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vigilvntes · 8 months ago

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A Little Company – Adrian Chase x Reader

A/N: this is a prequel to I got so fucking romantic, I apologise (which you can find on my masterlist!!) like this is quite literally just a fic of how vigilante and shadow from that fic met. you don't have to read the other fic, like at all! it's totally optional! but vigilante!reader x adrian is my favourite thing, and i have SO many ideas for this concept, including a direct follow on from this fic so if you want it?! let me know?!

feel free to send me fic/headcanon requests !!!

likes and rbs are appreciated <3

W/C: 4k+

Warnings: language, violence (use of knives, guns etc), mentions of kidnapping, vigilante being a Weird Little Guy™️

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“Hey, what're you doing?”

You don't panic. Instead, you drop your sniper from your shoulder quickly, cringing slightly when it hits the concrete of the rooftop. You stand up and twist your body, stepping away from the edge of the rooftop to press a gun up to the masked forehead of your interruptor. It seems he had the same idea, as his gun is firmly pressed against the black leather of your mask before you can even blink.

“Who the fuck are you?” You hiss.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“I asked first, motherfucker! I swear you better tell me who you are and why the fuck you're here or I won't hesitate to pull the trigger.” You threaten, gripping your gun tighter. Your finger brushes over the trigger. A warning.

“Maybe I won't hesitate either.” He retorts.

“Then. Don't.”

The two of you stare at each other for a few moments. Well, you assume he's staring right back at you, the red visor covering his eyes makes it hard to tell. Eventually, he lets out a quiet sigh, “Fuck. Fine.” He raises his gun-free hand, showing you that he's somewhat surrendered. “You're fuckin’ hardcore.”

“Tell me who you are.” You demand. He may have relented pretty quickly, but he has one last chance to explain who he is before you decide it's not worth the trouble and blow his brains out.

“Vigilante.”

“Vigilante?” You scoff. It has to be the most stupid, on the nose name you've ever heard.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “My friends call me Vig. But we're not friends, so you can't call me that.”

Yeah, no shit, you think.

“And let me guess, you're a vigilante?” You mock, fighting back the urge to laugh with all of your strength. You feel slightly bad when you notice his shoulders sink. But then you remember that he interrupted your mission, and then you feel slightly less bad about it.

‘Vigilante’ drops the gun from your forehead. “Yeah, and what about it? I bet your name isn't any better!” He sounds genuinely offended.

You return the favour and drop your arm. “Really? Because I don't think it can get any worse than ‘Vigilante’. I mean, that's so uncreative, man. And it's a shame, because I'm actually really digging the suit.”

He visibly tenses, “Oh. You like my suit?” His hands pat at the utility belt sitting on his waist and the coloured stripes on his chest. “I made it myself.” He tells you, sounding almost shy about it. You can hear the smile in his voice, though.

“Yeah. It's really cool, actually. I like the visor. Does it… do anything?”

Vigilante tucks his gun back into his belt, swaying on his heels slightly. “Nah. I mean, I wear glasses so… it's a prescription visor. That's all it does. Helps me see.”

You can't fight off the giggle that escapes from your throat, so you allow it. Just this once. “Your visor is prescription?! Dude, you have to be shitting me.”

He breathes out a laugh, “Yeah. It was a pain in the ass to get a hold of. I almost exposed my secret identity, like, three times.”

You nod, somewhat sympathetic to his situation. “Yeah, I can imagine.” You know all about almost exposing your secret identity. Having multiple black leather masks delivered to your house every month is probably a cause for concern. You're sure your delivery service, and even your neighbours, either think you're a murderer (which isn't exactly untrue) or a dominatrix.

“Uh, your suit is cool, too. It's… fitting. Not in that way, though. I just mean that… It suits you! Not that I would really know since I haven't seen your face and we've only just met. It's also fitting in the other way, just in case you were wondering. It hugs your body just right.” He nods once, an affirmation of his words before he awkwardly folds his arms across his chest. You just stare at him for a few moments.

You're not sure why you're talking to him, or why you're allowing him to overstay his welcome like this (not that you'd given him a warm welcome anyway). Anyone else would have been dead at your feet within minutes if they pulled a gun on you like he did. But Vigilante is… surprisingly charming. There's an awkwardness about him, but the charm is definitely there. Not to mention he's made you laugh. Sure, you were laughing at him more than with him, but it's still a point in his favour.

You shake your head, stopping your own thoughts before they wander any further. You still have a mission to complete. “Well, it's been nice talking to you. I have to, uh… Get back to it.” You tell him, using your thumb to gesture over your shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah. Cool.” Vigilante nods at you, giving you a thumbs up before nervously scratching at the back of his neck.

“Cool…” You say under your breath. You turn your attention away from him and pick up your sniper, hoisting it back over your shoulder again. You hear no footsteps, but you assume he's gone. Maybe he's just light on his feet.

So, you kneel down at the edge of the rooftop and look through the scope. A wave of relief rushes through your body when you see that the men you had been tailing through Evergreen all night, the bastards who currently have a young woman tied up in the trunk of their car, are still standing outside of the abandoned building across the street. They're still waiting for their contact to arrive. They're still an easy target. If you shot one of them right now, and the other ran, you're confident in your ability to take him down before he could even make it halfway down the street. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and set your sights perfectly, just two seconds away from pulling the trigger. And then—

“So what are we doing?”

You drop your rifle for the second time tonight, your shot once again ruined by fucking Vigilante. When you turn your head, you see him knelt down beside you, observing the scene. Shaking your head incredulously, you scoff, “We are not doing anything. I— Why are you still here?” He's well and truly overstayed his welcome, and you're getting pissed off.

“I don't know. Figured I could help.” He mumbles, shrugging his shoulders casually.

“I don't need your help.” You spit back.

“In my defence, I never said you needed my help. Maybe I just wanna help? I can be your backup. Not— Not that you need backup. I'm sure you can handle it on your own. But those guys look tough— Not that you're not tough, either. I just don't really have anything to do tonight. My buddy’s banging a girl he met at a bar last night and—...”

A harsh sigh from you cuts him off. “Those guys have a woman in the trunk of their car. I don't know who she is, but I can only assume they're planning to sell her or kill her. I found out about their plans earlier tonight from a contact of mine but I couldn't stop them from taking her in time. So I’m stopping them now. Satisfied?” You give him a pointed look.

He nods, and your gaze lingers on him for a moment longer before you go back to looking down the scope, lining up your aim.

“Hey, you never told me your name.”

“Vigilante…” Your voice is low. A warning. This is a race against time and you can't allow yourself to be distracted like this for much longer. If the girl was taken inside, your job would get a whole lot harder. You want to avoid that, if possible.

A quiet, “Sorry.”

Sighing for what feels like the hundredth time, you mumble, “Shadow. You can call me Shadow.”

“Shadow?!” He exclaims suddenly, making you jump slightly. You can only hope he didn't catch that.

“Yeah…?”

