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sixhours · 8 hours ago

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our endless numbered days

A continuation of the events in who knows where the time goes and reprise from the i know you by heart universe. This will make more sense if you've read those, but you do you.

This fic has everything! A dash of angst (forgive me, I can't write Joel without at least a little angst), nosy Tommy, a Joel/Tess interlude, family time with the kids, a slightly drunk Ellie, and two middle-aged dudes making out. What's not to love?

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut. Words: 12k Tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel x Tess, Tess Servopoulos, Tommy Miller, idiots in love, Joel is bad at feelings, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), Cee is also a little shit (affectionate), fluff!, soft fluff!, a dash of angst because I can't help myself, SMUT, gay sex, bisexual!Joel, period-typical homophobia, light angst, happy ending, romance, soft queer dads being so soft, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Notes: For @jessthebaker. <3 Merry Christmas from your AWLJM Secret Santa! You once said you’d read anything with these two, and you asked for Miller-family-in-Jackson shenanigans, so I hope this hits the right notes. Thank you for being such an avid supporter of this fandom and this series. <3

The title comes from the album of the same name by Iron & Wine, and specifically the song Passing Afternoon which gives me cozy Jackson vibes.

Joel wakes early, curled up against Ezra’s naked back. The other man’s ability to hog the damn bed is impressive–his arm hanging off the side, one long leg stretching to the opposite corner–but the chill in their room has Joel grateful for his closeness. They’d moved from the couch when it became obvious they were too fucking old to manage a night on the furniture, and his knees are still complaining, but there’s a giddy seed of happiness in his chest.

Outside, the fresh snow has gathered in drifts, wind-blown. They’ll need to shovel out at some point, and they’ll probably be called up to clear the town walkways later, but for now, Jackson sleeps under a pristine white blanket.

It’s a good day for pancakes.

Half an hour later, he’s donned his thermals under a pair of flannel-lined jeans and a wool sweater, built up the fire in the woodstove, and picked up their clothes off the living room floor. He’s working on coffee and the pancake batter when there’s a frantic knock at the front door.

Joel goes to open it, finds Ellie shivering on the porch in her pajamas.

“You have a key,” he grouches, ushering her inside. “The hell’s your coat, anyway?”

“Didn’t think I’d need either, you never lock it,” she says, stamping her feet to shake off the snow. She glances into the living room, squints at something. “Dude…I’m not gonna ask why there’s a pair of boxers under the coffee table.”

Oops.

“Good,” Joel says, keeping his back turned so she won’t see him blush. “Then I won’t ask why I found your damn bra in the couch cushions last week.”

“If you had to wear one of those torture devices every day, you’d take it off the first chance you got, too,” she shoots back, then looks over his shoulder at the kitchen. “Ooh, pancakes? Did I miss a birthday or something?”

“Don’t need to have a birthday to have pancakes.”

“Yeah, but usually they’re just for special occasions or Sundays or whatever.”

“Just seemed like a good day for it. Snow day n’ all.”

She peers at him suspiciously. “Huh.”

“What?”

“You’re just unusually chipper for someone who’s gonna have to spend the day shoveling this shit.”

Joel snorts. “Don’t remind me. D’you want pancakes or what?”

“Uh, duh .”

“Then make yourself useful an’ set the table. Think we still have some strawberry preserves left over from the summer in there, too.”

“Yes, sir!” she mock-salutes, heading for the fridge.

The first pancakes are ready to be flipped when he reaches across the counter to grab a spatula. He crosses Ellie’s line of vision as she’s putting butter on a small plate and suddenly she’s grabbing at his hand.

“The heck are you–oh.”

She’s staring, bug-eyed, at the simple gold band on his finger.

“What the–where’d this come from?”

She really does notice everything.

“Uh–yeah, guess we, uh…need to talk about that.”

She blinks up at him incredulously. “Is this what I think it is?”

Joel rubs at the back of his neck. “Well…we kinda–”

“Are you two–did you get engaged?”

“We mighta skipped that part…”

“You got married ?” she half shrieks.

“Uh–”

“And you didn’t tell me ?”

“I–ah shit!” Joel hisses.

Smoke wafts from the pan. He grabs the spatula but the first batch is a lost cause.

“I think what your surrogate father figure is trying to say is, it was a spur-of-the-moment lark, gem. Nothing planned, and certainly nothing we intended to keep from you.”

Ezra has appeared at the kitchen door, leaning against the frame in his sweatpants and a flannel that looks suspiciously like Joel’s. Between Ellie and Ezra, Joel’s wardrobe is slowly being co-opted into a family affair.

Fuckin’ communism.

“What he said,” Joel sighs, flipping the burnt pancakes into the trash and fiddling with the heat before adding fresh batter to the pan.

“Seriously?” she gapes, looking back and forth between them, settling on Ezra. “Oh my god, do I have to call you ‘dad’ now?”

“You don’t even call me dad,” Joel grumbles.

“Dude, shut up, I’m talking to my evil stepmother.”

“Been watchin’ too many Disney movies. Mornin’, by the way,” he say, smiling wryly at Ezra. “She knows, I guess.”

“Dude! Wait, who asked who? Did you get down on one knee?”

“He asked me, but the sentiment was mutual,” Ezra says. “And…no. Not exactly.”

Joel waits for the inevitable joke about his knees cracking, but Ellie is too entranced by this new development to make one. Small favors.

Soon he doles out the pancakes onto three plates and brings them to the table, dropping a kiss at Ezra’s temple before taking his usual seat.

“Huh. Still gross,” Ellie says mildly, prompting a revenge forehead kiss for her, too. She wrinkles her nose and pretends to push him away, but she’s grinning, reaching for the syrup. Like another child Joel adored, she pours the stuff over her pancakes until they’re practically swimming.

“Better not be wastin’ that syrup, kid.”

“You know I won’t,” she huffs, cutting into the stack and taking a giant bite before he can remind her to go easy. Practically eighteen and she’s still a tiny thing who eats like she’s starving. It’s a wonder she hasn’t choked to death.

“Sh’iz so fuckin’ weird,” she says, words muffled by her chewing. “Don’t you have to, like, register with the council or something? Say some vows? What about the cake?”

“Uh, no,” Joel says. “Don’t have to do any a’that.”

“Why the hell would you get married if you don’t even get to have a fucking cake?” she says.

“There used to be certain legal benefits,” Ezra muses. “In this day and age, it’s more a…show of commitment.”

“Right,” Joel mumbles. “Don’t need to be a big deal.”

“Hmm. I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Ezra offers thoughtfully. “It’s a very big deal. Especially when you consider the history, the matrimonial bond for same-sex couples back in the day was a pretty sad state of affairs…and Jackson is the exception to the rule. I don’t recall FEDRA giving out marriage licenses to queer folk.”

“I don’t–I just meant…we don’t need to make a show of anythin’.”

“And what if I wanted a bit of fanfare, hm?” Ezra asks nonchalantly, gesturing with his fork. “The wedding of every little boy’s dreams? Flowers, champagne, a sparkly white dress–”

Ellie giggles. “Dude.”

“I could pull it off,” Ezra smirks.

Joel barely hears any of this. He fumbles for his coffee and tries to clear his throat.

“I–you–you do? I mean, do you?”

Had he fucked this up already? He’d been enchanted, dopey with lovestruck affection and not thinking entirely with his brain when he’d presented the rings. Truly, he hadn’t been thinking much at all, warmed by the fire and the thought of his future husband’s hand in his and then, well, everything had turned very–

“Awwwww-kard,” Ellie says through a mouthful of pancakes, and Joel shoots her a look.

“Kid–”

But Ezra is grinning, watching Joel get more and more flustered. “I’m pullin’ your leg, songbird. No fuss necessary on my account.”

Joel returns to his food, still nursing a seed of discontent when his thoughts are interrupted by slurping, Ellie having tipped up her plate, licking it clean.

“What!?” she says off his look, wiping the back of her mouth with her sleeve. “Told you I wouldn’t waste it.”

“Raised in a goddamn barn,” Joel mutters, looking to Ezra for sympathy, only to find him doing the same thing.

“Waste not, want not,” Ezra chirps, and Joel doesn’t miss the wink he gives Ellie across the table.

They’re already ganging up on him. Christ .

Later, after Ellie has bounced out the door with a promise to help shovel, they’re dressing to go out and brave the snow, pulling on thick coats and gloves.

“Hey,” Joel tries. “I, uh…about the whole, uh, wedding…thing. If you wanted…somethin’ more...I guess I prob’ly shoulda asked, but I wasn’t, uh…”

He rubs at the back of his neck, feeling just as awkward and fumbling as he had the day they first met. Two years together and the man can still turn him into a bumbling idiot. He’s fuckin’ hopeless.

Ezra’s expression softens. “I genuinely had no expectations…ceremonial or otherwise.”

“You sure? ‘Cause we can…if you–”

Ezra shakes his head firmly. “I’m certain. This,” he murmurs, reassuring him with a soft kiss. “This is more than enough.”

Joel is clearing the walkways in front of the Bison just before lunch when Anders walks by and claps him on the shoulder in passing.

“Congrats, man!”

It takes him several minutes to puzzle out what the hell he’s being congratulated for.

By the end of that day, enough of their neighbors have extended well-wishes that Joel knows Ellie must have talked to someone. Probably Dina, the unofficial Jackson town crier. When there was local news to share–and a couple making it official in their tiny community was exactly the kind of gossip that spread–Ellie and Dina were more efficient than a local news broadcast.

Tommy’s shit-eating grin the next morning at the stables is enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Heard congratulations are in order, big brother.”

“Ellie told you, huh?”

“Yup. But why the hell am I hearin’ about it from your kid and not you?”

Joel shrugs, smiles to himself. “Seem to remember you getting hitched without tellin’ me. Among other things.”

“You ever gonna consider letting me live that down?” Tommy asks cheerfully.

“Don’t reckon so.”

“Well, I’ll be the bigger man and forgive you,” Tommy says. “And I’ll do you one better and warn you; the girls are fixin’ to throw you two a surprise party.”

Joel groans, starts to open his mouth to protest, but Tommy holds up a hand.

“Look, you didn’t hear it from me. But don’t bother tryin’ to fight ‘em on this; Ellie’s invested and Maria’s always lookin’ for an excuse to lighten things up around here. I made ‘em promise to keep it small, but…”

He shrugs as if to say What can you do?

Joel huffs, tightens the strap on the saddle and tugs on the reins to lead Old Beardy out. Tommy follows with Justified, and soon they’re mounted up and riding through the gates.

“Gonna be a helluva week,” Tommy mutters. “Got half the crew off with that flu thing goin’ around. Think I’m on the damn schedule every day ‘til March.”

Joel grunts. “Yeah, me too.”

“Gonna make for a short honeymoon, huh?”

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters, urging his horse to pick up the pace amidst Tommy’s delighted laughter.

It’s an uneventful if slow ride, the trail soft and not yet packed down after the storm. They take out a couple of runners from a distance–can barely be called runners, though, forced to shuffle and stumble through drifts, making them easy targets. Tommy’s in a chatty mood, and Joel is content to let him hold up the brunt of the conversation, business as usual. They’re taking lunch after clearing the outpost just outside Wilson when Tommy brings it up again, the serious note in his voice immediately setting Joel on edge.

“Y’know I’m happy for you, right?”

“Uhhh…yeah,” Joel says, opening the logbook.

“Think Sarah woulda got along real nice with y’all.”

The thought doesn’t stir the same hurt it used to, doesn’t bring him to his knees with grief, but his brother’s doing that thing he does with his hands when he wants to say something and doesn’t know how. He frowns.

“Sure…”

“I don’t–uh…I mean, I knew you weren’t…y’know. Glad it’s…glad Ezra’s good. Good for you. Even if he’s not, uh…not who I woulda…I just–”

Joel fixes him with a blank stare. “Spit it out, Tommy.”

His brother rubs at the back of his neck. Joel tenses, waiting for some just-shy-of-homophobic remark, the kind he’s grown all too familiar with over the last couple years.

You don’t look like the type.

Joel Miller? I never would’ve thought.

Although he’d really hoped never to hear it from Tommy, who, until now, had kept silent about his brother’s inclinations. As he damn well should.

But he remembers all too well where they grew up, and old habits are hard to break.

Tommy sighs. “Haven’t seen you this happy since…since Tess, is all.”

