All That Could Have Been | Harwin Strong

All That Could Have Been | Harwin Strong

Happiness and sorrow go hand in hand these days. He laughs with joy and aches inside all the same.

You look at him and see all that could have been.

He sits close to you so carefully.

“You must know, surely. You must know I did not come into this agreement to avoid responsibility. I would give up my name, my sword, my life the moment you asked me to.”

“I know that.” you kiss his hand where it lies beneath your chin, urging you to look at him, “Just as I know you would never ask me to do the same.”

“And I would spend every day next to you, from dusk till dawn if possible.”

The babe stirs in his arms and everything quiets for a moment.

You sound tired, sleepy almost, and it is no wonder why. Exhaustion is finally taking over.

“Where would we live?”

Harwin smiles at your question and hands you a pillow with his free hand, aiding in your comfort. You lean back immediately as your body succumbs to the sweet gesture.

“A stone house near water, but not the sea. Just enough to water our plants… the children could play outside.”

“You would become a farmer?”

“To feed our family, I would. No need would ever come to you.”

“I am most certain of that.”

The way he looks at you is heart-wrenching.

“And what else?”

Your eyes shut gently and all that exists is his voice and the soft breathing of your child.

“We would all sit by the fire and I would hear you sing to them at night. We could name one after my father. I would teach them to protect themselves; you would teach them to be kind…There would never be a day away from you.”

Sleep overtakes you and he gives you the chance to finally rest, seizing perhaps the only opportunity to spend the littlest of time with the two of you. 

That is the cost. He would never ask you to do the same.

A/N: I am a broken person.

Want Me

Ser Harwin Strong x Female Reader

Summary: You're Rhaenyra's lady in waiting, by her side at all times and thus leading you to spend many hours within Ser Harwin's company, drawing the two of you together

Warnings: Smut, mentioned violence, swearing, angst (if you squint), fluff

A/N: Hi, small warning, haven't written a full smut scene for a while so I'm a little rusty, but I hope you enjoy :)

"Want me to kill him?" You absentmindedly offer to Princess Rhaenyra. 

She chuckles from behind you, her fellow ladies attempting to hide their smirks and smiles whilst they finish up her hair. "I know how much you crave violence, but I can not allow you to kill him. Besides, how would you even do it?"

You pause in the mirror, your eyes flickering to find Rhaenyra's. "Seduction is a woman's greatest strength." You whirl around to face her, a cruel expression etching into your face at the thought. "A simple poison into his drink and during the night he'd cease breathing and the Maestor would declare a heart attack. An easy kill, if I say so myself," 

The princess raises her eyebrows, her lips pursing together. Tonight is her name day feast, celebrating another year of her youth and thus drawing in all the potential suitors wishing to offer themselves. One of the Lannister twins made a fool of himself, offending Rhaenyra and thus resulting in you plotting his death, should your princess command it. 

As her lady in waiting, you take your role very seriously. Though, you are oft referred to as her sister, the two of you becoming close at a young age and growing up together. It has solidified your relationship with her, and in turn, you know each other inside and out. 

Your sharp words and cunning nature are a breath of fresh air as opposed to the customary expectations of Rhaenyra's fellow ladies. 

You glance over yourself once more in the mirror, your attention spanning over the finer details of your gown and the excellent work of the seamstress. The dress accentuates your frame, the embroidery and accessories dating back to your House and heritage. 

You look like a woman, a woman grown and of power. 

"Are you ready?" Rhaenyra pulls you from yourself, twirling around to give you a full look at her. 

"Indeed, and must I say my Princess, you look divine." You tell her honestly. 

She smiles, the two of you making your way to the great hall. Heads turn at the sight of you both, the heir to seven kingdoms and her fierce lady, who would protect her more so than a knight. 

Your stomach begins to twist as you near the hall, your teeth grinding together to keep the nerves at bay. You feel a reassuring squeeze on your hand, your dear friend sensing your change in behaviour. 

"If he doesn't fall at your feet and beg for your hand, I'll feed him to Syrax myself," she whispers. 

You bite your tongue, though a small smile creeps out. In the past moons, you've become acquainted with a knight, the two of you sharing passions and dreams. Nothing more of talk has happened thus far, but you can't help but think that maybe he will ask for your hand in marriage, as the two of you spend most days side by side. 

He makes your heart beat rapidly, with the small gestures and whispered words when no one is close. Not to mention, the way he looks at you, like no one else exists but you. 

Yet, you can't help but think that you're in way over your head, too consumed to see the reality. 

You have no time to ponder Rhaenyra's words, as the two of you arrive at the hall, the chatter dying down instantly. Swallowing, you hold your head high, following Rhaenyra down the stairs and toward the high table where you veer off to your own. 

His eyes were on you the moment you appeared, refusing to leave even as you sit down. You look absolutely breathtaking. 

Of course, you avoid his gaze, even from across the room, as you begin to fill your plate. Your skin ignites under his heated stare, your desire overweighting your sense of propriety. Glancing up, you meet him, his deep blue eyes burning into your darkest depths and tearing down every wall you've ever built. 

Ser Harwin Strong, renowned for his strength throughout the seven kingdoms and his proud house. 

Your cheeks heat up under the intensity, neither of you daring to break contact. You admire how he's dressed, his fine threaded clothes making him look regal, his unruly curls neatly pulled back into a bun. Gods.

The grumble of your stomach brings you to your senses, your head bowing down to begin consuming your food. You feel him continue for a heartbeat longer, before he diverts his attention elsewhere. 

As the night begins to progress, you drag Rhaenyra to dance, moving with the music and enjoying yourself. You change partners throughout, making yourself known and extending yourself to the other lords and ladies currently attending for the princess's name day. 

For once, Harwin doesn't grace your thoughts, until he becomes your next partner. 

Your eyes widen for a moment, your breath catching. "Ser-" you start, not expecting to see him. 

"My lady, you look exquisite." His rasps, his body feathering your own. 

His heat wraps around you like wild vines, pulling and tugging you closer, enticing you to become lost. You hit your chin out, refusing to fall prey. 

"And you, good Ser," 

Harwin smiles, a hum of satisfaction rumbling within his chest. His hand brushes your own, a part of him needing to touch you, his resolve almost snapping from the softness of your flesh. His fingers itch to press firmly, to warn off any man or lord that dare think they have a chance with you. 

"Are you enjoying yourself, this evening?" He asks, his lips close to your ear as to make sure you hear him over the loud music. 

You turn your head, his breath fanning your cheek. Heat pools within your stomach, want gnawing at you and demanding to be free. "I'll enjoy myself once I've had my dessert," you dare. 

His eyes narrow, assessing the situation. Little minx. Before he can conjure his own smart remark, a fellow knight of the city watch approaches, pulling him away from you. You watch him go without a word, a sense of humiliation washing over you as you continue to dance alone, searching for Rhaenyra. 

You find her with her uncle, enjoying themselves. 

Biting your lip, you move off the dance floor, standing on the sideline. You feel deflated, watching your friends enjoy themselves and even sneak out of the hall with their suitors, and your heart's deepest love couldn't even excuse himself. He just left you. 

You see him, surrounded by his companions, and more so with an older woman hanging off him. Now you feel stupid, your usual confidence and ego a ghost. The woman wraps an arm around his waist, much like a partner, and him not moving. 

Of fucking course, I'm just the plaything to keep him entertained whilst his lover is elsewhere. 

Grinding your jaw in anger, you inhale deeply and begin to make your way through the crowd, ignoring Harwin and his group as you have to pass them to ascend the stairs out of the hall. Your hasty exit catches many people's attention, especially the one you were hoping wouldn't notice. 

You don't realise he follows you, until you almost reach your quarters. His boots hit the ground harshly, as he tries to catch you, going as far as calling out your name. You pause in front of your doors, whirling around to face him once he draws near. 

Fire dances within your eyes, making Harwin pause momentarily. "Ser Harwin?" You snap. 

"I wanted to make sure you're well, you left in such a hurry," 

"I'm fine," you start, your thumb running over your fingers anxiously. "The hall became too much, so I'm retiring for the evening." 

Harwin tilts his head. He calls bullshit. He knows you, he grew up alongside you and knows that you are one of the last to leave the party, oft enjoying yourself too much to notice the sunrise and thus requiring an escort, usually him. 

He reads your body language, depicting your sudden mood change has something to do with him. He chuckles lightly, amusement etching across his features at your frustrated glare. "You're jealous." 

"Jealous?!" You repeat in disbelief, your raised voice echoing the corridor. "Me? Of what?" You ask him incredulously. You naturally begin to step closer, "of that woman? Why would I be jealous of some wench when I am the Princesses lady in waiting, I can have almost any suitor I want, I have sway within these walls and no one quite realises the extent I'll go to if I'm pushed, not to mention," you stop just shy of him, your chest heaving. "One word to my Princess, and I can have whatever I want." 

Harwin peers down at you, a small smirk gracing his lips at your outburst. "I never said what you were jealous of," he says lowly, almost inaudible if not for your closeness. "I'll be sure to tell my sister you think she's a wench." 

Your world crashes and burns. Sister? That was his fucking sister?! Your heart ceases beating, your breath catches in your throat and your skin clams up. Realisation and dread wash over you, embarrassment etching into your cheeks. You become a wounded animal, and respond much as they do, 

"Fuck you." You don't know what compels you or who takes over your body, but you can't stop the words from tumbling out and sending them straight at Harwin. 

He blinks. 

Quickly you spin on your heel and make haste to your door, pulling the handle to only have it slammed shut, and a large body pressing against you. Your throat constricts, feeling Harwin's entire front against your back as his hand looms over your head, keeping the door closed. 

One small movement, and he could bury his nose into your hair. "Say that again," his chest rumbles, his mouth angling down to press on your ear. To make sure you hear him loud and clear. 

You're frozen, your body shutting down. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. "Go on, don't go shy on me now, my lady," he presses, pushing you. 