“You ripped on me for Vigilante and your name is Shadow?!”

You look over at him, your mouth agape, “Are you kidding me?! Shadow is a fucking cool name! It's simple and effective!”

It's Vigilante’s turn to laugh now, and boy is he rubbing it in. He leans back on his heels, his hands clutching at his stomach. “And let me guess, you're called Shadow because you kill in the shadows?” He mocks, throwing his head back as he laughs.

“Oh, I'll be killing you in the shadows if you don't shut the fuck up.” You threaten. If looks could kill, Vigilante would be dead ten times over. Oh, how you wish looks could kill.

“I just don't understand how you could possibly think that ‘Shadow’ is a cooler name than Vigilante.”

You roll your eyes, glancing back down the scope, “I don't understand why you th– Fuck.”

“What is it?”

The men are gone. The car is, to your relief, still parked up outside of the building. You can only assume the woman is in there with them, and their contact has arrived. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking FUCK. The last thing you wanted was for them to move their business inside.

Your job just got a lot harder.

You stand up quickly (your sniper hitting the ground for the third time), sheathing your knife and pointing it at Vigilante. He lets out an ‘oh fuck’ as he scrambles backwards, away from the knife that's currently a mere ten centimetres away from his face.

“I could fucking kill you. Right here, right now.” You hiss, venom laced into your tone. You're seeing red. It's tempting to just plunge the knife right into his skull.

“Me?! Why me?!” He squeaks out, looking up at you from the ground.

“Because you fucking distracted me! If you weren't here then I could've had this whole thing finished by now!” You want to scream in frustration. This is just one of the many reasons why you always work alone. Why you don't see the point or the appeal in having a partner anymore. Alone, you're completely in control. You don't have to look out for anyone else, and there's less opportunity for distraction. “I should've killed you the minute I saw you, because now I'm paying the price for being nice. I should kill you right now…” You pause, your breathing heavy and angry, nostrils flaring as you curse yourself internally for what you're about to say. “But I won't. Because I could use some help.”

He's silent for a moment, then he carefully asks, “You… You want me to help you?”

You roll your eyes and shove your knife back into its holster, “Yes.”

“Y–You need my help?” He stutters over his words, and if you were in any other situation, you might have found it kind of cute. Unfortunately for both of you, you're not.

“I don't need your help. I can handle myself. What I said is that I could use your help. It'd be useful to me.” You pat your body down quickly, accounting for all of your weapons. Gun number one? Check. Gun number two? Check. Knives? Check. Extra ammo? Check. You'll come back for the sniper. “And if you ask me to repeat myself for a third time, I'm gonna change my mind.” And I might just kick you right off the rooftop.

You don't even give him a chance to ask again, because you're already halfway across the rooftop, making your way to the shaky ladders you climbed to get up there earlier in the night. It's only when you turn your body and carefully place your foot on the top step, hands gripping the rusty bars, that you realise he isn't following you. He's just staring at you from where you left him on the hard concrete. “Well? Are you coming?” You demand a final answer.

“Fuck yeah, I am.” He mumbles, picking up his gun before scrambling to his feet and following you.

You both scale down the ladder, quickly descending until your feet hit the ground. That's when you start to panic, just a little bit. You prefer to be on higher ground, to have some kind of territorial advantage over your targets. It's not that you're bad at ground work, you just like to keep your hands as clean as possible. Literally.

Vigilante joins you on the ground, and the two of you get moving. You make your way around the building you'd been perched on only minutes ago, pressing your body against the wall on the corner when you reach the street, hiding yourselves in the shadows.

It's quiet. Buzzing streetlights and Vigilante’s quiet breathing is the only thing you can hear. Your own racing heartbeat, too. But you want to forget about the anxiety that's burrowed itself into the pit of your stomach. You can see the abandoned building. It's directly across the street from you, and the door is closed. You'll have to find your own way in. A window that you can shimmy through or another door around the back with a lock you can quietly pick at. Then you'll have to figure out how to not cause a commotion. You'll have to be stealthy, making a point to not—

“This kinda feels like a date.” Vigilante’s voice throws you off, ruins your concentration. You take your eyes off of the building and glance up at him with narrowed eyes, brows furrowed under your mask. He continues, “The more I think about it, this kinda is a date.”

“How is this a date?” You ask, bewildered because never in your life would you take rescuing a girl from a group of kidnappers to be a date.

“I don't know. I mean, this whole situation is kinda romantic, if you think about it. It could be classed as a date.” He shrugs.

"Romantic? Really?"

"Yeah. When you pulled the knife on me it was, like, the hottest thing I've ever seen. I honestly thought you were gonna kill me, but you didn't. And now I get to think about that moment forever. That's romance."

Vigilante has stunned you into silence. You can only stare up at him, mouth agape as he looks down at you. You're hoping he'll burst into laughter, and tell you that his warped idea of romance is just a joke. That he's just playing around. But he doesn't, so you just tell him, "This is not a date. I don't even know who you are.”

“Uh, yeah. You do. I’m Vigilante.” He tells you, sounding ever so slightly offended that you might have forgotten his name in the twenty minutes you've known him.

“That's not what I meant. I don't know who you really are. And you don't know who I am.”

Vigilante scoffs, “That's so irrelevant. Our alter-egos know each other and they could totally date. Like in those spy movies. The ones where the main characters hate each other but they're forced to work together under their alter-egos and eventually they fall madly in love.” He lets out a sigh that almost sounds… dreamy. As if he believes that this scenario is going to play out exactly that way.

You're hellbent on telling him otherwise. “This isn't a date. There's gonna be no falling madly in love, or whatever. You ruined my plan, and now you're helping me. And when we're finished here, we go our separate ways. That's the end of this story.”

Unfortunately, you and Vigilante make a pretty good team.

You were so hoping he'd be useless. That you had an excuse to never want to see him again after tonight. But you soon found out that he's smart, strategic. Capable. As soon as the two of you entered the building, he was focused and driven. That quirky persona he had before was no more. Vigilante was more than happy to take the lead for you; he snuck up behind the fuckers who kidnapped the woman and drove his knife into their skulls with precision and an alarming amount of stealth, holding his hand over their mouths until he was sure they weren't breathing anymore.

You didn't mind this arrangement, the less literal blood on your hands, the better.

Eventually, the two of you come to a halt outside of a small room right at the back of the building. You press your ear up against the wooden door, cursing when you hear a male voice coming from inside followed by muffled whimpers and cries.

“She's in there. With the contact.” You whisper to Vigilante. The guys you'd been tailing through Evergreen are already dead, lying in a puddle of their own blood near the entrance. You can only assume the fucker they were planning to sell the girl to is the owner of the voice.

“Want me to go in and fuck him up?” He whispers back.

You think about it for a moment. These guys have been pissing you off all night. You've been through a lot of trouble to save this girl. Of course, you don't mind. If it means she's safe, that's all that matters to you. But you would like to get the final blow. So, you reply, “No. I got this.”

