As Siobhan glared daggers at him, he raised his hands, palms facing outwards in surrender. “Don't worry, don't worry,” he said. “I've got places to be. In fact, you've actually given me a very good idea.”

“No, no—”

“I'm leaving you alone, Siobhan. Isn't that what you wanted?”

“No, fuck—”

It was too late. Other Sam was already walking down the corridor purposefully, ignoring her completely. With a feeling of dread building in the pit of her stomach, she pulled out her phone and began to write a text.

---

Sam burst into the editing suite, Siobhan close behind, to see his doppelganger sitting at one of the computers with a look of quiet focus.

He looked up when he heard the door, and seeing who had just entered, sneered. “Oh. It's the cavalry.”

“What are you doing?” Sam demanded.

His double merely gave him a cool look. “Tell you later.”

“Hell no, dog,” came a new voice from the doorway, and Sam's double blinked to see Lou, still breathing heavily from what must have been a jog from the other end of the studio.

“Tch. You, too?”

“Course,” Lou replied, looking at Siobhan with fierce pride.

Sam, now fully inside the room, stepped out of the doorway to let Lou enter, which he did with a glint in his eye.

The Master merely watched, one eyebrow raised coolly as the other man walked close, staring him down the entire time. And when a fist rocketed into his shoulder, hard and accurate, the carefully-cultivated air of perfect nonconcern shattered as he winced in pain.

“That's for Escape the Greenroom, you sick son of a bitch,” Lou said, shaking out his hand.

Other Sam frowned, rolling his shoulders back with an audible crunch. “Fine,” he shrugged, the lines of pain in his face giving the lie to his nonchalant words. “Fine. Get it out, if you have to.”

Lou smiled dangerously. “Good,” he said, and wound up once again.

The second punch hit Other Sam squarely in the jaw, and was even harder than the first.

“And that's for everything you did to the world. And more importantly, everything you did to my friend.” He turned back to Siobhan. “Good?”

“Good,” she confirmed. Her smile faded as she switched her gaze to Other Sam. “Get fucked.”

“Hell yeah,” Lou said with satisfaction, and turned to go. “Yeah, you can schedule me with him for shit now,” he added as he passed by Sam, who nodded.

With a click, the door closed behind him, leaving Sam and his doppelganger, still rubbing life back into his jaw, alone in the editing suite.

“I can’t say you didn’t deserve that,” Sam remarked.

His double merely sniffed, turning his attention back to the monitor.

“So. Now it’s just us, like you wanted, what is it that you’ve really been doing in here?”

“Getting you more subscribers,” his doppelganger replied matter-of-factly. “Isn’t that something you want?”

“Well—”

“Sam,” came the cool response. “Come on. I know how much you stress about those budget meetings, because you say it’s part of my penance to pretend to be you in some of them.” His mouth twisted, and he added, “I’ve been so good about it, too. Haven’t murdered even one of your board, and it’s been incredibly tempting. But you need the revenue, you need the profits, you need the subscribers.”

Unfortunately, Sam couldn’t deny it.

“I’m doing you a favour,” his double said softly, seeing the light of resistance fade from his eyes. “I’m not hurting anyone, it’s just a low-level psychic signal that nobody will notice. Subconsciously prompting social media viewers to actually subscribe, if they like what they see. And share it with their friends, and so on. It’s all for the benefit of Dropout, I promise.”

“You know I’ve gotta suspect you’ve got an ulterior motive, right?” Sam asked.

“I know,” his doppelganger replied. “But even if you don’t trust me, and you think I’m up to something—well, whatever that is, it’s a problem for later, right?”

Sam grimaced. “Yeah, please don't ask me to trust you. Siobhan told me what you did.”

His doppelganger just shrugged. “That was then.”

“She also told me what you did about ten minutes ago.”

“Like I said,” his double countered. “That was then. But I’m grounded, remember? I have to use my talents, brilliant as they are, for good. Or whatever you call good, anyway. The good of the company, maybe, and it’s definitely that.”

“Look. I’m only agreeing because I’ve got the Doctor on speed dial,” Sam said slowly, after a few moments’ thinking time, and he watched as a grin spread like oil across his double’s face. “Don't make me regret this.”

“Cross my hearts,” the Master replied.

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x escape the death beam: x brian and other sam: x

by @bloopdydooooo drawing collection: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): x part four (you think you know someone): x part five (point and counterpoint): x part six (a selection of correspondence): x part seven (all good things should have a bit of malice in them): x part eight (archangel 2.0): you are here!

