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cinnamongorll · 5 months

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a fragile line - chapter 19

read on ao3! (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Warning: detailed descriptions of physical abuse from a parent

Word count: 7.8k

wasn't going to post this today but I can't hold you all in anticipation for feral Joel any longer ;)

this is both my favourite and the most painful chapter yet...

Chapter 19: 'Strangers'

Joel’s POV:

The frigid night air did nothing to cool the fire raging beneath Joel’s skin.

The bartender, whose name Joel never asked, slipped them out the backdoor. The way his wide eyes darted around, as he pushed open the rusted metal door, told Joel that he was worried, terrified even. But the deep, permanent, crease between his eyebrows also told him that fear was an ever present emotion in the residents of this town.

Joel had neither the patience nor the pleasantries to thank the man, so he opted for a curt nod as his eyes shot to the black street that stretched before them. There were no streetlights to lessen the sense of oppressive darkness which surrounded the path Joel and Ethan began to walk. They kept their steps quick, careful to avoid watchful eyes who were used to peering through the dark.

The thick handle of Joel’s knife was enclosed within his hand, the blade pressed against his jeans. Hidden, but ready to slice anything that got in his way. Joel imagined pressing the sharp edge to Elijah’s throat, feeling the weight of the blade pushing in, and savouring the heat of his blood as it wet his hands. Joel’s lips twisted in the beginnings of a cruel snarl.

Ethan’s steps pounded behind him, struggling to keep up with Joel’s vicious stride. Joel adjusted his broad shoulders, attempting to shake off the suffocating feeling of Ethan’s presence.

They were headed to the armoury. Neither of them had any significant weapons on them, and Joel wasn’t risking stepping into a situation where he wasn’t properly prepared. Juliet’s life hung in the balance; Joel wouldn’t risk a thing. Especially when it was his fault that she was back here, his fault that she was locked in a house with her abuser, his fault that she hadn’t felt she could tell him…

Within the swirling mess of self-loathing, which continued to swell in his mind, lay a puzzle that Joel couldn’t figure out. Why allow Joel to go to the bar? Why allow him to be seen by the townspeople? Joel’s jaw tightened and the weight of his steps grew heavier as he contemplated Elijah’s decisions. Picking apart the mind of a madman was not something Joel enjoyed, but he was good at it. Because he understood strategy, he understood cruelty.

Joel skidded to a stop as they rounded on a corner, his head whipped side to side as he struggled to see through the aching darkness.

“This way,” a rough voice whispered. Ethan stepped around Joel and began walking down another empty street. Joel followed close behind, gritting his teeth.

As they closed in on the armoury, which was really just a run down barn on the edge of town, Joel sunk deeper into the mind of Juliet’s dad. The questions were overpowering and endless. Why hurt Juliet? Why lure her back here? Why not let her go?

Joel’s fingers curled into a tight fist. He felt the harsh bite of his knife begin to press into his calloused skin as realisation dawned over him.

Elijah wanted complete control over Juliet, he wanted to be her protector, her saviour.

Which meant that he had lost something. Elijah had suffered a loss in his past so great that his instincts of care and protection had twisted, becoming darker, more intense, more dangerous. Juliet wasn’t just his daughter, she was his second chance.

Protection and fear often bled into possession and control. There was a fragile line between care and ownership, love and dominance.

Joel’s heavy breaths faltered, stuttering, as his own past crept over his skin, crawling into his mind, bringing forth memories too painful to even visualise.

The sharp blade of his knife finally pierced his skin and Joel could breathe again. The air released from his tight lungs, as the sting on his hand eased the pressure in his mind.

Ethan turned to look over his shoulder, attempting to read the look on Joel’s face. But it was too dark, and Joel was too good at shielding his emotions. He just ground out a quick command: “Keep movin’” and Ethan quickened his steps as they raced across the damp grass.

Elijah was addicted to control. He had this whole town so brutally devoted to him that they were complacent in the torture of two young people. That was why he allowed Joel to go to the bar: surveillance. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. And who better to watch over Joel than his keen eyed followers?

Joel uttered a quiet “fuck ” under his breath. Ethan didn’t turn around this time. Joel was glad, he wasn’t in control of himself, he might start swinging at the next person who looked him in the eye.

Bringing him to the armoury earlier, showing him his gifted weapons, his gifted vehicle, was all an elaborate trick. Elijah was playing with his food. There was no way he was letting Joel leave this town. He thought back to earlier when he stepped in front of Juliet, when he opposed Elijah’s sick claim over her, and offered Juliet a choice. Joel had watched the ire ripple under Elijah’s stone features. Joel had challenged him, Joel was a threat. And Elijah wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

He should have never stepped away from her. He shouldn’t have left her there when he felt something was wrong. Joel was haunted by many things in his life, but he knew that that decision would cling to him for a long time. Thick regret boiled within him but Joel didn’t try to push it down anymore, he didn’t try to displace it. Joel allowed his fear, his regret and his anger to inflame, to blister, to worsen.

Joel relished in the blood that pooled in his hand, he savoured the sharp sting that throbbed around the blade of his knife.

The pain fueled him.

Juliet needed him, and he wouldn’t let her down again.

………………………………………………..

“Wait out here,” Joel ordered. His voice low but commanding as he stretched his arm out in front of Ethan, blocking him from moving towards the doors to the armoury.

Ethan peered up at him, his eyes narrowing as he registered Joel’s demand. The crease between Joel’s eyes deepened as he watched the shock and resentment wash over the younger man’s sallow features. Ethan opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Joel just raised his hand with impatience, cutting him off.

“I don’t know what or who’s in there, I’m goin’ in alone,” he said, leaving no room for a debate as he began to turn towards the doors. But that didn’t stop Ethan from trying.

Ethan moved forward, grabbing hold of Joel’s sleeve before he could reach the handle. Joel’s head whipped towards him and his hands began to shake with the effort it took not to punch that entitled look off of his face.

“I got Juliet out of his town once, and I can do it again. Who even are you?” Ethan’s words rushed out in a single breath as his eyes darted around, making sure no one had spotted them. He was practically jumping on the spot with the energy that rippled through him.

“You’re gonna want to let go of me,” Joel ground out slowly, after a pause. He didn’t break eye contact with Ethan as his hand quickly unlatched from his tight grip on Joel’s sleeve.

Joel rolled his shoulders and ran a hand over his face. He was growing impatient, he had no idea what was happening to Juliet right now and Ethan was only prolonging her suffering with his whining.

“You stay behind me and you shut up, got it?” Joel hissed, his irritation rolling off of him in waves. Ethan just nodded, sharp and quick. Joel stared at him a moment longer before rolling his eyes and reaching for the door handle.

The inside of the armoury was quiet, there was no one else lurking in the old barn as far as Joel could tell. But he moved slowly through the building, heading straight for the shotguns on the back wall. Elijah and his people had built up one hell of a supply.

A few minutes later, Joel ran his hand over the weapon before swinging the strap of the shotgun over his shoulder. He released a weighted breath at the feeling of a gun in his hands again. Ethan stood beside him, his hand outstretched to grab a gun of his own. Joel looked down at him, his eyebrows raised.

“You know how to use one of these?” he asked, watching Ethan from the corner of his eye as he adjusted his own gun.

Ethan grabbed hold of a shotgun and shot Joel an incredulous look. “Of course I can use a fucking shotgun,” he replied.

If Juliet didn’t care for Ethan, he would have been a dead man from that comment alone. Joel’s lips twitched with restrained anger before turning around and searching for ammo. He heard Ethan release a quiet, relieved, breath.

Once they were stocked up on ammo, Joel and Ethan headed to the side of the barn where the trucks were kept. Juliet had promised him a car battery back in the QZ, but there was way more than just batteries available. There were three trucks lined in a row, each of them rusted and dusty as though they hadn’t been driven in a long time. But Joel guessed that they were well maintained, their batteries charged every now and then in case of emergencies. That’s what Joel would do if he were in charge of a town.

Joel had begun to creep around the first truck, ready to try to hotwire it if needed. He had to know there was a way out of this town, a vehicle ready for him to get Juliet away as quickly as possible. But before he could even reach the truck, he stilled. His muscles locked up as he froze in place.

“Ethan made it to the bar, tried to fight that guy who turned up with Juliet. Joel, I think his name was,” said a voice from outside the barn, his words were muffled but Joel heard them clear enough. So did Ethan, who shot Joel a terror filled look.

Joel reached out his hand, palm up, to still Ethan. His mind began to filter through a thousand possibilities of how they would get out of here alive and without alerting whoever roamed outside. They both stood like statues, Ethan’s eyes latched onto Joel, as another voice from outside raised loud enough for them to hear.

“Fuck, Elijah’s not gonna like this”

Then a third voice…

“Just hurry up and get the ammo, then we’ll go get them. They won’t have made it far.”

Joel jumped into gear, moving with pure instinct. There were three voices outside, that meant they were outnumbered. And they were coming inside, which meant his hopes of a quiet exit were gone.

They would have to fight.

Joel curled his hand towards Ethan, and pointed with a sharp look from his dark eyes towards the door. Ethan frowned but followed, their steps thankfully silent on the old wooden floor.

They positioned themselves on either side of the barn doors. Joel attempted to have a silent conversation with Ethan, but it was either too dark or Ethan wasn’t the brightest, because all Joel got in response was a confused tilt of his head.

Joel’s eyes shot to the ceiling, the pressure on his chest increasing as he heard the voices move closer. Joel lifted his free hand, making quick, focused gestures. Ethan eventually nodded, finally understanding Joel’s clear instructions.

Joel clenched his jaw, gritted his teeth, and waited for the men to open the doors.

Moments later, the handle turned, and Joel was ready. The first man came through the door, and immediately fell forward, crashing onto the dirty floor with a bullet in his head.

Shouts rang in Joel’s ears as the next two men came barging in, stepping over the body of their friend. Their jaws hung open and their eyes moved between Joel and Ethan, obviously unprepared and taken off guard. Joel was right about this town, it may have the weapons and supplies, but there were no fighters living here.

Before the men’s eyes swung back over to Joel, another body dropped to the floor. Joel’s gaze immediately darted to Ethan, who stood breathing heavily, winded by the force it took to fire a gun in his weak state.

Joel recognised the third man. He had ginger hair and a thick, bleeding gash across his forehead, covered in a small bit of gauze. Before Ethan could finish the job, Joel moved, grabbing the man from behind and bringing his shotgun around to press on his neck as the man was forced to push against Joel’s front, wriggling as the shotgun tightened and his air began to lessen.

Joel grunted as the man elbowed him in the ribs but he held steady. “Don’t shoot, we need him,” Joel barked towards Ethan, who had already pointed his gun towards the man in Joel’s arms.

Ethan, confused, began to move closer, stepping over the two bodies at his feet.

Before the man passed out from the crushing force of the shotgun pressed against his neck, Joel moved his mouth to his ear. “Where’s Juliet?” he hissed, still grunting in between breaths as the man continued to squirm against him.

Joel eased the force of the gun just a little to allow the man enough air to reply. “At her house, with Elijah,” the man croaked out as his boots began to kick back against Joel’s shins

Joel held steady, eyeing Ethan. Juliet was still at her house, meaning Elijah hadn’t moved her anywhere. They knew where to go. But Joel wasn’t done with his interrogation.

He tilted his mouth back to the man’s ear. “Who’s with ‘em?” Joel asked, his voice rough with pain as the man got another hit in.

When the man didn’t answer, Joel adjusted his grip on the shotgun, applying more pressure on the man’s throat until Joel began to feel his consciousness slip. Then he loosened it again.

Ethan had lowered his gun as he stared at Joel. His eyes were wide and his gaze kept darting away as though he struggled to watch the brutal scene in front of him. Joel noted this with deep frustration. Perhaps Ethan’s weakness was not only found in the current state of his battered and malnourished body.

“Daniel,” the man in his arms finally gasped out. “Daniel is with them.”

Joel’s lips pulled back to reveal the shape of a vicious snarl. Only one more idiot standing in the way of Joel wrapping his fist around Elijah’s neck.

Before Ethan could even open his mouth, Joel had let go of the shotgun and replaced his grip on the man’s neck with his arm. The muscles in his bicep flexed as Joel forced his arm in one quick movement until he heard the crunch of the man’s neck and felt his body go limp.

Joel stepped back and allowed the body to drop to the floor. He stood over it, breathing heavy while he adjusted the strap of his shotgun.

Ethan had jumped backwards when the man hit the floor, almost tripping over the other bodies. His boots were stained with their blood as it pooled around them.

Ethan lifted his heavy gaze to Joel’s face. “What the hell was that?” he demanded, his voice shaky.