Slowly, you take your knife out of your holster, and before you can even think about talking yourself out of it, you kick the door. It swings open violently, hitting the wall with a loud crash and you're sure you broke at least one of the hinges. Who cares? It's not like the building’s going to be used for anything other than criminal activity.

The man inside lets out a loud and confused ‘what the fuc–', but you move too quickly for him. You kick in his knees before he can even think about turning around or creating his own plan of attack. He's on his knees, wide-eyed and panicked, and you have one arm wrapped around his neck to hold him in place while the other holds your knife, pressing against the tender, stubbly skin of his neck.

He's younger than you expected him to be. When you heard the woman was being sold to a contact, you expected him to be some sick freak in his mid 50s. But no, he's probably younger than you; and given the way he's thrashing around in your hold, he's probably more inexperienced than you.

He's working for someone, and you'll find a way to get it out of him.

The woman is in the corner, watching the scene with wide eyes and muffled screams coming from her duct taped mouth. You give her a slow nod, trying to reassure her that you're not here to kill her. That you're on her side and you will get her out of here. She seems to calm down ever so slightly.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. P–Please don't kill me. I–I’ll do anything. Anything you want. You can have the girl. You can have whatever you want. Money? Do you want money? I–I can pay you! Please I— I have kids.” The man begs, his voice shaking.

“Ew. Why would we want your kids?” Vigilante asks from behind you, and the sudden appearance of a second voice only makes him panic more.

You can't help but roll your eyes at his squirming and pleading. “Why did you take her?” You ask.

“I– I don't know. I don't know anything. I swear!” He tells you.

Of course you don't believe that, so you press your knife against his neck harder, nicking at the skin, making sure you draw some blood. He lets out a sob, and in response Vigilante lets out a quiet laugh. “I don't believe you. Why did you take her?” You ask again.

“I– I don't know. I– I was just told to collect her. I think she– She tried to sell us out. Boss wanted to–”

“Boss?” You ask slowly. So he is working for someone.

“Oh fuck. I'm fucking dead. He's gonna kill me. He's gonna fucking KILL ME.”

Vigilante approaches now, kneeling down in front of the man. He places a hand on his shoulder, a reassuring gesture. “Buddy, no. He's not gonna kill you. You don't have to worry about that.” For a moment you're confused. You didn't take Vigilante to be the sympathetic type. But then he says, “Because we're gonna kill you first.”

Ah. That makes more sense.

“Who are you working for?” You tighten your grip on his neck, your knife pressing into his skin harder. If you have to kill him before you find anything out, you will; you'd just prefer to get at least something from him. He stays quiet, only whimpering and sobbing quietly to himself. “Look, you're as good as dead anyway. You might as well tell me which asshole you're working for.”

A moment more of silence. You're just about to drag your knife across his throat when he shouts, “Scorpion! I'm working for Scorpion! The girl– She– The girl was gonna sell us out! She has information on us– I don't– I don't know how she got it! Fuck, I don't even know who she is!”

“Fuck.” You hiss. Of course it's Scorpion.

“Scorpion? Who the fuck is Scorpion?” Vigilante asks, glancing up at you.

You just shake your head and screw your eyes shut, slashing at the man’s throat quickly. It's a deep cut, and the blood flows from the wound like a waterfall. He lets out a strangled yell, gurgling and choking on his own blood before you push his body to the floor. He stills after a few moments.

“Check the body.” You tell Vigilante, and he obliges, reaching into the pockets of the man you just killed. You make your way over to the woman quickly, shoving your knife back into its holster.

She panics as you approach her, pressing her back against the wall. She whimpers and writhes in her restraints, and you can't blame her. If you were a witness to what she just saw, you'd probably be afraid of yourself too. But you kneel down in front of her, and tell her gently, “You're gonna be okay. You're safe now.” You take out your pocket knife slowly, and her eyes widen. “I'm just gonna use this to cut your restraints, okay? Then we’ll get you out of here.”

She seems to calm down a little, and you take the opportunity to cut the duct tape around her mouth, peeling it carefully until she takes a deep, frantic breath through her mouth.

“Hey, Shadow?” Vigilante calls from behind you, and you glance over your shoulder at him as he stands over the body, inspecting the wallet he found. “This guy’s name was Robert Robertson. How fucking lame is that? You know, I think we did him a favour. Who wants to live with a name like Robert Robertson?”

“Oh, his parents hated him.”

You go back to cutting the rope restraints around the her wrists and ankles as she watches you, breathing shakily everytime the metal brushes against her skin. You offer her quiet apologies. Eventually, she's free, and you stand up, offering her a hand.

She doesn't take it. Instead, she asks you in a small, scared voice, “You're not gonna kill me, right?”

“No. Of course not.” You reassure her.

She's not convinced by your words. She looks at you with pleading eyes, and then her gaze flicks behind you, prompting you to turn around. You see Vigilante standing just a few metres away from you, flipping his knife in the air and catching it. You scoff, “Dude, can you put that thing away? You're freaking her out.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled, tucking his knife back into its holster, kicking his feet like a scolded puppy dog.

“We're not gonna kill you. I promise.” You tell her, offering your hand again. This time, she takes it, allowing you to pull her up to her feet. She stumbles almost instantly in her exhaustion, every muscle in her body aching and sore; you catch her, calling out to Vigilante.

He picks her up, and the three of you make your way out of the building and into the street.

It doesn't take long for your contact, Erica, to arrive. The woman is reluctant to leave you, insisting that you should come with her for protection. It takes around ten minutes for you to convince her that she'll be safe without you; that you trust Erica and she'll be taken somewhere safe.

You wave her off, and not long after you find yourself back on the rooftop with Vigilante.

“So… Scorpion. Who's that?” He asks, sitting down beside you as you pack your rifle and other miscellaneous weapons into your grey duffel bag.

“How long have you been doing… this? Like, how long have you been Vigilante?”

He shrugs, “Maybe five or six years.”

“And you've never had any run-ins with Scorpion or his men?” You ask, and he shakes his head in response. Lucky bastard. “He runs the biggest underground black market for illegal weapons in Washington. He chose Evergreen as his base for operations because it's relatively quiet. I mean, who would expect something like that to be happening here? He's been on my radar for… a while. And I’m on his.”

“You've met him?”

You take a deep breath, a few moments decide your course of action. You could tell the truth, or you could lie. Lying seems like to be the most appealing option. "No. I haven't met him. But I've made sure to be a pain in his ass, for sure. He probably knows about me."

You stand up and sling your bag over your shoulder before he can respond, making it clear that you're not interested in carrying on this conversation. You barely know him, and you don't feel it's necessary to reveal everything to him. “Anyway. Thanks for tonight. For helping me out. Even though it was kinda your fault that I needed help. It was… fun. I guess.” Fun? Did you seriously just say that?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” He apologises, sheepish. "I had fun too. Just in case you were wondering."