#game master #sam reich!master #doctor who #dw #game changer #dropout #the master #sam reich #siobhan thompson #lou wilson #clari writes #truly the timelines worked out so well for this......#s3 was on tv recently and it got me on a deep dive #also it was a genuine pleasure to write sam!master seeing some consequences #talk shit get hit quite literally #alSO the latest breaking news AND sam's latest tumblr post..... if you're a member of the dropout crew and you're reading my fic #you gotta tell me or else it's entrapment #also i tried to do cool things with left and right aligned text but it didn't work in tumblr editor :(((#so go check out the ao3 version for the full formatting!

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scarletwritesshit · 7 months

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🌠 Caelus x Firefly 🌠 Memories of You

Firefly leaned over the railing, as if she were attempting to bring herself as close to the Penacony sky as she possibly could. Her head slumped over, despite how much joy her secretive little spot usually bought her during lows like this. She even had a much-loved companion accompanying her, but why would she not feel even a hint of happiness, even with the assurance that she would not spend the last moments of her life alone? Her suffering still remained purely unknown to Caelus, and as her time to depart drew ever closer by the minute, the crippling realization that she would have to tell him soon was weighing heavily on what was left of her soul.

Caelus was standing behind her, his eyes moving between admiring the sights of the enchanting Penacony sky and the beauty of Firefly herself. The sky was difficult to pry his eyes off of, as it was truly a sight to behold even if it was merely a fantastical dream, but something about Firefly just pulled his attention away from the stars. He had only known her for a relatively short amount of time, but he his intuition told him that something was a little off about her in that very moment. Firefly welcomed Caelus to Penacony with open arms and a beaming smile, hardly able to contain her excitement for the chance to bring him to this secret location. Once they had arrived, however, it seemed as if all of her energy suddenly dissipated. Quite a sudden change of attitude, even a little drastic for it to be simply tiredness…that is, if the deprivation of energy was even possible in a dream.

Caelus approached Firefly and rested his arms and head on the railing, looking at her. What remained of the smile on Firefly’s face was rather forced, as if she were trying her damn best to enjoy the moment, but a lingering aura of grief was weighing her down.

Didn’t negative emotions affect Penacony’s dreams as a whole, if some had managed to seep through the beaming cities of joy? Caelus could care less about how the rest of Penacony felt as a result, no matter if it was a small hiccup in the ecosystem or the demons in Sunday's basement suddenly becoming roused. Firefly, and Firefly alone, was all that currently mattered to Caelus.

To try and lift her spirits, he looked at her with a smile, as he wasn’t exactly known for being the most comforting with words. Firefly remained unaware, her mind lost in the burdens that weighed heavily upon her soul.

"What’s wrong?" Caelus asked, giving her a friendly nudge.

Though choked-up tears, she slowly looked up at him. Her smile was growing weaker and weaker, losing the battle against feigning joy.

"There's far too much I’ve kept from you this whole time," she admitted.

Caelus did indeed have a nagging feeling that Firefly was keeping something hidden from him. Not surprising, as a solid majority of people he had encountered on his journey had at least a few skeletons in their closet. He couldn’t help but feel as if the tears from Firefly were genuine, a feeling backed up by only the instincts in his heart.

"Like what? It can’t be any worse than some of the things that I have encountered before," he said, all too willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"It’s not terrible for you, but its bad news for me," she said, looking back down. "My Entropy Loss Syndrome...it’s progressing more rapidly by the day."

Caelus wasn’t sure of what it was exactly, but it sent a shock through his entire body nonetheless. There was no reason for him to fear a dark secret that Firefly was hiding; she was trying to cover up what sounded like an incurable illness. The news of his new friend who was doomed to slip away from him so soon cut a deeper wound than it likely should’ve. He felt as if he had found someone just as adventurous as he was, able to keep up with their antics and their own fair share of secrets.

"Entropy… Loss Syndrome?" Caelus forced out, despite his heart beating into his throat.

The tears began to flow from Firefly’s eyes, dripping down into the dreamscape below.

"It means I’m going to fade away, Caelus. Everything I’ve done up until now, even our brief time together, it’s all going to be for nothing."

"Fade away? From the dream?"

"No. From dreams, reality, everything. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it."

"I-I’m sure there has to be a cure documented somewhere! Even if it’s kept in the most prestigious medical library in the furthest corners of the universe, I bet you I could find a way to weasel in there.”

Firefly forced herself upwards and grabbed onto Caelus’s shoulders, shaking him vigorously. He was still stiff from shock, with the only traces of movement from him being the sweat beginning to roll down his face and his heart about to pulsate out of his chest.

"You don’t get it! Theres no cure in the entirety of the cosmos! I’m forced to waste away practically immobile, with no hope of my condition improving!"

Firefly could no longer hold herself upright, and so she collapsed into Caelus’s chest. In an attempt to console her, he placed his hand on her back and stabilized her. He was attempting to remain strong for her, for if Firefly truthfully had as little time left as she claimed, he would wish for her last sight to at least be a pleasant one. Though, even he was having a hard time fighting back tears for her sake.