Hearing the name jars him, his pen stuttering over the page, marring his signoff. He swallows the sudden lump in his throat, feels the weight of the new ring on his finger acutely. Just like his brother, to poke at a sore spot he didn’t even know he had.

“Yeah,” Joel mutters, slapping the book shut. “Thanks.”

“Sometimes I wonder what she’d make of all this,” Tommy says, chuckling, running a hand through his curls. “Communism. Fuck, she’d think we lost our damn minds.”

It occurs to him, probably two years too late, that Tess was just as much Tommy’s friend as Joel’s. Even if they weren’t exactly on speaking terms by the time Tommy ran off with the Fireflies, the three of them had once been close enough to be called family.

“You ever think about her?” Tommy asks when they’re mounted up and headed back toward town. There’s an edge to his voice that tells Joel he knows he’s treading dangerous ground.

“Not much,” Joel says tightly. Truth be told, it was closer to not at all until today, but like hell he’s going to tell his brother that.

You don't bring up Tess, ever .

Seems like he did a damn good job of taking his own advice, for once.

“Huh,” he says, too lightly. “Well…I think she’d be happy for you, too, big brother.”

Joel grunts and says nothing, stares straight down the path in hopes of ending this conversation right fuckin’ now. It works, and Tommy’s usual chatter dies down to the occasional comment on their surroundings.

But the damage is done and a slow-festering guilt has already begun blooming behind Joel’s ribs at the mention of her name.

It’s a long, cold ride back to Jackson.

Tommy’s not wrong about the patrol schedule. For the next ten days, they’re on duty from sunup to sundown. Thankfully wintertime means they’re mostly uneventful rides, but he puts in a lot of miles, the kind of days that leave his back achy and his ass and hips sore. Most nights he comes home bone-tired, with just enough energy to eat something and shower before falling into bed.

For his part, Ezra waits up for him to make sure he has a hot meal, teases about becoming a “proper little ménagère, ” and threatens to find a frilly apron at the trading post to complete the look. Meanwhile, Joel just tries not to fall asleep on the couch…and fails most of the time.

All the while, riding the trails with his patrol partners, he has too much time to think.

And for the first time in years, he’s thinking of Tess.

Fifteen years as partners. Two months traveling together before they’d fallen into bed and swore to keep each other’s secrets. It was more than he gave anyone back then, but it had never really been enough.

She asked once. Just once.

And he’d turned away. Got shitfaced. They never talked about it again, but she still came home to their bed every night.

…not to feel the way I felt.

And it wasn’t like she’d asked for much. Certainly nothing as formal as a proposal or a ring or even a promise. Just his heart, shattered as it was, and he couldn’t even manage that.

Then it was too late. Made him promise to save who he could and sacrificed herself for him, for Ellie, for the hope of a future she would never see. She would never know what she’d done for him.

Her memory haunts him, nags at him, makes a home under his skin like a splinter. She’s there, hovering at the edges of his consciousness, a ghost in his peripheral vision. He sees glimpses of her on patrols, in the lurch of a small, slight woman in flannel, infected; in someone’s long, red-auburn hair at the stables; in a rough laugh amongst the crowds at the dining hall.

And then one night, he dreams. The kind of dream he hasn’t had in months, the kind of dream he used to have over and over, but this time it’s Tess instead of Sarah.

Tess, yelling at him to help her, goddammit, there’s gotta be something .

Tess, pulling back her collar to reveal the bite with one already twitching hand.

Tess, twisted and gnarled with infection, caught in a sea of flames.

He wakes sweating and panting with a scream stuck in his throat and her mutilated face burned into the backs of his eyelids.

“Joel? Wha-happened?”

Ezra stirs at his side, voice thick with sleep.

“It’s…it’s nothin’,” he says roughly, still trying to catch his breath. “Go back to sleep.”

Then there’s a hesitant hand on his shoulder, and he lets himself be pulled down and pressed into the cradle of Ezra’s good arm. Soon his breath flutters the hair at his temple, slow and even, but Joel doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

Five years earlier

“Shouldn’t have turned around,” Joel grumbles, hissing as he puts more weight on his bad leg. “We coulda made it.”

Tess looks up at him from under his left arm; he’s been using her as a human crutch for the last quarter mile.

“Sure,” she says drily, grunting as they take another uncoordinated, shuffling step. Behind them, black storm clouds are rolling in faster than they can walk and the wind has already picked up, whipping the first drops of rain hard enough to sting their cheeks. “You wanna get caught in this shit, be my guest, but I’m not gonna get soaked on your account, and you can’t fuckin’ walk.”

“Gonna be late. They won’t let us in.”

“Frank won’t care.”

“Bill will.”

A dry chuckle. “Yeah, well…we both know Bill’s not in charge.”

They’d done the trip from Boston to Lincoln dozens of times without incident, but today, the raiders took them by surprise. It was rare to find a group so ballsy as to fuck with Joel and Tess. Their reputation extended well beyond the walls of the QZ, but apparently these folks hadn’t heard about them, or they were feeling brave, desperate, stupid, or some combination of the three.

All four men were now littering the side of the road about half a mile back, but Joel took a bullet to the calf for the trouble.

“Just a graze,” he’d said tightly, blood pooling sticky and warm in his boot, but Tess took one look at the damage and shook her head in disgust. They were a mile past one of their cache houses, and Lincoln was at least six miles down the road.

“We’ll get to the safehouse, get that bullet out of your leg, wait out the storm,” Tess said in a voice that suggested the decision was final.

It usually was with her.

The safehouse is an old hunting cabin off a logging road. They’d set it up as a cache years ago but hadn’t had much need for it given the proximity to Lincoln. The rain has begun in full force and they’re already soaked by the time Tess confirms the place is clear, Joel sagging against the side of the building to keep watch.

Once they’re safely inside, Joel collapses onto the cabin’s only piece of furniture, a decrepit sofa. Tess is rummaging around in her pack and pulls out the first aid kit– a box of cloths, a flask of alcohol, a needle and thread, a lighter, and a roll of duct tape.

“Pants off, Texas.”

He’s in too much pain for innuendo. Tess unwraps the makeshift bandage, already soaked with blood, and he slides his jeans down with a groan and a muffled curse. Then she unbuttons her short-sleeved button-down, stripping down to her bra.

“What?” she says off his incredulous look. “This is my favorite shirt, not gonna get it all bloody. On your front.”

He obliges, rolling until he’s face down on the couch so Tess can examine his leg.

“Huh,” she says. “Never gonna believe this.”

Joel grunts. “Try me.”

“Went clean through.”

“Lucky me,” he grits his teeth.

“You are,” she says. “Few inches off and we’d be having a very different conversation. Alright, might wanna bite down unless you want every infected in a half-mile radius finding us.”

“I’ll be fine. Just do it.”

The alcohol burns like a motherfucker, but at this point, the pain is barely a blip on his radar, more of the same. The stitches are a different story. He ends up grabbing his belt, doubling it up and sinking his teeth into the sweaty, sticky old leather as Tess finishes sewing up the wounds.

“Not my best work, but it’ll hold until we can get Frank to take a look. Pretty sure Bill still has a stash of antibiotics,” Tess murmurs, digging in her pack for a fresh cloth to wrap it. “Just gonna tie this. We have the oxy–”

“Ain’t tradin’ that for antibiotics.”

Tess huffs. “No, Frank won’t let him trade for those, anyway. But you might want the oxy later. Don’t know how long the storm is going to last and you’re shaking.”

He is; he hadn’t even realized it. He’s trembling and his skin is dewy with sweat.

“Shock,” he mutters. Not the first time he’s been shot, after all.

“Uh-huh. Alright, you can roll over.”

He does, with some difficulty. Outside, rain lashes at the windows, lightning cracks and fills the room with bursts of light. Joel shivers, teeth clattering.

“Shirt off,” she says. “You’re soaked, that’s not helping.”

He tries, but his fingers are shaking too hard to undo the buttons. She pushes his hands gently away and does them herself, urging him up to take the wet flannel off, then unzips his bedroll and tucks it around him. Then she places two white pills in his palm.

“Don’t need ‘em,” he grits out. These are the good pills and he’s thinking of all that profit gone to waste for a stupid fuckin’ graze.

She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of an argument, just wordlessly holds out the flask. The shaking is making his damn leg hurt even worse. He swallows the pills with a mouthful of booze exactly as she knew he would.

The pain slowly ebbs, replaced by a fuzzy, uncaring feeling he recognizes all too well. He’s drifting on that high as time spreads like liquid honey, faintly aware of Tess’ movements about the room–digging under the floorboards to examine their cache, replenishing their ammo, checking the windows and exits, still only half dressed. At some point, she lets her hair down, damp and darkened from the rain, and combs it out with her fingers. A shorter cut would be easier to maintain, less likely to attract unwanted attention, but it’s one of the few vanities she allows herself and he secretly loves it. It always smells like her, soft burnt gold and sweet no matter how many miles they’ve covered.

Eventually, she settles on the floor next to the couch, sipping at the flask with her gun at hand.

“Sleep,” she all but orders, and he does.

When he wakes, it takes his eyes a moment to adjust. It’s night. The sounds of thunder and the roar on the roof overhead tells him it’s still pouring. Tess is silhouetted in the window, the orange glow of a cigarette moving in the dark.

His leg throbs and he can’t hold back a grunt of pain. The drugs have worn off, but he’s not going to take more if he can avoid it. She notices, though, and turns.

“Should get away from the window,” he says. “Someone might see the light.”

A deep inhale. “Not in this shit. Can’t see two feet in front of your face out there. How’s the leg?”

“Fine,” he mutters, trying to sit up, grimacing, hoping she can’t see his expression in the dark.

“Clothes should be dry,” she says, moving to his side, the smell of smoke wafting over him. Another rare indulgence, soothing her overtaxed nerves. She hands him the flask and he accepts it gratefully. Her hand is firm on his shoulder as she eases down to the floor.

“All’s quiet,” she murmurs, stubbing out the cigarette on a piece of foil. She leans her head back against his thigh and his hand finds its way to her hair, rubbing circles into her scalp until she hums.

“I can take watch,” he says roughly. “Let you get some rest.”

“You’re in no shape. We’re fine,” she says, then softens. “Was looking forward to one of Bill’s meals. Heard they found a contact and traded for a share of beef. Real steak.”

“End of the goddamned world and Frank’s still holdin’ dinner parties,” Joel mutters.

His hand drifts lower, callused fingers dragging over the back of her cheek, feels her smirk.

“He offered us a place.”

“Huh? Who?”

“Frank. We’d have our pick of houses within the perimeter. Share the work, share the supplies.”

“...and Bill’s alright with that?”

“I don’t think Bill knows.”

“What, uh…what’d you say?”

She shrugs, a non-answer. The silence grows heavy and he lets it lie. Often he doesn’t need to wait long before Tess takes control of the conversation, anyway, and he’s too stunned to find the words.

“I think Frank is worried about Bill,” she says softly. “What happens…after.”

After.

Frank has been sick for months. They’ve managed to trade for certain medications that help control the symptoms, but there is no cure, no coordinated treatment. The last time they made the hike from the QZ, roughly six months ago, Frank was no longer able to get out of his wheelchair.

“Can’t say I blame him,” she continues, frowning, picking at something on the floor. “There’s strength in numbers.”

Joel grunts, noncommittal. He’d rather have his leg amputated with a rusty hacksaw than live within ten miles of Bill.

“I keep thinking about it,” Tess says. “No more FEDRA, no Fireflies…no getting shafted on trades, hunting these assholes down–”

Joel blinks, wiping his hands over his face, trying to clear his head. This conversation feels like a dream, like it’s not really happening, and he wishes he had a couple more oxy so he could blame the drugs. Tess, the woman who had him break a guy’s fingers for shorting her three cigarettes–one finger for each. The woman who just murdered four people because they made the lethal mistake of shooting first. Tess– his Tess–talking about settling down.

“Can you even imagine?” she sighs.

He grunts again. She turns to look at him but he can’t meet her eyes.

“Aren’t you tired, Joel?”

Tired? Of course he is. His back hurts, his knees hurt, everything fuckin’ hurts. He hasn’t slept a day without booze or pills in years. But the hurt keeps him grounded, keeps him going, keeps him from feeling…everything else.

“So you wanna quit?” he says flatly.