A silence falls over the two of you, allowing some time for you to collect your thoughts. You meant it when you said that it'd be fun, and that freaks you out. It's been a while since you've spent time with anyone outside of your workplace. Having friends means having baggage, something that others can use as leverage; that's something you can't really afford to have.

“So… Is there any way that I could, like… contact you?” He asks, kicking his leg back and forth nervously, his shoe scuffing against the concrete.

“You… You want to contact me?”

Vigilante shrugs, “Yeah. I don't know about you, but I think we made a pretty good team. Unless you disagree. Then I think it was awful and we should go our separate ways and never do it again.”

“N-no. I think… Yeah. I agree.” You stutter. You fucking STUTTERED. How dare your voice betray you like this? You want to grab your own shoulders and shake yourself. Scream ‘THIS ISN’T YOU’. You've proven to yourself time and time again that you're ruthless. That you don't need anyone's help, or anyone to look out for you. Yet here you are, agreeing that you and Vigilante did make a pretty awesome team, and that maybe you'd be open to meeting with him again. What the fuck is wrong with you? You're truly fucked.

Still, you pull out your burner phone and hand it over to Vigilante, “You can just… y’know, put your number into there.”

So he does just that, handing your phone back to you. “So, you'll text me? Or.. call me? Whichever you prefer. I know some people prefer to text because it's less pressure–...”

“I'll text you.” You assure him, giving him a quick nod before making your way to the ladders, wondering what the fuck just happened and when you'd decided to start being friendly with random Vigilante’s. Especially Vigilante’s that are literally called Vigilante.

You still think it's a dumb name, but that does nothing to wipe the stupid grin off your lips as you make your way home.

#making myself laugh with my own fic?#it's more likely than you think #fr i just came here to check that i actually wrote this #i couldn't remember if it was me or someone else #is that bad?#yeah #probably #oh well!#everyone be quiet liz is speaking

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vigilvntes · 1 year ago

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even if it's a false god (we'd still worship this love)

a/n; ive been working on this for over a year, & after four rewrites, its finally here! thank you to @pedroassmanpascal for your help when i was conceiving this & working on it last year! this is my first time working in this genre, & it hasn't been beta read all the way thru, so please let me know what you think!

warnings; pov change, a butt load of angst, age gap (reader is in her thirties), violence, death/murder, near death experience, voyeurism, female masturbation, male masturbation, male!recieving, female!recieving, penetrative sex (if ive missed any feel free to let me know!!)

taglist; @likedovesinthewnd @harmshake @nightmare-viper

word count; 7.3k

summary; Joel's been pretending you don't exist for weeks now, and you have no idea why. But when you get caught up in a life or death situation, confessions are made, lines are crossed, and your relationship is changed.

Every single part of Joel's body hurt, and he was exhausted. Joel was always exhausted, but this day had been particularly hard. Everything that he - and you had gone through had been for nothing. The supplies and weapons you had been looking for had been looted already. Only a few old, rusty tins of food covered in at least a years worth of dust had been left behind. Not to mention the constant hoards of infected you had to fight through. Now, it was a fight to get back to the QZ to make another plan that could end the exact same way. Yeah, he'd had plenty of bad days, but this one would sting for a while. The hope that had been reignited had gone out again. Now he was just tired.

No matter how hard he tried though, he couldn't sleep. He was just lying on the hard floor -the fabric floor of the tent and his blanket doing nothing to help with the lumps under his back- with his eyes closed and ears alert. He knew how dangerous it could be, the horrors lurking in the woods, even when it was calm and quiet, and he hoped you had heeded his advice and were asleep with your gun.

But then he heard a whimper, and his eyes shot open as he stayed silent, his hand on his pistol. A barely heard whine, and he sighed with relief as he realised it was you. These past few weeks had been taxing - although the past twenty years hadn't exactly been a cake walk - and it dawned on him that you were probably crying. Joel had been so drained and tired during dinner that he selfishly hadn't noticed you were unusually quiet. He also didn't think about it when you retired to bed early. Joel tried to ignore the sounds, but he couldn't, he was just picturing you curled up in your tent, crying yourself to sleep, and the guilt of not noticing anything was wrong was gnawing at him. He groaned and slipped out of his tent, making his way to yours while putting the gun in the back of his jeans.

He quietly navigated the campsite and stopped outside your tent, unsure how to proceed. Did he knock on the fabric door, or did he call out your name? He wasn't good at this stuff, and he hadn't been for a long time, but he also knew that you needed someone; or, more specifically, you needed a friend. You were just that kind of person, even if the world had forced you to pretend you weren't. For a few seconds, he couldn't hear anything, but just as he was about to give up, he heard another noise, but this one sounded more like a moan. Then another one, louder now, and there was no mistaking it that time. Joel's body stiffened, and he started to get hot as his cock twitched at the thought of you getting yourself off, mere feet away from him. He heard your sleeping bag rustle slightly, and he bolted back to his tent, breathing heavily as he zipped the tent door.

He stared up at the roof of the tent, trying - but ultimately failing - not to think about what he'd just almost interrupted. His jeans were uncomfortably tight, and he had to unbutton them just for some relief. He tried to divert his thoughts, to think about anything else, but his mind took some winding paths just to get him back to thinking of you. Joel groaned. He needed a release, and it had been a long time since he'd done, well, anything. It wasn't going to hurt anyone, and you were doing it just mere feet away from him, so what was stopping him? They were all flimsy arguments. He knew that, but it was the easiest solution to the problem at hand.

Joel slipped a hand into his boxers, his cold touch sending goosebumps down his spine, the sensation making him harder. He began to stroke himself, and when he closed his eyes, he could see you writhing around in your tent, your fingers deep inside yourself. He could hear you from your tent still, your quiet whimpering and moaning sounding out through the stillness of the forest, and Joel caught his own moan in his throat as his movements got quicker. He couldn't bring himself to care about the possible dangers lurking, the grip he had his cock on tightening slightly as pictures of you clouded him. He imagined you being in here with him, imagined that you were both watching each other. It didn't take long for Joel to make himself orgasm, and he cleaned himself up, hoping sleep came to him before the guilt did.

Joel spent the next few days convinced he was going crazy. Every time you looked at him, he was sure you could see the guilt he was struggling to hide, like his memories would be projected for you to see. Every time you said his name, he was waiting for you to tell him you knew what he'd done, that you'd seen him outside your tent, and heard him in his. He felt so dirty, creepy, ashamed, and at some point, he shut down completely. He knew you were confused, you weren't as good at hiding your emotions as you thought, and you were confused by what you could've possibly done to warrant the cold shoulder from Joel, who could barely look at you, and it made him feel worse. He just didn't know what else to do, so he went back to what he knew best.

After traipsing through the woods for what felt like forever, Joel just wanted to set up camp and get through the night. He was tired, sore, hungry, and needed a moment away from you, without your sad eyes staring at him, without your attempts to get him to open up. So when you announced that you'd had enough and insisting that you stop for the night, Joel didn't argue. While Joel set up the tents, you gathered some wood from the perimeter of the "campsite", and Joel took a moment to watch on fondly, smiling to himself at the smug look of accomplishment on your face, taking the "win" against Joel.