“We know where she is, we know who she’s with. We can go get her now,” Joel said, in a monotone, matter of fact voice as he began to step over the still warm bodies.

Ethan made a sound almost like a growl and whipped his hand out towards Joel, the tips of his fingers almost touching the arm of his jacket before Joel grabbed Ethan by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall beside the doors.

The adrenaline was still pumping steadily through Joel’s bloodstream as let go of one of Ethan’s shoulders, slipped his knife out of his pocket, and brought it to Ethan’s face. “What did I tell you bout’ touchin’ me?” Joel seethed, pushing the tip of his blade against the soft skin of Ethan’s cheek.

Ethan swallowed rough, the action restrained as though he was frightened the knife would cut him. Joel would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted.

“Don’t fucking question my methods,” Joel warned, in a voice so quiet it might have sounded gentle. But the look in Joel’s eyes made it very clear that his words were coated in a razor sharp edge. He pressed the knife in further, careful not to break skin. “If you can’t handle this then leave, cause I'm gettin’ Juliet outta here with or without you.”

Ethan’s jaw clenched, then he nodded sharp and quick.

Joel let go of him and walked out the doors before Ethan could even catch his breath.

…………………………………………………

Juliet’s POV:

There were exactly fourteen steps down to the basement.

Juliet counted every one, each time she followed her father into the dark room below their rickety house. It helped ground her, the counting.

She would count the steps, then she would count the seconds, the minutes, and the hours. And when the number grew high enough for her father to be satisfied with her punishment, Juliet would listen as he walked those fourteen steps back down to collect her.

It was strange how memory worked. It had been nearly four years since Juliet wandered into the suffocating darkness of the basement, nearly four years since she felt the cold chill in the air which coated her skin like an oily slick. Yet, she still remembered to count the steps.

She did it on instinct, her mind was entirely devoid of thought or emotion, all that drifted through her consciousness was the sound of her counting. One, two, three, four…

Juliet was too numb to think anyway, to feel anything other than the space around her. The entire time she had travelled with Joel, Juliet knew what her destination was. The basement flashed through her mind many times, usually waking her from a shallow sleep in the truck or causing her to thrash and kick in her sleeping bag as she lay beside Joel. He would reach out a hand, stilling the movement of her legs, calming her racing heart.

She was always grateful for his quiet strength and his rare soothing touch, but it only kept the monsters at bay for a short while. They were never really gone. Because every mile they travelled led them closer to Juliet’s real nightmare.

Five, six, seven…

Juliet wasn’t sure what awaited her at the bottom of the steps, how she would reach the ‘salvation’ her father spoke of. Through her numbness, a spark of pain shot through her heart when she imagined Ethan facing the same fate. The thought of him hating her hurt more, though. Ethan was the only good thing in her life for so long, to lose that …

Eight, nine, ten, eleven…

Her mind picked up again and brought forth the anxiety and fear that shook her to the bone. Joel would never forgive her. She had brought him here on stupid, naive, false hope. Juliet had been content with returning home and fading into nothing but a memory in Joel’s mind, and a sad smile on Ethan’s lips. But with Ethan turned against her, turned into something vicious, something like her father, and Joel trapped here… Juliet began to feel that her sacrifice was in vain. The only person gaining anything was her father. It was always her father who won their games, Juliet had been stupid to think otherwise.

Twelve, thirteen …

Her legs shook with each step, the world around her travelled in slow motion. Bile rose in her throat and she fought to keep her arms by her side.

For most people, the world ended around twenty years ago. But for Juliet, her world ended with the last step down those basement stairs.

Fourteen.

…………………………………

“You know, Ethan sat in a chair just like this.”

Juliet blinked, her father’s words slicing through the fog that filled her head, clouding her thoughts and numbing her emotions. She looked down, reminding herself where she was. Juliet blinked again, slower this time, when she remembered the thick, coarse rope which wrapped around her wrists and ankles, tying her to the metal chair she sat on.

Eventually, her head tilted back up to meet her father’s icy gaze. His lips twitched into a satisfied smile when she didn’t respond. It appeared that Elijah had counted on her speechlessness.

He lowered his eyes to the restraints on her wrists, then turned and walked towards a fireplace on the back wall of the room, directly in front of Juliet. This was new, there had never been a source of light in the basement before.

“They’re for your safety. Don’t want you running off again. It’s not safe for you out there,” her father explained, his back turned to Juliet as he picked up a poker and prodded the burning logs.

“I managed just fine on my own,” Juliet murmured without a thought. The words just slipped out. Her head shot up and her teeth clamped down on her tongue when she realised what she said.

Her father’s movements stilled, the poker now hovering over the fire.

Then Juliet heard his quiet chuckle, getting louder with every second until she watched her father’s shoulders shake. Juliet squirmed in her seat, her heart had begun to pound against her chest.

Without warning, the laughter ceased. The only sound that remained was the crackling of the fire and the quiet breaths that slipped past Juliet’s clenched jaw. She followed her father’s movements as he dropped the poker back into its stand and picked up the bible resting on the wooden top of the fireplace, then turned towards her.

When he met her eyes, his face was devoid of all emotion.

“Let’s begin,” he said and cracked open the first page.

…………………………………………………….

Juliet’s head swung to the side with the force of the slap.

This time, it wasn’t by her father’s hand, but rather the book he held. Pain blossomed across her jaw and rippled through every muscle on her face. Her mouth filled with spit which had begun to spill out of the side of her numbing lips. She felt a wetness against her ear too, it was most likely bleeding as well.

Her father was bent over her, his face red with muted rage and his mouth open wide as he shouted words that Juliet couldn’t hear. The only sound she heard was a prolonged high pitched noise, drowning out everything else. The hit had stunned her and she struggled to remember why her father had done it. Usually there was something she had done wrong, something that angered him, something that forced him to teach her a lesson.

Her father continued to scream in her face, the hot air from his breath hit her already burning cheek. Juliet just stared back, her eyebrows pinched together in a mixture of pain and confusion.

A scream tore from her throat when a hand gripped her chin and began to squeeze. “Are you listening to me?” her father raged. Her hearing started to return but the sound was still muffled. In an effort to stop his assault on her face, Juliet began to nod her head in frantic movements until her father released her.

Her father staggered backwards and ran a hand through his grey hair, tugging on the strands. Juliet spat a mixture of spit and blood onto the floor and forced her head up to watch him. He looked off balance, his eyes were wild and unfocused as they scanned Juliet.

As the seconds passed, and the pain became less urgent, Juliet remembered what she had done to deserve such punishment.

Elijah decided that the first stage in her ‘salvation’ was confession. It turns out he wasn’t a big fan of the answers Juliet gave him. Her father’s hands had begun to shake when she answered his questions about Ethan. His face turned red when he asked her about Boston. And the slap came after he asked about travelling with Joel.

“Your confession is not done, Juliet. I can sense there is more you have not revealed,” her father urged. “You cannot begin to cleanse until I know how soiled you are.”

The bile rose in Juliet’s throat again, but she swallowed it down and steadied her features. It surprised her, the anger that had started to build within herself.

“Let’s try again, shall we?” he asked, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest. “Tell me about your time with Joel.”

“No,” Juliet murmured, before spitting more blood. The thought of Joel brought pain far worse than the bruises blossoming across her face. Her father had no right to ask about him. And for what? For some sick possessive insight into the intimate parts of her life. Her father believed he had full ownership of her, like she was his to control like a child’s doll. Juliet hadn’t realised this until a couple years into living in the QZ, when the wounds from her childhood began to scab over. When her memories became clearer, and she saw her father for what he really was.

“No,” she said again, louder this time. That slap had awoken something inside her. That slap was no different to the slaps she received as a young girl. Even when she did everything he asked of her, he would always find something to punish her for. When she opened her eyes into her father’s wild stare, she realised that nothing she would ever do would be good enough for him.

The thought was freeing, almost. Even strapped to a chair in the basement of her father’s house, Juliet felt liberated.

And with that liberation, came a sense of recklessness.

“No?” her father finally asked, repeating her resistance with a quirked brow. “The mention of Joel seems to have hit a nerve,” he taunted, “has Ethan truly been replaced? Joel’s a bit old for you, isn’t he, my dear?”

Juliet’s hands began to tremble. Not with fear, but with rage.

“He has nothing to do with this,” she insisted, her hands curling into fists. Elijah noted the movement with great interest.

“Hmmmm,” he began, walking forward again. Her father liked to tower over Juliet when he could, she assumed it made him feel in control, made him feel powerful. Maybe it reminded him of when she was truly a child, before she had thoughts of her own.

“I saw the way Joel looked at you. I saw the way he watched you. It was like he had claimed you,” her father snarled.

Juliet glared at him as she gritted her teeth. She felt like she was balancing on a tightrope, one wrong move and she’d fall to her death. Bravery was not always rewarded. But Juliet couldn’t stifle the rage that had burned inside her, and the remaining throbbing pain from his slap only ignited that fire.

“I am not a thing to be claimed,” Juliet ground out, struggling to control her anger. “I’m not yours, I’m not anyone’s.”

Elijah was silent, but Juliet held her ground, she didn’t break the withering stare she threw his way. Everything had been taken from her, she had nothing left to lose.

“Who taught you that?” her father demanded, then barked out a short laugh. “I am your father, I have every claim over you.”

“Father’s are supposed to love their daughters, not own them,” Juliet protested. Her eyes began to fill with frustrated tears, but her words grew louder, more forceful. “This isn’t love. It’s possession.”

Juliet had watched fathers with their daughters in the Boston QZ, she had watched their smiles and their laughs. Juliet knew what fatherly love was supposed to look like, and this wasn’t it.

Elijah stalked those last few steps towards her and placed his hands over her restrained wrists, pressing his weight down on them until their faces were inches apart. Juliet leaned back as far as she could, her face flinching with discomfort. Her wrists began to ache, and Juliet’s arms started shaking involuntarily. Elijah enjoyed watching her struggle. His lips transformed into a sneer, and his eyes shone with a sick delight. And the anger… his rage was rolling off of him in waves, he could barely keep it contained.

“The world is not safe, Juliet ,” he whispered inches from her face, her name dropped from his lips like a curse. “There are demons, yes. Those infected monsters, with their peeling faces and sharp teeth. But there is worse out there. Hunters, raiders who crawl the country, killing and gutting people with no remorse -”

Elijah cut himself off with a heavy sigh, then his words became frenzied. “I kept you here, I kept you safe from that. I kept you safe because you are my property, you are mine to protect. And I will not lose another daughter to -”

He stopped, letting go of her wrists immediately. The blood rushed back into them and Juliet began to feel her fingers again, but that relief was the furthest thing from her mind.

Another daughter?

Her father staggered back another few steps, he looked horrified. His mask slipped right off his face as he said those words, now he struggled to put it back on. He wiped a hand over his forehead and when he brought it back down, the horror was gone. He was seething, his whole body moved with the force of his brutal breaths.

“What do you mean, another daughter?” Juliet whispered, but her voice sounded far away.

Her father flinched. Juliet was unsure if what she was experiencing was real, or a dream. Maybe she passed out when he hit her, maybe this was all in her imagination. Because her father’s bravado had never faltered, and yet here he stood before her, visibly flinching at her words.

Elijah started to pace in front of Juliet’s chair, his steps brisk and savage. Juliet’s mind was still clouded, so it took her a few seconds to realise he was mumbling to himself.

Then he stopped, turning to face Juliet. He looked like he was arguing with himself, he was losing control, unravelling right in front of her. For the first time since she could remember, Juliet looked at her father and saw weakness staring back at her.

“Your parents couldn’t protect you, sweet Juliet,” he began. His eyes had a detached look in them, like he wasn’t really standing in front of her.

Juliet swore her heart stopped at his words.

“They didn’t have what it took to survive. They didn’t have the determination to keep you safe,” Elijah continued, raising his bible in the air as he spoke.

Nausea washed over her.

“I saved you. I saved you from them . And then I spared them any more suffering.”

He paused to inhale a deep breath, as though his words were suffocating him. But he wasn’t finished.

“You looked so much like her, with your brown eyes and curls. And your cry, when your parents hit the floor, God, it sounded so much like her’s.”

Juliet didn’t know how much more of this she could take, the nausea was overpowering her.

“I knew at that moment that you were mine, that you were my second chance. I could take you in, protect you, make sure you were never taken from me. Never stolen away.”

The ringing in Juliet’s ears returned, and she leaned forward and vomited all over the floor.

Her father didn’t take his eyes off of her, wasn’t even remotely startled by the evidence of her disgust. He walked forward and bent down until they were at eye level, then he lifted a hand and reached towards her chin.