“What is there to quit?” she scoffs. “We were never going to settle in Boston, we said it was temporary–”

“It’s been ten fuckin’ years.”

“Yeah, and we had plans, remember? Get out of the city, away from FEDRA. This could be our chance.”

“That was before. There were more of us. An’ Tommy…”

“Tommy,” she sniffs. “You really think he’s coming back?”

No, he doesn’t. Their once-weekly radio messages are growing further apart as they have less and less to say. The thought sets an aching fire in Joel’s chest and he takes a long swig of the whiskey. It burns the same, but at least it’ll get him drunk enough to forget.

“Look,” she tries again. “We go to Bill and Frank’s, we can retire. I sure as hell wouldn’t mind taking it easy for once. We’ve spent half our lives running, we’re getting too fuckin’ old for this–”

The windows flash, thunder rumbles, and he can see the lines around her eyes in harsh relief. He hates her for bringing this up, hates himself even more for the anger it stirs in him.

“Y’don’t retire from this,” he says. “That ain’t the world we live in.”

Her derision is palpable. “Just what I thought you’d say.”

He shifts on the couch, tries to stretch his busted leg and hisses at the stabbing, lancing pain. “What do you want, Tess? You wanna, what…plant a garden? Grow fuckin’ tomatoes? You can do that just fine in the QZ.”

“No, I–”

“You wanna spend the rest of your life drinkin’ shitty wine over hors d’oeuvres in Frank’s backyard like some post-apocalyptic Martha Stewart?”

He’s being cruel and he knows it, but he can’t seem to shut his mouth. Under any other circumstance she’d probably haul off and punch him and that would be the end of it, but she’s strangely subdued, almost melancholy. It’s unsettling, unnerving, makes his jaw ache from holding it tight, waiting for the strike that won’t come.

“I want to live , Joel,” she snaps. “I want more than this. Shitty fuckin’ apartment, living off rations, in lockup every other week for the dumbest shit. This isn’t a life! It’s fuckin’ purgatory.”

“I can’t do that, Tess,” he spits. “You get…you get what you get with me. I ain’t gonna settle down in some shit suburb an’ play fuckin’ house.”

“Just…fuck it. Fine,” she snaps. “Forget it. You’ve made your point. We stay in Boston.”

He takes another long, unsatisfying drink and silently begs for it to take hold, to take him past the point of caring. They stay like that, quiet and rigid in their anger, until the weight of her head against his thigh is barely there, until he can’t pin his thoughts in place long enough to let them sink their teeth in. He’s drifting and dozing when she nudges him awake.

“Move over,” she mutters, and he does.

She crawls under the blanket and tucks herself against his side. This is how they work–quick to anger, quick to forget. She’s warm and soft against his bare skin and he’s able to momentarily shut out the pain. Not just his leg, but all of it.

Sarah.

Tommy.

Everything they did to get to this point.

She makes it easy to forget.

“You’re right,” she says softly, fingers skimming over his chest. “But…we can’t keep going like this, Texas. One of these days, our luck’s gonna run out.”

Later, she shucks off her jeans and briefs and straddles his hips. Her hair falls around him, featherlight and sweet against his cheeks, forming a curtain as their lips meet. She tastes of liquor and smoke and desperation. Tight and hot, blunt fingernails digging into his pecs as she rides him slowly, grinding down to hit just the right spot, using him. But that’s fine, she’ll get what she needs, what little he can give. A warm body on a cold night, another set of eyes on her six, the brains to his brawn. Two halves unable to make a whole.

Lightning flashes and she hovers over him like an angel, haloed by the light as she comes, and he follows her into the dark.

Present day

Two weeks after his impromptu proposal, Joel comes home with a spring in his step. He’s exhausted, just about worn down to the marrow, but he’s home for dinner and the patrol schedule has loosened up. He has two whole days off.

He’s going to sleep. He’s going to spend time with his kid. Maybe pick up his guitar for the first time in weeks. And he’s going to spend at least one of those days with Ezra, because it’s been way too fuckin’ long.

There’s music on the record player and the smell of something cooking. He half expects to see a frilly apron, too, but no, it’s just Ezra in an undershirt and dark jeans standing at the stove. Joel stops in the doorway to admire the sight–bare shoulders and biceps, the dark curl of hair at the nape of his neck, the easy confidence in his movements.

“Hey,” he says in greeting, suddenly itching to touch him, to ground himself in the warmth of his body. He moves in and wraps his arms around Ezra’s waist and presses his cheek to his back. Home.

“Exercise caution, songbird, there are hot things afoot,” he says. “And a stew.”

Joel muffles his groan and mutters into the back of Ezra’s neck. “You’re terrible.”

“Terribly charming, I agree. The stew should be moderately edible, if my culinary talents haven’t failed me.”

But Joel finds he isn’t much interested in the food. The sight of all that bare skin has him wanting.

“Supper can wait,” Joel murmurs, drawing his hands across Ezra’s stomach, his hip, swaying a little. “S’go to bed.”

“As much as I would love to indulge, I’m afraid we have social obligations,” Ezra sighs.

Joel pulls back, frowning. “No.”

“We’re due at the Bison in an hour.”

“Shit,” Joel grumbles. “This what I think it is?”

“I’m afraid so,” he says, turning around. “And it would be in poor taste to miss our own party. Go clean up so we can eat.”

“Thinkin’ I’m about to have a bad case of the shits,” Joel mutters, but he turns away and heads for the stairs. Poor taste aside, he has no desire to face Ellie’s wrath…let alone Maria’s.

Later, showered and dressed in one of his nicer flannels, he finds Ezra still in the kitchen doling out bowls of stew, a clean, pressed button-down shirt over his undershirt. The empty sleeve has been carefully tailored to Ezra’s form, no hastily tied knot or cut-off sleeve, and the color makes his dark eyes look even darker.

Joel swallows past the lump in his throat.

“Seems a bit unfair for you to look this good when I can’t do a damn thing about it,” he says, voice low.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, but we’re still going to the party. Eat.”

He does, and the stew is more than edible, but he can’t eat much. He’s distracted and restless, finds himself irrationally jealous of Ezra’s spoon.

“Don’t forget to pretend to be surprised,” Ezra says, adjusting Joel’s collar at the door. “And try to enjoy yourself, hmm? I’ll make it up to you.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But you smash cake in my face at any point, you lose your other arm.”

To Ellie’s credit, it’s nothing fancy. Sure, they’ve turned the fairy lights on at the Bison and there’s a cake on the bar, but they kept it small–which, in Jackson, means only a quarter of the town. God knows they’ve earned the right to enjoy themselves and Joel doesn’t mind being half the excuse, even if it means blushing his way through a few awkward toasts.

He remembers his first wedding, not much bigger or more extravagant than this one. At least this time Tommy isn’t 15 years old and drunk as a skunk, vomiting in the ladies’ room because the men’s room at the Elks Lodge was out of order. His new bride had been vomiting in the ladies’ room, too–for a different reason.

This is definitely an improvement. In fact, he’s almost enjoying himself when Ellie sidles up to him, looking far too pleased with herself.

“How’s life with the ol’ ball n’ chain?”

Joel sips his beer. “The hell d’you come up with this shit?”

“Dina’s got us watching old episodes of Cheers ,” she says, wrinkling her nose. Then she grins, gesturing to the room. “So, whaddya think? Not bad for a reception, huh?”

“Not bad,” he admits, hugging her to his side, relishing the way she hangs on for a second longer than usual. “Thanks, kid. But no more surprise parties or you’re grounded ‘til you’re 30.”

“Better not get married again, then.”

“Don’t intend to,” he murmurs, watching Ezra talking to someone across the room. He can’t see her face, but her hair shines under the lights and she laughs at something Ezra has said, and in a flash of painful nostalgia he can only see Tess.

She’d never asked for anything like this. Probably would have laughed in his face if he’d proposed, not that he’d ever been inclined to. But there had been a time when she’d suggested something more permanent. Something more defined. Something much like the home he shares with Ezra. And he’d turned away, unable to think he deserved to be happy after a lifetime of brutality.

When Tess died, he’d told Ellie not to talk about her, and then he’d locked her memory away with Sarah’s. But Sarah had come back to him, with time and patience and Ellie’s influence.

Tess hadn’t. And somehow, in the scant three years since her passing, he’d managed to keep her tucked away, secreted at the back of his mind in that dark, lonely place. Nothing but a shoddy stone cairn somewhere in Western Massachusetts to show for it. But something in him has reawakened, Ezra bringing it out in him, and now–

“Joel?”

Ellie is looking up at him with concern. He blinks, squints, and the woman turns so he can see her profile–not Tess, not even close. Her hair is too short, her laugh too modest, her nose too long.

But he can’t convince his damn heart.

“I’m–uh, I just–gimme a minute,” he whispers hoarsely.

He doesn't even realize it’s happening until the panic is on top of him, until he tries to take a breath and his ribs feel bound in iron. Abandoning Ellie, he makes it to the door, slips outside without his jacket, the cold air hitting his lungs like a bomb.

He leans against the wall in the alley, willing his lungs to inflate. They do, just not as fast or as fully as he’d like. Jesus, he hasn’t had one this bad in months. Not since before Ellie and he–

A hand between his shoulder blades, a familiar voice at his shoulder.

“Breathe, love.”

“Shit,” Joel croaks, half startled, half relieved.

“Our young prodigy sent me,” Ezra murmurs. “Said you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Joel can’t find the breath to answer, so he just nods.

“Should I be concerned?” Ezra is peering at him. “Are you chasing spirits, songbird?”

“Think they’re chasin’ me,” he rasps.

Ezra nods, draping Joel’s coat over his shoulders before his hand resumes its careful path up and down his spine.

“You know,” he says casually. “Normally one gets cold feet before they’ve exchanged rings.”

A laugh bubbles up from Joel’s throat–more a barking cough under the circumstances–but something in his chest relents.

“It ain’t that,” he mutters when he’s caught his breath. “Jus’...too much goin’ on in there.”

“Should we perhaps take our leave?”

“God yes,” Joel breathes. “Please.”

“Come,” Ezra says, threading his arm through Joel’s. “The merriment is for their sake. I doubt we’ll be missed.”

Joel isn’t so sure about that, but he lets Ezra lead him without protest, still trying to calm his heart. It’s a short walk and soon they’re standing on the porch at Ezra’s old house. He lets them in with the key Cee keeps under the mat.

“I suspect they won’t think to look for us here,” Ezra says. They shrug off their jackets and hang them in the hall, leave their boots at the door, and Joel feels a powerful sense of déja vu walking into Ezra’s office. The room is sparse now, most of the record collection having been moved to their shared house. There’s a plant in the corner on the pedestal where the record player used to be and a few books line the shelves. It’s less inhabited, less personal, but his memory fills in the blanks.

“I’m going to investigate the coffee situation,” Ezra says, leaving Joel with a pat on the shoulder.

Joel sinks into the loveseat across from Ezra’s usual chair. He hears him moving around in the kitchen down the hall, the sounds of water running. His head still feels fuzzy, but at least he can fuckin’ breathe. He closes his eyes, sags into the cushions.

Ezra comes back with two mugs and sets them on the coffee table, then moves to take his seat across the room before stopping himself. He glances back at Joel, smiles faintly. Not the only one having déja vu, apparently.

“Apologies. Old habits,” he murmurs, taking the seat next to Joel instead. “Drink.”

Joel does, relishing the warmth of the coffee despite the wood-like taste of the chicory. Ezra is watching him intently, his expression carefully neutral.

“It ain’t–it’s nothin’ bad,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s, uh…all this has me thinkin’ about someone I knew…before.”

Ezra frowns. “Your…wife?”

Joel shakes his head, realizing with a further pang of remorse; he’s never talked about her, never even said her name aloud. “That was before…Before. Tess was my…business partner. Back in Boston, we uh…we were…”

“Attached?” Ezra offers.

Joel snorts. “Yeah. Yeah, we were…together. More or less.”

Ezra leans back into the cushions, takes a long sip from his mug. Joel searches his face for jealousy or anger, any kind of sign he should stop. But Ezra has the almost infuriating ability to detach, and his expression gives nothing away.