Licking your lips, you hesitantly shift on the spot, leaning your back against the door and tilting your head to hold Harwin's gaze. He pins you down, the entirety of his body caging you in, almost like a shield protecting you from peering eyes. 

"Fuck you," you whisper. 

Reflexively, his other hand snaps to your jaw, his fingers digging into the skin. Your lips part, your muscles relax and your body becoming a rag doll. He could very easily suffocate you like he was bunching up a piece of parchment, he wouldn't even feel your bones snap. Yet, in this very moment, your thighs press together, your garment becoming soaked with each passing second. 

You know he won't hurt you. His hold on you is firm and delicate, the pads of his fingers gently holding you in place. He tilts his head, assessing you like he would an opponent, his dark eyes roaming your face and his brows twitching in thought. 

You test the waters, standing straighter and in turn bumping your nose into his cheek. Harwin exhales shakily, his grip tightening if only a smidge, in comparison to his self-restraint. You nudge your nose against his, his hooded eyes following your every move. 

Your breath tangles with his own, desire and hunger transpiring. Harwin's jaw clenches, his palm against the door closing into a fist. You want him, he wants you. Swallowing thickly, your lashes feather your cheeks and you take the plunge, pressing your lips against his own with uncertainty. 

For a moment, you float, your body becoming weightless and your mind lost. His lips are softer than you imagined, despite his harsh reputation, soft and plump on your own. Harwin responds, before suddenly pulling you away by his grip still on your jaw. 

A bucket of cold water drenches you, his sudden cold demeanour creating a crack in your heart. Not so much that he pulled you away, more how forcible it was, after he began to lose himself under the taste of you. That hurts. 

Your eyes flash. You move to release yourself from his grip, but he tightens it, his head turning slightly as though to check for any movement within the corridor. With precision, he pulls you flush to his body and opens the door in one movement, shoving you inside to your quarters and locking the door behind him. 

"You naïve girl," he starts, running a hand over his beard. 

You scoff, creating distance between the two of you by standing at the window sill. "And they say romance is dead." 

Harwin narrows at you. "You have no idea what you've just done, what if someone had seen?" His voice raises, his hand gesturing to the doors. 

Confusion swirls within you at his sudden change of behaviour, at his switch from intimacy to frustration in an upsetting kind of way. "I don't see the problem," you cross your arms, raising a brow. "I want you, and I don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks." 

"Well, you should!" You're taken aback by his sudden outburst, a sliver of fear creeping up your spine. "I am not good for you," he says your name with such emotion. "I have enemies at every turn, I can't be at your side protecting you every day and not to mention what would happen to your reputation-" 

"My reputation?" You cut him off, your voice low in disbelief of what you're hearing. "You think I give a fuck about my reputation! About your enemies? Gods Harwin," you begin to pace, your hands running over your head and falling against your neck. "How fucking dense are you?" 

He attempts to ignore the hiccup in his heart rate at the way his name rolls off your tongue. "I'm more than capable of protecting myself," you start after calming down a notch. You cross the room, standing before the brute and taking his large hands in your own. "Is it that hard to believe that I want you? That I don't care about everything else, about your history and reputation, about the fucking court gossip and your enemies? All I care about is you, your health and well-being, and that I know you'd never hurt me, physically and emotionally. I know you'd die protecting me, and you'd make me feel so loved, despite that shield you put in front of yourself every day." 

Harwin brings your hands to his lips, brushing them over your delicate fingers whilst he closes his eyes, relishing in the moment. His coarse beard caresses your skin, planting the idea of how it would feel between your thighs. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but you drop your hands down, beating him to it. "You want me Harwin?" your voice pulls to him, lulling him in. "I am right here, otherwise there's the door," you gesture. 

Your chest clenches at the thought of him turning his back. You wonder how he could kiss you back, then cough up some bullshit about him being bad for you. It confuses and wounds you. 

His lips part, the cogs turning in his head as he makes his decision. He surges forward, gently taking your head in his hands and angling you upward to capture your lips in a searing kiss. 

He walks you back until you hit the pillar, careful not to slam you into it. His lips move against yours hungrily, his tongue begging for entrance and his breath meddling with your own. Your fingers curl onto the front of his jacket, squeezing out any air left between you, your fronts pressing tightly. 

Your lungs burn, your actions becoming erratic as you move up to his hair, tangling his curls and removing the band keeping it back. You pull at the roots, emitting a deep groan from Harwin, his own hands gliding down your body to find refuge on your waist. 

You pour all your emotions into the kiss; the hunger, lusting, anger and need. He dominates you, his mouth slowly moving down your jaw, his teeth nipping along your bone and travelling to your neck, unknowingly finding your sweet spot. 

You bite your lip at the sound you release, a small sense of embarrassment flooding your body. Harwin immediately comes up, holding you still with his hard stare. "Don't you dare quieten on me." 

"Like your girls loud, Ser Harwin?" 

He chooses to ignore your comment. You smirk, your usual demeanour washing into the shore, a calculating look flashing in your eye. Before he can do anything you shove him back, pushing him down onto the lounge. 

Surprise is evident on his face, his eyes watching you curiously. You crouch between his spread legs, your palms sliding over his thighs in a soothing manner, slowly making your way to his waistband. 

You quite like this image; his unruly dark curls free and framing his face, his intense eyes swallowing you whole and his knees bent outward. He looks casual, yet so fucking handsome you have to restrain yourself from fucking him there. 

"Don't look at me like that," you scold, tugging on his pants. 

"Like what," he grumbles, lifting his hips. 

His pants pool at his feet, his hardened cock free from restraints. "Like I don't know what I'm doing." He eyes you suspiciously, waiting for you to shut down his thoughts. "I've been fucked before, if that's what you're wondering." 

He hums in dissatisfaction. 

"I'll decide if you've been fucked, my lady." You raise a brow at the title. 

He opens his mouth to say something more, but only a loud groan escapes, your lips wrapping around his cock. His hips reflexively jut, his hand moving to your head in response to your movements, your tongue flattening along the underside. 

Harwin shudders, his chest rising in deep pants under your ministrations and his fingers flexing in an attempt to hold himself back from face fucking you. You work him steadily, glancing up at him through your lashes and feeling a sense of pride roll down your spine at his dishevelled state, his head lolling over the back of the lounge. 

"Fuck," he curses, tilting down to hold your gaze. 

You move a hand to work the rest of his cock that you can't fit in his mouth, momentarily pausing when he grabs your wrist, and quickly heaves you off him. "You do that, and this night ends very quickly." 

"I find it hard to believe that Breakbones finishes in under twenty seconds," you muse, slipping out his grip easily and situating yourself on his lap.

He groans quietly, both in frustration and need. "Believe me, my lady, that when I cum, I intend on cumming in you and filling you up." 

"Good." 

You begin undoing his jacket, sliding it off his shoulders and down his arms before moving to his shirt, heaving it up and revealing his toned stomach. Your fingers splay across his chest, feeling his hard-earned muscles and scars from various fights. You pause on a particularly large wound along his abdomen, feathering the pink tissue. 

"Don't worry about it," he whispers your name, reading the emotion on your face. 

"This is an assassination attempt, Harwin." You press, flickering up to hold his stare. "Someone almost succeeded in fucking killing you." Unwanted tears spring in your eyes, raw emotion thick within your voice.

The thought of Harwin being killed, frightens the fuck out of you. 

He cups your cheek, his thumb tenderly wiping a tear. "This is what I meant," he refers to his previous statement about his enemies. You still, your features hardening. 

"Don't you dare, Harwin. Don't you fucking dare." You spit. 

He stays silent, observing you whilst your fingers continue their path along his torso, grazing each other his scars. "Seven Hells help the next man that makes an attempt on your life," you vow, your hand splaying out over his heart. 

"My little warrior," he rasps, pulling you down to him. 

Your lips collide, the taste of him invading your mouth and stealing your breath away. You whimper at the feel of his hands sliding up your arms and resting on your collarbone, toying with your dress. Blindingly he reaches for the lace tying it together, pulling it apart and loosening the top section. 

Goosebumps rise along your flesh as Harwin gently tugs the dress down your arms, exposing your breasts and stomach once it pools around your hips. You rest your forehead in the crook of his neck, gasping under the ministrations of his hands along your breasts, his thumb tweaking the bud. 

You thread through his curls, your nails scraping his scalp and your lips seeking out his neck. 

Suddenly he lifts you off him, placing you down on your feet. You raise your eyebrows in surprise and a little confusion, unsure of his next motive. "Take it off," he commands softly, the low rumble in his chest making your heart rate spike. 

The dress falls to your feet and you step out of it, mindful of taking off your shoes and being left bare before him. He slowly takes his boots off, never breaking contact even whilst he removes his pants. 

You watch him stand, tilting your head as he comes near. He doesn't speak, nor does he kiss you again. Instead, he hooks his hands under your thighs and hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and your arms coming to the back do his neck. 

He walks toward your bed, gingerly laying you down. You stare up at him with adoration, every fibre of your body knowing you're safe with this man. Despite his reputation, you could almost laugh, knowing that there is a softer, more caring side to him than anyone realises.

No one has ever touched you like you're glass, like you could shatter and slip through his fingers. He kisses you with so much passion and care, in stark contrast to his daily goings. You've witnessed him in a brawl, smashing the men to the ground without a worry and pummelling them to an inch of their life. 

Yet you know, these hands handle you with love. 

You slide up to the head of the bed, brushing the hair from Harwin's face when he comes to hover above you. He descends, missing your face entirely and planting kisses along your neck, slowly travelling south. 

Airy breaths leave you, your body responding to his attention, more so as he pauses over your breasts, taking an erect nipple into his mouth and tugging. Fire pools within your stomach, threatening to pour out. In a way it does, your head falling back into the cushions and your lips parting to release sounds of pleasure. 