Juliet’s entire body recoiled from his touch. She felt a wetness on her cheeks and nearly gasped in shock when she realised she was crying. Tears were flowing down her face and dripping onto her neck. Elijah tried again, reaching forward to grab her chin in his tight hold.

A moment ago, when Elijah’s own confession fell from his lips, his eyes looked wistful, haunted. But now, as he knelt before her, that simmering fury had returned. He began to tighten his grip on her chin.

Juliet couldn’t feel the pain anymore, she couldn’t feel much of anything.

“The one thing I couldn’t protect you from, my dear, was your own stupidity,” her father growled, his lips pulling back into a snarl.

Juliet began to struggle in his grip, attempting to pull herself away from his hand, but it was no use. With her wrists and legs restrained, Juliet was powerless.

“All those years, feeding you, keeping you sheltered in my home, behind the fence I built, in the community I created,” he paused to shake his head. “And you repaid me by running away, by throwing my protection back in my face.”

“You insulted me once, Juliet. I will not let that happen again.”

Elijah released her chin suddenly and Juliet’s gaze dropped to the floor. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes again. There was nothing behind his icy stare. Juliet could no longer predict his movements, his actions.

Her father was playing his own game and she had no idea of the rules.

She couldn’t even begin to unravel everything he just confessed to. Juliet was in shock, nothing made sense anymore. She felt lightheaded, maybe if she just passed out everything would go away, she would wake up lying next to Joel in the woods. Another hot tear rolled down her burning cheek.

“Daniel!” Elijah bellowed.

Juliet blinked, finally raising her eyes to look around her. Her father stood by the fire, the poker in his hand. There was something else there too, he was clipping something onto the poker, but her eyes were too blurry with tears to see.

The door at the top of the basement stairs opened and Daniel came into view. He didn’t say a word, just walked up behind her and hovered, waiting on her father’s instructions. Juliet’s stomach dropped, an icy dread churning in her gut.

After another agonisingly long minute, Elijah pulled away from the fire and turned towards her. Juliet's eyes immediately dropped to the poker in his hands. And the red hot metal letters attached to the end of it.

E.M. Elijah Matthews.

The nausea struck Juliet, hard and fast. She nearly doubled over, but by some miracle, she stayed upright. Her legs began to tremble, shaking the metal chair beneath her. Juliet had figured out her father’s next move.

“No, no, no, no,” she began to cry, pulling against the ropes with enough force to tear skin.

She watched as her father nodded to Daniel behind her and felt his hands come down on her shoulders.

“I don’t want it to be too visible, Daniel please lift up her shirt,” her father ordered, as he continued his slow walk towards her. The white hot end of the poker reflected in his eyes and illuminated the cruel shape of his mouth.

“No!” Juliet screamed through thick tears as Daniel’s rough hands reached down and lifted up her shirt, revealing her stomach.

Elijah stopped in front of her, peering down, relishing in her fear.

“This isn’t love,” Juliet cried, defeat seeping into her tone.

Her father smiled, a real smile this time.

“Love is pain, my sweet Juliet. You just have to be strong enough to bear it,” he said softly. “It’s time you remember who you belong to.”

Then he brought the end of the poker down on Juliet’s stomach.

Juliet felt a scream crawl up her throat, but she couldn’t hear a thing.

The ringing in her ears drowned out everything around her. The smell of her burning flesh met her nose just as dark spots began to dance across her vision.

As the darkness consumed her, a familiar face flashed before eyes. In her current state, Juliet could not recall the man’s name, but she felt warm, and she felt safe as he gently wiped her tears with his rough, calloused fingers.

……………………………………………..

Joel’s POV:

It didn’t take them long to reach Juliet’s house. No one stopped them as they darted through the quiet streets, Ethan staggering to keep up with Joel.

The house looked different in the dark. It was still old and crumbling, but without the twilight sky bathing it in a soft blue light, the house no longer looked sad.

It looked dangerous.

They staggered to a stop at the bottom of the porch steps, the lights in the house were on so they kept to the shadows.

Joel’s fingers clenched and unclenched in a constant, repetitive movement. Joel had fed every bit of fear and regret churning in his gut into his anger, and now it crawled over his skin, desperate for release.

Ethan signalled with his head towards a side door, Joel nodded and took the lead. He didn’t trust Ethan. He didn’t trust that he could protect Juliet, he didn’t trust his motives.

But Ethan knew this house, so Joel had to trust that he knew how to get them in.

“They’ll be in the basement,” Ethan mouthed to Joel before they reached the side door.

Joel frowned, horror starting to overpower his rage. But there was no time to question how Ethan knew this, or what that meant for Juliet. Joel just bit the skin inside his cheek and reached his hand towards the door handle.

It was unlocked.

He turned back to Ethan before entering the house. It was two against two, Joel wasn’t worried about gunning down the men that surrounded Juliet. Joel just wanted to be the one to deal with Elijah. A single bullet was too easy for him.

Killing was not often a pleasure for Joel, it was always a necessity. But he knew he would enjoy watching Elijah bleed.

The house was silent, eerily so.

Joel began to feel that sense of wrongness from earlier. He didn’t listen to his gut the first time, he wouldn’t make that mistake again. They had to hurry.

With another sharp nod from Joel, Ethan moved through the house until he reached a door in the middle of the hall. Then he stepped back, darting his gaze up to Joel’s face.

Joel gripped his shotgun, his fingers flexing across the handle. Ethan echoed his movements, then squeezed his eyes shut for a second. Joel noted the nervous action. He wondered what Ethan had seen in this basement that made him so fearful of it.

Without another thought, Joel, in one powerful movement, kicked open the basement door and began his descent into the dark room. His heartbeat quickened in anticipation of a fight.

Time slowed as Joel moved down the steps, his head turning to try and get a sense of the layout but it was so dark.

The first thing he noticed was the smell.

It was something rotten, but he couldn’t place it.

It didn’t matter anyways, he wasn’t able to give it much thought, because a man rounded the corner, pulling his gun out of his back pocket.

Joel fired a bullet through his skull before he got the chance.

Time continued to slow as Joel reached the bottom step, his gun still out in front of him. Ethan’s presence looming behind him.

Moving around the corner into the room, the smell increased, burning Joel’s nose. If he wasn’t being driven by pure survival instincts at that moment, he would have gagged.

Another step into the room and Joel spotted a dwindling fire at the back wall, and a man standing next to it, his hands in the air, his mouth open.

Another step and Joel noticed the chair sitting opposite the fire, and the bent figure of a person hunched over, their head at an unnatural angle.

Another step and the man scrambled for the poker by the fire, branding it like a weapon.

Another step and Joel rounded on the figure in the chair.

With one sharp inhale, Joel realised that the figure in the chair was a girl.

With one skipped heartbeat, Joel recognised the bruised and battered face of Juliet.

With one glance downwards, Joel noticed the horrific amount of blood pooled around her torso, dripping onto the floor.

With one strangled gasp, Joel knew that she was dead.

Time picked up again, moving at a rapid pace all at once. Joel whipped his gaze from Juliet’s body to the man by the fire. Elijah.

Joel didn’t hear Ethan’s steps pound behind him. Joel didn’t hear Ethan’s pained scream. Joel didn’t hear his own guttural cry as he threw himself at Juliet’s father.

He dropped his gun, letting it swing from the strap on his shoulder. Joel’s hands knocked the poker from Elijah’s grip then met his neck with a brutal intensity, slamming him against the fireplace, pinning him against the stone wall above it.

Elijah reached his hands up, clawing at Joel’s arms. His eyes were wide and bloodshot.

Joel’s face shook with fury, his lips pulled back to bare his teeth. He was snarling at the man in his grip, practically growling as he increased the pressure in his hands. Joel was an animal, his instincts had taken over.

Some distant part of Joel’s brain heard Ethan yelling, screaming. But Joel wasn’t listening, the only thing he was focused on was the man in front of him begging for air.

Juliet’s face flashed in his mind, and he pushed harder, practically crushing her father’s throat.

This was the man who had killed her, this was the sick, disgusting man who had made her life a living hell. And there he was, writhing and choking in Joel’s grip.

But it wasn’t enough for Joel.

The image of Juliet’s neck, bent at an unthinkable angle, and the blood, god, the blood that poured from her.

Joel wanted, no, needed, to watch Elijah bleed too.

He released his grip so suddenly that Juliet’s father almost fell into the fire, but Joel caught him before that happened. With one hand tight on Elijah’s shoulder, lifting him up, Joel pulled back his other arm and fired his fist into his face.

Once

Twice…

Joel lost count after twenty or so hits.

Elijah’s face was unrecognisable, but Joel couldn’t even see him anymore. It was Juliet’s face that covered his vision. He watched her roll her eyes at him, he watched her lips twitch into a reluctant smile, he watched her head tilt back as she laughed.

Joel knew Elijah was dead, but he kept punching.

Blood splattered his face, and his fist burned, but he kept punching.

Joel kept punching because he knew that if he stopped, he’d have to turn around and face Juliet’s lifeless body. He’d have to look at her face and know that she would never smile again, never roll her eyes at his grumpy remarks, never laugh with a recklessness he wished he could imitate.

Ethan’s yelling started to seep into Joel’s consciousness, growing louder. But he wasn’t screaming for Juliet, he was screaming at Joel.

Joel pulled back from Elijah, breathing heavy. How weak, how pathetic he looked as a bloody mess resembling a man.

Joel glanced down at the small fire, still burning quietly, then pushed Elijah’s body into the weakening blaze. Joel watched as the fire started to lick at his skin, blistering his flesh.

The smell struck his nose, and Joel whipped around towards Juliet’s body. That was what he had smelled when he entered the basement. Joel didn’t think that more rage could coat around his heart, but somehow this realisation brought forth a wave of anger he didn’t even think his body was capable of containing.

“Lift up her shirt,” Joel commanded with a lifeless voice, staring numbly at Juliet’s bloodied torso.

Ethan was still shouting, but Joel continued to block him out.

“Lift up her shirt,” he demanded again, louder this time, harsher.

Ethan carefully reached around Juliet and rolled up her shirt.

There it was, barely visible beneath the layer of thick blood, a brand marking her skin. E.M.

Joel ached to turn around, pull Elijah out of the fire and continue pummelling his face. But as he looked closer, a muscle in his very tight jaw jumped when he noticed that, despite the amount of blood, the brand was the only wound on Juliet’s stomach.

Joel’s eyes darted to Ethan, who had cut the ropes on Juliet’s wrists and ankles free, and now sat on his knees with his fingers latched on the underside of Juliet’s raw wrist.

“She’s alive,” Ethan croaked out. “I can feel her pulse, it’s weak but it’s there.”

Ethan’s words washed over Joel and he staggered backwards. Relief was quick and brutal, but it did nothing to ease his horror. Juliet sat broken before him. Not dead, but nearly. Almost.

“Get up,” Joel barked out, gesturing for Ethan to stand and move away from Juliet.

When he didn’t move quick enough, Joel snarled, “get the fuck away from her,” in his lifeless voice. His eyes didn’t leave Juliet’s face. She was so pale, and covered in blood and bruises.

Ethan scrambled away from her and Joel moved forward, his steps were heavy, like he was wading through water. But his hands, though fractured and bruised, were so gentle as they slid behind her back, tucking under her legs and lifting her broken body to his chest. Her head rolled onto his shoulder and Joel tilted his chin down towards her. His eyes shuttered closed as his stubbled jaw grazed over Juliet’s dark hair.

He kept watching her until he felt her chest rise and fall with a shallow breath. Joel almost choked with relief. Then the terror snuck back in. She was so cold, and there was so much blood. They had to get out of here, get somewhere safe.

Joel couldn’t spend another second in this basement.

Time slowed to a crawl again as he walked the fourteen steps out of the basement, Juliet’s fragile body shivering against him.

Joel vowed, with each step he climbed, that he would never again let Juliet out of his sight, never again allow her to suffer, until she begged him herself to go.

If Juliet allowed it, he would burn anything and anyone who ever dared to hurt her.