“Ain’t a big story,” Joel mutters. “We worked well together. Survived a hell of a lot. It was kinda…kinda an unspoken thing. Happened without us meanin’ it to, I think. Spend fifteen years with a person…you get to know ‘em. We shared everything–the best and worst, I always had a partner through it. Guess it was kinda inevitable, but…but she, uh…”

“You loved her,” Ezra prompts softly. Joel looks down, realizes he’s taken his hand.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “But I couldn’t…I couldn’t. She was bit ‘fore we came out here. She saved my ass one more time, then she was gone. Told me to take the kid and…and make it up to her.”

“Which…you did.”

Joel nods, throat going tight at the thought. He’d saved Ellie, Ellie had saved him. He thought he’d done his duty to Tess, but now he’s not so sure. The ring on his finger feels heavy again, like a broken promise.

“I guess all this…just catchin’ up to me,” he murmurs. “Didn’t even say goodbye. All happened so fast. And then…then I had Ellie to think of. And Tess died…not knowin’ I…how I…”

He trails off, unable to continue. He closes his eyes and all he can see is Tess standing in the warm evening light of the State House, telling him to save who he can save.

“Lately…I keep thinkin’ I see her,” he rasps, swiping at his eyes. “Around town, on patrol…she woulda got along real nice here. Made a good life for herself. But she never got a chance.”

Ezra brings his arm up to cradle the back of Joel’s neck, guides him gently down against his shoulder so he can bury his nose in the crook of his neck, the earthy scent of his shaving lotion a distant comfort. He wraps his arms around his waist.

“She knew,” he murmurs against his ear.

Joel shakes his head, clutches at the fabric of Ezra’s shirt, presses his face more firmly into his collar.

“She did,” he insists, gentle but firm. “And I know this because I know how you love, I have been…the recipient of said attentions, and I’m certain that even in your somewhat emotionally repressed state–”

Joel shudders, a dry laugh through his tears. Somewhat emotionally repressed couldn’t begin to describe how closed off he’d been. But then, Tess had her own demons, her own hard, impossible shell. They were as bad for each other as they were good, so many times they were the salt in each others’ wounds. But over time she had warmed, loosened, become more pliant. Somewhere along the line, she’d forgiven herself, while he continued to wear his self-hatred like armor.

Ezra pulls back, looking at him curiously.

“Y’don’t know, Ez, you don’t–I wasn’t…like this,” he says thickly. “Was barely alive.”

“But you are now. What she saw in you was worthy, so you live for her.”

“Sometimes I think…I don’t…don’t deserve to.”

“Whether any of us is deserving is beside the point,” he says gently. “You’re here, so you live for the ones who couldn’t.”

Joel huffs softly and Ezra leans in, presses a long kiss to the furrow between his brows, resting forehead to forehead, sharing breath. There’s an ache in his chest with her name on it clamoring for attention, a grief mixed with shame and hope and all the leftover love that had nowhere to go until now. A rough thing worn smooth over time.

Wasn’t time that did it , he thinks dully.

When their mouths meet, it’s hard and frantic and needy, pent up desire and sadness, a need to prove something. It’s been too long and there’s been too much and he needs to forget, so he lets Ezra ease him back, knee between Joel’s thighs, both of them sliding down into the cushions.

“Aren’t we getting a bit…far in years…to be doing this kind of thing on the couch?” Ezra murmurs between kisses, lowering himself onto Joel with a groan.

“Weren’t complainin’…last time,” he grits out, just as Ezra’s tongue traces the seam of his lips, delves deeper, stealing both his ability to speak and his last coherent thought.

“Touché.”

Ezra’s hand fumbles between them, untucking his shirt. Joel growls into his mouth as his husband finds warm flesh, takes the meat of his lower lip between his teeth and tugs gently, then soothes the bite with his tongue. It’s all desperation, a hiss as Joel rakes the shirt up Ezra’s back, rewarded with the warm expanse of bare skin.

They’ve barely managed to find a rhythm before the front door opens and Cee’s voice rings out in the hall.

“Hello?”

“Shit,” Ezra hisses as they scramble apart. “Just us, birdie,” he calls, jumping up with a blush of pink across his cheeks. He’s smoothing his hair back, subtly trying to adjust himself. Joel bites back a chuckle. Hasn’t been caught out like this since he was a goddamned teenager necking in his dad’s pickup.

He hastily tucks his shirt back in and follows Ezra into the hall where Cee is unwinding her scarf, hanging it alongside their coats.

“Saw the light,” she says, nodding toward the office, looking back and forth between them. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no,” Ezra says, sounding as out of breath as Joel feels. “We simply required a moment of respite from the festivities.”

“Yeah, I get that,” she says with a wry smile. “Don’t worry, I think Ellie’s telling everyone you two left to…y’know. Honeymoon.”

“Christ,” Joel mutters, ducking his head, warmth creeping up the back of his neck. Thankfully Ezra is quick to change the subject.

“And where is your gentleman friend this evening?”

She rolls her eyes. “‘Gentleman friend?’ Really?”

“Your…lover?” Ezra tries, grimacing even as he says it.

“Gross, please don’t ever say that again,” she shudders. “ Luke is on the wall tonight, but he sends his congratulations.”

“Aha. Well, I suppose if you’re in for the night, we should take our—”

“Actually,” she says, drawing out the word. “I skipped dinner at the caf…and I have everything for grilled cheese…”

Joel recognizes her doe-eyed expression. He’s seen it on his own kid often enough when she’s asking after something, but Ezra doesn’t seem to take the hint.

“Oh,” he frowns. “We wouldn’t want to intrude on your dinner.”

“No, I mean–you make the best grilled cheese. Plus maybe I wanted to, y’know, spend time with you?”

Ezra shoots him a look. “Oh, I–I, uh–I’m not certain we’re exactly–”

“I could eat,” Joel cuts in, reassuring him with a nod, relieved to have the focus off his shoulders for the time being.

“Well, then…save the butter for your bread, birdie,” Ezra grins. “We’d be delighted to keep you company and share a meal. Let’s introduce my husband to a…family tradition of sorts.”

Which is how Joel ends up at the kitchen table watching Ezra and Cee working together at the counter. They banter and trade gentle barbs side by side, and Joel finds himself relaxing into it, happy for the distraction.

“When we first moved to Jackson, I couldn’t sleep,” Cee explains, scraping butter from a brick and dropping it into a pan to melt. “Had a lot of bad dreams. Ez was usually awake, too, so we’d meet up in the kitchen.”

“Cee neglects to mention that we were also half starved at the time. Access to a full pantry was an extravagance neither of us could have imagined…I suppose it’s no small wonder we sought solace in sustenance.”

It’s easy to see how the two made it together; they work as a team in the kitchen just as they must have worked together to survive outside the walls. But something about watching him with Cee tugs at Joel’s heart. Ezra has always been comfortable in his own skin, but with Cee he’s even softer, even more himself.

“Didn’t have much in the way of culinary experience between the two of us,” Ezra says, frowning in concentration while cutting thin slices from a small wheel of cheese. Cee begins peeling a clove of garlic. “But we had plenty of time on our hands to learn–isn’t that right, birdie?”

“Yep. Can you believe I’d never even had this stuff before?” Cee asks, looking over her shoulder and holding up the peeled clove, and Joel shakes his head. “I had no idea what I was missing. Anyway. Ez here got really good at making cheese sandwiches and that kinda became our thing. Bad dream? Grilled cheese. Rough day? Grilled cheese.”

“Sometimes it seemed that was the only thing I could get you to eat with any regularity,” Ezra says.

“Yeah, well…some days were bad ,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“But…it got better.” Ezra looks over at her, and Joel can hear the uncertainty in his voice. It’s a question as much as a statement.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling. “Yeah, it did.”

Joel thinks of his early days in Jackson, Ellie’s nightmares, the gun under his mattress. The constant fear he was failing her. How they picked up the pieces and turned them into routines, rituals, things to get them through the hard days. Built something from two patched-together lives. Found their people.

Movie nights or grilled cheese sandwiches, they figured it out.

“This is cool,” Cee says to Ezra as they bring the food to the table. “I almost miss having you around here. Almost,” she teases.

“I’m sure it’s much–”

“Quieter?” Cee offers with a smirk, and Joel has to hide his own with a cough.

“I was going to say ‘less lively’ but fair enough,” Ezra mutters, then softens. “I’ll make dinner for you anytime, birdie. Just say the word.”

The food is good, but the company is better. Ezra and Cee carry the conversation while they eat and Joel lets them reminisce, contributing the occasional nod or grunt of agreement. If Cee thinks he’s quieter than usual, if she notices his eyes are still a little red, she’s kind enough not to mention it. More than anything, he wishes Tess could be here, wishes she could have had this, too.

At one point, Ezra takes his hand under the table, sensing his need for an anchor. He answers his questioning look with a squeeze, soaks in the sound of Cee’s bubbling laughter and the adoration in Ezra’s eyes, decides there might be something to Ezra’s words after all.

He may not deserve it, but he has it all the same. Shame to let it go to waste.

It’s late by the time they take their leave, bundling up at the door.

“Thanks for the sandwiches,” Cee says. “And for, y’know, not forgetting about me now that you’re all domesticated and shit.”

“I could never,” Ezra says, enfolding her in a tight, one-armed hug, offers his usual departing words of wisdom. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, birdie.”

“What, like get hitched?” she says drily.

Joel urges him out the door before that can fully sink in, has Ezra stopping in his tracks and turning around.

“Wait–”

“Relax, Ez,” Joel mutters.

“Did you–she said–”

“Uh-huh, I heard what she said.”

“But–”

“C’mon,” he says, tugging at his hand. “S’too fuckin’ cold out here.”

Ezra relents with a soft grumble, one last worried glance over his shoulder. Joel bites his lip on a smile. That girl sure knows how to push his buttons.

“Thank you for…indulging me,” Ezra says after covering some ground in silence. “I confess I…I don’t think I realized how much I missed our time together. It was just Cee and I for so long…”

“She still needs you,” Joel says, nudging him lightly before taking his hand. “An’ I don’t mind sharin’.”

The night is bitter cold and the wind forces them to hurry toward home. Ellie, loud and slightly drunk, if Joel had to guess, is just turning onto Rancher Street as they get there.

“Dudes! You missed a great party.”

She stumbles a little, giggles, and Joel reaches out to steady her.

“You owe me, fuckers. I covered for you. Even saved you some cake before the rest of the vultures got to it,” she says, just this side of slurring as she hands him a bundle of waxed cloth. “It’s super fucking good.”

“Uh-huh,” Joel says. “How much did you have to drink, kid?”

“Only three! Or wait…four, maybe? I dunno, Cat says m’a lightweight, whatever that means.”

“Three what? Fifths?” Joel asks incredulously.

“Just beer,” she wrinkles her nose. "Maria wouldn’t let me have the hard stuff even though I told her I can take it, that bi–”

“Gonna stop you right there,” Joel says, shooting Ezra a look over her head. Now it’s his turn to smother a laugh. “Remind me to thank her tomorrow.”

Ellie grunts and inserts herself between them, looping one arm through each of theirs for the short walk to the end of the street. She leans a little heavy on Joel’s arm, plunks her cheek on his shoulder. She’s running on beer and cake and probably not much else as they make it to the house.

“I’ll be right in, just, uh…gotta get this one settled,” he says to Ezra, handing him the cake.

“Hydrate, young prodigy,” Ezra advises her, and Ellie sticks out her tongue, follows it with a raspberry.

Joel walks Ellie into the garage room and she plops down on her bed with a grunt. Joel goes to the little standalone sink, fills a cup with water. By the time he places the cup on her nightstand, she’s already curled up on her side.

“C’mon, kid. Can’t sleep with your damn boots on.”

“Can too.”

Joel sighs and unlaces her boots, gently tugging until they come loose. She giggles, tries to help, only ends up kicking him in the arm, which makes her laugh harder.

“Wanna watch those space wars movies. Y’know, those ones with the robots? Are-too somethin’ and see-pee-oh.”

He cocks his head. “Y’mean Star Wars?”

“Yes! And the brother who kisses his sister,” she says, then laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Pew-pew, motherfuckers.”

“You’re full of it tonight,” he sighs, pulling the crumpled blankets out from under her and over her shoulders before kneeling by her side. “Think you need a bucket?”

“Nah,” she yawns. “M’fine.”

“Alright. Drink the water. I’ll check on ya in a bit.”

Before he can stand, her arm wiggles out from under the blanket and wraps around his shoulders, pulls him down into an awkward hug that melts him. He closes his eyes, holds her tight, drops a kiss in her hair.