Harwin continues his way down, his eyes flickering up to you through his loose curls, intently watching your reaction as he nears between your thighs, softly blowing cool air on your sensitive region. You grit your teeth, glaring down at him. 

"Hurry up." 

"As my lady commands," he chuckles. 

Your flush at the incredibly loud moan, not exactly expecting him to dive right in. Harwin drags his tongue up your slit, finding your clit and sucking. He switches between flicking your clit with his tongue and sucking, groaning lowly to himself at watching you writhe under him. 

He draws more sounds out of you, snaking a hand up to tease your opening, carefully entering a finger. "Fuck!" You arch your back, your hands reaching for his hair. 

He slowly pumps it out of you, enjoying the way you feel around him. He can only imagine how tight you'd be around his cock. The thought almost makes him fuck you right here. 

Your stomach twists, your knuckles turning white. No man has made you feel like this, even with just his mouth and finger, the two bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

He adds a second finger, wanting to properly prepare you for him, and enjoying watching you lose yourself to the pleasure he's giving you. 

He can feel you get close, teetering along the edge as he begins to increase his pace. You whimper at the ache, rutting your hips upward. "Harwin," you whine at the contact of his lips enclosing over your clit and sucking, hard. 

The fire burns brighter, scorchingly hot and desperate for a release. 

"Let go," he murmurs, gently nipping your clit. You do, your orgasm crashing down like a wave, engulfing you. 

He slowly continues to move his fingers through, allowing you to experience your high as he draws it out. He can't help but clean you up before he even thinks about moving away from the safety of your thighs. 

With ease, Harwin climbs back up, claiming your lips. You taste yourself, rummaging your hands through his hair and down his back, his muscles rippling under the pads of your fingers. 

He pulls away from you, question shining in his eyes; do you still want this?

You nod, leaning up to kiss him again, solidifying your answer. He hums, guiding his cock to press against your slit, teasing you for a moment before he nudges your opening. You gasp on his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders at every inch. 

Harwin falls into the crook of your neck, groaning at the sensation. He stops moving once you've taken all you can, pausing to make sure you're comfortable. You clench around him in reflex, eliciting a deep rumble from his chest, his beard grazing your neck. 

"Harwin," you pant. "If you don't move in the next five seconds," 

He chuckles at your warning, slowly pulling back. You bite your lip, closing your eyes at the high pleasure rocking throughout your body. Harwin lifts his head, his forehead brushing your own. He intends to watch you complete shatter underneath him. 

He slams home, somewhat slow but hard, rutting into you like wild waves against a rock, your back arching and pressing your chest to his. You can't help but rake your nails down Harwin's back, ignorant to the fact that you're close to drawing blood, desperate for a way to show how easily he's unravelled you. 

"Gods Harwin," you cry out at each thrust, harder and deeper than before. 

He grins, his lips on your ear, "I know quiet isn't exactly in your nature, but maybe don't alert everyone in the Red Keep of our rendezvous." 

"Oh fuck off."

Harwin reaches for the headboard, his knuckles turning white from his harsh grip, using it as leverage to pound harder. You chant his name, subconsciously clenching and unclenching around him, causing him to falter each time. 

That burning ache brews within you, gradually growing with each slide into you. His free hand comes down to your clit, playing with the bud and drawing you closer to the edge. Overwhelming sensations spark up your body, your legs starting to shake from the pleasure. 

"Harwin," you whine. 

"I know," he grits, picking up his pace. He hits parts of you that you never knew existed, fireworks erupting each time he enters you deeper, if that were possible. "Good girl, you're taking me so well, hmm?"

Your head is tilted up by his hand leaving the headboard to cup the side of your face, forcing your eyes on him. You struggle to keep your eyes open, a drowsy, drunken look coming across you. 

Without warning, you let go, bursting around him. "Gods, fuck!" Harwin calls your name, following you over. He couldn't last any longer, not after feeling you come undone from him. 

You gape in a silent moan, relishing in the feeling of him fill you up, his hips slowing but not yet relenting. You shiver from the sensitivity, thankful for when he stops. You struggle to hold contact, fatigue seeping in. 

You sigh at the feeling of him remove himself, your muscles relaxing and your spine calming. You don't see where Harwin moves off to, until he comes back and murmurs for you to spread your legs, gently wiping his seed from your thighs. 

For a moment, you wonder what happens now. Does he just leave? Does he stay? What happens between the two of you? Thoughts rummage, ruining your come down. 

"Hey," he brushes your forehead. "Come here." He pulls the sheets back, indicating for you to crawl underneath. All those thoughts are momentarily thrown out the window when he slides in beside you, pulling you to him. 

You lay in silence, your head on his chest and your hand playing with his loose curls. "What happens now?" You can't help but ask. 

"Now?" He hums, his chest vibrating. "You become my lady wife, and I fuck you whenever I please." 

You laugh, rolling further into him. "You better, now that I've given you my maidenhood." 

He pulls away slightly, making you look at him. "What? You told me that this wasn't your first-" he stops, reading the glint in your eye and the expression on your face. "You cheeky girl, almost gave me a heart failure." 

You grin cheekily, not quite saying anything whilst you comb his hair. You've found yourself with an obsession. "Leave your hair like this," you say lowly, loving the way it frames his face. 

"But it gets in my way," he grumbles, swatting your hand away. 

"And I like it like this," you counter, going for his curls again, but this time running your nails along his scalp, smirking at his groan. "And I think you secretly like it too." He gives you the side eye, taking your other hand and bringing it to his lips.

i can totally picture ser harwin being a softie in bed. reading your fic made my 😼 feel 🦋🦋🦋 😻

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected p in v, creampie mention.

etc: but just imagine those nights where he wants to go soft, like yeah he loves being rough with you because he knows you can take it. knows you can’t be broken and love bending at his will in any position. BUT those nights where maybe he’s had a rough day or things just feel like too much and he needs you. needs that slow soft sex to really make him feel better 😩

“Thought about this all day,” he whispers against your skin. His mouth at the shell of your ear, his heavy breaths and low grunts making your skin prick and body push up into his; molding yourself to his front so there’s no room left between the two of you.

His heavy weight against your chest should make it hard for you to breathe, to catch your breath as he bares his weight over you. As he brackets you inside of his arms, keeps you close to him. In place and against his skin, your softness a sheer contrast to the hair and scars from battle he has speckled around his chest.

“Needed this—you.”

It’s almost worse when he’s slow like this, like he is hitting every nerve, every pleasure point. Every part inside of your cunt that has your legs tightening against him, your face pressed to the crook of his neck as you try to keep quiet. Try to muffle the gasps and whimpers.

“Harwin,” you grip at his chest. Maybe it’s a plead, maybe it’s praise for how good he’s making you feel; how much you can’t get enough of him sneaking into your room late at night, needing you. Only you.

He could just as easily go to a pleasure house.

But he comes to you. Needs you to be what’s missing in his days, his life. To give him pleasure on days of misfortune.

He brings his lips onto yours, swallows down your moans as he pants his onto your tongue. Your name mixed somewhere between breaths. A relief released once he finishes inside of you and rests his head upon your chest, your fingers running through his sweaty curls. A calming silence shared between the two of you.

when lorde said "it feels so scary getting old" and when frank ocean said "we'll never be those kids again" and when taylor swift said "it's supposed to be fun turning 21" and when mitski said "mom am i still young can i dream for a few months more" and when phoebe bridgers said "how can a person know everything at 18 and nothing at 22" and when haim said "was i fearless at 17 years old or was i faking it?"

Fire

R is for Rivals

You’re the cool leader of Jackson. Who the fuck is Joel Miller? 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader  Warnings: Hate fucking, really. Joel is mean. Reader is also mean. Unprotected p-in-v, dirty talk, name calling, degradation, choking, scratching, slapping, age difference. We gettin’ rough up in here, yall. also p.s., sorry if my writing in the beginning is sloppy, i really just wanted to get into the dirty stuff lmfaoooo. and this isn't proofread, i'm sorry i'm sorry.

For months, you’ve been the cool superior of Jackson. Being young gave you an advantage that a lot of the other higher-ups didn’t have. The kids in town came to you for support. And the adults, the ones much older than you, were impressed by your quick wit and eagerness to learn. You had charm, youth, and vigor on your side. It’s the only reason you were offered such a powerful position in the town at your age. 

So you can imagine your surprise when you begin to hear talks around town about someone named “Joel” and just how interesting and mysterious he is. Apparently, he’s some super impressive old man who is also handsome and scary and the brother of Tommy. Nepotism, of course. Your first thought. Your second thought is - who the fuck is this guy and why is he trying to swerve into your lane? 

You are the fun leader. You are the one who always has large groups and endless patrol list requests. People come to you for the excitement, for your personality. But now, there are whispers of Joel. Joel this. Joel that. Well, you’ve had enough of Joel. 

Is it petty? Immature? Maybe. Okay, yes, it is. But do you care? No. After the fourth person brings up that man’s name, you can’t sit quietly anymore. Patience has never been your strong suit. 

You make a plan to confront Joel about overstepping. He’s new, so he doesn’t know how things work around here yet. And that’s okay, you suppose. You can fill him in. And maybe he’ll back off, and you’ll get your fanbase back. Perhaps you're being a little dramatic, but what else do you have to look forward to these days? Celebrities aren't real anymore. But you're as close as it gets. 

So you're on a mission as you stomp your way through town, dipping into shops and checking around corners for any sight of Tommy or Maria or whoever that might know something about Joel's whereabouts. Passersby offer you friendly smiles, asking how you are, making usual chit-chat. You appreciate their efforts, but you’re still salty that your normal band of followers has fucked off to tail someone else. So you aren't exactly in the mood for conversation. 

When you make it to the stables, you find Tommy speaking with Ian, one of the men who work with the horses. Tommy greets you, unaware of your irritation, which only flares up more when you learn that Joel is on a patrol. By request of the residents. The ones that usually line up to work with you. 