"I’ve only been able to live through the delusion of a relatively normal life in the dreamscape while my physical body lies practically lifeless in a poll. Nothing about this life of mine, none of it, is even real or has meaning."

"I wouldn’t say that," Caelus said. "If it were truly meaningless, I wouldn’t be here with you right now."

"It’s still nothing but a fantasy dream," she said.

Caelus wasn’t very good at comforting people, which normally wasn’t a big problem for him. He showed his love for the Express Crew by smacking the crap of whatever dared to lay their nasty appendages on his beloved friends. Negative emotions were not something that you could simply beat out of a person. His words were about as harsh as his baseball bat, so the possibility of slipping up and saying the wrong thing was indeed very likely. Regardless, he still felt compelled to attempt to help her in any way that he could.

"Well... if it is a fantasy land, at least you can make any fantasy of yours come true," he said.

"Can I have my life back? Or at least, know what it feels like to live normally?"

Caelus sighed. "Almost...any fantasy. But if you’re so insistent on your life up until now being a waste, perhaps we should really make your last days count."

"How so? What more could we possibly do?"

Caelus went silent and thought for a few moments. He really wasn’t very familiar with Penacony, at least, not as much as Firefly was.

An idea, though it may be a stretch, came to his mind.

"Well," he said, cleverly smirking through his heartache, "I do clearly recall you getting a little red at the idea of a date earlier. Perhaps that sounds like it would be a good usage of your time?"

Firefly sprang backwards, her face burning up with embarrassment. Caelus was pushed slightly off balance from the rebound. Though he was rather pleased by her shift in attitude, he was a bit taken aback by her reaction.

"Huh?? Y-you can’t be serious, can you?" Firefly said.

"As serious as can be. It would be cruel even for me to joke about such a thing."

"Well, in that case…if you wouldn’t mind, then perhaps you would maybe possibly consider-"

"Just spit it out already," Caelus said with a laugh. "You wouldn’t want your final moments to be spent stuttering away, now would you?"

"Aaah, fine! Then, I would like to go on a date with you! Just this once, at least!"

"Just this once? We can go as often as you’d like. You aren’t the only one who wishes for more time, you know."

Firefly's eyes lit up in disbelief.

"Is that really what you mean? Like, you aren’t just doing this out of pity for me?”

Caelus nodded his head. "Like I said, if you’re convinced that everything so far has been a waste, then let’s make sure that you live the last bit of your life to the fullest.”

Tears once more began to build up in Firefly’s eyes, but this time out of joy, and perhaps even the slightest bit of hope for the future. Despite the imminent despair she faced, she smiled through the pain that stung her heart. Firefly once more ran into Caelus, embracing him as tightly as her frail little body for allow for. Caelus managed to smile a little more himself as he stroked Firefly’s hair gently.

Thankfully, she wasn’t able to see the tears flowing down his cheeks as he held her tightly. So much for attempting to be a shining star of positivity for her in her last moments.

Firefly looked up to the sky, and the light once again returned to her eyes at the sight of the neverending stream of shooting stars lighting up the sky. She let go of Caelus and turned around to get a better view of the scenery. Caelus still kept one of his arms wrapped around her, but allowed her a little more freedom to move.

"Look!" Firefly said, pointing to the sky. "Don’t you make wishes on shooting stars?"

"Is that a thing in Penacony too?” he questioned. “I thought that it was an urban legend on a select few planets."

Firefly shook her head. "Oh, it’s hardly even a thing here. All of your wishes are supposed to come true in these dreams anyways," she said with a pained giggle. "But, that doesn’t mean we can’t carry on the tradition right here and now!"

A wish as a last-ditch attempt to give herself just the slightest bit more hope for the future. Caelus knew it wouldn’t work, not even in the land where any and all dreams could come true. He didn’t have it in him to break her heart so cruelly, especially not now. As guilty as he felt, Caelus simply played along.

"So, what are you wishing for?" she asked excitedly.

"Can’t tell you. Otherwise, it would ruin the magic."

"Oh, is that how it works then? Well, I guess I’ll have to wait and see if mine ever comes true!"

Wait? Firefly hardly had any time left to wait, though realistically, she was probably attempting to see if her wish of an extended lifespan would be granted to her.

Caelus was no better, as he wished to have just a little bit more time to make Firefly smile. He felt that, though the amount of joy he got from seeing her happy was borderline selfish, he still wanted to do everything he could to make the last moments of Firefly’s life the best he possibly could.