______________________

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby @http-paprika

#joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x female oc #joel miller hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller angst #joel miller #ao3 fanfic #pedro pascal #tlou #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #Spotify

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1unpunishable1 · 7 months

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Inbred by Ethel Cain

@mothercain

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lavenderdreams205 · 1 month

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spn thoughts as requested

tw & spoiler warning

they should have kept the grungy filter and aesthetics from the early seasons

bring back the southern / midwest gothic vibes

dean would've listened to and loved 90's & 2000s grunge - I know that the whole "there's no good music past '79" is a key part of his personality but pre series/early seasons dean is soo nirvana / Weezer / smashing pumpkins coded

there is too much flannel in the later seasons - I miss the carhartt and leather jackets so bad

BRING BACK DEANS JEWELRY

there's so much about cas that we don't know. there's all the episodes where he just isn't there and they never tell the viewers what he's doing or where he went

on the same note, cas's personality isn't nearly as flushed out as sam's or dean's are. who is his favorite musician? what's his favorite place to travel to? why does he like the pimpmobile so much? does he actually like the trench coat or does he wear it just because it's there?

so many people characterize cas as a little guy, and while he is cute, it's important to remember that he's also an incredibly powerful eldritch horror who leads angelic armies and brands Michaels vessel just because

dean is bisexual and in love with cas - I won't take the time to list all of the reasons here, but you can definitely find those reasons somewhere

i would've loved for them to use the handprint as a physical manifestation of their bond instead of having it be just a scar that fades with time

i'm actually really ok with the way cas dies, I think it makes sense for his character and provides closure (for him, at least, not for dean)

the parallels of cas and dean meeting in a barn and then dean dying in a barn

cassie is deans first love, cas is his last

the imagery of the empty as cas's wings in 15x18

why do the subtitles spell cas as cass, its awful

there's a few lines in the early seasons that seemingly reference dean getting roofied / sa'd and are subsequently played for laughs, Jensen Ackles confirmed that dean would've done underage sw when John didn't leave them with enough money. I believe that this trauma is a major reason that dean never accepted his sexuality

the way deans alcoholism is overlooked and joked about is actually insane

having dean be completely ok after 15x18 is also insane, especially after the widower arc where the show specifically shows it's viewers how deeply dean grieves cas when he dies

deans death is literally so stupid. I get that the show is trying to make a really meta point about the characters not having plot armor anymore because chuck is gone, but dean deserved to find peace. if the events of the show had never happened and pre series dean had never gotten pre series Sam back into hunting it would've ended the exact same way - dean dead on a hunt and Sam dying from old age

dean spends as much time on earth as he did in hell, and while he would never be the same, I like to believe that if he had been allowed by the narrative to live longer he would've gotten back a little of the twinkle in his eyes that he had before hell

in 15x20 Bobby says that cas helped rebuild heaven but if he was there he would've gone to see dean. additionally, there's no way cas should have been able to escape the empty. this is such a glaringly obvious plot hole and it drives me nuts

I would've liked to see cas's wings in the show - not just the shadow of them

the only time I tolerate serious discussion of wincest is in the context of ethel cain

i am a Sam disliker - while he does have many positive qualities, I have a really hard time getting past him not looking for dean when he was in purgatory and him joking about deans alcoholism and other traumas

i like Sam the best when he's with Eileen, I think they're adorable together and I'm mad they killed her off

I am a chronic jack defender, that boy has done nothing wrong

it would be interesting to explore cas and jacks relationships with their respective genders

there's no way being forced to murder the dean clones didn't affect cas, we only saw him kill the last one but the first few he had to kill had to have been devastating

i'm really disappointed by 14x13 Lebanon, we get the scene with John and Sam but I would argue that dean has significantly more reasons to be upset with John and it's unfortunate that the episode just glossed over this - I believe a screaming match between the two would have cleared the air a bit and been at the very least cathartic for dean

i'm fairly sure that it's canonical that John sent dean away on his 17th birthday to kill lesbian ghosts. my personal hc is that John suspected that dean was bi and sent him to teach him a lesson

i saw a post on here comparing hunting culture to biker and cowboy culture and viewing those things through a queer lens and I thought it was fascinating - there's so much spn could've done if it cared about the show more than money and losing viewers

every time cas and dean beat the shit out of each other, it serves as further proof of their relationship rather than discrediting their relationship - ie demon dean and cas fighting in the library is used to parallel Cain and Collette. it could even be assumed that their love is stronger because Cain killed Collette but dean left cas alive

The purgatory love triangle was so silly

once dean worked through all of his trauma and toxic masculinity he would've been a swiftie

all of the main characters have old / vintage cars but in like season 13/14 dean sam and cas just collectively own and use this really ugly silver truck from the 2010s. its such a small detail but it absolutely ruins my viewing experience every time I see it

dean is actually really smart but most of the fandom overlooks it because Sam is characterized as the smart one. if you know anything about cars you know it takes an insane amount of brains to build a car from scratch (he did this with baby multiple times throughout the show) also he just makes an emf meter using basically nothing. if dean had been given the same opportunities he gave Sam, he would've been an engineer or something

i will always be a John hater, if this man has 0 haters, I am dead

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #destiel #ethel cain #grunge aesthetic

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charliedawn · 2 months

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The loud mouse part 2

Guess who decided to finally write a part 2 ? :D Enjoy.

When you awoke, you blinked several times before getting used to the light and give a circular glance to your surroundings. You were in some barn and you no longer felt the burning sensation within your chest...Even though, the sickness remained. You could feel it.

You stood up slowly and yet, couldn't help but walk on wobbly legs to the door—only the will of reuniting with your beloved prince overruling all other thought. However, you frowned as you found the door locked. You remembered collapsing in the snow, but who had brought you here ? It couldn't be Aemond, as he had been waiting for you inside the castle. How many days had it been ?

Suddenly, the door opened and a little man with big red whiskers entered, who seemed surprised to find you awake. He was barefooted and you guessed the farm must belong to him. He sheepishly offered you a piece of bread with butter that you stared at cautiously for a moment before letting your hunger get the best of you. You snatched the piece of bread and devoured it like a little wildling. It seemed to make the little man happy as he sat down in front of you—a good distance as to not frighten you.

"Hey there. I'm Gavdiish." He greeted you.

After a few seconds, you smiled politely and replied.

"I'm Ethel. Tell me...How long was I asleep, Gavdiish ?" You asked and Gavdiish started fidgeting nervously before replying.

"I found you in the snow. A few weeks ago..."

You frowned at his unspecific answer and started being suspicious. Gavdiish seemed like a nice fellow, but your thoughts then returned to the lock on the door. Someone didn't want you to leave...

"And, were you the one who brought me here ?" You asked and Gavdiish's nice smile turned sour as the memory of who had decided to hide you in his farm.

"I..am not allowed to say. Not until she comes." You frowned a little and were about to ask who was she when a voice sounded behind you.

"It was me."

You both turned around to see queen Alicent standing there, her long red hair falling gracefully down her shoulders as her eyes were fixed on you. She seemed out of place, surrounded by hay and dirt. You bowed deeply before her and even though you had no idea why she had saved you, you intended to thank her.

"Thank you my...", you started.

"Save your breath." Your eyes widened at her harsh interruption before she continued. "You will come back with me. To the castle."

You frowned in incomprehension. Why would she want you back ? Surely, lady Alicent had more important things to take care of than to make sure a simple servant would come back to work.

But, her next words left you paralyzed.

"And you will break my son's heart.."

You snapped your head up at her with your eyes wide open in shock and your lower lip trembled...How did she know about you abs Aemond ? She seemed to understand your thoughts as she sighed and lightly shrugged.

"The castle doesn't have any secrets. I know what the servants whisper about and I am no fool. My son has never seemed so happy than when you were there. And it is the very reason I need you to come back and break his heart. For his own good."

You fell to the ground on your knees and begged her.

"Please. Do not ask such a sacrifice of me. I cannot hurt prince Aemond." Tears started streaming down your face and for the first time—you showed weakness. For a moment, you could see in her eyes that it was working—until her expression hardened and she leaned forward to inform you.

"Prince Aemond is getting married."

Your eyes widened at the news and you shook your head—not believing the queen's words. Prince Aemond wouldn't do this.

"No..It can't be. He would never.."

Queen Alicent seemed to take pity on you as she sighed and rested her hand upon your shoulder.

"Believe me, my dear. Men are not worth the trouble. Love is a plague." She claimed and your eyes watered. You remained silent and queen Alicent sighed once more before dropping her hand back to her side.

"Now, you will tell my son that you tried to escape, but didn't have enough money and decided to come back..You will tell him you had never intended to run away with him. That the only reason you even showed him any affection was because you wanted to use him."

Your eyes remained fixed to the ground as you asked—your voice strained with bitterness.

"And why would I ever do that ?"

Alicent stopped pacing around and it took a moment before she indulged you with an answer.

"Because you are a lost cause, my dear."

Your eyes widened at the queen's cruel placid smile. You didn't understand what she meant. She seemed to notice and scoffed.

"Think about it. You are sick. You are a servant. A nothing. A dying wrench. My Aemond is a fine young man who will soon marry and bring glory to house Targaryen. You wouldn't want to cause his downfall now, would you ?"

A chill ran through you at the sickly sweet voice of the woman and the venom hidden underneath—intertwined with this nauseous false sympathy.

"Besides, you wouldn't have to convince him much."

You frowned in confusion before the queen faced you and declared.

"You've been gone for 3 months, my dear. And Aegon already made sure to inform Aemond of your betrayal."

Your eyes widened and your breath hitched as tears gathered in your eyes. 3 months...You had left Aemond alone for 3 months..And the thought alone was enough to make you crumble in shame.

Aemond...Forgive me.

Queen Alicent left and was sure to have convinced you. She knew you loved her son, and it would be the very thing causing your downfall.

Flashback :

Prince Aemond had been searching for you ever since your disappearance three weeks ago and refused to give up on his research without proof that you were dead. Because, he wouldn't accept any other reason for your betrayal and the pain you had caused him.

He wanted to know you were safe—no matter the cost.

His mother had tried to dissuade him and his brother had insisted that you were lost or dead, but nothing would deter the young prince from his desperate seeking of the truth.

Finally, after another one of his dragon patrols, prince Aegon—who was growing tired of Aemond's stubbornness—caught his brother and tried to convince him of your treachery once more.

"Brother. It has been more than three weeks now. You have to let her go. She has betrayed you. She left you...Accept it."

But instead of heeding his brother's advice, it only fueled Aemond's determination and he didn't dignify his brother with an answer before pulling away from his grip to continue on his way. He wanted to know the truth. He wanted to hear it from your treacherous mouth, that mouth he had worshipped and made all his for better and worst. He loved you. Was it so hard to pretend to love him back that you had to go and hide ? He closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

Why ? Why spend all those days in bliss, only to take it all away like a vulgar thief ? No. There had to be a reason. An explanation.

However, Aegon's next words made him stop dead in his tracks.

"I didn't want to tell you..But, I know where she is."

Aemond turned around swiftly to take his brother by the collar before asking urgently—his voice a menacing howl.

"Where ?!"

Aegon sighed and sounded genuinely apologetic as he replied.

"One of our grandfather's sparrows spotted the wrench on the roads. She was attempting to escape. Mother has gone to retrieve her."

"LIES !", Aemond shouted at his brother's claim—his valid eye wide open in disbelief—and shook his head. You wouldn't do this. Not to him. He was convinced something must have happened. You couldn't have faked it. The day you met, the many secret glances and every loving touch you had shared...

"It is true. You must see it.", his brother insisted. "She has plotted against you since the beginning and only sought her own selfish benefit in gaining you and princess Helaena's trust. From the very moment she stumbled into your bedroom that very night and soothed poor sobbering Helaena. She is a fraud. And will be punished. I promise, brother."

Aemond shook his head before leaning so close that his brother saw the deadly fury in his eye.

"If what you say is true, brother ? Do not worry about punishment. I shall be the one to flay her bloody—as she deserves."

Aegon pressed his lips tightly together in discontent, but didn't dare voice his disapproval out loud. He only smiled and shrugged.

"As you wish, brother. But, remember...Don't let your little plaything trick you again."

Aemond glared at him and waited until Aegon was out of the room before letting his rage run unbridled. He unsheathed his sword and brought it down mercilessly on the furniture all around him. He didn't want to believe that you would abandon him, but it was hard to consider any other alternative as each day passed by. He fell to his knees and pulled out the sapphire necklace he had barely succeeded in saving from the fire. It shone brightly and filled his heart with hope. He refused to believe you would leave. He was convinced that he knew your heart and that it beat the same rythm as him.

"I still believe, my love. I'll find out the truth. I promise." He kissed the bright sapphire, imagining it was your lips he was devoting himself to rather than the jewel.

Back to the present :

Aemond had spent 3 whole months searching for you and it was on one faithful morning that he received a raven from King's Landing, putting an end to his misery.

You had been found.

There was no word to describe the shock and utter relief he felt at the news that you were alive. He ran to Vhagar and climbed on her back in one stride—eager to be reunited with you. He thought you would be able to explain your behavior and it would end up being a sort of misunderstanding. He was never prepared for the disappointment, as the first words he heard from you were a confession—but not the one he wanted.