That pisses you off. No one invited you to the outing. You don’t think it’s fair, but you swallow your pressing thoughts and thank Tommy for the information. The last thing you need to do is complain to your rival’s brother. 

Defeated, you return home and spend the rest of the day deciding how to approach this intruder. Knowing that he’s related to the most powerful couple in town, you should be polite. You should be friendly - introduce yourself and make nice. But hey, you’re still young. Sure, you’ve had to grow up pretty quickly in this environment, but you still get to act like a brat. It’s your obligation as a youth. 

A quick shower, nap, and some food restore your energy, adding a pep to your step and determination in your heart. You’re sure the last patrol group is back by now. It’s nightfall, and Maria is adamant about everyone returning before it gets pitch black. 

They’re probably all gathered at Seth’s, which isn’t your favorite place to hang out since he gives you the creeps. But you’ll suffer if it means meeting the enemy. Even though you spent all day thinking over what you were going to say, you’re at a total loss for words. You don’t want to show immaturity, but damn it, you’re pissed. 

So you swing open the door, immediately overwhelmed by the number of bodies throughout the room. Is this Joel’s doing? Does he have this kind of pull already? 

“Christ, who is this guy?” You mumble to yourself as you squeeze through groups of people, all whispering to themselves. You spot Tommy easily and assume that Joel will be close by. When you get a moment of space, you let your eyes scan your surroundings and sure enough, standing next to Tommy stands an unfamiliar man with an unfamiliar girl. 

Joel.

You hate to admit this; you really do. But as you stare at his large figure, drinking in his rugged features, you can’t stop yourself from thinking he is, actually, hot as fuck. He’s tall and fit with dark hair and intense eyes. For a second, you forget you’re supposed to hate him, as he looks like an actual God standing before you. 

Okay, you get the hype a little bit. 

Maybe you can be friends. Maybe you can work together. You wouldn’t mind having someone like him on your side… Even if it’s just to look at him. 

New plan. You compose yourself and glide over, ready to make your introductions. A smile finds your lips, albeit hesitantly. You're still competitive, after all. Tommy notices you and stops talking, offering you his arm for a hug, which you accept. 

“Hey, kid,” he says, playfully ruffling your hair. “Missed ya today. Hope you got enough rest, you’ve got a big patrol tomorrow.” He tells you. 

“Really?” You beam, happy to hear that some of this town still has their loyalty to you. “That’s great. I can’t wait!” 

“Joel,” Tommy acknowledges his brother. “This girl right here is special,” he says as he introduces you by name. “I think you’ll find her rather impressive. She’s the youngest leader in Jackson.” 

Tommy speaks like he’s proud of you. And you’re extremely thankful for his praises. All those positive words go to your head, stroking the embers of your ego. You turn to Joel, waiting for his thoughts, frowning when he begins laughing. 

“You’re kiddin’ me, right?” He asks, looking at Tommy with bewilderment. “You put a child in charge?” His face is cold and emotionless. The warmth that had been decorating his facade has slipped as he stares you down. 

“Hey!” You snap, instantly offended, your own switch flipping. “I’m not a child. I’m 21, thank you very much.” Ew, you think. What a dick. Your first assumption about him was correct, and you were stupid to think otherwise. But that's what you get for letting lust take over your command. 

“Right,” he chuckles, brushing you off like you’re nothing more than an interruption. A child. “Tommy, there’s no way this girl is qualified to run anything.” His words are hurtful, and he doesn't even care that you're standing right there. 

Well, you can be just as rash. “And you are, grandpa?” You huff, taking Tommy and the unnamed girl by surprise. The girl slowly steps away until she's out of the picture, but you continue on your rant. “You sure you can handle it out there? Aren’t you afraid of breaking a hip?” 

“Oh, that's mature of you,” Joel scoffs, pointing out exactly what you were thinking. Not your best response, and you’re sure Tommy is less than thrilled with you right now. But fuck that. You’re not going to let some stranger talk down on you like this. Who cares how important he thinks he is?

“Hey, man,” you start, closing the gap between the two of you. He has a whole foot on you as far as height goes, but you've taken down men bigger than him before because you're young. You're not afraid of him. “You don’t know shit about me. I came over here to introduce myself. I have done nothing to deserve this. Who the fuck are you?" 

Joel rolls his eyes, putting up a hand to stop your babbling. How dare he treat you that way? You look at Tommy, your mouth agape as your brain tries to scramble together a few words. Unfortunately, he’s of no help, just as lost as you are. He didn't think Joel was still surly. 

The older Miller doesn’t say another word to you, and it irritates you more than it should. You decide, from then on, Joel Miller is your opponent. And anytime someone mentions him, your blood boils. 

Months have passed, and for the residents of Jackson, they find their entertainment in the rivalry that’s built up between you and Tommy Miller’s older brother. They love to gossip about you and Joel. And even though it’s been a long time, you still can’t find common ground. He’s so full of himself. And you hate it. He acts like he’s better than everyone. And you know he’s not. 

You don’t have a problem letting him know that. Especially when he’s being a dick for no apparent reason. Looking at you with disgust. Snickering behind your back. And you're the child. God, you hate him. 

For example, one day, all you were doing was minding your own damn business at the bar. Your friends were there for a few minutes to catch up and ask your advice on something personal. And Joel, well, Joel had to make a comment about “daycare” or something along those lines, and you just lost it. 

You let your anger get the best of you, taking your drink and throwing it in his face. Of course, that caused him to lash out, grabbing you by the wrist and calling you an entitled brat with no grasp on the real world. If it hadn't been for Seth, that creep, you would have clawed Joel's eyes out with no remorse. 

But...there's always someone around to stop you from tearing that man to shreds. 

And that's how you ended up here, once again, arguing with Joel and Tommy at Seth's place. Someone, probably Maria, thought it would be funny to pair the two of you up for patrol tomorrow. She figured you’d either work out your issues or one of you would end up dead. Either way, the tension in Jackson would be gone. 

Maybe that’s drastic. But you wouldn’t put it past her. 

“It’s bullshit, Tommy!” Joel yells, snapping you back to the situation at hand. His face is written in anger, gritting his teeth as he repeatedly curses out his little brother for putting the two of you together. “This is ridiculous, I’m not takin' part in this!” 

“Joel, wait a damn minute,” Tommy interjects before his brother causes an even bigger scene. “This is for your own good!” He shouts, trying to convince even himself that this was the right decision. 

“My own good,” Joel seethes in disbelief. “Right. Ya know, you were stupid to put a goddamn kid in charge around here! She’s gonna get both of us killed. I’m not a goddamn babysitter!” 

Joel writes you off quickly, and it’s something that bothers you in ways you don’t quite understand. You work hard to prove yourself worthy of your position in Jackson. Having someone like Joel dismiss you without care is hurtful because you know that others will listen to him. They will follow along. 

“Hey, that’s not fair!” You chime in, standing up for yourself. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. I’ve done a damn good job of keeping these people safe. You don’t get to take that away from me!” 

“Oh, you know what?” Joel scoffs, simply irritated by the sound of your voice. “You can talk all you want, but the fact is - you are useless to me. You're just a stupid kid. And I'm not--” 

“Enough!” 

The loud interruption comes from Maria, standing off to the side with her hands on her hips, disappointment in her eyes. She looks at you, and at that moment, you want to scrunch up into a ball and die. This woman trusts you with her town, with her family. And here you are…acting like that angsty teenager she first met. Words can’t express how guilty you feel. 

But then she looks at Joel, and your heart rate slows as the heat is off you. You wonder if she’ll say anything to the older man. He’s the adult here. Well, the more mature adult. He should know better, right? Tommy’s brother or not, he should be put in his place. His words really hurt you...

“Joel,” she scolds, zeroing in on him. “This is for your own good. You need to learn how to get along with others. I paired you together because I feel like she can learn a lot from you,” Maria admits as she gestures to where you sit, slumped back against the wall with a sour stomach. “She’s a lot tougher than you think. And if you offered her a chance, you would be impressed.” 

You look at Joel, noting the tightness in his jaw as he bites his tongue to hold back some snarky comment. He doesn’t like hearing what Maria has to say, it’s so easy to pick up on. But he’s respectful enough to keep his mouth shut around her. At least it’s not all women he seems to disrespect. 

“And you,” she huffs as her attention shifts to you. Well, shit. You should have known you wouldn’t come out of this unscathed. “I admire your passion, I do. But honey, you’ve got to pull that in. You’re still mouthy, and no one wants to take orders from a naive, foolish girl.” 

“I’m sorry, Maria,” you say quickly, shame creeping its way up your spine. You stand back up and dust off your jeans, sheepishly looking at her. “You’re right.” 

“I know,” the woman states, crossing her arms in finality. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Joel,” she starts, eyes darting back to the bitter man beside you. “Think about Ellie,” she says, grabbing your attention. You take a chance to steal a gaze at the young girl, curious to know what her deal is. She doesn’t say much, and mostly sticks to Joel’s side like glue. A lot of questions linger at the back of your mind… “Ellie could learn a lot from this one.” She ends her sentence by nodding at you. 

And all it takes is that gentle notion from Maria. Your insecurities wash away, and whatever thoughts Joel may have of you, well, you don’t care anymore. Maria’s words are reassuring, and you appreciate the faith she has in you. 

Ellie blushes at the mention of her name and follows Maria out of the diner, the two of them speaking in whispers. When they're gone, you turn around and face Joel. Your confidence is back seeing him knocked down a few pegs. 

“See you tomorrow!” You chirp, holding your head high, bouncing away on your heels as you feel on top of the world. Tomorrow will be fine. 

The next morning, you’re up bright and early, just in time to see the sun peek through the clouds and welcome you. It’s a new day and although you spent most of the night tossing and turning, you’re ready to head out with Joel. You’ve made the decision to be the bigger person today. Be the person Maria knows you are. 