Unfortunately, for both of them, her life in this dream would be abruptly cut short. They would not be able to see if the power of their wishes or the strength of their wills truly allowed for Firefly to carry on for a fleeting moment longer, as Death itself manifests in more forms than one.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #caelus #firefly hsr #firefly honkai star rail #caefly #caelus x firefly #fanfiction #fanfic

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siilvan · 5 months

Text

Solitude

Characters: Mylène "Petra" Scholten de Ridder

Summary: The feeling of being alone. (Or something like that.)

Genre: Light angst? Idk, it's just sleep-deprived rambling lol

Warnings: Semi-proofread, light cursing, some mentions/allusions to canon-typical violence, again it's just random shit

Word Count: 1.5k

Note: I wrote this in a few hours because I've been an emo bitch lately and figured I'd do what I always do when I'm sad, AKA take it out on my oc (◡‿◡) I might leave it up, I might cringe after I wake up and delete it, who knows honestly? I promise I'm working on things people actually want to read, btw

If Petra was one thing, it was a woman not easily phased by trivial matters. War, violence, exhaustion, death – all things she was experienced with. All things she knew how to handle on any given day. She earned both her call sign and her position for exactly that reason, even.

Now, if Mylène was one thing, it was a woman constantly weighed down with the things she faces on any given day. War, violence, exhaustion, death – it haunts her every waking moment. She had learned to deal with it over the years, how to put a pin in her emotions for the sake of getting the job done. People needed her to be the steady hand, so that’s what she became.

She never quite learned how to deal with the loneliness, though.

"Just call me if you need me, okay? Any time, I don't care when or where. I'm there."

The words felt foreign as soon as they left the captain's lips. She wasn't used to hearing that. She was always the one people came to rely on.

A heavy sigh escapes Mylène's lips as she unceremoniously flops down on the sofa with her old scrapbook in-hand. It was a hobby her mother had, one she didn’t understand until it was too late to even tell the woman that she learned why she loved it so much.

That's another thing she was. Sentimental. All she ever seemed to do when she was alone was reminisce. The good days, the bad days, the moments that she was sure went right in and out of anyone else's brain – her first sniping lesson with Price, the first time Nikolai called her "Mila," the first time she heard Ghost's genuine laugh, when she and Soap discovered their mutual love of art, the one single time she almost beat Gaz in a race… small moments, but ones she held close to her heart.

As she flips the near-overstuffed book open, she's immediately greeted with another memory. One she was honestly surprised she could still recall so clearly, considering she was only six years old during it.

A photo, taken in the dead of winter. Her family was in the states, visiting her aunt and uncle for Christmas. They were at the dinner table – her aunt was to the left, her honey blonde hair tossed over her shoulder as a few streaks of silvery grey finally started to show, with a three-year-old Emiel sitting in her lap and babbling away to her. To the right was her uncle, the grey in his dark hair and beard far more visible as he leaned back in his chair, a soft smile resting on his lips as he watched the six-year-old in his lap frantically scribble away on a piece of paper with a crayon. In the back, standing in the backyard and visible through the half-open glass door, was her father – younger, not yet the man she knew him as – and her two cousins, tossing a football back and forth and laughing away. Even her childhood dog was there, a blur in the picture as she ran after the ball.

Her mom wasn't in the photo. Judging by Emiel pointing somewhere behind the camera, she was the one taking it.

The more Mylène thought about it, the more it almost became funny. There was a point in time when she was surrounded by people, almost too many for her to keep up with. Her gaze lifts from the page; she tries to ignore the wetness clinging to her eyelashes as she looks around her living room. Other than her, it's empty. Her brother was somewhere else in the world, surely finishing another sensitive mission that Laswell assigned to him. "I want the best for the job," she always says. Her aunt and uncle were still in the states, but every time she thought about them, all that seemed to come to mind was how they lost fifteen years to the anger of her father.

After years of losing people left and right – allies, entire teams, patients in her care, civilians, friends – maybe it was for the best that she was alone. Even the task force had some close scrapes over the years, moments when she worried about losing one of the people she had come to consider a second family.

Mylène closes the scrapbook with a heavy thud and sets it down on the small coffee table in front of her. She shifts, pulling her knees up to her chest and eyeing the cellphone sitting next to the book. It was silent, save for the occasional spam email or update from her superiors. If she wasn't a woman ruled by her sense of pride, she'd consider sending someone a message.

Maybe she could text Freya and ask about her progress with the recent training exercises she gave her. Or, maybe she could text Christine for an update on the new batch of recruits. Maybe she could even come up with some lame excuse to text Olga, ask her how she's doing after her company rapidly expanded out of the blue.

No, no… She's a woman with too much pride for that. Johnny, Kyle, Simon… She didn’t have a viable excuse for bothering any of them. Between their work and their partners, she doubted any of those three had time for her, anyway.