Dinner was silent that night, as the past few had been, and while Joel refused to look up from his food, you were refusing to take your eyes off Joel. Your gaze was burning a hole in his head. He felt scrutinised as he ate, and it took everything in him not to engage. He didn't know if you were trying to annoy him into talking to you or if you were lost in your own thoughts, but he didn't ask.

Once again, straight after dinner, you headed into your tent, sending a soft "goodnight" Joel's way. He looked up but not before the sound of the zip echoed out, and he sighed, rubbing his temples.

The fire had died long ago, but Joel still hadn't found the energy to crawl into his tent. He stared up at the starry night, and just as his mind started to wander into dangerous territory -somewhere he never went if he could help it- he heard the noise that had been playing on a loop in his head for the past two days. His cock stirred and he covered his face with his hands. Not again.

He knew he had to get back to his tent and fast, but he had to do it quietly. He began to slowly move the canisters and empty tins, careful not to make any noise. He didn't want you to think he was a pervert. Although that's exactly how he felt right about now. He was about to stand up when he heard a single word from your mouth that made him stop in his tracks.

Joel.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Did you know he was there? Did you hear him? Could you see his silhouette projected on your tent, like it was a cinema screen? He ran through a hundred excuses in his head as he slowly turned to look over his shoulder, and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw no signs that you'd heard him. He scoffed at himself and shook his head. He really was going crazy.

Mmm, Joel, don't stop!

He definitely wasn't going crazy, there was no mistaking it. Not only were you masturbating, mere feet from Joel, but you were moaning his name, and he had never been so hard in his life. He couldn't stop himself, and once again, he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, and while you moaned and gasped from inside the tent, Joel pleasured himself.

His precum was seeping out and over his fingers, and he bit down harshly on his lip to stop his own sounds from escaping. His motion got quicker, matching the sweet sounds coming from your tent, and when you brought yourself to orgasm and Joel's name slipped from your lips, he came undone. He emptied himself onto the dirt, too entranced by your gasps to notice the streams spilling over his fists. He dropped his head against the log behind him and groaned.

"Shit."

It happened three more times, and Joel had never been more conflicted. He was constantly stressed and on edge; the guilt from what he was doing was eating away at him. He'd always been someone that could control himself - he had to be - but when it came to this, to you, it was like something triggered inside him. He'd known you for years and had never had these thoughts or these feelings. Then again, he'd never spent this much time with you, and he'd never heard his name fall from your lips like that.

Joel couldn't deny he thought you were beautiful, and that maybe it inflated his ego a little, that you were thinking about him while you fucked yourself with your fingers, or dreaming about him, but he was under no illusions that it meant anything. You didn't have feelings for him. He was just the only person you'd seen in weeks that wasn't trying to kill you, and feelings get warped. Especially with the way the world was now. Besides, he'd seen the guys that hung around you like moths drawn to a flame. They were much younger and fitter than Joel was. Yet, he found himself as one of those moths, and he couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be caught in your flame.

Joel was no longer waiting to hear you to get himself off. His mind would conjure up images that made it so he couldn't help himself. Images of your mouth around his cock, your hair tangled in his fingers as he fucked your face. His head buried deep in between your legs as he ravished you, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your moans of ecstasy. Of his cock slamming into you, his fingernails leaving little indents in your ass as he gripped firmly. The fact that he would never get the real thing didn't bother him. He was content with his fantasies. But he still felt guilty, and the tension between you and Joel was getting worse.

But things were beginning to simmer inside Joel, and his secret masturbating habits were no longer the sole reason for his behaviour. Joel would look over at you, by the fire feading the book you'd memorised front to back, and he'd let himself imagine running his hands through your hair as you sat lazily against him. When he slept, his dreams were of a life he'd never thought he'd want - or have again, and you were always by his side. He'd dream of dancing with you in the living room, waking up beside you, the sunlight making you glow like an ethereal figure. He'd dream of being happy. He'd put it down to the ridiculous situation he found himself in and told himself that once you were both back in the QZ, things would go back to normal. You would go back to people your own age, and Joel would just be a memory of a small fantasy you had while on a difficult run.

But then, as if the universe was trying to intervere, everything changed. The abandoned building you'd been hiding out in turned out not to be not so abandoned, and the two of you had gotten yourselves into a sticky situation. Hunters had cornered you, and in all the chaos and commotion, the last man standing had grabbed you, now using you as a human shield with his arm almost choking you, a knife pressed just above your collarbone while Joel had his gun aimed right at him.

"I'll take yer girls head off!" The guy yelled. Joel could see you were terrified, and it took everything in him not to let his rage consume him. He knew that one wrong move could get you killed. He needed to be smart about this.

"Look, man, we don't have much, but you can take it all. Just let her go." Joel said, trying to keep his voice even. He was terrified that he wasn't going to be able to save you, and he couldn’t live with that. It wasn't just about someone else that he cared about dying or about him failing. You understood him, and somewhere along the way, you had unknowingly brought him out of the darkness. You were his beacon of light, and if he lost that, if he lost you, he wasn't sure he'd ever find his way out of the darkness again.

"Yeah? What if I want 'er?" The hunter sneered, caressing your cheek with his knife, pressing the tip into your skin ever so slightly.

"Not an option." Joel growled.

"Seems like it is to me. I could drag 'er outta here right now. There ain't nothing you could do about it."

You felt sick. You couldn't believe you'd let yourself be distracted by Joel being tackled to the ground, and now this disgusting pig had you in a fucking headlock. You'd seen Joel take down hunters and the infected, sometimes effortlessly, so why the hell did you freeze when Joel had been pinned to the floor momentarily? Your feelings for Joel were getting more and more confusing, and you didn't like it one bit, they were going to get you or Joel killed if you carried on like this.

It's not like you wanted to be attracted to Joel, not when there wasn't a single thing you could do about it. Why would Joel ever go for you? He was twenty years your senior, old enough to be your father. There was just no chance in hell. Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from fantasising about him. It wasn't hurting anyone, and it was keeping you somewhat sane, and he'd never know.

"You won't make it out of this room." You heard Joel say in his deep, gruff voice, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeezed shut when you felt the man breathing on your neck, the hot air making your stomach twist, bile rising up your throat as he inhaled your scent, his own vile one violating your senses. You clenched your fist and felt the cold blade of your dagger against your arm, the one you'd forgot you had up your sleeve, literally. How big of an idiot was this guy? How didn't he see you had a knife? As Joel and the hunter traded words, you quickly formulated a plan. If you could somehow manage to stab - or at least slash the guy - maybe he'd let go of you, and then Joel could get a shot in.