"It is true. I have conspired against the crown. I had in the intention of tarnishing the prince's reputation and his family by seducing the prince and befriending the princess." It had the effect of a cold blade piercing through his heart and he couldn't utter a word as you confessed everything he had feared to be true. You even refused to look at him, your eyes fixed on the floor. Aegon smirked in satisfaction at your confession and didn't hesitate before sentencing.

"You ought to be flayed 30 times for such insolence and betrayal." You nodded submissively and thought you would at least be given the respite of being punished out of sight. But then, Aegon stood up and beckoned his personal guards in.

"GUARDS ! OPEN THE BACK OF THE TRAITOR'S DRESS !"

Your eyes widened as you realized what was about to happen. You opened your mouth to beg for mercy, but one of the guards suddenly pulled you up and brutally ripped the fabric of your dress without a second thought. The guard then carelessly threw your trembling body to the ground before the king—as you desperately tried to hide your modesty. Tears of rage and sorrow ran down your cheeks as you looked up at the people you were keeping quiet for.

Aemond remained motionless, so did princess Helaena. They were both devastated by the news of your betrayal and you knew there must be a great turmoil brewing inside them..You smiled weakly at them.

It wasn't their fault.

You knew you needed to be punished. You had fallen in love with the wrong person, and fate was cruel to those who diverged from their path...Princess Helaena did have the decency to look away to hide her sorrow from you—but Aemond didn't. His lonely eye didn't leave that bluish color on your shoulder—conjured by the brutish harshness of the guards. He thought about cutting their hands for daring manhandling you in such a way, but it was quickly dismissed at the reminder of your betrayal by the king and the feeling of his mother's hand on his shoulder. He had to stay, he had to endure the sight, even though it hurt him to see you in such a way.

When the first blow of the whip hit your skin—it didn't hurt as much as knowing you had broken the trust of the two Targaryens who mattered the most to you. You looked up and sought princess Helaena's eyes, but she still had her face turned away. Princess Helaena didn't want to look at you. She had the same expression she wore the time you had found her wandering in that corridor—broken to the point of complete numbness.

You then looked at Aemond—but you didn't see any emotion in his eye. There was nothing but contempt. The perfect picture of indifference on his face, as he didn't even turn his gaze away as you were being punished—surely enjoying the very object of all his pain being so severely reprimanded. He stared. He stared at you with such coldness, it froze you to your very core—making even the tears on your face turn to frozen lakes.

You wanted to scream and shout at them to look at you—really look at you. You wanted to tell them you loved them, that everything would be alright, that you understood their pain, that it killed you not to be able to embrace them...But, the next blow of the whip tear a gut-wrenching scream from your throat instead—one that rendered you silent as blood started rolling down your back. Princess Helaena's eyes filled with unshed tears as she forced herself to look away, even though your screams were torture for her. She had learnt to see you as a sister. Why did fate have to be so cruel ?

However, Aemond didn't turn away. He counted the 30 hits and with each one, his anger boiled wilder in his veins.

You had betrayed him.

You had dared seduce him and use him.

Use his sister.

You deserved to be punished. You deserved to suffer. He watched as drops of blood glistened down your back and—to your utter horror and mortification—commanded.

"Harder." His tone left no room for discussion—as even his own brother looked at him with a slight worried frown.

"Brother. She already received 30 blows. If we go on any further, she might..." He warned—but Aemond silenced him.

"HARDER !" He cut him off and his maddening eye turned towards Aegon with a challenging stance—daring him to defy him again. Bile rose up to your throat as the order was finally granted and another cough threatened to spill, but it didn't—only screams of pain and the sound of the whip being mercilessly used on you troubled the deafening silence of the throne room. However, Aemond—who was tired of being a mere bystander—walked down the stairs with a resolute stance and your eyes widened as he extended his hand forward to grip the guard's hand. You thought it was to stop him—you thought wrong.

He took the whip and the guard immediately stood aside as the prince took his place. He then leant forward to whisper in your ear—words that left you shivering in fear.

"You are going to accept everything I give you, little mouse. Every single blow. You'll take it all, and thank me for it. For that is what you deserve for all the suffering you caused to me and my sister." He spat venomously and you closed your eyes. You felt numb. His words left ice in their wake. Your lips trembled as you braced yourself to be punished by the man you loved. You thought the first few hits were the worst, but it wasn't true. The last hits were worse—so much worse. They left your body trembling in pain and whenever your consciousness threatened to slip away, you would be awoken by yet another blow. Your throat felt sore at the end—you didn't even have the strength to scream anymore. Finally, once his anger slightly reduced, Aemond released the whip that fell to the floor and walked away.

He didn't even remember his own command, not until you muttered weakly.

"Thank you...my prince."

He stilled and glanced back at you with his lips tightly sealed and saw the pain in your eyes—but decided to ignore it. You shakily tried to reach for his leg, but he pulled away from your grip and offered you a cruel sneer.

"Wrench." He spat cruelly and walked away—not sparing you a second glance. He took back his place beside his sister and then announced.

"I shall go back to the Free Cities and finalize our alliance to Lady Aslana of Mesclun."

Lady Alicent smiled—satisfied by her son's decision while you glared up at her. She had lied to you. Aemond hadn't married anyone yet.

She had tricked you.

But, you knew better than to open your mouth now.

Who would believe you ?

"Aemond. Since you are going away on your trip to the Free Cities. Indulge me in giving me that lovely servant of yours. I am sure she will be of great help to me." Aegon suggested and you could feel his eyes dig holes at the back of your neck. You shuddered at the prospect alone. You prayed the Seven to give you mercy, but the gods must have been inattentive that day—for the prince's next words left you paralyzed.

"Fine. But, her maidenhead is mine. A weak compensation for what she did to me..." Aemond declared and you closed your eyes. He was being so cruel. He wanted to take the thing you had only ever wanted to give him. When you raised your eyes, he met your gaze unashamedly with a large cold grin that didn't quite match his eyes. He was furious.

Outside of the throne room, you found Linda waiting for you and the moment her eyes settled on you and your hunched figure—she rushed by your side.

"My daughter. My darling one." She embraced you tightly and you sobbed.

"You were right, Linda. I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you. This family is cruel. They are all monsters. I should have remained a little mouse, nothing more..."

Linda tugged the top of your head under her chin and looked up at the sky—sending a silent prayer to the gods to protect you.

"Aww..My poor child. I am so sorry. I should have been more careful. But, nobody will ever hurt you again. I promise." She murmured and stroked your hair soothingly. You didn't even have the strength to protest, as you knew Linda had little power on how the Targaryens ruled. She was an old maiden who had surely seen her fair share of broken hearts and could recognize the symptoms at first sight. She shushed you softly before leaving a tender kiss on the crown of your hair.

"It will go away." She finally said assuredly on your way to the kitchen in an attempt to reassure you—but good Linda didn't know of the suffering you would go on to face. For Aemond was not done taking his revenge on you, and it wouldn't be the last time you would be reminded of the costly price of his loathing.

The very next day :

You had spent the day running around the city, Aegon relentlessly and purposefully asking you for the impossible and beyond, only to lose interest in a second when the task done. He was making your life hell, and you had no protection from Aemond anymore. But, you couldn't complain. It was the price to pay for his happiness. Let them all hate you, if only for Aemond and Helaena to find peace in your hours of torture under Aegon's intransigent and constant demands.

When Aegon beckoned you to the room where the family was supposed to share a meal, you had completely discarded the thought of your current state and only rushed in with the hopes you wouldn't be noticed. Luckily, Aemond was talking and your sudden appearance didn't disturb his speech as he declared.

"...Our alliance with the Free Cities is going to change the odds in our favor. I shall marry lady Aslana of Mesclun tomorrow and in a week's time, our victory will be assured. We will have our hand on the Free Cities and none shall contest our authority."

At the news, you closed your eyes and apologized to the Seven for the foolish thoughts running wild in your head. You wished you could be the one betrothed to Aemond and waiting for the moment your hearts would be linked forever...You failed to hear the end of Aemond's speech and as he raised his cup—you didn't fill his cup. Suddenly, all the family members' eyes seemed to converge towards you and even though it had only been a day since your flaying—you weren't about to tempt fate to give you another. You leaned forward and filled his cup—but too late.

Aemond's hand grabbed your arm and you met his gaze with big frightened eyes. He had never seen that look in your eyes before and it made him snicker.

"After all this time, I see you for what you truly are. Thank the gods I could come back to my senses before I was completely lost." He seethed and let go of your arm. But, it was only to publicly shame you even more.

"Well, if it isn't her ladyship the loud mouse herself ?!" He then noticed your dirty dress and gave you a disgusted expression, "Where were you all day ? The pig house ?"

His joke resulted in an irruption of laughter from the crowd while you glared at him. It hurt. He didn't know how much it hurt you. You had failed your heart—you had failed him.

"Don't worry, my lord. If it is my muddy dress that bothers you, I shall remedy to it at once." You quipped back and his smile immediately fell as you unashamedly tear the bottom part of your dress—your decision welcomed and whistled appreciatively by all the men present. You acted self-assured and even when you felt Aemond's disapproving look on you—you didn't return it. You were no longer afraid of him—and if he thought he could control you ? He was dead wrong.

"Of course not, brother. She must have been frolicking at the pleasure houses. It was high time she would find some other cock to hang onto, don't you think ?" Aegon mocked and it made you snap your eyes at him with so much loathing, if your eyes had been arrows, he would have been dead where he stood. Aegon's jeering had the effect of a knife being plunged deep within you chest—cutting your breath momentarily. He dared question your whereabouts—when he was the one making you run errands around town from the first glance of sunlight 'till dusk..

However, you did notice how Aemond's smile seemed to turn placid at his brother's nasty comment. It mended your heart a little to think he had not fallen so low as to agree with his majesty the Kingly prick..

"Prick..." You cursed under your breath—thinking no one would pick up on it. But, you were not so lucky. Aegon's expression crestfallen and you knew here and then that you had signed up for your own demise as Aegon stood up and seemed to lose all composure.

"YOU ARE TO RESPECT ME, OR DID YOU FORGET WHO IS YOUR KING ?!" He yelled and you flinched at his loud voice. He was being cruel and even though you had heard rumors, you had never been on the receiving end of his fury. You had always remained a mouse in the castle—until Aemond had decided to give you his cursed attention. You wondered which one was worse ? The petals suffocating you, or the indifference of your prince ? You looked up at Aemond and tears shone in your eyes as you smiled at him through your tears—not sparing a glance to Aegon that you felt seething beside you.

"You may be the king of this realm, but my heart only knows one true king..."

There was no doubt as to whom you were referring to and Aemond's valid eye widened for a second. Even after all this, you still wanted to show him your support. You may not stand next to him when he would finally reach the throne, but you would be there every step of the way until your own death...Aegon's face visibly whitened at the implication and even though you didn't care about anyone else knowing about your feelings, you could feel another set of eyes on you. Queen Alicent was looking at you in warning, not to say anything else if you still wanted to live and die on your own accord. You clasped both hands over your mouth, finally considering who you were speaking to, who was present. You had gone too far...

The whole room fell silent and you knew—you had opened your mouth wrongly so. Aemond had remained impassive all this time, why couldn't you have done the same ? You wanted to protect him, but found yourself the very reason for his misery. No matter if you were trying to stay away or remain unaffected, the mere thought of living in the same castle as him was enough for your heart to seek him out. However, you then felt a cough rising up your chest and when Aegon came close enough, you didn't hold back. You coughed and let all the black blood and flower petals splatter all over him. He wanted to have you ? Then, he would have it all. Aemond hadn't been repulsed by your sickness, but you knew all too well what the rest of the family's reactions would be. Queen Alicent screamed, Otto turned away in disgust and Aegon screeched.

"YOU B*TCH !"

You didn't mean to laugh. You swore you didn't. But, the mix of Queen Alicent's bewildered look, Otto's mortified expression and Aegon's twisted face of fury made it impossible not to. You guffawed. You had nothing left. No one. Aemond hated you. Helaena had excused herself—to cry her sorrow in her room no doubt—and you just knew you had to get everything you had to say out of your chest before the young king's sword was to pierce you through and through.

"Pitiful excuse for a family." You spat and your eyes then swept mercilessly over all of the people gathered around the table with a mocking sneer. "You know...I've served and watched every single one of you Targaryens for years. I always thought being a Targaryen was a blessing, but seeing you all—huddled up in your misery—I see now that it is as much a curse as mine ! And I rejoice the day there won't be a single one of you left ! For your curse lies even deeper than mine ! It lies in your blackened hearts devoured and putrified with greed and power !"