You’re the first one at the stables, greeting Ian with a bright smile and a little treat from home. You like to bake in your spare time, and you know that Ian appreciates the goodies you bring for him since he doesn’t get much time away in the mornings. Another little thing the residents love about you. 

You’re thoughtful. 

“Is she ready?” You ask, looking past him for your horse, Siren. 

Ian nods, pocketing the muffin for a later time. “All yours, m’lady,” he says as he hands you the reins. “Nice day today,” he adds, looking up at the sky. “She’ll be happy to stretch her legs.” 

“I bet,” you coo, giving your loveable horse some much needed affection. “I’m actually looking forward to the sunshine, too.” 

“Company,” Ian blurts before you can continue on with your thoughts. You crane your neck to look to where you just came from and sure enough, you see Joel stomping his way towards you with a sour look on his face. “Someone ain’t a morning person,” Ian chuckles. 

“Guess not,” you snort and hop on Siren. “Good morning, Joel,” you say blandly, maintaining a neutral expression. You can’t be nice, but you can be indifferent. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?” 

He looks at you, lip twitching in annoyance. “Whatever,” he grumbles, walking past you to his own horse. 

Wonderful, you think. Awesome. This is going to be the best patrol of your life! 

The gates close, and you and Joel head up the trail in silence. He doesn’t even look at you, doesn’t give you the time of day. His horse trots in front of yours, giving you the perfect view of his back. If only you had something you could throw at him, maybe knock him off his horse, watch him fall to the ground. 

You laugh to yourself at the thought, and it’s enough to grab Joel’s attention. He stops suddenly, letting you catch up. Once your horses are side-by-side, he sneers at you. 

“Somethin’ funny?” He snaps, his large hands turning into fists from sheer frustration. 

“Not at all,” you lie with a shrug of your shoulders. 

“God,” he groans, shaking his head. “Can’t believe I got stuck with you,” he mutters. 

“Well,” you hiss, “I’m not exactly thrilled to be out here with you, either. Let’s just…get this over with. It’ll go by much faster if you stop complaining about a 21 year old girl!” 

Irritation takes over and you give in to it, ordering Siren to ride ahead of Joel. You’re trying to be better, to be good. But it’s so fucking difficult with that man. Your mere existence seems to set him off. 

It doesn’t take long after that to reach the first outpost. You tie Siren up outside, quickly entering the old library and leaving Joel behind. He comes in after you, boots echoing against the crumbling floor. You walk in different directions to check out each room before meeting up to sign the ledger. 

You check the notes from the previous patrol, humming to yourself as you read through what Eugene left behind. Next to you, Joel taps his foot impatiently, and you can feel his body practically towering over you. But you don’t rush. You let out a little laugh at the drawing Eugene and his partner left for you and for whatever reason, that makes Joel snap. 

“Can you hurry the fuck up?” He grumbles with crossed arms. “What’s so damn amusing in that book?” 

“What is wrong with you?” You decide to ask, slamming the notebook shut and throwing the pen down beside it. You walk around the desk, putting objects between you and Joel for his safety. “Are you always this rude? Even to your brother? Or that girl…Ellie?” 

“That’s none of your business,” he warns, circling the desk you purposely put yourself behind. He comes up to you and you almost stumble back in fear at the pure rage in his eyes. But you hold your ground. “The only issue I have here is workin’ with some juvenile brat.” 

“Me?” You huff in disbelief. “I’m the brat? You’ve been nothing but a dick since I met you! How have I offended you that badly? Or are you jealous? You’re not in your prime anymore, are you? Hate to see us younger folk taking over?” 

He shakes his head and slams his fist onto the desk. “You think you’re hot shit, don’t you?” He taunts with a smug grin. “I’ve heard the stories. You’re the fun one. The young one. People like you.” 

“Yeah, and?” You breathe once you realize how close he’s gotten to you. 

He smiles and leans down so his breath crashes against the side of your face. He brings his lips to your ear and in the quietest voice, he says, “the only reason these people like you is because they want to fuck you.” 

You’re so taken aback by his remark, fuming at the audacity of his accusation. Without hesitation, you bring your hand up and slap him harshly across the face. He lets out a laugh, grabbing you by the wrist. 

“Watch yourself, little bitch,” he spits and a fire flares within you. You raise your other hand, but Joel’s quick, grabbing you before you can touch him. He spins you around and shoves you back against the desk, making you let out a tiny whimper. 

You’re both breathing heavily. Joel’s hard body is firmly pressed to yours. Maybe it’s the weather, or maybe it’s the emotions that have been building in you since you met, but you can’t deny there is something there. 

So when his eyes flick to your lips, you throw caution to the wind. You lean into him, pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss he eagerly returns, letting go of your wrists and instead grabbing you by the back of your head. He tugs on your hair as your hands smooth over his chest. This wanton fascination cascades over you with your nails clawing at the buttons of Joel’s shirt. 

Not exactly what you were imagining for today, but now it’s all you can think about. The hostility towards Joel threatens to bubble over, frothing inside of you, screaming to release. This is the healthiest way, yeah? This or murder… And from the way he firmly bites on your lip, you know this will feel so much better. 

“Fuck,” he drawls out, long and breathy as his hand moves to cup your face. The other squeezes against your hip, practically shaking as he bunches up your shirt. Your body reacts the only way it knows how, pouting and letting out a delicious moan that makes Joel laugh his stupid fucking cocky laugh. “Oh?” He teases, dragging his hand down from your cheek to your chin, tilting your head up. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? All this time. You want someone to fuck you stupid.” 

Resentment simmers low in your belly, but it’s, unfortunately, not the only thing you’re feeling. You can’t deny what Joel said is true. Even when he’s rude to you, you just want him to use those words, call you those names, while his dick is buried inside of you. A classic hate fuck. 

“Answer me,” Joel demands in a low voice, his thumb brushing over the plushness of your bottom lip. His eyes meet yours, forcing you to hold the uncomfortable contact and making you squirm. “Tell me you fuckin’ want me,” he growls in a whisper. 

You glare at him. He has you right where he wants you and you hold no power here. “I want you,” you state through gritted teeth. 

The smile that stretches across his lips is perverse and you want to kiss it right off of him. But you can’t. Joel uses his strength to lift you off your feet easily, dropping you on the desk and forcefully pushing you down until your back hits the cold wood. You spread your legs on instinct and Joel fits between them easily. His palm slides up your body, between your tits until it wraps around your throat. 

Joel notices the way your eyes gleam with excitement and the tiny sound you make as his fingertips dig into your soft flesh. A light clicks in his mind as he discovers one of your nasty little secrets. 

“You like that, don’t you?” He asks, experimentally gripping your throat a little harder. “You like the way my hand feels, cutting off your breath, squeezing so fucking tight your eyes roll back until you see stars. You feel helpless, huh? I have the power here. I’m in charge.” He sets his gaze over your weak body. “I could fuckin’ break you.”  

You whine, attempting to speak, but you can’t. All you can do is choke and nod your head the tiniest bit as ecstasy sets in. You’re stupid to trust him. You are. But fuck, he’s so good. 

“What’s the matter, bunny?” Joel taunts in a voice sickeningly sweet. Bunny. That shouldn’t be as hot as it is. But no one’s ever called you that before. “Can’t speak?” He chuckles as he loosens his grip, proving he won’t actually hurt you. But he smirks. “Good. That’s just the way I like you.” 

“J-Joel,” you choke and he removes his fingers from the side of your neck. He gives you time to catch your breath, watching your chest rise and fall with each deep inhale you take. 

“Say it,” he demands as he pushes up your shirt. You sit up weakly just long enough for him to take it off and throw it to the ground. His hands immediately grab your tits and you let out a raspy moan. “Whatever you’re thinking,” Joel groans. “Say it.” 

“Fuck you,” you spit, digging your nails into his forearms and shoving his hands off of you. You sit up and reach for his jeans, but he slaps your fingers away. 

“I don’t think so,” he says darkly, easily knocking you back down. His body hovers over you and the urge to kiss him bites at your tongue. “I’ll be the one fucking you.” 

You sneer and grab his shirt, bringing him down onto you. Your lips meet in a bruising kiss again, his mouth claiming yours, asserting his dominance. He kisses you so hard the air gets knocked from your lungs. Your throat burns, eyelids grow heavy, but you can’t pull away from him. His lips are so warm, so fierce. And his tongue is so silky as it glides against yours. 

“You’re such an asshole,” you mutter between kisses, yanking on his hair as you catch your breath once more. He seems to like when you tug at his scalp, groaning in delight each time your fingers pull at the salt and pepper strands. 

“And you’re a bratty little bitch,” Joel snaps back, dragging your lip between his teeth, biting down and making you squeak. “Still gonna fuck you, though. Somebody’s gotta fuck that attitude out of you.” 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes and capture his lips again. His kiss is addictive, tantalizing. You’re on fire from your toes to your fingers and you crave more. 

When you let out a soft gasp, Joel breaks. He grabs your throat again, keeping you pinned to the desk as he kisses you with everything in him. His other hand trails down to your thigh, lifting your hips into his, leaving no space. He grinds himself into you, and you groan at the friction of his hardening dick pressing to your core. Fuck, you hate him. And that makes this so much hotter. 

“Goddamn,” he breathes, squeezing your ass for the first time. “You are so fuckin’ hot,” he mutters as you arch your body into him. “And so fuckin’ needy,” he comments at your desperate wiggling beneath him. “You look good like this. Bet you’d look even better drunk on my cock, huh?” 

“Are you gonna talk about fucking me or are you actually going to fuck me?” You huff, smacking at his chest, which is still hidden behind his damn shirt. You tilt your head just as a smart comment rolls off your tongue. “Do you even have it in you, old man?” 

Joel’s eyes darken at your quip, his large hand around your throat tightens before sliding up to knot in your hair. He grabs a handful of your locks, and yanks your head back, exposing your pretty neck to him. “Impatient one, aren’t you? Are you that desperate for my cock? My greedy little bunny,” he coos, his other hand smacking your ass. Hard. 