"Let go of me!" You shouted, struggling slightly, while slipping the knife further down your sleeve. It worked, and you smirked proudly. You raised your eyebrows at Joel before glancing down at your hand, subtly flashing the knife. You looked back at him, then darted your eyes to your captor. Joel took a second, and you knew he was weighing up his options before he nodded slightly. His eyes darted down to the guys leg, and you winked to let him know you understood the plan. The man still had a fucking knife to your throat, and you didn't want to give him any warnings or ideas.

"Don't worry." The hunter said, 'I'll look after 'er good."

Joel nodded to you, and you clenched the knife, stabbing right into the hunter's thigh. His yells of pain echoed around the room, and he released you from his grip, the knife in his hand clattering to the floor. You stumbled forward, kicking the weapon across the room, but you thankfully managed to stay on your feet. You grinned at Joel, feeling victorious, but it was a fleeting feeling.

"Fuckin' bitch!" The hunter shouted and you turned around, but not quick enough. The knife was sticking out of his thigh, but it didn't seem like he felt it, he was too overcome with rage, and the back of your head slammed against the wall as the hunter pinned you by the throat. You gasped for air, the guys hands squeezing the life out of you, spit flying as he screamed in your face.

"I'll fuckin' kill you, you goddamned bitch!"

You tried to pry the man's hands from around your neck, but it was no use. He was too strong, and your vision was fading rapidly. You were barely able to gasp Joel's name, and you were quickly losing consciousness. All you could do was stand there and let the darkness consume you as you thought about Joel. The way he'd try to hide his smile when you did something wrong, or when you said something silly. The way he laughed, how it was the rich sound you rarely got to hear. How he protected you, even though he clearly didn't want to be around you. How you were going to die, not knowing what you did to make him ignore you the past couple of weeks. Not knowing why he had this sudden disdain for you.

But then, the pressure around your neck suddenly disappeared, and you fell to the floor, gasping for air as you clutched your throat, your eyes wide and darting around wildly, searching for Joel.

He appeared on his knees in front of you and grabbed your face, his panicked, brown eyes staring deep down into your soul.. "Hey! Hey! Are you alright? Come on baby, just breathe for me."

His large hands were warm on your cheeks, the hunter's blood that stained them smearing across your skin as he caressed your cheek, but still, you leaned into his touch. He had never been this gentle before; in fact, he'd never really touched you unless being dragged by your wrist as you ran from infected counts. "I'm okay," you managed to say, and Joel sighed with relief.

"We need to move. Can you stand?" Joel asked, and you nodded, eyes closed as you took a few extra slow, deep breaths. "Okay. Take my hand."

You opened your eyes to Joel's outstretched hand and you took it, letting him haul you gently to your feet. He hooked his arm under yours to help you walk, and as you concentrated on walking with shaky legs, Joel guided you to the door. "Wait here." He said, disappearing out the front door to check for any danger.

As he did so, you turned to inspect the chaos you were leaving behind. Your stomach lurched as you saw the blood pooling around the dead man with a clean, almost surgical, maroon slice straight across his neck, and you wondered just how many times Joel had had to do it, to get such a clean cut. Your eyes snapped back to the door, where Joel was staring at you, his eyes wide and sad, like a puppy, before they hardened. "Let's go." Joel said. "We'll find a house to hide out in."

The universe had decided you could both use a break, and less than two hours after the attack, deep inside the seemingly never-ending woods, the two of you came across an unlocked cabin, the keys just sat on the side table. Joel put his finger up to his lips, and you nodded, following his lead as he crept through the front door. He pointed at you, then at the spot you were standing, and you nodded, doing as you were told while Joel checked it out. Neither of you wanted to take any more chances after today.

"Hey, you might wanna come check this out!" Joel's voice echoed through the cabin, and you closed the front door before heading towards the sound of his voice.

The cabin was rustic and run down, and looked to have been abandoned for a decade at least. It had been a hunter's cabin, judging by the animal heads mounted up on the walls, staring down at you with their black, beady eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere. The fireplace was brick, an axe resting against it with piles of wood stacked in front. You turned around and found Joel in the kitchen, staring down at the sink. As you got closer, you heard the familiar sound of a running tap, and you smiled. You'd take any kind of water right now, anything to get rid of this day.

But then you saw it, dancing through the air, rising from the tap. You were convinced you'd imagined it until you saw Joel's fingers rolling together under the water, a look of shock on his face.

"Is that what I think it is?" You asked as you got closer, and Joel nodded. You gingerly held your fingers out, anticipating cold water, not wanting to get your hopes up. But when your fingers hit the warm water, you let out a bewildered laugh, cupping both hands under the water, letting it spill over as it slowly but surely got hotter. "I can't believe it!"

"Yeah, well, we deserved a win eventually." Joel replied. You made eye contact, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards slightly, his eyes darting down to your neck before he took a sharp breath and turned away. "You should go have a shower."

"What about you?" You asked, and he sighed.

"Just go. I'll wash up here."

After stripping off your clothes, you looked at your reflection. Only then did you notice the bruising around your neck, and the blood smeared across your cheeks. You could still feel the way the hunter's hands squeezed so tight that you could feel the life draining from your body. You could still feel the panic and terror you felt and the relief when Joel forced the hunter to let go. The look in Joel's eyes when he held your face, the gentle touch as he caressed your cheeks and brushed your hair out of your face. You thought you'd made your peace with dying long ago, but that was until you almost met death, and it made you realise you didn't want to leave Joel. If Joel was in your life, maybe living was worth it.

You were so lost in thought, staring at your scarred body in the mirror, you didn't hear Joel knock on the door. It was only when the door burst open with Joel shouting your name that you turned around, surprised.

Joel kept his eyes on yours, refusing to let himself cave and look down; although it's all he wanted to do. You knew you should grab the towel, or the shower curtain, anything to cover yourself, but you were frozen, like Joel's gaze was keeping you locked on the spot.

Joel cleared his throat and shoved a bundle of clothes into your arms. “Sorry, I-uh, I thought maybe you were- it doesn't matter. I found those, thought you'd want some clean clothes.”

He left, slamming the door behind him, and you exhaled. You ignored the thoughts creeping in and the heat rising up your body and climbed into the bathtub under the running shower; watching the dirt and blood trickle off your body and down the plughole. Once the water ran clean, you stepped out, patting yourself down with the small towel. You then filled up the bathtub with hot water and then threw your underwear and clothes into it. It wouldn't fully clean them, but it'd be enough for now. You picked up the oversized flannel and pulled it over your shoulders, forgoing the jeans that were way too big for you, even with the help of a belt. You sighed and headed back out to Joel.

The fire was burning, the crackling wood echoing through the cabin. Joel was sitting at the wooden table in front of the window, sipping on a glass of wine. There were two plates of pasta on the table, a glass of wine next to one of them. You padded across the room and dropped into the seat opposite Joel, studying his face as he stared out the window. The sky was pink and orange as it set through the trees, the view almost as beautiful as the one sitting next to you; the light of the sunset cascading over Joel. He turned his head to you, and you glanced down at the food. Joel cleared his throat.