Price? No, definitely busy with the missus. Nikolai? She can never predict what he's up to, but she assumed it was probably work or his own love, too. Laswell? God, what weak excuse could she even come up with in that scenario.

"Any time, I'm there."

She lowers her head and lets her chin rest on top of her knees. She was only home because she had to be – the captain claimed she was working herself to the bone and needed the time off before she ran herself ragged.

"You can take a week off," He chuckles, patting her shoulder before squeezing it in a firm grip. "Everything'll keep running when you're gone, I promise. We won't fall apart without you."

She laughed at the time. "Just give me a call if Johnny blows one of his fingers off, he's already almost done that three times this month alone." She said.

Was she selfish for feeling a pang in her chest? "It's natural to want to feel wanted," she can already hear someone wiser than her saying. Who could she actually say that to, though? Everyone around her was too busy and too interested in their own lives. She was just… well, herself. Lieutenant Petra; always stable, always the guiding hand, always the last one to complain when times get tough.

Her phone buzzes as the screen flashes to life. She picks it up and sees her brother's name in the notifications. When she clicks into their messages, it's a picture of him sitting in the back of a helicopter, his gear half-stripped off but his mask still on, covering the lower half of his face and leaving his smeared eye black and messy hair on display as he gives the camera a little thumbs-up.

Always his way of telling her he's okay after a mission. Whenever she was sent out, she'd do the same. Mylène sends a quick reply – "Try and spend more than three days at base when you get back." – and turns her phone off again.

It would be easy to message someone at this point and tell them the truth. "I'm feeling lonely, do you have time to chat?" are just nine little words. She was always the one telling her teammates and the soldiers under her command to reach out if they ever needed her, and yet the thought of doing the same felt like an impossible goal.

She turns her phone on its face and leans back against the cushion. After years of being her own shoulder to cry on, why was she suddenly feeling so lonely? She didn't need to be coddled, she didn't need to be someone's baby, she was always capable of relying on herself and no one else. She promised herself that the last time she broke down in front of someone else would be the last time she let herself do something like that. She didn't need it. She could take care of herself.

Mylène pushes herself off the sofa, worrying at the inside of her cheek. Everyone has their priorities and people they're already focused on caring for. She has herself, and that's all she needs. She doesn't need a shoulder to cry on or someone who knows how she's feeling all hours of the day.

"Verdomme…" She lifts her hands up and presses the heels of her palms to her eyes. "Get it together, Scholten…" She mutters in the empty room, drawing in and releasing slow, deep breaths until she can lower her hands to her sides once more. She handles it, just like always.

She has herself, and that's all she needs.

#cod oc #cod original character #call of duty oc #call of duty original character #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty fanfic #call of duty #cod #mylène “petra” scholten de ridder

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clxwnprinceofcrime · 7 months

Note

(There is a plain, baby blue letter waiting for him on his desk that's addressed to him.) Dear Joker, I know this might be surprising coming from me of all people. As I tossed and I turned and I paced around, I can't seem to find the will in me to let this go, at least, not the way I expect to be. I want to make things right before we permanently part ways forever. Or else this will weigh in my heart for the rest of my life. You know how it is with me and guilt. ...

Joker... I did not lie when I said I pitied you. From what started as disgust and hatred grew into soft and fondness of your company, and... the longer we're apart I can say with full certainty that I hold held genuine feelings for you; it was just really hard to accept it from my end. Despite our mutual feelings, I think it would still be best that we never see each other again, mostly because I truly do think that you deserve someone better. Someone who truly does make you happy, not make you bathe in misery and heartbreak like I have. I do not feel worthy of you. Please do take care of yourself. I wish you a good life from here on out. Thank you for the memories, I know I'll cherish it as much as you have. Whenever I smile, I'll think fondly of you. - Azura

His hands shake as they grip harder onto the paper, his breathing is heavy and ragged in a way that almost seems feral. Slamming the note down, he balls his fist and grabs his hair. He attempts to catch his breath, the scene itself, frightening for its only observer. "..Sir, uh- She said it's best if you didn't send anything back. T..To leave it-"

"Did you hear her? What she wrote to me?" He asks.

The man behind him stands uncomfortably. "No, I just-"

He laughs, one that might have been fond to the author of the letter, but it certainly was no comfort to his henchmen.

"She loves me. She- She does love me, she... she was scared. Of course, of course. All of the pressure, the commitment. My sweets was always afraid of commitment." Joker stands, pushing the chair out and scrambling to his feet.

Jester flinches. "She-"

"Don't- don't act like you know her like I do. You've done your part, now you're going to do your job." He hisses through his teeth, that horrid smile on his face.