You gasp at the feeling and let out the most pathetic sound you’ve ever heard. Of course, it makes him smirk. You’ll never hear the end of this. Might as well play along. So you bite your lip and nod your head, letting out another whimper. “Fuck me, Joel,” you purr, voice soft and sweet, despite the crude words that follow. “Fuck me like I’m a slut… Like I’m your slut. If you can.”

His jaw clenches and his lips dip to your neck. He kisses the area softly before his teeth scrape over your beautiful skin. He bites at your pulse point, soothing the sting with his tongue before repeating the action. He kisses down your neck, nibbling at every inch of skin available to him, leaving bruises, reminders - a branding. You’re his now. All while his hard dick ruts into you. 

His beard tickles you as he sucks your sensitive flesh past his lips, but this is no time to laugh or giggle. There’s nothing light and playful about this. This is pure hatred flowing out of both of you, coming together the only way that seems fitting. 

Your eager hands shove his flannel over his shoulders and he shimmies out of it until it hits the floor, followed by his gray undershirt. He’s quick to work on your jeans, pulling them down in frustration. You’d offer to help, but seeing him struggle is much better. 

“Damn it, even your pants are a pain in the ass,” he grumbles as he finally gets you out of them. He throws them to the ground and eyes you over.  “But fuck, look at you,” he groans, long fingers tracing the thin fabric of your panties. He slips his finger beneath the band, sweeping between your dripping folds. “So wet already, baby,” he smirks, doing it again. “You like it when I touch you? You like when I choke you?” 

“Uh huh,” you moan, tilting your hips up, enamored by his touch. His fingers are rough and calloused, but they feel so good gliding over your slit. You shamelessly push back against his hand, needing more, needing to feel full. 

“Desperate slut,” he scoffs, but slides his finger into you with ease. You gasp at the intrusion, squirming at the feeling of his finger inside you. It’s been so long for you, you’re overly sensitive. The last time you hooked up with someone was when you first got to Jackson. When Joel adds a second finger, you nearly lose it. “Figures you get off on this,” he chuckles, pulsing two fingers in and out of your soaked cunt. 

He kisses your lips as he finger fucks you quickly. The obscene sounds you make as your pussy squelches around him would embarrass you if you weren’t in such a euphoric state. Instead, it makes you eager for more. You want it all. “God, Joel, go faster,” you huff as your walls clench around him. 

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do,” he warns as he turns his wrist, slowing down a bit so he’s barely hitting that sweet spot inside of you. He’s cruel, but you already know this. “Take what I give you like the sweet little slut you are,” he demands. 

“I fucking hate you,” you groan in frustration, desperate for his fingers. “Arrogant ass—”

“Of course you do,” Joel chuckles and slams his fingers past your walls again. “That’s why your pretty little pussy is clenching around my fingers. Tell me the truth, bunny, tell me you fuckin’ want it. Tell me you want my cock inside you.” 

Your mind goes hazy as Joel begins to toy with your clit. Each sensation soaring through you right now is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. But you’re stubborn, refusing to utter those words to Joel. But then he slips a third finger inside of you, curling them and filling you up. He grabs you by the neck again and forces you to look at him. 

“Tell me,” he growls. “Tell me you’re a dirty fuckin’ whore who needs my cock.” 

You can’t help it. His words are so hot and go straight to your dripping pussy. “Fuck,” you gasp as your head empties of any and all thoughts. You can’t believe you’re going to do this. Give in to Joel Fucking Miller. “I want it, Joel,” you murmur. “I’m a whore and I need your cock.” 

“Good girl,” he praises, stopping his brutal motions and slipping his fingers out of you. He flicks his tongue over his glistening digits before guiding them to your lips. “Taste yourself, bunny,” orders. “See how sweet you taste.” You open your mouth like a good girl and suck on his fingers, rolling your tongue over them and tasting your juices. “That mouth is good for something other than complaining,” he smirks. 

He undoes his jeans and pulls his cock out, jerking himself quickly in front of you. You reach down and rub yourself as you watch him, licking your lips at his thickness. He’s a jerk, a piece of shit, but he’s a hot guy with a big dick and you fucking need him. 

“Spread your legs,” he orders and you do, already in a trance. Damn, maybe you are a whore. His hand wraps around your throat again, a place he seems to love, and he thrusts into you. “Fuck, you have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do this. Every time you’d open that snappy mouth of yours I’d think about how I could fuck the words right of you,” he admits. “I knew you’d be an eager little cockslut for me.” 

“Fuck off,” you groan even though he feels so fucking good stretching you out. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with and your toes immediately curl at how he fills you so well. 

“Oh, bunny,” he tsks, cock pushing into you. “I don’t think you want that,” he picks up the pace of his hips and the way he sounds as he pants in your ear turns your brain to mush. He smacks your ass, making you jolt and take him deeper. The slapping of your skin against his is fucking filthy as it resounds through the library, and you try to speak, but find yourself at a loss for words. “Just shut up and look pretty,” Joel tells you. “You’re good at one of those things.” 

“Oh, god,” you moan as he slams into you. He’s checking boxes you didn’t even know you had and you think to yourself how lucky you are to have his dick inside you right now. Now that you know what he feels like, you don’t want to share. You don’t want anyone else to experience his talent. You risk looking between your sweaty bodies, almost fainting at the slight tummy bulge he’s giving you. “God,” you whisper again. 

“Fucking right,” he hisses, fucking into your tight pussy. “I am your God. Now, stop fuckin’ talkin’ and take my cock like a good girl.” He growls through his teeth, pinning your hips down as he pounds into your wet heat. His mouth hangs open as deep grunts escape him and mumbles under his breath how good you feel around him. 

Closing your eyes, you grab onto Joel’s shoulders, holding yourself steady as he fucks your fragile body with force. Your back glides across the desk, slicked with sweat, as he uses you for his pleasure, groping your body, filling your holes, pulling your hips into his. He reaches so deep inside of you, your mouth lulls open, tiny whimpers falling off your tongue as he fucks you dumb. 

“You were meant to be fucked like this, used like a toy, like some silly little play thing,” he grunts, pounding into you, grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head. You let him. He’s in control of you. “Pussy feels so fucking good. You look good, too.” 

Heavy breaths fill the room. Joel’s relentlessly thrusting in and out of you, gasping in your ear, sharing his most erotic sounds. Your eyes are glazed over with lust, your head in the clouds, body surging with electricity. You feel so satisfied. You feel so fucked. 

Joel releases his grip on your wrists, allowing you to slide your arms across his shoulders and greedily pull him into you. You raise your hips, meeting each thrust, using your nails to claw down his back and leave your mark. And he lets you, he encourages you. 

“Gonna make me cum, darlin’,” he pants deeply, causing your velvety walls to clench around his hard cock. He laughs a little at your reaction. “You want that, don’t you? You want me to cum inside you? Fill you with my hot, sticky load? You wanna be my little cumbunny?” 

“Uh huh,” you mewl, dazed with fluttering eyelids and trembling limbs. You lock your legs around Joel’s waist and draw him deeper, grinding down against him to take him for everything he is. His cock, fuck, you love the way it feels, the way it reaches you in places you’ve never felt before. He is a God. He is your God. 

“Take my cock, baby,” Joel groans, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. “Fuck, you take it so well.” 

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” you cry, voice all strained and whiny. It turns his insides to jelly hearing you like that. Hearing you are satisfied with your yappy mouth only focusing on telling him how good he makes you feel. 

“You want me to touch you?” He asks, brushing his hand over your lower stomach, watching as your muscles constrict. “Want me to play with your slutty little clit?” 

You nod, speechless, mouth hanging open again like a bitch in heat. He loves the way you look right now. Loves to see your hair sticking to your face with sweat, loves to see your cheeks flushed, and your lips shiny with drool. 

“Pretty bunny,” he coos, circling your clit with his thumb. “Fucked stupid can’t even talk.” 

“Joel,” you groan in irritation, raising your hips. 

“Cum with me,” he whispers, rubbing your clit faster. “Cum with me like a good little cumbunny,” he groans. 

“Christ, Joel,” you murmur, eyes rolling back as your climax builds. The pressure from Joel’s fingers mixed with his thick cock pulsing inside of you tips you over the edge. And with a scream of his name, you cum, biting your lip as relief takes over you. 

Seeing you come undone is what sets Joel off. With a few more hard thrusts, he stalls, releasing his hot cum deep inside of you. You groan at the warmth, and shiver at how good it feels. He takes a few deep breaths, relaxing for a moment before slipping out of you. 

You lay back, a little disoriented as you think about what just happened. And about how hard you just came. You only snap into focus when Joel chuckles. 

“What’s so funny?” You pout, your defenses ready to go back up. 

“That was hot,” he says with sincerity. Then he leans over and kisses your nose. “Think I’ll keep you.” 

You roll your eyes and jump down from the desk to put your pants back on. “Asshole,” you say, but in an affectionate way. A cute way. Once you’ve slipped on your shirt, you wait for Joel to finish dressing. 

He sighs as he buttons his flannel and nonchalantly strolls over to you. He grabs your lower back, pulling you close to him. “You like it,” he says before kissing your lips.

Masterlist

Joel Miller Taglist: @swtaura - @chxpsi - @extraneous-trip - @cerebellam - @tiredbeebo - @kirsteng42 - @trickstersp8 - @detectivebarba

Parasite Eve

Q is for Question

When a patrol goes wrong, you realize you have to ask Joel the most important question of all…

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Warnings: Angst, gore-ish, feelings - so many feelings, mercy killings.  Additional Notes: Yes, the title is from Bring Me the Horizon lmao. Again, special thanks to my pal @detectivebarba for the idea. <3 If you'd like, recommended listening for this fic is Paralysed by Jamie Campbell Bower.

All it takes is a second.