Now, it wasn't only Aegon who was seething—all the Targaryens seemed about to stand up and cut you in two. Good. Let them be angry. Only the truth hurts. But, none of them seemed willing to take a step towards you. You wondered why until you realized that the only person still seated was Aemond, staring at his own family in warning as to anyone would dare attempt to your life.

You smiled and found your affection grow tenthfold, as even after your so-called betrayal, he was ready to defend you. You turned around and stormed towards the door, but Aegon's voice still made its way to you.

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING ?! COME BACK HERE ! I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS !"

You huffed a laugh and didn't even turn around before shouting back.

"I SHALL BE WAITING, MY KING !"

If any of the Targaryens wanted to follow you and bring an end to your life, then so be it. You had nothing left to say. You then heard the king hit the table in his haste to come after you, but then recognized Queen Alicent's voice behind you.

"That's enough, Aegon."

The queen knew what you had sacrificed and it was in her best interest to keep you alive—for now. She would certainly let Aegon do whatever he wanted to you once Aemond would be married to lady Aslana. They had already punished you more than any other being could have handled��they had flayed you, disgraced you and made your life hell.

Your tears had run dry. Your punches would only accentuate Aemond's hatred for you. Words were the only thing you had left to throw at them. You turned a corner and suddenly stopped. You had arrived at the library...No matter where you wanted to go, your feet seemed to always end up in front of the majestic door. The very place you had first met the prince face to face. Did you love him ? Assuredly..No doubt about it.

You thought none of the Targaryens would follow you—you thought wrong.

Aemond had followed you and grabbed your arm to drag you inside the library without a word and once you were both inside, he closed the door behind you.

"Do you have a death wish ?" He hissed—his voice a mere whisper and you shrugged.

"I do not have an answer to give you, my prince.."

It was true. You had no answer to give him.

When he turned around, you could feel he was enraged and it did make your heart skip a beat at the pure hatred visible in his valid eye. He was angry, and you knew better than anyone why. He had every right to be. You had hurt him and even though involuntarily, had been confusing him. Even if you had shown up that faithful night, you would have stolen him away from a life with his family. A good life. Your eyes softened and your lips parted slightly as you thought of the millions of things you wished to tell him—but remained quiet.

He wouldn't understand.

He couldn't.

"Fine. You don't want to talk. I'll make you scream then..." Your brow furrowed in confusion until he pulled you towards him and sunk in to claim your lips. You let out a surprised squeal as you tried to push him away. He clasped his hands on either side of your face and devoured your mouth as if it was his to take. Your tears didn't help as his nails dug in the flesh of your cheeks. It wasn't what you wanted. You loved him. You wanted him to kiss you, but not like this—not out of hurt and hatred. You had sacrificed your own happiness for him to find his. You wished for him to find his place and forget about you, but you had failed it seemed.

"Treacherous mistress." He hissed spitefully and you closed your eyes at the hurtful words and gentle kisses. Aemond was still so gentle with you, even after everything. He didn't touch your back where he knew remained the pain of the whip and even traced circles on your skin while he hid his face in the crook of your neck.

He seemed so broken.

"Did you...Did you ever think of me during your time away ?" He asked—his voice shaky. He sounded as if he was about to break into tears.

'Every second of every minute of every day.'

You wanted to answer, but knew the repercussions of such admission. You closed your eyes and shook your head negatively. Aemond remained silent for a moment before laughing bitterly.

"Of course you didn't.."

When he pushed you back and you fell on the table behind you, he crawled on top of you and started leaving kisses on your face and neck. He made quick work of the top buttons of your dress and left a few hickeys on the exposed flesh.

"...I made things too complicated for myself. Thinking you were honorable. I should have simply taken you from day one and everything would have been settled. I should have heeded Aegon's warnings and play with you until you were no longer interesting. I get bored easily, you know."

Aemond single-handedly untied the laces of his breeches and his mouth curved into a cruel smirk as he felt the tears on your face. He pulled your skirts up and in a moment of self-awareness, you bit down hard on his hand. He hissed in pain and you sought to flee, but he grabbed your hair and yanked you back against him. However, instead of continuing his vile actions, he simply wrapped his arms around your waist and stilled.

"M...My prince ?" You frightfully asked—your whole body shaking as you perfectly knew what he wanted. You wanted to disappear. You had only thought about him for the past three months, only to come back and find out that your prince had been searching for you for so long that his heart had turned to stone.

"Oh. So, now I'm your prince ?" He replied with a small taunting smirk—his eye gleaming in the darkness of the library. Was it already so late ? You tried to dissociate your mind from your body in order to forget that it was the love of your life who was now threatening you. But, Aemond wouldn't let you. He grabbed your face and snapped it back so you may see the fury in his gaze.

"You know what you are, Ethel ? A vile temptress. Daughter of Despair. Cruel mistress of Deception; malicious beyond compare and terrible plague that has infested this household with the fleas of my own destruction...Shall I go on ?"

You gritted your teeth and couldn't hold back the tears from falling down your face—hot lava against your frozen cheeks.

"Are you going to beg me to let you go ? Or, not to taint what has been so far unspoiled ?" He inquired in a whisper—his fingertips leaving imprints on your skin. He wanted to mark you, carve his touch into your skin.

You clenched your fists and looked away—not dignifying him with an answer. But, Aemond wouldn't let you as he grabbed your jaw once more—making it pop as he dug his fingers in your cheeks to make you understand that you were to keep your attention on him.

"Answer me...whore." He seethed in a low and threatening tone.

You remained silent.

He then plunged his tongue down your throat and your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion. You tried to struggle against him, but his training had helped strengthening his body, while you had strengthened his mind. You cursed yourself at finding yourself in this situation and Aemond stopped instantly as soon as he noticed you were unresponsive.

"You...You were my everything" He whispered and took a shaky breath, his touch tightening on you as tears started dripping down his face onto yours.

"My heart. My soul. My very first love and you...you..." He glared at you with such intensity it paralyzed you. "You betrayed me."

Your eyes softened and you finally wrapped your arms around his neck. You didn't say anything, but you still wished your prince to feel better. There was nothing you could do that would make any of this okay, but it hurt you to see him in such a state.

"Get out..." He whispered—so low you thought you had imagined it. You remained frozen and Aemond clenched his hands into fists as he gritted his teeth. He wanted to make you suffer, just as much as he had. But, he couldn't deny that he still felt attached to you. So, he could only push you away before restraint would no longer be possible.

"GET OUT !" He shouted louder and you gathered your skirts to run away. Aemond watched you flee and once the door was shut, he covered his face with his hands and let out such an horrifying painful gut-wrenching scream, the whole castle heard it.

Why did love have to hurt so much ? He had tried to be happy. Just once. And it had turned out to be a mistake. Tomorrow, he would return to the Free Cities and remain there. He would forget about you—or at least he hoped.

The next day :

Aemond prepared his leave and settled on Vhagar, but then noticed someone hidden in the shadows. He rested his hand upon the hilt of his sword cautiously, but then the strange red-headed boy beckoned him forward. He hesitated before indulging, only to chase said boy all the way to the very werehouse you had been held by queen Alicent until your concession to her demands. He caught up with the boy and held him up by the collar with an unamused expression.

"If your plan was to waste my time, boy...You'll be hanging skinless from the Red Keep !" He threatened and the boy seemed on the verge of breaking into tears as he stammered back.

"N..No, my pr..prince ! I would never ! M..My name is Gavdiish and I..I came to you to get s..something out of my chest. I just heard Y/N was f..flayed and I..I'm sorry. I just..I was worried about her and..wanted to help her. Tell the truth. But, your m..mother wouldn't allow it."

Aemond frowned in incomprehension at the boy's words and tilted his head to scrutinize the boy further. He didn't seem to be a threat and if he was lying—or the whole things turned out to be a scam—he would simply put his earlier threat into execution. He let go of the boy and asked.

"Tell the truth ? What truth ?"

The boy gulped before pointing to the werehouse behind him and explained.

"Th..This werehouse has been in my f..family for years. Queen Alicent asked me to k..keep her there..Ethel. She had to t..tell you she b..betrayed you. But, she d..didn't."

Aemond looked at the werehouse and felt his heart ache at the idea you had spent 3 months in there.

"How can I be sure that you are telling the truth ? And why didn't you say anything before ?" He asked the young boy suspiciously who looked away guiltily.

"The q..queen told me not to and that pr..prince Aegon would p..punish me. Ethel coughed a lot of blood and flowers. I still have them in a bucket. Queen Alicent said she was c..cursed. B-But Ethel called for you. Every night. In her s..sleep. That's why I c..came to you." Gavdiish stammered back and Aemond's eyes widened at the realization. Suddenly, everything made sense. His mother knew that to win the war ahead and put Aegon on the throne, they needed a strong alliance. She was going to force him into a loveless marriage to keep the Targaryens on the throne and keep the legacy clean.

It was only at that moment that Aemond understood his mistake and ran back to the castle. His Ethel...You had never wished to deceive him—but save him. You had simply feared it would end in a war where he wouldn't have survived. He ran even faster and wished upon all the gods—the old and the new—that he wouldn't be too late.

His heart squeezed in his chest at the selflessness of the one he had dared called selfish.

"Hold on, my love. I'm coming."

Back at the castle :

You were walking around the castle and taking care of the walls—making sure to avoid any Targaryen family member on the way. You were almost finished with the dining room when you heard the door slam open. You froze and looked up—only to see Aegon standing there.

"Ah ! Here you are !"

You shivered at the notion that he was looking for you and cast your eyes downwards to avoid the prince's gaze. You had done everything they wanted. You had broken Helaena's and Aemond's trust. What more could he possibly want from you ?

"You were in my brother's company yesterday...He took your maidenhead, didn't he ?"

You didn't answer—but the prince was stubborn. He grabbed your wrist and made you look at him before giving you a malicious grin.

"Remember. My brother did promise I could do whatever I want to you once your virginity gone. And, now that it's out of the way ?" He slammed your head against the mahogany table and your air supply was cut off. "I can do what the f*ck I want with you..."

Tears brimmed in your eyes and you clutched your fingers tightly. He was a beast. It wasn't even a few hours after Aemond's leave, and Aegon hadn't wasted any time to put his threat into execution. He was going to have you. And the worst part was, you couldn't even protest.

"...Now, how about you apologize for your last night's behavior ? Or, do you value your life so little as to refuse ?", he taunted and you closed your eyes. You had been stripped out of all dignity and now, he wanted you to apologize.

You turned around to refuse, but before you could, prince Aegon had slammed your head against the hard surface of the mahogany table. You were so shocked—you didn't even think of resisting against his iron grip.

"APOLOGIZE !", he seethed and you closed your eyes before finally submitting.

"I..I apologize, my king." There was great shame in capitulating in front of Aegon Targaryen. He had beaten up Helaena, he had threatened you more times than you could count and the sole knowledge of his existence made you feel sick...

"Nah. I don't believe you. Maybe, you could do something else to show how sorry you really are ?" He emphasized his intentions by pressing his back against your rear and your eyes widened. You reached forward for a flower vase to smash it upon his head—but Aegon anticipated it. He grabbed your arm and no matter how much you cried or begged, he didn't let go. You wanted to turn around to slap him—but he held in a vicious grip. You wanted to scream and call for anyone to save you—but you knew nobody would. Aemond was gone. Helaena wouldn't help you, and Linda would only be executed for interfering.

You were alone.

Or, so you thought...

"UNHAND HER HIS INSTANT, YOU PIG !" When Aemond entered the room, his eye bulged out of its socket at the sight of his brother on top of you. He immediately pulled him off you and sent him flying against the nearest wall.

King Aegon seemed terrified now and Aemond barely had the time to make his way to you that you collapsed in his arms. He sat you down on a nearby chair before returning his hateful and merciless gaze on Aegon. He wanted to kill him. He had thought of it many times before..But, it was the first time he was actually considering giving in to his selfish desires. He wanted him to crawl for forgiveness. He had dared tried to convince him of your treachery—when he was the most treacherous of them all...

"Aemond ! What is the meaning of this ?!" Queen Alicent came in, having been alerted of the commotion—followed suit by Otto. Aemond was furious and could only see this room filled with traitors and sinners.

"Ah ! Mother. Grandfather. Welcome. You're just in time. I was about to call you to claim a felony. The worst kind. A conspiracy to get me away from Court."

Alicent's eyes widened and she tried to interject, but Otto stepped forward instead.

"Aemond...Why do you speak of treason ?" He asked—more intrigued than angry.Aemond sent a nasty glare at Aegon and jutted out his chin before seething through gritted teeth.

"King Aegon admitted being the active participant of a plot to get rid of me."