“You’re goin’ soft, old man,” she mutters, but she’s still holding on.

“Uh-huh,” he says, throat tight. “Love you.”

When she finally pulls back, she smirks up at him with all the confidence of Han Solo.

“I know.”

Inside, Joel shucks off his coat to the sound of Ezra rummaging through the kitchen drawer. He’s unwrapped the cake Ellie saved, now slightly squished and sitting on the counter.

“Has our girl found the answers at the bottom of a bottle?”

“Found an attitude, more like. She’ll be fine, just needs to sleep it off. Still hungry?” Joel asks, nodding toward the cake.

“Ah. Thought I’d see what all the fuss is about,” Ezra says, bringing out a knife and aiming to cut a slice.

“Ain’t we supposed to do that together?”

Ezra’s grin is a slow, sweet spread thick as buttercream. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They share the knife and cut into the cake, Joel’s hand warm over Ezra’s. It’s an impressive dessert by Jackson standards. Real frosting–god knows where they found icing sugar–and the center has a layer of strawberry jam. Joel isn’t much for sweets, but he takes a bite when Ezra offers. It makes his teeth ache.

“I know you said no cake smashing, but–”

Before he can duck away, Ezra has swiped a fingertip of jam and smeared it lightly across Joel’s cheek. His eyes flash with mirth as he leans in, meaning to lick up the mess he’s made with the tip of his tongue.

It snaps the band of tension that’s been simmering all night.

Joel turns his head before Ezra can finish his cleanup and crashes their mouths together in an inelegant kiss. His hands find the collar of his fancy shirt and holds him, walks him back until he’s crowded against the counter and licks into him, tastes the remnants of vanilla sugar on his tongue. He only stops when Ezra yelps, having almost knocked the remaining cake off the counter in an effort to brace himself.

“Shit, sorry,” Joel pants, half laughing, half delirious with it, suddenly lighter than he’s felt all week.

Ezra grins, tongue darting out to wet kiss-swollen lips before cupping his cheek, leaning in to nip at him. “I suppose I did say I’d make it up to you. You’ve always been a touch…impatient.”

“ I’m impatient?” Joel growls, pressing his thigh tighter to the growing hardness between Ezra’s legs to emphasize the point. There’s still strawberry jam drying sticky on his cheek. He doesn’t care. “Finish your damn cake, Ez. Let’s go to bed.”

So they do, curled up naked under the quilt. There’s the hint of something more, something wanted, limbs entwined and hands exploring as they share slow, lazy kisses. What started as a fire mellowed somewhere between downstairs and the bedroom, and the pull of sleep is strong, exhaustion settling heavy around Joel’s shoulders. The mind is ready but the body is unwilling.

“Sorry,” he sighs into Ezra’s neck when it’s clear they’re not getting anywhere.

“No rush,” Ezra murmurs, stretching out with Joel’s head on his shoulder. “There’s time.”

They stay like that for a while, Joel drifting on the verge of sleep while Ezra strokes his hair. He finds himself thinking of Tess again, of all the moments they missed because they were too busy scraping by. How this was all she’d asked of him, and he’d turned her away because he couldn’t imagine deserving such a life.

“Songbird?” Ezra’s voice is a low rumble in his chest, and Joel tightens his grip, nuzzles closer.

“Mmm?”

“The other morning over breakfast…when you asked me if I wanted…something more…”

Joel’s stomach sinks. “Yeah.”

Ezra hesitates and the silence only serves to tighten the knot in Joel’s chest. He feels the jumpy thrum of Ezra’s heartbeat against his cheek, waiting for him to deliver the letdown. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and rich and close to Joel’s ear, a whispered confession.

“I have never…had this. Men with my proclivities didn’t have a dearth of options before, and that became even less likely after…well. The life of a raider does not endeavor itself to…romantic entanglements. Not to say I’m inexperienced, but in matters of the heart I am woefully naive.”

In the dark, Joel can barely make out Ezra’s features, feels the tips of his fingers carding absently through his hair, skimming the shell of his ear, warming the back of his neck.

“Which is to say…I’ve known my share of lovers, certainly…but not…love.”

It takes a moment in Joel’s near-sleep-addled state to fully grasp his meaning. “Oh…”

Ezra tips his chin up, almost prideful. “I had long ago come to the conclusion that I wasn’t worthy of…something like this. I’d made my peace with that. You spoke of not being…deserving…and I know all too well what that’s like.”

His voice dips low, tugs at the meat of Joel’s heart.

“I don’t tell you this for pity’s sake,” Ezra continues. “Just to ensure you understand that I…this is…more than I could have hoped for, songbird. I don’t take this commitment lightly.”

Times like this, Joel wishes he was better with words. As it is, all he can manage is to grasp Ezra’s hand and hold on, press a kiss to his knuckles.

“I know,” he whispers. He’d been so caught up with his ghosts, he hadn’t stopped to consider Ezra might have some of his own.

Later, he’ll put on his sweatpants and boots and wrap himself in a robe and go outside to check on Ellie, peer in through the frosted glass pane to find her where he left her, curled in bed and sleeping soundly. But for now, he’s content to stay like this, wrapped in his husband’s embrace, sheltered from the cold.

Maybe they didn’t have to do it alone.

Joel wakes to a huff of breath against his shoulder, Ezra wrapped around him like a second blanket. He’s nuzzling at the base of his neck, tickling the hairs there, peppering his upper back with kisses.

“Songbird,” he hums, tightening his arm low around Joel’s hips, nipping at the muscle along the ridge of his shoulder, clearly hoping to finish what they started last night. In the light of day, with a good night’s sleep behind him and no plans for the morning, that looks all the more likely.

“M’awake,” Joel grunts, turning over, doesn’t even have time to open his eyes before their mouths meet, hungry and wanting. Ezra’s soft moan resonates between them, hips hitching slightly, already hard and pressed tight to Joel’s thigh. It’ll take a little longer for Joel to get there, but not by much.

“Do you remember when I first…had you in this bed?” Ezra asks, pulling back, panting slightly.

Joel swallows hard, nods, still dizzy from the kiss and blinking sleep from his eyes.

“How I took you apart on my tongue? Hmm?”

Ezra on his knees at the edge of the bed, Joel’s torso bared and his jeans around his ankles, in too much of a rush to fully undress, glow of the golden hour slanting through the window. The memory sparks a pang of longing so strong it physically aches, sends a groan rippling up from Joel’s throat and a pulse of heat through his gut.

The body is more than willing this morning.

“I remember thinking to myself…that I had never witnessed a sunset more beautiful…had never experienced the majesty of a billion stars in the bliss of night, or watched the arc of a dove across the morning sky…than when you reached the apex of your enjoyment.”

Joel can’t speak, can’t breathe, fixed in place by Ezra’s dark eyes and his husked voice as his fingers trace the hollow at Joel’s throat. Their noses touch, the last words felt as a featherlight brush against his lips as much as heard.

“And I thought…in my haze of pleasure…that I want to be the reason you look like that. I want to watch you come apart every damn day for the rest of forever. And I will be there to put you back together again.”

Anything Joel might have thought to say, inadequate as it would have been, is quickly swallowed by Ezra’s kiss. His tongue skirts the pout of his lower lip and then they’re sinking into each other, a consummation of Ezra’s unexpected vows.

“Jesus,” Joel breathes when they pull apart. “You stay awake all night comin’ up with that?”

Ezra arches an eyebrow, eyes shining. “Did it work?”

With an agility that surprises even himself, Joel growls deep in his chest and rolls Ezra under him, pinning his willing form with his weight. His mouth finds the hinge of Ezra’s jaw, the freckle behind his ear, the ridge of his collarbone. The want is back, that old friend, and he gives into it, lets it lead him.

Down, teasing the ridge of a pebbled nipple with his teeth, down, lapping at the hollow of his breastbone, down, dipping his tongue into the soft circle of his navel and swirling, eliciting a stifled gasp, stomach twitching.

“You know I’m ticklish, cher ,” Ezra huffs, and Joel grins, does it again just to make him squirm before soothing the overstimulation with a gentle, firm bite to the softness at the base of his stomach.

He drags his scruff along his Adonis belt, teasing him with the heat of his breath, the slick muscle of his tongue lapping, sucking a mark into the curve at his hip. He admires the flush on his skin where he’s bruised him, the red scratches his beard has left behind, revels in the lightly painful tug of Ezra’s fingers in his hair, urging him on.

When he finally takes him in, the familiar taste and weight of him on his tongue is almost as delicious as the sound Ezra makes. It’s a whimper, a breath of equal relief and anticipation, soothing the ache while stoking the fire. It’s a heady rush, that first taste, the salt-tang of him, an invitation to see how much pleasure he can wring from his body.

Joel looks up, finds Ezra watching him intently, hungrily, head cocked to one side, chest flushed and heaving. He has to admit, the view ain’t half bad, stokes the heat roiling in his belly, and he grinds down into the mattress to find some relief. He takes him deeper, traces the ridges and veins with his tongue on the way back up, revels in the broken sounds he draws from Ezra’s lips.

“Songbird–your mouth, divinity itself could–could not–ohhh–”

He cuts himself off with a moan as Joel’s tongue circles and flutters, as his free hand grips him at the base and begins a firm stroke to help things along.

When Ezra’s hand pulls away, seeking purchase in the tangled mess of their bedding, Joel grabs for it instead, reaches up to lace their fingers, resting them on Ezra’s stomach and lightly holding him down. The intimacy is almost too much.

“Oh, oh love, you–I’m–”

Joel pulls off, still stroking, teasing. “You gonna come?”

Another throaty whimper, back arching into it. It doesn’t take long, they’ve been dancing around this for hours. He watches as Ezra comes apart in his hand with a choked gasp, spilling over his knuckles and onto the wiry curls at the base of his stomach, a breathed oh oh yes oh , and the power is a heady, giddy rush.

Every damn day for the rest of forever, indeed.

He crawls up the bed and settles on his side, allowing himself a moment of smug self-satisfaction. He’ll never match Ezra’s eloquence or even his energy, but he can manage this. Have him blissed out and shuddering in his arms, gazing up at him from under dark lashes, rendered monosyllabic. Has him curling into him, lips pressed to Joel’s throat and mumbling in French, legs tangled, arm cinched around his waist. He can hold him through the come-down. Can love him the way he deserves.

There’s quiet in the aftermath, Ezra nuzzling tenderly at Joel’s throat. His voice is all grit when he speaks.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel smirks, absently rubbing the back of Ezra’s neck. “Like you needed a reason to talk.”

“You love it,” Ezra whispers, peppering small kisses across the ridge of Joel’s jaw.

“Hmm. Reckon I do.”

Ezra’s ministrations at his throat become more urgent, the graze of teeth and lips and tongue. Joel’s cock kicks against his stomach as Ezra sucks at his collarbone hard enough to leave a mark. His hand slips between them and then he’s teasing with his fingers, stroking him without pressure, cupping and petting him until he’s aching. Joel watches, drowsy with lust, as Ezra gathers his own slick spill in his palm before wrapping it around Joel’s cock to mingle with his precome, easing his movements considerably. The sight is enough to make him shudder. He thinks he hears Ezra murmur something over the rush of blood in his ears, something that sounds suspiciously like waste not, want not , and Joel thinks there’s still plenty of want to go around.

“Fuuuuck,” he breathes into Ezra’s neck, and it’s a syrupy hot slide into the tight wet clutch of his fist.

Joel lets himself sink into it, lets the tension coiling in his gut unfurl and bloom as Ezra strokes him. He fumbles for something to hold, hand finds the meat of Ezra’s ass, the back of a thigh, hears a low chuckle in his ear as he gasps and pulls him close. Soon he’s panting into the warm crevice of Ezra’s throat, unable to form more than hollow sounds of pleasure and want as Ezra works him through it.

“Like that?” he murmurs, the words like velvet, and Joel can barely manage a nod. Somehow his lips find Ezra’s and it’s a long, broken moan into his mouth as he feels the band at the base of his groin tightening, tightening, ready to snap. There’s only the sound of his own heavy breathing and the slick slide of Ezra’s hand on him and then he’s pulsing, throbbing, falling apart with a cry.

They’re tender and warm in the afterglow, taking advantage of a rare quiet morning to laze in bed while the sun rises, but Joel finds himself distracted, that nagging doubt creeping in to fill the space created by their lovemaking.