"I found some pasta and wine in the cupboards. It only went out of date a few weeks ago." He explained. "It should be okay for us to eat."

"I'm sure it's fine." You replied, "anything's better than beans again, right?" You leaned forward and took the glass of wine, taking a long sip, basking in the way it burned your throat slightly. It had been so long since you'd had even a sip of alcohol, you could swear your head was already fuzzy.

Like most dinners lately, this one was silent. But this was slightly different, considering you were probably the safest you'd been in a long time, and you were eating actual food off actual plates. If you and Joel were in a better place, it would be almost considered domestic. You might even consider staying here, leaving the QZ far behind. But you weren't, Joel could barely bring himself to talk to you — he couldn't even look at you. You really thought you were turning a corner with him until his behaviour changed one morning without warning.

"We should stay here for a couple of days, then head back to the QZ." Joel said. You sighed and finished your glass of wine, but it wasn't enough.

"Great." You replied, looking around for the bottle of wine. "Then you can go back to pretending I don't exist." You weren't sure where the outburst had come from, but you were pretty sure it had something to do with the alcohol running through your blood.

"Pretending you don't- what? I don't do that!" Joel insisted.

You scoffed. "Oh please, you're not as mysterious as you like to think." You said, although there was little truth to it. "You didn't even know my name in the QZ, yet we were around each other for months! I thought we were getting somewhere, but lately, you've been acting like we're strangers!" You told him.

"What?! Okay, maybe I was a little isolated in the QZ, but it's not like that now!" Joel replied, his fork clattering on the plate when it dropped from his hand. "All I do is worry about your survival!"

"Riiiiight, because you care so much." You said, rolling your eyes.

"It's my job to pro-"

"Your job?" You repeated, offended by his words, although you couldn't place why. "Well, allow me to relieve you of your duty." The chair screeched across the floor as you stood up and grabbed your unfinished plate and glass.

Joel inhaled through his nose and groaned. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Well, I mean it. Leave. I didn't need a babysitter before, and I don't need one now!" You said loudly, heading to the kitchen for a reprieve.

Joel growled and slammed his palms on the table as he stood up, refusing your reprieve, following you to the kitchen. "I'm not leaving you to die out here. Which, you would've already if it wasn't for me. You've proven that multiple times!"

"Maybe," you replied, dropping the plate in the sink, staring at Joel, whose eyes darted away. "But I'd rather die alone than with someone who can't even stand to look at me!"

"I can't look at you because you drive me fucking crazy!" Joel exclaimed, his patience finally having worn thin. "Ever since I heard you moaning in that fucking-" He stopped, his eyes wide and on you as he realised what he said; watching his words dawn on you as your face cracked.

Nausea, or quite possibly embarrassment — rose from your stomach up through your oesophagus, and you drank from the glass of wine that was in front of you — which wasn't quite the best course of action as it didn't sit well on your spinning stomach. Joel had heard you masturbating. That's what he was saying, right? There wasn't anything else he could possibly be referencing. But why would it drive him crazy? Joel could be uptight sometimes, but it didn't seem to be in a "women shouldn't pleasure themselves" way.

You blinked a few times, and Joel's face came into focus. He had closed the gap between you both, now only a few feet away. He looked awkward as he shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable.

"You heard me mast -" You stopped, unable to say the word out loud, and you sighed, feeling ridiculous. "You haven't been talking to me for weeks because you heard me -"

Something clicked in your head, like a light had just been switched on. You hadn't just gotten yourself off once. And at some point, you began to fantasise it was Joel's fingers, or mouth, even his cock instead of your own hand. You were aware a couple of times his name had slipped from your lips, and you'd clasped your hand around your mouth afterwards, praying he hadn't heard you.

It was beginning to seem very likely he had heard you, and something in you shifted from embarrassment to…something else, and you arched your eyebrow, finishing off the glass of wine for some extra courage.

"You heard me say your name.” You said, arching your eyebrow. Joel stared before he nodded slowly.

“I heard.” He confirmed, refusing to break eye contact. The air in the kitchen had shifted; it was thick with tension, and Joel wondered where this was going.

You hummed and tilted your head. “What did you do?” You asked, smirking when it was clear it caught Joel off guard.

"What?”

“What did you do, Joel?” You asked, leaning back against the counter. Joel's eyes darted to your bare legs before slowly dragging them up your body, stopping at the three open buttons that exposed your cleavage.

“I thought I heard you crying, so I came to check on you.” He explained. “When I got to your tent, I realised you weren't, and I went back to my tent.” His eyes darted to your face before he closed the gap between you until he was practically on top of you. “I tried to ignore you, but I couldn't help myself.” He lifted your chin with his index and middle fingers, so you were staring at him through your lashes. Your lips parted slightly as your chest rose and fell, your heart pounding against your rib cage. “I kept hearing your moans and thinking about you in that tent, and it got me so - I had to -”

His eyes were dark, full of lust, and you instinctively licked your lips slightly. "You- couldn't help yourself, huh?" You asked. Joel arched his eyebrow and tentatively reached his hand up to your cheek. He traced his finger over your cheek gently, and you closed your eyes as you inhaled. "Hearing you moan my name," He said, running a path down your jaw to your neck, "it sounded too good."

You reached up, closing the gap between your lips. Without hesitation, Joel reciprocated the kiss, his hand still around your neck as the other slipped around your hips, resting on the bottom of your back, pulling you closer to him. His bulge pressed into your crotch and you could feel it getting harder as the kiss deepened. You tugged his brown, leather jacket from his shoulders while Joel started an assault on your neck. If this lasted forever, it still wouldn't be long enough.

"Is this a good idea?" You asked through the gasps as he nipped and sucked at your neck.

"Mhmm, giving me some mixed signals here." he mumbled against your skin before pulling away, his mouth inches from yours. "I think it's a fucking great idea. Don't you?"

“I'm not sure.” You confessed. Joel cupped your cheek with his hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes soft, even if still full of lust. Was this a good idea? He'd spent weeks ignoring you, and it felt like Hell — but the way he kissed you, the way he touched you; it felt like Heaven.

"I don't care if it's a good idea or not." You replied, and Joel grinned.

"Good," he replied, "Because you have no idea how much I need you right now."

"Then show me." You said, and Joel growled before he pressed his lips against yours and instigated another passionate kiss, illicting a moan from you. He picked you up and dropped you onto the counter, spreading your legs so he could step in between them.

The kiss was messy, teeth and tongues clashing together as both sets of hands roamed each other's bodies. Joel's hands cupped and massaged your breasts as yours unbuttoned his jeans, using your heels to push them down his legs. One hand trailed a path from your breast to your stomach, dancing around the place you needed him the most.

"No panties, huh?" He said into your mouth, his finger tracing a path up your slit so gently, it was like he was using a feather. "I never would've known you were such a slut." His finger grazed your clit, and he grinned as you bucked your hips.