One single second of you taking the wrong step, entering the wrong building, trusting the wrong person, and it’s over. You’ve always been careful, unstoppable. Today shouldn’t have been any different. After all, you were with Joel, the only person you truly trusted. And you were on the trail by the creek, the one you’re incredibly familiar with. It should have been easy like it always is. But all it took was one second. One. Stupid. Second.

It happened so fast that it felt like you were moving in slow motion. You rounded the corner while glimpsing back at Joel with a striking smile. And as soon as your eyes met, you felt it. A sharp pain in your shoulder that could have been prevented.

The feeling terrified you, but it was the look in Joel’s eyes that had you in tears. The joy within them died as horror took over, consuming his entire being, suffocating him as he pulled his gun from his holster and aimed it at the creature right behind you. He shot without hesitation, making you shake with uncertainty. And now, as he carries you back to Jackson, you can still hear the ringing in your ears.

Your mind clouds with a thousand and one thoughts, and you can’t hear Joel whispering positive affirmations in your ear. He’s holding you so tightly, but he sounds a million miles away. You can’t process anything he says to you. All you can do, really, is stare into his distressed hazel eyes, thinking about how beautiful they are; how beautiful he is. Something you should have told him more.

“Joel,” you say faintly, your trembling hands reaching for the collar of his shirt. “I…” You get cut off as the pain in your shoulder burns through your body. Your fingers clench against Joel’s chest as you wail out in agony. The sound is enough to crack Joel’s heart in half. He has to choke back his tears as he carries you home. He needs to be strong for you.

“It’s okay, baby girl,” he whispers, but you don’t hear it, too focused on the stinging that numbs you over. The way Joel holds you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt from another human before. It’s silly, but you feel safe. You feel protected even though you know there’s nothing he can do to save you.

Exhaustion hits you quickly. The adrenaline once pulsing through your veins has ceased, leaving you nothing but a drained shell of a person. Because of this, you can feel yourself dozing off in Joel’s arms. His voice is delicate and soothing, lulling you to sleep as his body heat seeps through his clothes and yours, alleviating your nerves.

When you come to, you find yourself in Joel’s bed. The wound on your shoulder has been cleaned and bandaged and Joel sits in the bed next to you, carefully playing with your hair. His face holds such adoration, but the smile on his lips is somber.

“Joel,” your voice cracks as you push yourself up. He frets over you in an instant, attempting to force you back down, keeping you safe and warm under the blankets where nothing can hurt you.

“Hey, what are you doin’?” He questions quietly, large hands gently grabbing you by the arms to keep you still. “You need to rest. Don’t get up. Whatever you need, I can get it for you,” he tells you with worry.

You sigh and reach a hand out to him, lacing your fingers affectionately. His body melts at your touch and you can hear his breathing pick up. Looking at him, you can see the tears threatening to break and cascade down his face. Oh, if he only knew the way you love him. The way you’ll always love him. If that was enough to save you, to save him…

“I don’t need anything,” you whisper, holding his hand. “I just wanted to tell you--”

“You don’t need to tell me anything,” he grunts, squeezing your fingers between his. “You’re fine,” he scoffs, swallowing down the lump in his throat, ignoring the vicious burn. “You…you’re perfect,” he says.

“Joel, please,” you croak, feeling your own heart shatter. He’s so stubborn, you know he’s trying to be brave. He’s in denial. But you have to say your piece before it’s too late. He needs to hear your words. They’ll be all he has left. “I have to.”

He shakes his head, turning away from you, the pain in his chest flaring through the cracks and sticking to him like glue. “Baby,” he warns, the shaking in his voice is prevalent, making it that much harder.

“I love you,” you tell him. “I love you so much. You have no idea.” Your lip trembles as warm tears spill down your cheeks. “You saved me in so many ways, Joel. And I will never be able to repay you for that, but I need you to know that I love you. That I love you now, and I will love you forever. In this life and the next.”

“Stop,” he warns again, but you see the dam begin to crumble. It’s going to hurt. Saying goodbye to him is going to hurt more than any of the pain you’ve experienced in this shitty world. But you have to while you still can. Before you lose your mind.

Ignoring his protests, you sit up in his bed, wincing at the soreness in your shoulder. He watches you with fearful eyes. But you push him back against the headboard and crawl into his lap. His arms wrap around you in an instant, holding you as close as he can, leaving zero space between your warm bodies.

“This is no one’s fault,” you say clearly. “Accidents happen. Luck can’t last forever.” Joel’s arms stiffen, his bone-crushing strength taking over as you speak the words he does not want to hear. “You can’t go back to your old ways, Joel, okay?” You weep as you think of past Joel and the loss he’s suffered. You’ll be damned if he turns into that man again. “Ellie needs you. Tommy needs you. This town needs you. Please don’t lose yourself.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, heart beating rapidly, you can feel the vibrations against your own. His hot breath crashes over your face, his plump lips pursed and face stoic. “I’m fine because you’re fine,” he shrugs as if it’s just a scratch. “You’re fine,” he repeats.

Maybe it’s because you never expected to last this long in this world, but you’ve accepted your fate quickly. You know what’s going to happen. In three days, you’ll be gone. You will be gone. And you know that.

But Joel refuses to accept that right now. He just can’t. You can’t leave him. How is he supposed to live without you?

“I’m not,” you tell him, closing your eyes as you feel him brush over the bandage on your shoulder. “And I need… I need to ask you a question, Joel.”

“No,” he says quickly, harshly, shooting down your thoughts before you can even express them. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your wound, pretending it’s nothing. “Please.”

You know he’s in denial. And you know that if he keeps this up, he’ll never recover. But it’s still the first day. So you keep quiet and let Joel have this one. You don’t have the energy to argue, anyway.

He tilts his head to kiss you, and you jump back, keeping him at a distance. His forehead creases, looking at you with a pout. “Don’t,” you tell him.

“Let me fucking kiss you,” he demands. He grabs your chin, tugging you closer, but you wiggle away. You’re afraid. You don’t know how this works. What if you infect him with a silly kiss? No, that’s not an option. But Joel won’t hear your protests. “I want to risk it,” he urges. “I’m not going to spend this time without kissing you. Are you insane?”

You want to fight him. Tell him you can’t put him in that position. But with the way he’s looking at you, silently begging for you to give yourself to him, you find that you cannot say no.

“Okay,” you whisper, kissing his lips softly. He lets out a long sigh, kissing you back, his hands reaching up, fisting handfuls of your hair to keep you as close as possible. His lips shake as he kisses you like his life depends on it, like it’ll be the last time he gets to taste you. Your chest feels heavy as he whimpers against you.

You’ll miss these lips. You’ll miss his hands and the way they hold you. You’ll miss his voice and the sounds he makes. His face, his humor, his love…fuck, you’ll miss it all. So you have to savor every last second with him, every touch, every word.

That night, you don’t talk much. You let your bodies say what your words can’t. And when you’re done, you hold each other close. Ignoring the pain for the time being.

The next morning when you wake up, you’re surprised Joel isn’t beside you. For a second, you think maybe you’ve been stuck in a wicked nightmare. But then you shift around in the bed and place your feet on the cold floor. The aches flood through your limbs to your bones, and you glance over to your shoulder. The bandage is still there, glaring at you, mocking you.

“Joel?” You call out into the empty room. Your body feels stiff as you stand, sore joints pulsing with each move you make. You grab Joel’s sweatshirt from the chair beside the bed and slip it on to keep you warm. You pad out of the room, down the stairs, calling out for him again. “Joel? Are you here?”

The house is eerily quiet as you search the rooms for your love, sadness washing over you at the thought of him leaving you alone. With what little time you have together, you’d think he’d want to spend every minute at your side. But maybe he’s that deeply in refusal. The thought eats away at you until you hear the back door open and close.

Relieved, you scurry to the back of the house and peer around the corner and down the hall at the noise. Your worries fade as Joel’s face comes into view. He smiles at you, slipping off his boots and leaving them by the door before crossing to where you wait.

“Good morning, darlin’,” he coos, grabbing your face in his hands. He kisses your nose, then your cheeks, then your lips. “How are you feeling?” He asks. “Did you sleep okay? You were out for a while. I wanted to be back before you woke up. I went to the greenhouse to grab some fresh fruit. Thought I’d make us a nice breakfast.”

“I’m okay,” you say, being as truthful as you can be. You don’t look great, and you feel sick. But all things considered, you’re okay. “I mean, as okay as I can be,” you add.

“That’s good,” Joel nods, ignoring the worried look on your face. There’s no time for that. It’s day two. And although he’s done a pretty good job of denying your fate, he still wants to make the most of your time together. So he acts like everything is normal. For his sake, and yours. “Are you hungry?”

To be honest, you’re not sure how to answer that question. You don’t necessarily have hunger pains, but you have discomfort. You’re not sure how eating would go over, but for Joel, you’re willing to try. He went through the effort to plan a nice breakfast for you two. You have to accept. You want to.

“Sure,” you smile, stepping into him and sliding your arms around his middle. You hug him tight, the knots in your stomach coming undone as you feel safe in his grasp. He smiles at your snuggles, kissing the top of your head, holding you close. You feel so good in his arms. Fuck, you fit him so well.

He could hold you forever - he would. No one will ever take your place. You’re it for him.

Before he lets his emotions get the best of him, he untangles his arms from you and heads towards the kitchen. He has to keep himself together as he pulls out ingredients he can use to make some type of pancakes. Your favorite food.

It’s quiet as he gets to work, both of you afraid to break the silence. There’s so much to say, but you don’t dare to start. And Joel doesn’t have the capacity to listen. It’s like when a pet is sick, and you know the time has come to put them down. The best - sometimes only - friend you’ve ever had has to leave you. So you spend their last few moments spoiling them, showing them how much you’re going to miss them.