“Tell me about her,” Ezra murmurs, sensing his disquiet. “Tess.”

He hesitates.

“You sure?”

Ezra kisses him softly. “Memory poses no threat to my affections, songbird.”

It should be awkward, Joel thinks, but the words come easily. She’s been at the forefront of his mind for so many days, it’s a relief to lay it all out.

And when he’s told him as much as he can remember, and the sun is much higher in the sky, Ezra strokes his cheek with his thumb and offers a simple truth.

“I have her to thank for your being here.”

And he does, Joel supposes.

For giving him one last kick in the ass.

For insisting he carry her hope for a cure, a future, and a life beyond the QZ.

For giving him a daughter.

For giving him a second chance.

He cups Ezra’s face in his hands, kisses him soundly, and silently promises he won’t let it go to waste.

#joel miller x ezra prospect #the last of us fanfic #prospect fanfic #joel x ezra #ellie williams #cee prospect #tess servopolous #tommy miller #i know you by heart #songbird #in my feels about these two

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devnmon · 10 months ago

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not according to my multiple character playlists, pinterest boards and fanfics...

"that character is dead" "that character is married to someone else" "that character wouldn't even look at you" well not according to my google docs

#emily prentiss #arthur morgan #john marston #sadie adler #tess servopolous #ellie williams

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lokischocolatefountain · 10 months ago

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Joel Miller Masterlist

Series

For The Right Man

Joel x Trad wife!reader

Honey, I’m Home Summary: Joel comes home to freshly baked dessert and a good little wife eager to serve in every way possible. Words: 4.8k

Men Like Me

Joel x virgin!Reader

Warning Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do girls like you only makes you want him more. Words: 6.2k Denial Summary: After your steamy encounter, Joel ignores you out of guilt, leaving you feeling unworthy. But you make a discovery that makes you turn the tables on him. Words: 10.4k

Mister Miller

Boyfriend's dad!Joel

Secret Summary: Your shameful secret you keep from your boyfriend is not such a secret after all. Your boyfriend’s dad Joel Miller knows what you do…very intimately. Words: 1.3k Picture Summary: Joel knows he shouldn’t, especially with the guilt of his shameful secret sitting heavy in his chest. But there are so many pictures of you and he is just a man. Words: 1k

Neighborly Thing to Do

Joel Miller x Reader x Javier Peña

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife. Simple rule to follow, you’d think. But it’s not so simple when your neighbor catches you coveting his girl, fucks her in front of you and tells you that you can help yourself to her anytime you want.

Yellow Bikini Summary: The new neighbors throw a pool party and Joel is invited. Words: 0.8k

Taken Care of

Predatory!Joel x Naive!Reader

You are as sheltered as can be in a world that has fallen apart. Realizing the errors of his ways, your father has his friend Joel take you outside the QZ to teach you how to survive in the real world. Unfortunately for you, Joel is interested in teaching you more than basic survival skills.

Comfort Summary: You and Joel find comfort in an unconventional way. Words: 1.8k

One-shot

Savior

Summary: Joel saves you from the horrors of the world only to inflict his own horror upon you. Words: 1.7k DDDNE

Mercy

Summary: Stranded alone in the woods and left to die, all you can ask of Joel Miller is the mercy of a quick death. He is willing to give it to you, but he needs something for himself first. Words: 2.8k

Hurt and Protect

Summary: In a world where politeness wasn’t part of trade, it helped to have someone like Joel Miller as your protector. But to be his to protect also meant being his to hurt. Words: 2.3k

Our Normal

Summary: You and Joel find a new normal with touch Words: 1.8k

Monster

young dad!Joel Miller & baby!Sarah Miller

Summary: Maybe the real monster was above the bed all along. Words: 700ish

Purpose

Dad!Joel Miller

Summary: “I think if he (Joel) could do anything or be anything, he would be a dad, raising his daughter. Whether it’s Sarah or— he can’t quite get there yet to say it’s Ellie but that's what he was put on this Earth to do. That’s why he’s been wandering around a little like a zombie himself for 20 years. He’s trying to find his purpose because it was taken from him.” -Craig Mazin. A fic exploring Joel's journey as a dad. Words: 12.7k

not to feel the way i felt—

Joel Miller x Tess Servopolous

Summary: “I never ask you for anything, not to feel the way I felt—” Moments in their lives where Joel felt something, if not they way she felt. Words: 3.9k

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corazondebeskar-reads · 1 year ago

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ain't no rest for the wicked masterlist - COMPLETE

Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller

Rating: Explicit. 18+ only.

Status: complete

Series Summary: Joel would never complain about what he and Tess have. The only thing is that, sometimes, he’d like to be the one in control. Tess has a proposition: she’ll find a sub for Joel that they can both enjoy. It’s not an easy feat... until they stumble upon you in a dark alley.

Series Warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, author makes up stuff about how QZs work, stalking, breaking and entering, tess and joel are kind of creepy, d/s dynamics without calling it d/s, poorly negotiated scenes, poor communication, fully consensual, use of ma'am & sir, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, strap-on, spanking, rough sex, impact play, bondage, canon-typical violence, teeny tiny plot but mostly pwp, canon compliant-ish, angst, bittersweet ending/no happily ever after, no y/n

playlist

I: ain't no rest for the wicked

II: trouble will find you

III: been sinnin' in this city

IV: no telling what tomorrow holds

V: way down below

#joel miller x reader #tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos x reader x joel miller #tess x reader x joel #tess x joel x reader #tess servopolous x joel miller #joel miller x you #tess servopoulos x you #tess x you x joel #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic

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ameagrice · 1 year ago

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GENESIS

CHAPTER ONE—INTRODUCTION

summary: beginnings are never easy. you contemplate your life from start to finish, and try your best to make sense of it all.

Remembering the beginning, would always hurt.

“Hey—come on, kid, get away from my front door.”

Your ears rang loudly, almost too loud to hear the woman’s voice.

Something nudged your leg. “Come on, move it. Now.”

Remembering the days spent running the length of the training building.

Sweat pouring down your back. Laughter, alongside friends.

Remember. Remember. Remember. It seemed all you were ever able to do.

And a time when it all felt it was slipping through your fingers despite all your best efforts.

“Come on!” You cried. His coat was cold under your grip. “Get up! Joel, get up!”

Desperation was a killer, and a brutal one at that. A scream was building its way up your throat. Your throat pinched with the shrill desperation in your words. Your breath came out raggedly, staring down at the man you looked to for guidance.

“What do I do?” A cry tore from your chest. “Joel, what the fuck do I do?!” You screamed. “Where’s Tess?!”

Joel remained still, and footsteps from above terrified you into shifting. Grabbing at the rusted screwdriver off the floor, you got to your feet, fear gripping you around the shoulders.

A creak at the top of the staircase, and you could scarcely breathe, let alone will your feet to run.

A black boot made its way into your vision, landing quietly on the top step, and you bolted.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Sometimes, laying in bed, you would think back on moments that seemed so insignificant, that later actually led to something so wonderful you could not comprehend how you got so lucky.

Like a dreamy day in Jackson.

“Feet off the couch.” Tess swiped them off the armrest. You let them fall, your mouth quirking up. You watched Tess walk away into the kitchen down the hall, and quickly put them back up, socked feet sitting in a patch of sunlight.

“Joel’ll be home soon,” she said. You turned your eyes to the ceiling, counting the cracks. “You wanna start on the chores?”

“Not particularly.” Your eyes followed a crack in the plaster, seeing how far it went. Tess’s unusual silence quirked your wonder, and you raised your head.

And was greeted to the sight of a dirty cup, and it’s contents of dish water dangling over your head. There Tess stood, an eyebrow raised.

“Alright! I’m going. Can’t a girl get five minutes of peace?”

“Five minutes?” She scoffed. “You’ve lay there all day!”

“You’d complain if I was out doing drugs,” you rolled your eyes, playfully, and walked over to the sink, eyeing the dishes from this morning’s breakfast. Joel’s leftover tea had stained the water a murky brown.

A tea towel hit you in the head, and you laughed. “You—dishes, now.”

The rest of the chores continued in silence, a comfortable one. It wasn’t very often that you and Tess actually had any time to spend together these days. Between her newfound love of odd-jobs around the town and a favouritism for the Tipsy Bison, it had been difficult to sit and talk to her for long. Not that you’d sat around doing nothing the last few weeks; Joel had been insistent on you attending the small school in town at least twice a week, if not for learning then for some proper company. Since then, every day you strolled the town with new friends, only heading back home when the streetlights came on (per Joel’s request).

The quiet in the house allowed the sound of footsteps on the porch to grow closer, a certain heaviness that only came with Joel’s strides. Keys jingled, and the front door opened, letting in the cooling, end-of-September air. Tess threw him a casual ‘hey’ from her spot in the living room.

“Got something to tell you,” he said, referencing Tess. Thankfully, he sounded…relieved?

“‘S it good or bad? Don’t ruin the mood, Texas.”

He chuckled. “It’s good. Hey, kiddo. Thought you’d be out today?”

Kiddo. You’d never had a proper nickname before. The fact that Joel stuck by it and used it continuously…well, it made you feel warm.

“I was gonna,” you shrugged. “Just kind of wanted to relax today.”

At the beginning, you’d been almost timid with Joel, unsure of how he would take things you said or did. Tess was easier to get along with, and you wanted to say more caring, too. Joel protected you when he had to, when he had no choice—during your trek out of the Boston Quarantine Zone, ambushed by clickers, and the time you’d barely gotten away from David. Once, you felt perhaps Joel thought he had an obligation to you for Tess. Tess cared for you, then, because she wanted to; maybe not in the way you needed at the time, but in a way you appreciated now: bandaging your cuts when you got hurt, halving her food for you during your journey across the country in the middle of a difficult winter. Joel warmed to you eventually, it just took time. Both Joel and Tess had lost their children. Perhaps it was a stab in the heart to have fate make them guide you instead.

Despite everything bad that had happened since then, the very start, you were grateful. Grateful for this house beginning to turn into a home. Grateful for the sacrifices both Joel and Tess had made.

You finish the dishes, and find your place under the window in the great armchair, under the patch of sun. In the hallway, Tess dusts the staircase banister, humming under her breath. Joel walks around upstairs. Everything is calm. Sometimes, you sit and think of all the trouble it took to get here: here an infection in the dead of winter, there a narrow escape. You’ve learned to appreciate where you are.

You almost itch for adventure. The cogs of your body scream at you to keep going. It’ll take some time to rewire them, to teach your brain that this is safe. Maybe you’ll never sit still again. Perhaps this is who are you and will always be.

The beginning was not easy. And let’s be real; when is it ever? When asked to explain it all years later, and when you finally came to put your past to paper in an old, yellow diary, you began with the story of a boy forever aged fifteen, of two young teenagers scaling the walls of their home, and the night that kickstarted it all.

—

CHAPTER 2

#Joel miller #joel miller x platonic!reader #tess servopoulos #Tess servopolous x platonic reader #the last of us #the last of us x reader #tlou #tlou x reader #reader insert #the last of us series #hbo #Joel miller x reader #Tommy miller #Tommy miller x reader

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devnmon · 11 months ago

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OOHHHH HER IN THIS OUTFIT IN THE RAIN IS JUST SO GOODDD. messr how are u so good at taking these i swear everytime i try to take pics of her i fail. BRAIN GO BRR

Tess Servopoulos | Downtown

#tess is for the girls #tess servopolous #shes so gorgeous #i could stare at her all day #tess servopoulos icons

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punkassfrance · 10 months ago

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Light Of Day - Part I - Tess/Fem!Reader

Currently rated teen- subject to change in further installment(s). Unfortunately, Tess has a crush. This work contains violence, drinking, and general criminality. ~1.6k words. Part II

Whiskey tastes better like this—here, in her spot by the window, when the skies are golden and the sun just barely stays out of her eye. Maybe it’s just the association—every drink in a dingy hole-in-the-wall speakeasy leaves her irritable and missing the warmth of solitude, of peace in her own home.

It’s her favorite thing to do these days. Sit by the window in silence and watch the world pass by beneath her. Watch the alleyway traffic coming in and out of the tip of the market she can barely catch. She feels like a bored cat sometimes, lounging in the sun, legs tossed over one arm of the chair with her head tilted up against the wall. That’s the nature of aging, she supposes—this stillness comes with the thrill of contentment, domestic even on her own. Her younger self would have been disappointed. But who cares about what she’d think? Tess scoffs to herself with another sip. She thought she was straight.