"Maybe if you'd acknowledged my existence, you might have found out earlier." You replied, grabbing his bulge through the fabric and squeezed, tight. Joel gasped into your mouth as he thrusted into your hand, and it was your turn to smirk against his mouth. If he could tease you, you could do the same, you thought as you slipped your hand into his boxers, relishing the feeling of his cock in your grasp.

Joel growled, his hips bucking before he shoved two fingers inside you without warning. A yelp mixed with a moan slipped from your mouth as you threw your head back, and Joel groaned. He kept his pace up, pushing his fingers in and out of you, feeling your walls clench around them as he watched your face contort with pleasure, your moans echoing throughout the kitchen. Not even his fantasies could have prepared him for how incredible this felt. If using just his fingers made him — made you feel this good, he couldn't wait to use his cock.

But he would wait. For weeks, you had — albeit unknowingly, driven him to the brink of insanity. Clouded his mind so he couldn't focus on anything; which is why he didn't notice the threat today, which almost cost you your life. So now, he had to drive you insane in the only way he could.

He dropped to his knees and pulled you by your legs so you were hanging off the counter. He then hoisted your legs over his shoulders, and you watched Joel as he studied your cunt — the look in his eyes resembled one of a wild animal, one that was finally allowed out of its cage, to roam free as its right. Yet, he was biting his lip; almost like he was holding onto that last tiny bit of control he had left. But you wanted — no, you needed the wild animal, and so you tangled your fingers into his hair. He looked up at you, locking eyes as he let you guide his head to where you needed him to be.

Shivers ran down your spine as his beard tickled you as he dragged his tongue over the skin on the inside of your thighs. Once again, he touched every piece of you, but not where you needed.

“Joel,” you whined, the grip on his hair getting tighter as you bucked your hips, "Please." You begged.

“Oh baby, you're already so wet.” he tutted, his finger running through your folds and teasing your entrance before he lifted it to your mouth and pushed it between your lips. “Your pretty pussy is glistening for me.”

You tasted a hint of your juices as you wrapped your tongue around his finger, keeping your gaze on him as you did. He groaned, imagining how good your mouth would feel wrapped around his cock. He pulled his finger out, and you gasped when he pushed it inside you. When he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue, you gasped and arched your back. “Oh shit, fuck, Joel.”

Every sense was heightened as Joel flattened his tongue and lapped at you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he swirled his tongue around your clit. You pushed yourself against him, practically hanging off the counter, making Joel grab your ass with both hands as he buried his face into you. With his beard grazing against you and his tongue pushing you further to release, your thighs gripped his head. Every single part of you was on fire as his assault on your cunt continued, and you could feel your orgasm brewing.

So could Joel, which was apparent as his pace got quicker, bringing in his fingers to help finish the job. With his thumb circling your clit and his tongue deep inside you, you reached your climax, Joel's name spilling from your mouth. As you threw your head back, grinding yourself against his face; you saw stars, all while Joel kept up the relenting pace.

He finally pulled away and stood up, grinning as he leaned towards you. His beard was glistening, and when he kissed you, you could taste yourself on him, mixing with the wine you had with dinner. Joel hooked his arms under your legs and scooped you off the counter; carrying you fireman style out the kitchen, through the sitting room and into the bedroom, where he dropped you on the bed. He crawled on top of you and dipped his head to kiss you. It was a soft, sweet kiss, one that you didn't want to end, so when it did, you whimpered, and Joel smiled softly.

“You still wanna do this?” He whispered. “We can stop if you want to.”

You leaned up on your elbows and gave him your answer with a kiss. He pressed his palm on your cheek and deepened the kiss, pushing you back down as he did. The two of you made out like two teenagers, and you could feel Joel's cock hardening against you. You slipped your hand in between your bodies and gripped his cock, rubbing the head against your entrance. Joel groaned, his head falling into your shoulder. He bit down as you pushed his cock inside yourself, your moans harmonising, the sensation almost too much.

Joel took over, grabbed your hands, and pinned them above your head. The animalistic look was in his eyes again, grunting with every thrust, his grip against your wrists tightening. You closed your eyes, and Joel growled.

“You thought about this while fucking yourself.” He said, his voice low. “Open your eyes and look at me while I fuck you.”

You opened your eyes and were met by Joel's big, brown ones that were now practically black. He fucked you harder, thrusting in and out as his thumb once again circled your clit. There was a ninety-eight percent chance that someone on the other side of the forest could hear everything, but at this moment neither of you cared. After weeks of awkwardness, of fantasising about each other while you touched yourselves, this felt right, like something had finally clicked into place — and you'd be damned if this was the first and only time it happened. Now you'd had a taste, you couldn't ever go back.

Joel picked up the pace, and you could once again feel your orgasm rising. You pulled Joel closer, your foreheads touching, your vision falling out of focus as you stared into Joel's eyes, but you refused to look away.

“Fuck, Joel, I'm so close” You whimpered, bucking your hips to meet his thrust, his cock hitting deeper each time you moved.

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna -” Joel grunted, your synced thrusts getting faster. “Fuck, baby.” Joel moaned. “I'm gonna, shit -”

“Let go for me, Joel.” You whispered in his ear. “Come for me, and next time, I'll show you what I can do with my mouth.”

It only took a couple more thrusts before you and Joel finished together, and he slumped on top of you, breathing heavily. You lifted his head up, brushed his hair out his face, and smiled up at him, hearts practically in your eyes.

“So…” you said, and he reciprocated the smile. “Sooo…” He repeated.

“Are you going to be all weird with me again?” You teased, and Joel arched his eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“I don't think so,” Joel replied, dipping his head for another kiss. “Especially if I want this to happen again.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think we're doing this again?” You asked, and Joel grinned.

“Oh we're definitely doing that again.” Joel answered, and you giggled as he rolled off you and reached a blanket that was on a chair next to the bed. He flung it over the two of you before pulling you into his chest and pressing his lips against your temple. “I wanna know what you can do with that mouth.” He mumbled.

You giggled again, your heart fluttering as he linked his fingers around yours and kissed your knuckles. “Keep this up, and you'll find out.” You replied before a yawn slipped out.

“Alright you little tease, I think I can hold out until tomorrow.” Joel chuckled. “Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

You snuggled into Joel's chest, his fingers running through your hair. You never thought you'd be in this position, in bed with Joel Miller. You knew there was a lot more to talk about, but right now, you didn't care. You just focused on Joel's heartbeat under your head, on his fingers in your hair. Focused on how — even though there were still many dangers to staying in this cabin, it was still the safest you'd been in a long time.

The last thing you heard as you drifted into a peaceful sleep was a quiet confession from Joel; one you weren't sure you were actually meant to hear. “I'll always keep you safe. Even if it means giving my life.”

#LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #me: i'm over the last of us idgaf #shan: *alanis morissette voice* AND IM HERE TO REMIND YEWWW #shan i love u #so bad #i am once again horny for joel miller

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