Joel refuses to acknowledge it, but it’s eating away at him. If he can pretend hard enough, maybe it’ll come true. Maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow and be all better. Maybe a miracle will happen and you’ll turn out just like Ellie… Wouldn’t that be funny?

He chances looking at you, stomach dropping as he sees how fragile you are. Your skin is already paling, color draining from your lips, eyes dull. A stark contrast to how vibrant you usually are, always lighting up a room with your smile, bringing joy to everyone with your laugh. It’s not you. You aren’t…you.

This house, he thinks as he looks around, is too big for just him. How is he supposed to stay here when you’re gone? Living in the darkness, in the empty shadows of you. You and Ellie, you are his reason for breathing. How will he carry on when part of him dies?

His throat tightens as the thought passes. Images of Sarah dying in his arms resurface, flashbacks of that horrific night present themselves like a familiar movie. He can’t pause, he can’t stop it. They come at him in bursts until his fingers are shaking.

“Joel,” you whisper, gingerly wrapping your weak hand around his wrist. He doesn’t waste a second, turning around and throwing himself into your arms. You gasp, bringing your hands to rest against his back and pulling him into you.

He's such a great, powerful man, you can barely hold him together. But he buries his face in your neck, his beard tickling the sensitive skin. And you embrace him harder, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades. You bite your lip to hold in your screams, but fuck, it’s killing you.

“I love you,” you hear him whisper, his warm lips kiss up your neck, desperate and feverish. He pulls back just enough so that his forehead presses against yours, taking your hands in his, and bringing them to his lips. He kisses your fingers, your knuckles, before placing them over his heart. His eyes glisten as they peer into yours. “I love you,” he repeats.

You nod, softening at his touch. His long fingers brush away the tears that stream down your face before cupping your cheeks in his hands and kissing your lips. It’s just as passionate as the first time he kissed you, and just as meaningful as all the ones since.

“I’m always going to be here,” you tell him, knocking your hand upon his chest. “When you’re asleep, you’ll find me waiting for you. Whenever you feel alone, I’ll be around. Until we meet again, yeah?”

“Please don’t leave me,” he mewls in a voice so faint you think you’re hallucinating. “I can’t do this without you,” he admits solemnly.

“You can,” you say softly. “You’ve done it before and you can do it again.”

“Baby,” he whines, grabbing fistfuls of your clothes, bringing you into him. You aren’t close enough. He won’t be satisfied until you’re attached to him.

“I have to ask it, Joel,” you start, but he literally growls and pulls you back harshly. You frown at his anguish, knowing this is the last thing he wants to discuss, but holy shit, you need it. If he loves you at all, he’ll let you ask this fucking question. “Please, just listen to me, damn it!”

He’s taken aback by your outburst, and guilt settles within his gut. He doesn’t mean to make this harder for you, and maybe he’s being selfish, but you’re the fucking love of his life, his best friend, his person. What you’re about to ask of him is dreadful.

“I’m not going to turn into one of those fucking things,” you say sharply. “I won’t, Joel. And as someone you love, you have to make sure I don’t. Okay? Don’t let that happen to me! Please, please?” Your breathing picks up and Joel sees you’re on the verge of a panic attack. Fuck, did he cause this? This is the last thing you need.

“Shhh,” Joel coos as he sweeps your hair out of your face. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m sorry.” He inwardly curses himself for getting you worked up, putting you through more unnecessary pain. “I… I’ll do it…” he says, but it’s unconvincing. It’s just so you’ll shut up and stop talking about it.

For now, it’s good enough. It’s still early, and Joel has your whole day planned. You want to enjoy whatever he has for you and not fight.

So you let him make you your favorite breakfast. He makes a mixed fruit salad and squeezes you fresh juice. Because it’s what you deserve.

You eat together with Joel taking the time to feed you a few bites before you can’t contain your giggles anymore. He does everything he can to keep you smiling. And he talks to you as if nothing is wrong. As if you’ll be just fine. He treats it like any other day.

After you eat, you walk through Jackson hand-in-hand. He lets you say your goodbyes, mortifying Tommy and Maria, breaking Ellie’s heart. It’s a struggle to get away from them, as they don’t want to let you go. But they can see how much Joel needs you. And they won’t get in the way.

When you’ve said what you wanted to say and done the things you’ve wanted to do, Joel leads you back to your favorite place behind the walls. A giant oak tree you frequently visit to enjoy the sunshine and the sounds or to sit under when you want to read in solitude. It’s the place where Joel first kissed you, where he told you about his daughter, where you told him you loved him.

It’s the perfect place for you to rest. And Joel joins you, his back against the bark while you relax in his arms. He sings you your favorite songs and kisses your face when you shiver in pain. He lightly brushes over your bandage, repeating to himself that it’s just a scratch.

You’re so beautiful. The sun shines through your hair, casting a golden glow over your silky strands. He loves to just run his fingers through your hair, feeling the soft tresses slip through his fingertips, hearing you moan as he touches you. It’s one of his favorite things.

And the way you look right now frightens him. But fuck, you’re still the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. Your plush lips still put him in a trance as you speak. And when you blink your eyes and look up at him through fluttering lashes, his heart flutters. How can you just leave him like this?

“Christ, I need to finish teaching you how to play the guitar…” He mutters as this realization hits him. “I should run back and grab it, or find Ellie’s.” He’s frantic as he thinks about the things you still have to achieve. He should have made more time for you.

“Relax,” you breathe, placing your palms over his thighs. He stops fidgeting when you touch him, doing whatever you say. “You’ve taught me well,” you chuckle lightly. “I could probably play an entire song now. Even better than you.”

“Is that so?” He snorts, his deep voice sending goosebumps down your spine. “Alright, pretty girl. Tell me what song you’d play?”

“Crystal by Stevie Nicks,” you say proudly, turning your head to smile at him. For a second, your vision gets fuzzy, Joel’s face distorting into unfamiliar shapes, and panic sets in. But the feeling fades as you blink away the stinging sensation. His gorgeous features come back into view.

It’s starting, you think. You want to distance yourself from Joel, but you know he won’t have it. No more kissing, though. That’s for sure.

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?” He asks tenderly, noticing your quick shift in emotions. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m just tired,” you mutter, closing your eyes when the burning sensation returns to them. You shake your head and lean into the man behind you, mentally trying to calm yourself down. “And I’m feeling a little warm,” you sigh.

Frowning, Joel brings his hand up, placing the back of it to your forehead. He almost jolts away at how strikingly hot you are. You’re sweaty, shaking, and his stomach turns. “Maybe we should head back inside,” he says.

“Okay,” you whisper, unable to argue. You let Joel lift you up, carrying you back to the house bridal style. Your pretty eyes flutter open and closed and he tries to keep up a strong front. But god, he’s ready to break. “Love you,” you mumble sluggishly through chapped lips.

“I love you,” Joel chokes out, clenching his jaw so he doesn’t give away his worries.

He makes it back to the house, carrying you upstairs and placing you safely in the bed. He’s attentive, bringing you water and cold cloths for your fever. He doesn’t sleep at all that night.

“You have to do it, Joel,” you whimper as you cry. The gun in your quivering hand taunts him, pleading with him to end your life. “I can’t turn,” you reiterate. “If you won’t do it…”

“Baby,” Joel grabs the hand holding the gun, pushing it down to your side. His eyes are red and puffy, twitching from the worry and lack of sleep. The misery in your face says it all, but how can he do it? How can he just fucking put you down? “Darlin’, I--”

“You promised me,” you hiss, shoving the gun into his chest. “You swore to me at the very beginning, that if something ever happened… You would do this for me. And I would do it for you!”

“I don’t want to!” Joel shouts as he grabs the gun. He waves it around maniacally, scaring you a little bit. You’re the one losing your mind, but he’s not faring well, either. “I can’t!”

You stare down each other, standing beneath your favorite oak tree. His chest rises and falls rapidly, anger and fear surging through his veins. You won’t even let him kiss you. He tried this morning, and you pushed him away. He went to check your bandage and the view of your skin, all red and black, crushed him. He has to pull himself out of that fantasy bubble now. Because this is it.

“You think I want this?” You speak softly. Your tenacious facade has finally withered. Your voice cracks as you cross to him, grabbing his handsome face in your hands. “I don’t want to die, Joel. I want to stay here with you. I love you!” You sob, curling your body into him. “I love you, I love you. I don’t want to leave you!”

“Fuck, baby girl,” Joel groans. His sturdy arms cover you, holding your small frame against him. He looks behind you, his heart sinking at the carved out initials in the tree bark. You did that this morning when you got back from the creek. Well, with your frail hands, Joel did it. You just told him what to write.

You look at him through your tears, laughing a little at how he probably looks just as distraught as you. You carefully touch his face, running your fingers over his scars one last time. The sickness within you is almost overwhelming. It’s time. It has to be.

“Joel,” you whisper. That question that’s been on the tip of your tongue rolls off with ease now that you can feel yourself deteriorate. “Will you end this? Kill me.”

Loud cries escape his throat and he clutches the gun until he can feel the coldness of it dig into his palm. His lips kiss you all over your face, whispering over and over how much he loves you. But you know this. Joel’s never been a man to show his emotions. But you’ve always known by his actions. And now, when he’s telling you that he wishes he would have said it more, you just have to assure him that it’s okay.

“I wish we had more time,” he gasps between broken sobs.

“Me too,” you mourn.

He places the cold metal to your temple, groans convulsing through his body. You can hear his whimpers, feel the unsteady beating of his heart. His arm holds you so tightly, it’s the only thing that’s calming your crazed brain. The gun cocks and you close your eyes, exhaling your final breaths. A serene emotion sweeps over you. And the last thing you hear in this cruel world is Joel’s loving voice.

“Sleep well, darling,” he sobs. “Find Sarah for me.”

Masterlist

Joel Miller Taglist: @swtaura - @chxpsi - @extraneous-trip - @cerebellam - @tiredbeebo - @kirsteng42 - @trickstersp8 - @detectivebarba