Sometimes, she’ll spot the contraband—someone walks out with nothing, but shifts and adjusts their jacket before stepping out onto the street. She could see more of the market from the kitchen window if she wanted, but her chair sits here by the alleyway. It’ll have to do.

Tess does this a few times a week when she’s not out, sleeping, or working on whatever job has come her way. Nobody’s noticed her up here on the third floor yet, so she watches the world pass by, the radio humming in the kitchen.

Then, there she is. Her other hobby.

The girl lingers on the corner of the alley, looking back at the stall she came from before nodding and walking away towards Tess’ window. Her eyebrows are pinched as she watches the asphalt, frown lines already starting to appear. She’s too young for them, Tess is certain. Everyone wears them these days, but she wants to run her fingers over them, soothe the lines out of the girl’s face.

So maybe she stalks her a bit. What does it matter? It’s been a long time since she’s had anything like this—a crush. It was unnerving at first. She’s looked people over, invited them into her bed, but this feels like a new low. She’s just…keeping an eye out for her. Making sure she gets home safe, looking at more than her body, keeping loose tabs on her. So maybe it’s gone a little…further than it usually does.

Last month, she started leaving things.

A few extra ration cards tucked into the mail slot of her apartment, a few edibles, a tinted chapstick she thought would look cute on the girl-(and she was right). Just taking care of her girl, she tells herself, although she’s not sure when she turned into her girl. She moved on before she could question it too much.

Right now, she looks tired. Tess can’t blame her for that. There’s not a soul left in Boston who isn’t tired. The exhaustion is bone-deep at this point, living off the last neuron that fires in the brain before collapsing. She’s been moving off the last few steps for months. The slump in her shoulders gives it away.

She passes by Tess’ window far too soon, brisk steps taking her out of the alleyway before she can appreciate the sight of her girl.

“And there she goes,” she whispers to herself, finishing off the glass of whiskey and holding the glass up to the sunlight. The reflection twitches on the floor beside her, crystalline and sharp against the wood. Staring absently at the pattern on the floor, her fingers slowly wrap around the glass one at a time until she holds it in a vice grip.

There’s a small box in her closet now, slowly filling up with little things she finds for her girl—things she thinks she might like. It’s a little hard to determine her tastes without talking directly to her, so she keeps it vague. Gifts nearly anyone would appreciate. Setting the glass down, she takes one more moment to linger in her spot before bracing against the arms and gritting her teeth as she rises.

Time to dig one of them out.

The girl’s apartment creaks and moans as usual, the floor giving way just slightly under her feet. If she ever actually speaks to the girl, she’ll have to get Joel to help fix her place up. If she could actually know her, know what she needs, this would be a lot easier—but it’s fine for now. The little bundle of ration cards sits in her pocket, wrapped in a rubber band with a pocket knife on top. The gap under her door is big enough to slip it under, she’s certain,but it would be nice to give her something a little more substantial.

God, this feels pathetic.

She tucks the bundle under the door silently, backing away before she can linger too long. There’s a curve in the hallway right beside her, giving her the perfect spot to hide just in case she’s caught in the act. She used to do shit like this, sure, in middle school. Notes slipped into lockers, things like that. It was embarrassing enough when it was expected of her, but now? A grown woman sneaking around like this with a crush? It’s even worse.

As she leans up against the wall for a few long minutes, lost in thought, she hears something from the hallway where she just came. It’s quiet at first, the same creaking floor she’s learned to avoid, then there’s a crash.

Glancing back around the corner, she sees a man outside her girl’s door. He’s covered in black, crowbar in hand. He pounds on the door, holding the crowbar behind him.

“We need to talk! Get out here!” Nobody else in the building is going to intervene, she’s sure of that. Everyone in the QZ knows to mind their business. Maybe snitches got stitches twenty years ago, but now, they’d be lucky to just get away with stitches.

She pulls her switchblade out of her pocket, holding it to her chest and glowering at him through the darkness. He only waits a moment before raising the crowbar, wedging it into the doorframe and throwing his weight into it. Tess winces at the breaking door frame, flicking the blade out and adjusting the knife in her hand. These buildings are falling apart, she knows that much from Joel’s explanations—she’s honestly surprised the door held up against the pounding. If the door’s reinforced, she’s proud of her girl for planning ahead. It’s clearly come in handy.

“Fuck off!”

That’s her voice—Tess has heard it before, just barely, overhearing hushed conversations she shouldn’t have eavesdropped on, but never like this. Never louder than a light rain. Her voice breaks as she shouts, like she never raises her voice above what Tess has heard. That would make sense, from what she’s seen. And what she hasn’t. She hasn’t seen friends, a partner, or even a real conversation with anyone outside of a transaction. She doesn’t walk out of the shadows, doesn’t draw attention. That’s what she hears; a dusty, unused voice being pulled off the shelf.

It only takes a second to make up her mind, the second she sees him back up to throw his weight into the crowbar again. The sound of the door frame splintering covers her steps as she crosses the hallway, raising her knife and—

The door opens. A shotgun barrel pokes out, aimed at Tess for only a moment. The sight breaks Tess away from the focus of attack, from the blade wedged into a joint, the trespasser shrieking on the ground.

Her girl is looking at her. Maybe for the first time.

Her hands are shaking, finger easing off the trigger as she looks over the situation on the floor. The man’s trying to throw Tess off, barely subdued by a twist of the knife, dislocating his shoulder with a crack. She gets off him after the damage is done, pulling the knife out and raising it over her head. The tip digs into the floor as he rolls out from under her and grabs for the wall, stumbling to his feet and sprinting away from her.

After he disappears, blood trails hidden in the dark carpet, Tess turns back to the door and looks up. This is not how she wanted to meet her girl.

She didn’t expect to be on her knees, clothes and face now flecked with blood, looking up like a child who’s been caught in the brutal act. The barrel of the shotgun has lowered to the floor as her girl studies her face, silent with parted lips. Soft, pretty lips. A fucking crush. She shouldn’t be thinking like this.

She sees it register on her face when she looks down at the gift on the floor, then back up to Tess.

“You-”

Tess raises a hand as the girl begins to speak, slowly beginning to rise to her feet. It’s a slow, stuttering process, with sharp and sudden pains threatening to take her down. She’s not hurt, as far as she can tell—but age complicates things, as always. She has to brace on the wall as she backs up, just as the attacker had, still holding up her hand in the heavy air between them. She waves her hand just a bit, as though she just needs a pause, a moment to finish what she’s doing before she can listen- it feels deceptive. There will be no resuming what this conversation was going to be.

She takes off once she’s on her feet, as fast as she can manage.

She’s grateful to hear no footsteps behind her.

So, it's been a little while... when will I learn that Kinktober and NaNoWriMo only serve to burn me out fast? Trying to get back into writing after a rough mental health episode, no promise I'll be churning fics out or anything, but I plan for this to have a part 2 (and possibly part 3! We'll see :3)

Let me know what you want to see, hoping to add another chapter to MNMG soon, requests are open! Feel free to say hi or drop your thoughts in my askbox, check out my AO3 or my about me if you're interested!

#the last of us #fanfiction #tess servopoulos #tess x reader #tess servopoulos x reader #x reader #tlou tess #tess/reader #tess servopolous x reader #tess servopoulos/reader #tess the last of us

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mr-m-murdock · 2 years ago

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hiii i loved your work with natasha and i can’t believe you’re into tlou/tess too! could you pls write tess x f!reader where they’ve been a thing for a while (years even, maybe) and reader admitted her feelings long ago but tess couldn’t do the same. not because she didn’t feel it, but beacuse she had lost so much and she was scared of losing reader too. they both join joel and tess gets infected. and it’s during those final moments when she finally tells reader what she felt for her all along.

are you lonely?

| tess x fem!reader |

warnings: I mean it's all there. Tess dies oop. ANGST because you know who I am and I refuse to change. Also some blood/gore(?)

a/n: she's so bisexual it's crazy. also I didn't rewatch the scene for this so the dialogue will be wrong

She'd never really said it out loud. Not back to you: not when you'd whispered it to the back of her head in the middle of the night, that you loved her and you weren't going to stop any time soon. Not when you were crouched side by side behind a sorry excuse for a wall, white-knuckled hands clenched around each other. Not when you'd laid your head on her shoulder and let it go walking off into the air between you on unsteady legs, a new-born colt of an idea.

And you were okay with that. You were okay with the fact that she loved you by handing you spare bullets, by holding your gaze, by shifting close to you in bed. You wanted her, so you'd take her in any form. Each kiss was rare and new and every touch on your spine as she walked by or grip on your shoulder as she pulled you to look at her: you held them all close to your chest and let them remind you of how good you had it.

You know the reasons, and they come down to this: Tess is scared. Well, maybe that's not the right word. But she's not a brave woman, and neither are you. Infected and FEDRA and smuggling: all of it rewards cowardice, the refusal to reach out and make something for fear of the break and the loss.

And Tess has already been broken, God knows she has. To anyone else she'd be half a person: a shell and a pair of steel-toed boots crowning something much worse. You've seen her cut out a man's tongue with a razor blade. She's rage and preservation. She's survival. And if survival means she has to stay silent when you tell her you love her, when you kiss her and hold her like she doesn't deserve, if that means that she has nothing to lose anymore: well, that's just fine. That'll be how it is.

You let her do it her own way. You didn't want more. You didn't need it. You heard more in her silence than she could ever say out loud.

Which is why it comes as such a shock, your heart making a plunge for your belly like there was suddenly space for it, when Tess pulls back her shirt and the bite, bloody and cruel, glistens on her neck. It jolts you most that she managed to hide it from you, oddly enough.

You don't feel anything for a second except the vertigo of surprise.

"Oops, right?" Tess says. And she's talking to Joel but she's looking at you. You, standing halfway behind Ellie, silent like you never really are, but there like you always are right where she needs you. She lets her shirt go and it pulls back but you can't stop seeing it, the red, the deep marks of teeth. It's not hit you yet.

It's going to. You can feel it coming.

"Take her to Bill and Frank's," Tess starts, and Joel is moving, shaking his head. "Yes, Joel, please. I need you to say yes. Listen to me."

"No," Joel says. Tess takes a step towards him and he flinches away. She stops, hurt twisting in her face. It's gone in an instant, but you feel it too, like it's leapt bodies. It's taking root behind your eyes, unshakeable. Pain in the back of your head. Pain in your chest, constrictingly tight. Tess's voice is loud now, still low and rolling off the high walls but you can't hear the words, can't make out anything at all.

She begins to move around, spilling shit everywhere, noise so loud it grates and you know, you just know her hands are shaking, even though they never do.

You used to be so good at reading her silences. You never needed words.

She's still now. She must switch tack because you feel it the instant her gaze lands on you, even though your vision is unfocused, holding her as a blur of a dark red shirt metres in front of you.

"I'm sorry," she says, and it doesn't rip through you quite like a surgical saw but it comes close. You blink and blink until your eyes are clear and sore. You can feel the way your hands are tight around the straps of your bag, nails digging into skin, matching her blood for yours. "There are things I wanted to say."

"Tess, don't do this to her," Joel says roughly.

"Fuck you." Comes out sharp. You watch it fall from her lips like you have a thousand times before. "Let me have this. If you won't listen just let me have this, goddamn, Joel!"

Joel goes silent.

Tess looks at you. You are crushingly heavy, a two tonne weight on the flex of your lungs. After everything, all she can do is look at you. The two of you tried so hard, for what? For what fucking purpose? And Tess just looks at you and breathes, hands by her sides.

"Joel?" she says. Talking to him. Looking at you. "Please. Save who you can save."

The light is coming in through those large windows behind her, low and yellow and it's like a wash-away. Like the time you saw the forest for the first time in four years, Tess standing beside you with her shoulder barely brushing yours. It's stupid, and you should be breaking down, maybe, saying something like you used to be so damn good at, but all you're doing is standing and staring. And all you want to do, a desire all of a sudden, is take her face in your hands and hold her there.

Joel grabs your wrist, Ellie by the loop on her backpack, and bolts for the door.