Jester shrinks, fighting whether or not he should do something about this. Help that poor girl one last time. She said she wanted him, she just couldn't make that choice. If he got in the way, what good would it do?

He slowly nods, stepping back to leave Joker to his own devices.

The clown watches the door close and he feels what was once despair become a vicious glee, his emotions swirling and drowning his mind till he could barely think. He falls and holds onto himself, so overcome with joy that it hurts. His eyes are manic and wild as he digs his hands into his arms until they begin to bleed. His head falls backwards and he lets out a cackle akin to a hyena after a wonderfully gory meal.

Ohhhhh, Azura.. You won't have to worry for long.

This guy's in loooove with youuuu.

#ask #rp #missazura #anon ask

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biggerbetterbat · 5 months

Text

WITH YOU II | [10] THEN

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie

Summary: Charlie’s having doubts about Alexandria and it’s worthy. A big news change her perspective and plans.

Warnings: none?

Words: 2.597

A/N: I really like this chapter, even though it’s short.

"Take care of my daughter," Rick said as he touched the cheek of his daughter.

"I will."

"Listen," "Alexandria isn't like everywhere else we've been. It's a place where we can build something better, something worth fighting for."

Charlie turned her eyes away from him.

"They're good people, Charlie," Rick tried again. "Lost...but good."

With a sigh, she met Rick's gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of doubt and hope. "I want to believe you," she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "But it's not that easy."

"I know," he nodded. "Just...give it a try, while we're gone. You can't go through life not trusting anyone."

"I trusted you."

"Exactly," he smiled. "So do it one more time."

earlier…

As Charlie made her way to the infirmary, her steps slow, she couldn't shake the weight of guilt that hung heavy on her shoulders. The memory of her violent outburst against Gabriel weighed heavily above her.

She pushed open the door still looking at her covered in blood arm.

"Is there someone who could treat this?" Charlie asked.

Once she entered the room, she was greeted by a bunch of people who shouldn't be there. Glenn covered in dirt and blood, Nickolas who looked as bad as her best friend. Worried Rosita. However, there was no sight of Peter or Denise. There was even woken up and conscious Tara.

"Oh, God," she gasped. Charlie's heart skipped a beat as she watched her friend's eyelids flutter open, the faintest glimmer of consciousness returning to her gaze. "I was so worried about you."

Tara returned the embrace with a weak but heartfelt squeeze, her gratitude shining through despite the pain that still lingered in her eyes. "I'm okay."

"Eugene," Tara said, while looking behind her, signing that the man entered the room. "Nothing happened to your hair...Okay. You're freaking me out," she said as the man smiled and Charlie had to admit that it was a scary picture. "Somebody want to send Noah in here to protect me?"

Her smile faltered, replaced by a solemn expression as she struggled to contain her emotions.

"What?" Tara asked with a visible tension in her voice.

Trying to push aside her sadness, Charlie cleared her throat and changed the subject, her voice barely above a whisper. "Could someone take care of it?" she asked, gesturing towards her bruised arm.

Once Charlie left the building, after long moments with Tara, the cool night air embraced her like a familiar friend, offering a moment of respite from the chaos that still lingered within the walls of Alexandria. As she glanced around, her eyes landed on Sasha, standing alone in the darkness, her silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. Sasha had always been a solitary figure, her grief and pain a silent burden she carried with her wherever she went.

"Sash!" Charlie called.

The girl turned to face her.

"Tara is awake."

"That's good to hear," Sasha replied, her tone subdued but genuine. "Oh, God...that's so good to hear."

"You should visit her."

"Isn't she asleep?"

"Oh, I think she's had enough sleeping," Charlie smiled.

Sasha chuckled and nodded her head, before she made her way towards the infirmary, Charlie fell into step beside her. On their way, on the stairs to one of the buildings, Abraham's rugged frame lay there motionless. As Sasha and Charlie approached, he met their gaze with a small, knowing smile, his eyes filled with a sense of quiet resolve. Without a word, Abraham raised his hand, two fingers forming a peace sign as he held their gaze.

"Go," Charlie said. "I'll take care of him."

With a sense of camaraderie and trust that transcended words, she settled beside him, their shoulders brushing against each other in silent solidarity. Beside her, Abraham sat in silent contemplation, his expression unreadable but filled with a quiet determination that echoed her own.

"It was a hard night."

"Damn sure it was," Abraham nodded. "What happened tonight... it triggered something in me. Something I've been trying to forget for a long time."

Charlie just sat there, she knew all too well the scars that a person could suffer, the memories that haunted them long after the fighting had ended.

"Reg and Peter...He was right next to me, you know?" Abraham said. "His face blowing up like Pompei...I think I have his brains in my ear..." he chuckled.