Aegon's eyes widened in shock and he shouted.

"LIES !"

Aemond huffed a bitter laugh, as this was the very word he had shouted the day he had announced him of your so-called betrayal. However, Aemond then added.

"He stole my heart and locked it away so I may never find it again. He spread lies about her and made me forsaken her when she was only trying to protect me...He wanted me to go. He wanted me out of the kingdom, and he wasn't the only one..." Aemond turned towards queen Alicent to glare at her with his teeth clenched together. "...Isn't that right, mother ?"

Aemond had only ever had love for his mother, but he was now seeing a part of her he had failed to notice. He had been blind...But, Alicent Hightower was as much a dragon as the rest of them. She just hid her scales and fangs better.

Queen Alicent didn't look away, she jutted out her chin and took a step forward—unashamedly admitting to her devious plot.

"Yes. I was made aware of your foolish plans to run away together. I had to act before you did, as it would have tarnished our reputation. A prince. My son. Running away with a servant. A nothing." She spat angrily—her true face being unveiled to her children who witnessed the monster behind the glamor. Aemond stared at the red-headed monster before him and took a step back in disbelief. So, it was true...All this time. All those secrets...You had been innocent from the start, and he had defiled you with his words and acts—when he should have showered you with love and affection.

Aemond didn't even realize when he drew out his dagger and let anger get control over him. His eye bulged out of his socket as he gave a circular glance around the room. None of them seemed surprised by the news. None of them were innocent...His mother. His brother. His grandfather...Liars. You woke up just as Aemond raised his dagger and was prepared to kill everyone in the room—starting with his mother. But, you suddenly lunged forward to stop him. You wouldn't let him kill his own mother to save you.

"NO ! DON'T !" Your words seemed to bring him back to reality as he felt your hand wrap around his wrist. You had awoken and had tears in his your eyes. Tears...Oh. Sweet Seven. He had brought tears to such lovely eyes, he had called you awful names, made you crawl on the floor...He had defiled you.

You loved him.

You always had. And he had dared punish you. He had dared taint your wings with blood and sorrow.

His dagger clattered to the floor as he wrapped his arms around you, shaking and out of breath. He had turned worse than his own brother—who was now standing near their seething mother with a self-satisfied smirk.

"So...Is that what you have been reduced to, Aemond ? Threatening your own family because of some girl ?"

Aemond glared up at him and his anger turned into venomous words that he hoped would choke his brother to death.

"It is no threat. I shall kill you, brother. You dared hurt and threaten to take something that was rightfully mine. We are far beyond threats now..."

Suddenly, his brother's smile faltered before he huffed a laugh of disbelief.

"You wouldn't..."

Aemond suddenly pulled away from your embrace and stood up before Aegon with a defying glimmer in his eye.

"I am a kinslayer. Remember. What is one more Targaryen out of this world, hmm ?"

Aegon was about to answer when Helaena entered, her brow furrowed as she saw her family reunited and yourself—your eyes puffy and red. She was about to ask what was going on when Aegon suddenly grabbed the dagger that had fallen earlier and pulled you against him to put the sharp end against your throat.

"Brother. Husband. What are you doing ?" Helaena gasped in horror.

"Shut it ! I do not owe you an explanation !" Aegon spat before turning towards Aemond. "I AM THE KING ! I WILL KILL HER ! I WILL SPILL THIS WHORE'S BLOOD ALL OVER THE FLOOR AND YOU WILL ALL BE A WITNESS TO WHAT HAPPENS TO PEOPLE WHO DEFY THE KING !"

He was guided by survival instinct and fear. He knew Aemond was strong and could easily kill him, but he would take the source of all his problems with him. He was tired of all this pretending. They weren't even a real family. He never even wanted the bloody throne. He had even offered it to Aemond, but the fool had refused. Too bad. He would have maybe done a much better job than him.

All of the other Targaryens were now focused on the both of you. You knew Otto and Alicent wanted him to put an end to this madness and kill you, but Aemond wouldn't let him live if he was to kill you. It would be a lose-lose situation for him—no matter the outcome.

"Aegon...Drop the knife." Aemond said sternly, but Aegon shook his head—his own eyes filling with tears.

"I am tired...brother. I am not as strong as you. I wanted what you had. I wanted someone to love me...Why is it that you always get the good things ? I am the king, am I not ?" His voice broke at the end. He had seen the joy in his brother's eyes, thought he could feel the same...But, all he felt was that same terrible feeling of emptiness inside.

"Why bother ? That's what you wanted, isn't it ? Well...Let me give it to you, brother. Let me give you my throne. My life. My CURSE ! IT IS ALL YOURS !" Aegon suddenly released you and, before anyone could stop him, slit his own throat. But, he didn't feel the pain. He only felt bliss. It was over...A blissful smile took over his features as he tumbled forward. It was over.

Alicent was the first to react as she let out a blood-curdling scream and cradled her boy's face in her hands.

"AEGON !"

Your eyes watered and your hand flew up to your mouth in horror as you slowly turned your face towards Aemond who was staring at his brother's body with a wide eye. When your eyes met, your whole body shook by the blank expression on his face. He was livid and you thought he was about to pass out at any moment. He hadn't meant to go this far.

You knew and both Helaena and yourself came to his aid as you kept him straight. For the first time, he didn't try to hide his emotions as a single tear rolled down his face.

"Gods...What have I done ?"

You and Helaena looked at each other and nodded in agreement before carrying him outside. But then, Alicent's wrathful gaze fell on you and she roared.

"YOU ! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT !"

She took the dagger from her son's hand and stood up—rage blinding her. Her eyes were glassy and seemed to gleam with insanity as she pointed the dagger at you. Her hands were strained with blood that she already wished to coat them with another. She was truly a formidable woman...But, you wouldn't let another person die tonight—that it'd be yours or any other.

You stood forward, but Otto who had stayed silent so far, spoke up.

"Daughter. Stop this instant."

Alicent's eyes didn't leave yours as she spat with a pain-filled voice.

"SHE DESERVES TO DIE !"

Otta sighed and—to everyone's surprise—took his daughter's wrist and forced her to drop the knife. She was about to protest when she saw the look Otto was giving her. It was one she hadn't seen in a long time...Since her mother's funeral.

It was one of defeat.

"It is over, Alicent."

There was a finality to his tone and finally, everything clicked. You now knew that all this hadn't been Alicent's doing, but Otto's. The puppet master. He had planned to get rid of you and had convinced the rest of the family to end your relationship with Aemond so he may become but another pawn to this sick game if thrones. Your fists clenched as you glared at him, but he only gave you a mild look of indifference in return. He wouldn't answer for his felony. You knew as much.

And now that Aemond may become king, he had to switch strategies. It was all just a game for him and when he suddenly bent the knee in front of Aemond—you could measure just how much the man's shadow seemed to extend, twice as big as him. Backstabber.

"Long live, king Aemond Targaryen."

Aemond's eyes widened at his grandfather's words and when he looked up at you, the smile you gave him didn't match your eyes. The bastard had won anyway. Now that Aemond would become king, there was nothing you could do...You would never be able to run away together.

Otto looked up and saw the silent exchange.

He smiled.

Long live the king indeed...

@01am21 @genderenvyeveryone @sarcasticsweetlara @saensenthessis-saskia @iveofficiallylostmymarbles @hi-im-fan-trash @boldstarks

#aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #the loud mouse part 2

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mylifeisaflop · 8 months

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barn at night.

#photography #my photos #barn #aesthetic #grunge #vsco #vscofilter #dark aesthetic #ethel cain

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 1 year

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CRUSH- J.B BARNES

Pairing: Biker! Bucky x Innocent! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: home for the summer, you plan on spending it in isolation, too shy and innocent to get into trouble. bucky barnes- the head of the local biker clan, has other ideas in mind.

Warnings: teasing, heavy flirting, pet names, drinking/ drugs mentioned, swearing, lap sitting, enemies to lovers trope

“can you read my mind? i've been watching you couldn't fight to save your life, but you look so cool camo' jacket, robbing corner stores hard odds to beat when you're on all fours good men die too, oh, i'd rather be with you”- crush, ethel cain

PART ONE OF THE CAIN SERIES.

You could hear the revving of the bikes from where you stood, safety guarded behind the glass doors littered with posters and signs, peeling and jumbling over each other- colours starting to fade from the summer sun.

It was loud, their voices somehow seeming to overlap the roaring engines as they slipped on their glasses. You knew the men in that group, puffing out smokes in the convenience store parking lot.

All of them.

And you didn't know what that made you. Cool, for perceiving the closely, tight knit biker gang? Or shameful- for being seen anywhere near them?

They were troublemakers. They had always, flaunting their tattoos and leather, never needing an announcement whenever they stepped into a room. You just knew who they were, that they were there and they meant business.

Bucky Barnes and his posse never expected less. You, on the other hand, were the opposite. Shy, quiet, reserved. A girl who was headstrong yes, but knew that the bark and bite was not always the best strategy.

You were polite, the kind of person an older person would think ‘What a sweet girl. I like her, so modest!’. Perceiving others, but not wanting to be perceived herself. Innocent. You were like that at school, and you were like that while being home for the summer.

The gang was the same, and you dreaded the fact Bucky’s father lived right near yours. Which is why you felt your stomach drop at the bustle outside, clutching your plastic bag tighter, feeling the handles twist and pinch at your fingers circulation.

You didn’t want them to notice you. But the rest of the parking lot was next to dead empty. Only an older man glared at them as he bagged things in the trunk, too far down in the parking lot for the group of men to care.

Eyes stared at the back of your neck as you debated how to approach your old pickup truck, trying to assess the situation at hand.

Not that there was a situation. Why did there need to be a situation? Just walk to your car. Don’t engage.

The cashier, lifted his eyes from the newspaper, eyebrows cocking in concern. “H-have a good day. Thanks again.” you murmured, wanting to smack yourself.

You had already said that. Just shut the fuck up and get home. The sticky, warm air of the west in the summer hit you as you removed yourself from the air-conditioned shop, and you took a breath before you fumbled for your keys.

One step, then two. One step-

“Hey sweet thang.” the leader called out, accent thick as all heads turned towards you. Your eyes met his, shades protecting the baby blues you knew were hidden under as he smirked. You felt your breath quicken, stomach turning in on itself the longer you stared.

It was like a battle off. You were a Capulet. They were the Montagues. He reached for the smoke between his lips, throwing it down on the pavement before twisting his boot sole on it, ash smearing.

“You shouldn't do that, you know. It’s bad.” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, wanting to shrink back as soon as the words left your mouth.

Little ooo’s and chuckles rose up from the other man, and you recognized some of them, even without the names on the back of the jean vests. Rogers. Wilson. Stark.

He stepped towards you, cocking his head. Examining you. You couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not, and you weren't planning to stick around and find out.

“Whatever you say Y/N.” he chuckled, making your eyes widen. Sweat broke out down your neck from the beating sun, and the fact he knew you. He knew you and that scared you.

But also excited you, just a smidge.

He noted your tense stance, and couldn't help but get a form of satisfaction out of it, even if his boys teased him for having such a crush on someone so unlike him.

You rushed off before Bucky could say anything more, the breeze brushing the silky white sundress against your thighs as you slammed the truck door shut. Backing up without sparing a second glance, you sped out of the deserted parking lot, down the highway and away from him.

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It had been days since the last time you saw him, yet it replayed in your mind as if it had happened only a minute earlier.

The way he noticed you. Had called out for you, as if he had been waiting the entire time you were in the store, wandering through the isles.

It haunted you, in a way. You weren't sure if you cared for him or not. You had been watching him for quite some time now, though it had been mainly to steer clear of his antics.

Bucky was a bad boy. You were a goodie two shoes. It didn’t fit. Intimation seeped your bones whenever you passed him, caught wind of his husky voice from whichever parking lot he crawled out from.

So why were you still thinking of him? He scared you. Frightened you. But he was beautiful.

Dangerously beautiful, like you couldn't say no to him no matter the question or cost. He was high strung with authority, a maturity about him that made you want to cling to him and never let go.

Bucky was indescribable you decided, as you swung back the bottle of red wine, the sweet, tangy liquid caressing your throat as the cool night breeze blew through your hair.

He looked like he worked with his hands and smells like marlboro reds, was all you could place in the category that you had organised in your mind. Though it was foggy, the lines slightly blurring the more you drank, the higher the moon rose in the night sky and the more the wooden railings creaked from the wind, you knew there was a reason he was constantly on your mind.

It was silly really, how much your deep subconscious clung to the idea of him. Intoxicated or not.

You heard the mosquitoes swarm towards the dim porch light by the old screen door, cicadas chirping in the tall grass. It was peaceful out here, alone. You let yourself dawn on how much you really missed home, the feeling of the freedom out in the middle of nowhere.