Feeling the weight of Abraham's pain pressing upon her, Charlie leaned closer, her presence a silent anchor in the storm raging within him. With a gentle touch, she rested her hand on his back, offering a wordless gesture of comfort and solidarity.

As another day dawned over Alexandria, Charlie found herself standing alongside Daryl, their silhouettes framed by the soft morning light filtering through the windows of Deanna's workroom. Leaning against the wall, they awaited the start of a community meeting - after Heath, a man from supply group, came back.

Memories of a similar gathering back on the farm flooded her mind. The one, when they were deciding whether to kill Randall or let him live. She couldn't help but think of Dale, who had once guided them through the trials and tribulations of their early days together. Quickly, she shook hear head, before she could bring back the picture of his death.

"My team, we saw it early on," Heath said. "Back when we were on one of those first scouts, finding out what was around here. There was a camp at the bottom. The people, they must have blocked the exit with one of those trucks back when everything started to go bad," he tried to recall the picture. "They didn't make it. They were all roamers. Maybe a dozen of them."

"No one's been back since?" Maggie furrowed her eyebrows.

"D.C." Heath shrugged. "Every town worth scavenging, they're all in the other direction. And I never really felt like having a picnic next to the camp that ate itself."

"So, all the while, the walkers have been drawn by the sound, and they're making more sound, and they're drawing more in." Michonne concluded.

"And here we are," Rick spread his arms. "Now, what I'm proposing, I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits. One of the trucks keeping the walkers in could go off the edge any day now," he said. "Maybe after one more hard rain. That exit sends them east. All of them. Right at us. This isn't about if it gives, it's when."

"This is terrifying," Carol said. "But it doesn't sounds like there's any other way."

"Couldn't we build up the weak spots?" asked man whose name she couldn't even bother to learn. "I can draw, I worked with Reg."

"It's about the sound," Charlie rolled her eyes. "Building up the exits won't change that."

"We're gonna do what Rick says," Deanna said, ignoring the doubts of her people. "The plan is laid out."

"We're gonna have Daryl leading them away."

She furrowed her eyebrows, her mind swirling with doubts and fears about giving Daryl such dangerous task. While she admired his strength and resilience, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this task was gambling with fate. Before she could protest, another voice broke the silence.

"Me, too," Sasha said. "I'll take a car, ride next to him."

"I'll go with her," Abraham said. "It's a long way to white-knuckle it solo."

"All right. We'll have two teams," Rick announced. "One on each side of the forest helping manage this thing. We're gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Spencer, Holly. They're out. So, who's in?"

"Me," Michonne said.

"I'm in," Glenn nodded.

"I'd like to help as well," Gabe proposed.

"No," Rick cut it short. "Who else?"

Rick's gaze fell upon Charlie, a silent plea for help reflected in his eyes. "We can't control that many," she said finally.

"I said it before," Rick answered. "Walkers herd up. They'll follow a path if something's drawing them."

"I know how it works, Rick," she said annoyed that he was explaining something like this to her.

"Great, then you should know it's the only way."

"I'm out," Charlie said.

"What?"

"You heard me," she said. "I don't care about any of those people or this place. We should leave them to deal with their shit."

"Enough!" Deanna stopped any further bickering.

With a heavy sigh and a furrowed brow, Charlie's frustration with Rick reached its boiling point. She had tried to reason with him, to make him see the potential dangers of their plan, but he had remained stubbornly set in his ways. Unable to contain her annoyance any longer, Charlie made a snap decision. Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked out of the house, her footsteps echoing loudly in the silence of the room.

Alone with her thoughts, Charlie allowed herself a moment of quiet reflection. With a heavy sigh, she leaned back against the railing, her gaze drifting upwards towards the clear sky. She knew that she couldn't continue to stand by and watch as her friends put themselves in danger, but she also understood the importance of finding a way to work together towards a solution. She had been frustrated with Rick's decisions, so she couldn't deny the sense of relief that washed over her at the sight of Daryl's familiar face instead of his.

Without a word, he settled onto the stairs beside her.

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their shared worries hanging heavy in the air between them.

“I won’t change my mind,” Charlie announced.

“I know,” he nodded and bit his lip.

“I’m surprised you agreed to it,” she said. “Rick's plan is too risky. We need to find another way."

Daryl nodded in understanding, his expression somber. "I get where you're comin' from, Charlie," he replied quietly. "But we gotta trust Rick.”

“I trust Rick,” Charlie snapped. “More than anyone. I was the first person who trusted him and blindly followed him, when everyone was blaming him, remember?” Charlie looked at Daryl, but his glance was still away. “But those people? I couldn’t care less,” she stopped to point at Deanna’s house. “They lived for two years in a comfort. They should have taken care of that camp when the camp was a small group not a whole herd. They brought it on themselves, because they’re stupid and now, they want is to take care of this and risk our lives!”

“So? This place can be our fina stop, Charlie,” he said. “You want to run through life? Not looking around? Without looking for something worth fighting for?”

"I think we should leave this place," she stated firmly, her eyes pleading with him to understand. “I hate it here. It brought us nothing but problems.”

"I hear ya, but we gotta stick together," he said, his tone pleading. "We can't afford to be divided right now."

Charlie's jaw clenched as she weighed Daryl's words. "You can't be serious," she exclaimed, her voice tinged with frustration. “You wanted to leave!”

“I’m trying to protect what’s left of us,” Daryl said.

“You hate this place,” she protested.

"I'm tryin' to do what's right for our group, whether you like it or not."

"Fine," she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain. "You stay here and play hero if you want. But I'm not sticking around to watch this place fall apart."

“Charlie, wait!”

“No!” she stopped and looked at him. “You will recall my words one day.”

The air was charged with tension and anticipation, each member of the group steeling themselves for the challenges that lay ahead. With a heavy sigh, she watched as her friends gathered their supplies and prepared to depart. Charlie felt a hand gently rest on her shoulder, and she turned to find Glenn standing beside her, his expression a mix of concern and understanding.

“So you stay behind?” Glenn asked.

She shrugged.

“I don’t judge you,” he said. “Actually…I’m happy. You and Maggie away from the danger.”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“Listen, I know you will be taking care of Carl and Judith, but…” he said and Charlie looked at him. “Could you have a look at someone else?”

“Who?”

“Maggie.”

As Glenn's request lingered in her mind, Charlie couldn't help but feel a surge of confusion washing over her. Why would Glenn want her to look after Maggie while he was gone? Wasn't she more than capable of taking care of herself?

“Maggie?”

“She’s…We’re having a baby,” he said while running fingers through his hair.

As Glenn's words hung in the air, Charlie felt the world around her shift on its axis. Pregnant? The word echoed in her mind, sending shockwaves of disbelief coursing through her veins. She struggled to process the magnitude of what Glenn had just revealed, her thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of confusion and concern.

"Are you serious?" she finally managed to stammer, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you angry?” he asked. He couldn’t read her expression and the thought gnawed at him, filling him with a sense of unease as he struggled to understand her reaction.

“Are you crazy?!” she called. With that, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, her embrace filled with warmth and reassurance. “I’m so happy for you. Congratulations. You're going to be an amazing dad."

They held each other close. In the comfort of their embrace, the worries and uncertainties of the world outside faded into the background, replaced by a quiet sense of peace. Charlie closed her eye, trying to remember the feeling of his embrace. And he did the same, pulled her closer to feel her closer to his body. As they finally pulled away from each other, a sense of gratitude filled the air between them. In Charlie's embrace, Glenn had found solace, a reminder that no matter what challenges they faced, they would always have each other to lean on.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m just glad I can finally tell you.”

“Does anyone know?”

“We didn't want to worry anyone until we knew for sure."

Charlie's eyes sparkled with excitement as she exclaimed, "I'm going to be an auntie!" Her voice filled with joy and anticipation, her heart brimming with happiness.

"I know," he replied, his voice filled with emotion. "I can't wait to meet him or her. It's going to change everything."

Her gaze lingered on him, taking in the familiar contours of his face, the warmth of his smile, and the unwavering determination that shone in his eyes. With a soft smile and a heart full of gratitude, Charlie reached out to take Glenn's hand in hers, a silent gesture of solidarity and support.

As Charlie's gaze drifted from Glenn, she noticed Maggie standing a short distance away, her eyes filled with warmth and affection as they met Charlie's. A smile tugged at the corners of Maggie's lips as she knew that Glenn shared the news, and Charlie couldn't help but return the gesture.

“Now you have to promise to be back,” Charlie said. “Or you want your baby to be raised by me.”

“Oh, God. Please no,” he groaned, but smiled at her and intertwined their fingers. His thumb caressed her delicate skin. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“Don’t mention,” she waved it off and wanted to move away.

“No,” he strengthened his grip. “Thank you…for being with me. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

In that moment, as she looked at her friend, she understood that leaving Alexandria was out of question ,now, that Glenn was having a baby. She couldn't turn her back on the people who had become her family, nor could she ignore the responsibility she felt towards the new life that was about to enter their world.

In Glenn's eyes, she saw reflected the same sense of duty and determination. He was ready to so everything in his power to create a world for his baby. He didn’t care for those people, he cared for his family. She may have wrestled with doubts and fears, but in the end, her loyalty to her friends and her community outweighed all else.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon series #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl the walking dead #daryl twd #daryl x reader

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