“Drinking is bad too, ya know.” a low voice called from the shadows, making you jump- heart hammering in your chest as Bucky emerged from the darkness.

Air whosed through clenched teeth as you sucked on your cheek, admiring him. Though he was in his ‘gear’, a rolled up henley, jeans and a smoke between his lips, he seemed different.

Calmer.

Like his guard wasn't up as much as you had seen it around his friends, or anyone else for that matter. “Why are you here Bucky?” was all you could muster to ask, not even knowing where to begin.

You knew he knew where your father lived, as the two of you grew up on the same street. You just never expected him to show up.

“Ah so shy girl knows my name eh?”

“Of course I know who you are. I’m not stupid.” He threw his hands up in defence. “Hey, I never said you were. Quite the opposite, from what I’ve observed.”

He hinted towards the empty spot beside you.

“Can I?”

You nodded, watching as his beefy body adjusted to the smaller spot, knees brushing yours as he hung his head low.

“Why are you here?” you repeated.

“I don’t know. I guess seeing you the other day made me want to know you more. Is that bad?”

“Yes.” you stated firmly, taking another swig of booze as he fumbled with his lighter. Your own answer startled you, words abruptly coming out of your mouth. It was the wine talking. But it was too late now. “Its a bad thing because you're a bad guy. You shouldn't be hanging around me.”

He smirked, hand running through his dark, messy locks, tugging at the back of his neck. “Is that right? I forgot you're such a goodie two shoes. Are you too good for me?” he mocked, and you rolled your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just… we’re so different. And I don’t know you, like at all. You’ve done… bad shit.”

“Like smoking pot? Or are you talking about that guy I murdered?” Your eyes widened, mouth forming an O shape as you whipped your head around to face him fully. Anxiety churned like angry waves in your stomach, and you feed the acid would rise up to the surface.

“Kidding! Jesus you’re so fun to nag doll. It’s too easy, should’ve seen the look on your face! Priceless.”

“How was I supposed to know that?!” you hiccuped, knocking the glass bottle against the bottom step, setting it down before you finished it all. That was a bad idea. Especially around a pretty boy with as much charisma as a snake charmer.

“No idea, but some faith in me would be nice. I’ve put plenty of faith in you, ya know.” he bumped your shoulder, as if the two of you had been life long friends.

You were baffled at the thought of what was happening right now. Never in a million years could you have pictured this, the teachers pet paired with the notorious bad boy, allowing him to sit on your porch and unwind with you when the minimal interactions the two of you had left nothing but mysteries in your mind.

Who was he, really? Why were you so intrigued by him, though you knew he was nothing but trouble? And why, oh why did you find yourself actually enjoying his company?

“How so?” you asked, looking down with interest at the dog tag that swung on his neck, silver shimmering in the gloom of the night. You didn’t want to look into his eyes. It scared you.

“Well I had faith you’d come around, and let me talk to you. You’ve always looked so timid. I didn’t want to scare you.”

You felt your breathing stop. “Why did you want to talk to me?” you asked, hesitantly.

“Because you’re interesting to me. Like a puzzle. And I feel like there’s a lot more to you than from what I’ve seen and I want to know more.”

You let Bucky's words settle, rest in the western air. They hung low over you, like a physical force. You're interesting to me. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction that feeling was mutual.

“I’m glad you think I’m entertaining.” you shrugged, trying not to show how his words made you feel.

“Come with me to the Lounge.” Smoke trickled from his rosy lips, and you watched the ash fall to the dirt before squished the but into the wood. What like… right now?” you asked, confusion spewed across your features.

The Lounge was the towns local bar, its dark and grungy vibe off putting to you. The bikers often hung out there, the misfits throwing back drinks like it was no tomorrow You had never been to a bar before, let alone one where Bucky and his crew practically owned.

Between its southern gothic walls was nothing but smoke and cheap booze was what your father told you, highly suggesting you steer clear of the towns local hangout. So naturally, you flinched.

“Everyone's there right now. It’ll be all good, I promise.”

“So why aren't you there then? At your ‘spot’” you air quoted, making him laugh. It was low and husky, tinging your skin warm with heat despite the cooler air.

“I left to come invite you. Don't make me look stupid. I can't show up empty handed.” he teased, and you felt an obligation to follow in his footsteps as he rose, brushing off his jeans.

“I know its a Saturday night and all and I’m supposed to be out but I’ve never… its not my territory.” you shrugged, rubbing your arms in comfort.

“You're welcomed there. I promise. But if you don’t feel safe, or comfortable, don’t worry about it. I just wanted to see if you’d be willing, is all sweetheart.”

You sighed. The right thing to do would be to shake your head no, grabbing the bottle and heading in for the night. Leaving him on the porch, with his bike parked down the street for himself.

But you couldn't leave him. Not now. Not when you finally had the guts to properly answer him in a conversation, even if it was ambushed onto you on your own property.

“Fine. But don’t make me regret it.”

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If the wind was chilled before, it was crisp as ice now. You clung to him as he sped down the old roads, barley daring to breathe as the engine throttled, revving onwards as he laughed.

The breeze roared in your ears, whipping through your hair that escaped your the helmet he had conveniently packed, an extra. Fingers were clenched tightly to the deep maroon of his henley, bunching as you hugged him tighter.

This was the closest you had been to him, ever. On the back of his Harley, zipping down back roads you knew took you the longer way to the bar, as if he was intently wanting you to cling to him tighter the faster he dared to go, for as long as possible.

It was frighting, but exhilarating. Like a wave of cool water on a hot day. It was refreshing to see the endless bounds of wheat fields and old barns through he shade of the viser, a taste of his lifestyle.

You almost wanted to throw your hands up, to feel the air rush through your fingertips.

“You doing okay doll?” he roared over the whip of the wind, glancing at you with a smile though the side mirror. You nodded, to frightened to speak, throat parched dry.

Before you knew it, you emerged from the cool, undertones of deep blue,bright light shinning from the distance. You could already make out the bundles of people scattered in the parking lot, gripping Bucky tighter as the two of you slowed.

Bikes were parked everywhere, and you could remember some of them from the other day from the gas station. No familiar faces. The world came into focus as he parked, helping you down and slid off your helmet, bursts of talking laughter and music swarming your ears, the lights seeming brighter without the blur of your viser.

It was busy, but that was expected. Bucky had already told you everyone in town was here- the misfits at least, but it didn’t quell your anxiety any more.

Part of you wanted to grab his hand, scared of loosing him in the crowd you were about to face, but he had already done that for you. His large, slightly rough, callused hand was warm as it enveloped yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“We can leave at any time. I’ll be with you honey. Promise.” he reassured as you nodded, looking over at the dozens of bikers that scattered along the outside of the bar.

They took no notice in you, minding their business as they chatted away, smokes in hand. Good. No one was gawking yet. You hoped it would be like that the whole time- but you knew it wouldn't be. You stood out too much, and it was because of your lack of spunk for once, and not the other way around.

Plus, anywhere Bucky went, people stared. It was hard to look away from him. You knew from personal experience.

Loud bustles of music streamed from the speakers with the murmured of dozens of voices, swarming your head as you took in the scenery. There was leather everywhere, smoke blending in with the neon signs. Dart boards and pool tables were all occupied, bartenders buzzing like bees in a hive as they poured drafts and shook cocktails.

“Where are we going?” you asked him, leaning in closer as you squeezed by the other bodies that crowed the space.

“Where it’s quieter.”

You prayed it was also more secluded, as the eyes began to follow you. Your little white dress was no match for the sea of dark neutrals here. Bucky’s group appeared, sprawled in booths around the back wall- like it was their territory.

You didn't know if you felt welcomed or not, feeling like a show pony on display as the stared at you. “She’s here!” the blonde on called, smirk wide on his face as he looked at you.

Steve. You knew him right away, always seeing him appear next to Bucky, front and center. The right hand man.

Then there was Sam you learned as you sat down next to Bucky, giving you a little wave before downing the shot he had in front of him, always seeming to be in the shadows.

There was at least ten of them, all of them as eager to meet you as the last. Like they were infatuated with you. Before you knew it, dozens of drinks were sent your way, and after about two beers you had somehow landed directly on Bucky’s lap.

“So your the girl who turned Barnes soft eh?” Sam asked you, making your eyes widen.

“What do you mean?” you asked timidly, wiggling your hips anxiously.

“Oh doll he doesn't mean literally.” Bucky chuckled, and you felt a very prominent bulge press into your ass as his hands guided your hips downwards.

Your cheeks burned with heat. Sam laughed, the smell of smoke heavy on his jacket, and whisky on his breath. Your head spun, and you felt yourself slumping against Bucky the longer the night went on, starting to forget you barely knew him the way you wanted to- that this wasn't your crowd.

“You okay?” he murmured against your head as you gripped his jacket, blinking slowly.

“Mhm fine. Jus- drunk.” you hiccuped, breathing in the ceadarwood and smoke that clung to him.

“I shouldn't have let you drink that much.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.” you snapped back at him, standing your ground. Bucky was already unravelling you in a way that made you feel vulnerable enough, you didn’t need him making decisions for you too.

“Shes got a point Barnes. Pretty soon it’ll be the other way ‘round.” Steve announced, seeming to reappear from thin air as he slide in the booth next to Sam- twirling his keys around his ring finger.

“Where’d you come from?” Bucky asked, eyebrow raised. You wanted to ask the same question. He looked like he was on cloud nine, eyes wide and sparkling, the booze giving his cheeks a tinge of pink.

“Jus’ beat Romanoff at darts n now shes all pissy.” he laughed, and you leaned your head over the side of the concave to search for her.

You liked her. She was the only girl in the gang, but her personality shined bright enough to be at least four. Her red hair was as fiery as her personality, and you would be terrified to piss her off. You were surprised Steve wasn't worried about her grabbing the dart and gouging his eye out with it.

“She’s gonna beat your ass man. I wouldn’t put it past her.” Sam shrugged, making you giggle. You didn't know if it was the alcohol or the quiter atmosphere in the back, but you found yourself enjoying their company.

The fact you had made Bucky ‘soft’, whatever that meant- made you happy. You wanted to be the only person who made him feel that way. “Cmon.” Bucky said suddenly, waking you from your drowsy state, leg bouncing to startle you.

“What are we doing?” you asked as he shimmed the pair of you out of the booth, ignoring the looks the guys gave him as his large hand slipped in yours, thumb rubbing your skin in a soothing motion.

He just smiled, that cheeky little smile you had seen him slide your way so many times- the one that intimidated you because there was no one a man like him could look at you like that and not be pulling your leg.

But here he was, with you. Looking at you like that- and making it authentic. It was crazy to you how easy it was for you to be caught up with him, wanting nothing more then to seek his attention and validation.

Though he was bad- and you knew he had done some very, very bad things- the warnings seemed to falter in your mind the second he flashed you that dangerous smile.

“We’re dancing.” he shrugged, as if it was the most average thing for the leader of a biker gang to do.

“Dance? But no one else is dancing.” you noted, confused as you looked around the room. Though more people had dwindled out over the night, there was still plenty of people here. None of them dancing, all of them staring.

This establishment seemed much like a fight club and less like a dance club.

“Awh you shy?” he teased, guiding you away from the bustle and the lights, towards the entrance. Of course he wasn't. He had no reason to be. You were sure Bucky had never felt shy a day in his life.

“Do you blame me?” you demanded, eyes wide as he tugged you a little harder, nearly making you stumble over your own two feet. You wished you weren't so clumsy. Especially now.

“We’ll go outside where its quiet. And then we’ll dance up a storm.” Bucky sung, spinning you around as he pushed open the front door, clearly drunk.

You laughed, the chill air making goosebumps rise on your skin through your little dress, though the wine sloshed in your tummy made you feel giggly and warm. “I didn't think you were a dancer.”

“Looks can be deceiving.” he replied, wrapping his arms around your middle, swaying you side to side as he guided you over towards his bike, parked next to the others.

It was far enough from the human eye, but close enough you could hear the music as clear as day. Hands were wrapped around his forearms, gripping him tightly as he moved you, guided you to a state of serenity.

“It's gonna be a fun summer shortcake.” he whispered, kissing your cheek softly, as if you were a piece of glass china, scared to hurt you.

You let him. The sweet, soft melody trickled from the speakers, lyrics intertwining you to Bucky. Like it was made for him.

Something's been feeling weird lately There's just something about you, baby (there's just something about you, baby) Maybe I'll just be crazy (I'll be crazy) And piss him off 'til he hates me

Yeah right... he fuckin loves me...

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