Ellie is yelling and your feet are moving, faster and faster and you're running looking back, a bad technique but you can't take your eyes off Tess and her yellow light. You hear it, seconds before your front foot crosses the line between inside and out.

"I love you," she says. You turn front-on and run.

requests | masterlist

notes: not tagging people because I think most are just here for the Marvel stuff, but if you want to be tagged for The Last of Us, message me and I'll be delighted to add you 🌸

#tessfic!#tess x reader #tess x you #tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopolous x you #the last of us fanfiction #fic!#the last of us #tlou #tess servopoulos #tlou tess #written fic for anon #anon cuties #m answers

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 1 year ago

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For the ask game: 3 and 7!

Hi Jen!!!😁😁 Thanks so much for popping in with these!! It always makes me smile to see you in my inbox!! I hope you’re doing well and that your holidays were fun and relaxing, and most of all I hope that the New Year brings you only the BEST things - because that’s exactly what you deserve. 🤍🤍🤍

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

I was very proud of and partial to this line/scene from It Pours From Your Eyes:

7. longest completed fic you wrote this year

Welp. Despite having the highest hopes of finishing a series this year, (i actually *wanted* to finish 3. hahaha what a fool!) I did not complete that goal. But! To answer your question:

the longest chapter of a fic I wrote this year was Aphelion Part 10 at 14.9k words (the longest single chapter or stand alone fic I’ve written ever!)

the longest one shot I wrote this year was Sheer Desire at 8.7k words

Thanks again for sending these, lovely!! 🥰

end of the year asks - if anyone is curious, feel free to send ‘em!

#thanks Jen!!#end of the year asks #writing asks #this year was disappointing productivity-wise #but I’m still proud of some of the things I cobbler together this year #favorite lines #longest fic #sheer desire #frankie morales x female reader #<- a smut #aphelion #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell vampire au #co-written with Rachael #it pours from your eyes #joel miller x tess servopolous

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xoxo-honeyy · 2 years ago

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tess masterlist

nothing yet but submit an ask or request!

#tess servopoulos #tess tlou #tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos smut #tess servopolous angst #tess servopolous fluff #honey's masterlist #honey's anthology #xoxo-honeyy

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devnmon · 10 months ago

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save who you can save // t.s.

A prequel to Long Long Time, detailing the first time the two met.

pairing: smuggler!reader x tess servopolous slowburn

Summary: One of your smuggling deals goes wrong– almost deathly wrong. A stranger decides you're worth saving.

word count: 11k

warnings: descriptions of several injuries, reader gets beaten up, non-sexual nudity, tw for random guys in the qz, physical assault, mentions of blood, death, drugs, and typical tlouverse violence... reader is mid 20's, tess is early 40's, tess gives reader stitches (but it's ok they're unconscious), mentions of tess's past, tess and joel aren't a thing in this, but he is an asshole for the better part of the fic [lowkey enemies to friends w/ joel]. pining (a lot of mutual pining oh my god guys.) also pls don't come at me for inaccurate qz stuff, this is fanfic. nonbinary pronouns used the reader is afab! also this fic starts in readers pov and ends in tess's and i just realized that so don't hate me for it! xx

a/n: happy valentines day GAY PEOPLE. this is for you guys. and all the tess fic lovers. here is my prequel of Long Long Time that i wrote a little over a year ago when tlou hbo came out. i pour my heart into each and every fic i write. this is my child, be kind with her. i hope you all enjoy and don't forget to reblog to support your favorite creators!!

That day she found you, beaten and bloody with several injuries, was the day she had quite genuinely saved your life.

You never should’ve made this deal.

Becoming a smuggler required more skill, more cunning –more than you had. Somehow, you’ve ended up right where you never thought you’d be: on the sour end of an unstable client.

You knew your stock wasn’t as satisfying as the client demanded, but the amount of ration cards seemed too good to be true. It happened to be– regrettably you’d been a fool to try and weasel out of the deal without repercussions. Nothing was ever that easy in this world.

The first thing you felt was the end of a very sharp knife pressing into your back. Then you heard his voice in your ear, speaking punctually.

“Where do you think you’re going? Nobody gets past me. Not even you. I let you think you’re good at sneaking around. But I see everything.”

Your breath hitched as his grip pulled you backwards into the alley. Once you turned away from the main road, you were met with another man, one you knew accompanied another man you dealt with often. He was dressed the same, and had that classic sketchy-guy look that told you exactly who’d approached you this hostile.

It was a particularly unstable client, one you hesitated to continue business with due to his poor self-control. He was a junkie through and through, just a man too weak to settle into this world, needing a constant escape. You had unfortunately promised him a supply you didn’t have, and things escalated too far soon after.

There was no reason to call for help either; it would be that easy for him to rat you out to FEDRA for selling pills. Even if those same soldiers were frequent customers of yours. Your voice had gone hoarse and the cut on your lip swelled enough to make it hard to speak.

You couldn’t decide what was worse, the fact that you never saw this coming, or that nobody would be coming to your rescue.

Crack.

Your shoulder was slammed into the wall with enough force that you toppled to the floor. Followed by multiple kicks to the stomach and sides, with not even a second’s notice. Your lunch felt closer to coming up with every rough kick of their boots into your torso.

The amount of stock wasn’t nearly as close to what the client demanded, but his ration cards seemed too good to be true. To be fair, you weren’t cut out to be a smuggler; you were a fool to try and weasel out of the deal without repercussions. It was never that easy in this world.

Your knuckles scraped against the blacktop like sandpaper while attempting to stand, painted crimson while your skin ripped. When your vision went double, then triple, squeezing your eyes shut alleviated the pain for just a moment.

Other than the blood you felt gushing from your hands, the throbbing in your head and torso made it difficult to move without immense pain. Weakened by several blows to the stomach, your legs finally gave out. Your ankle twisted the wrong way as you fell, while your palm caught on a sharp piece of rock, scraping it enough to burn. You were damned if you tried to yell for help.

You huff a breath, before a sharp pain stopped you short, coughing up blood that pooled in your chest. On all fours like a dog you were, with the two men standing above you muttering to themselves.

Mercy, they called this having mercy on you.

Some form of laceration cut deep enough to drip red hot blood down your forehead, and there was no doubt you had several more covering your body by the way everything burned. It dripped down your face and made everything blurry.

Coughing hoarsely, you somehow found the strength to pull yourself off from the prone position, finding a wall to sit up against. Each time you moved, it felt as if your body was getting ripped apart. Your bones felt like glass, your skin like paper. Blood gushed from a slash on your arm, and your stomach had taken one too many blows to pull yourself to your feet.

How the fuck did this happen?

You had been traveling through the QZ during late afternoon, around the central hob of trading. In the midst of the zone's chaos, you ducked into an alley as a shortcut, which was your first mistake. Minutes later, you had been roughly attacked from behind, and thrown against the wall with one motion.

“You got our pills, bitch?” Two sets of feet pointed toward you while weakened.

“I need more time,” you breathed, convincing yourself more so than the man in front of you, “My dealer’s stingy with his supply. I can get it out of him, though. Soon.” Your arms raised at your sides, knowing how many people secretly carried knives around the QZ. There was no way you were taking that chance.

A pair of hands grabbed the collar of your shirt, lifting you up so you could hear them clearly.

“We want the rest of our pills. And a pack of cigs. End of the day tomorrow. Or you’re all the way dead. You hear me?”

The other man approached, unsheathing his blade and immediately pressed it to your cheek, standing not even a foot from your body. His blade was forced onto your skin so hard that it drew blood, and you called out in pain.

“End of day tomorrow. The usual spot.” The one holding your collar said pointedly.

A fast nod of your head paired with the incessant throbbing of his words within your mind had you struggling to comprehend anything. He released your collar, which resulted in you toppling onto the ground once more. The blood you coughed up afterwards stained your shirt, wiping it away with the sleeve of your flannel.

You’d survived the chaos of outbreak day, almost running yourself into the ground trying to escape everything. That was the day you knew this would be a life of running, until you arrived in Boston.

You weren’t sure about the Quarantine Zone at first. But then you saw a bed and pillow to sleep on every night. No more camouflaging yourself in the backseat of a car or suffering drastic temperatures and hoping you wake up not frozen to death the next day.

To be fair, you tried to sign up for work shifts, but manual labor was never for you– especially not when it was shoveling shit, or transferring corpses to burn in fire pits. That kind of work was not how you intended to live out the rest of your life.

That was when you landed on smuggling, since people had to be desperate for some kind of relief after taking orders from soldier douchebags all day. You probably would’ve been better off in the academy, not taking shit from a weasel of a dealer whose name you forgot, but whose ponytail you remembered. You’d gone from risking your life every day in the open world, dodging the swarms of runners underground to being forced into risking your life trying to make the junkies and downright miserable people of the QZ happy.

Now, you’ve accepted that you were going to slowly bleed to death in this alley. Part of you wanted to resist, but the idea of not having to deal with anything like this ever again. It would just be that much easier to close your eyes and succumb.

You whimpered at the pain running through your leg, a patch of maroon seeping through your jeans. Too weak to put pressure on any of your own wounds, you let your eyes close in defeat. The voice at the back of your head protested, wanting you to get up and fight for your life. But you just couldn’t.

Eventually the air got cooler which you noted meant the sun had gone down, and you were in and out of consciousness. Warily, you opened your one good eye, spotting the patch of blood that had spread further from the gash on your leg. The sight made you queasy, so you closed your eye again and went back to unconsciousness for a while. It was the lone way everything stopped hurting, and bliss once you floated into it.

“Psst. You alive?” The words rang sharp in your head with an ache so bad you couldn’t focus. The nudge at your foot woke you a bit, pulling you to consciousness slightly. No reply earned you a slightly harder kick to the leg, which shot another stinging pain up your leg. You groaned and your body moved a bit.

Is someone there?

Footsteps crunched against the blacktop, getting slightly louder.

Fuck, please don’t hurt me, please, please..

“I’m just gonna check your pulse, so if you can hear me, don’t freak out.” Your head moved an inch weakly, unsure about this person being so close to you. A low groan of discomfort came from your chest, alerting the woman you were conscious.

“Hey, hey. I’m not going to hurt you. Just needed to know if you were alive.” The voice was low, and it sounded feminine through the ringing in your ear.

“H-help… me…” You managed to speak, your mouth and tongue tasting like iron.

The woman went silent for a moment, taking a look over the state of your injuries.

“You’re pretty fucked up, honey. God, what piece of shit did this to you?” She picked up on the multiple gashes on your body, staining your clothes, and your shoulder was visibly out of place.

You decided to open your eyes to see who was crouched next to you. It was no use, your vision was still spinning from earlier. Sharp pains drummed against your head and obscured your ability to see. The one sole thing you could make out was someone with long, light colored hair and a dark pink shirt, but you kept looking around to see if your vision would come back.

“Shit. I’ve gotta get you out of here. Just- just hold on. Name’s Tess, what’s yours?” You picked up on her moving about, unzipping what you assumed was her pack.

You mumbled again, still unable to speak clearly.

“Right, dumb question. So, I’ve gotta stop your bleeding, and your shoulder looks dislocated. I can only do one of those things right now, and then we can get you someplace safe. That means I’m gonna have to put pressure on your leg. Okay?” Her words came out matter-of-factly, and she seemed like a true survivor of this world.

You begin to protest, moving slightly away from her and moaning with distrust.

“Look, I promise, I will get you out of here. But I can’t have you leaving a blood trail through the streets. Alright?” She asked, and you hesitated for a moment, but nodded slightly.

“Okay, this is going to hurt, but I need you to keep it quiet so it doesn’t attract soldiers. Can you do that?”

Immediately, you shook your head no, and you heard the woman mumble to herself while she shuffled through her bag.

“Here, bite down on this. It’s a clean rag, and I promise that if you scream, it’ll be a hell of a lot quieter than if you didn’t have it.” She raised the rag up to your lips and waited for you to open your mouth. Somehow you trusted her to let her put it in. If this were some other old injury, you wouldn’t be giving an inch. But you happened to be on the brink of death right now, and you realized she’s probably saving your life.

“I’m gonna put pressure on your cut now.” You heard her rearrange herself to be crouched over on the other side of you. With both her hands, she pressed down firmly on your wound. The stinging pain that died down earlier came right back when her hands made contact. She noticed your wound gushing through the first bandage in her hand. You groaned loudly into the cloth, grateful for its existence.

“I know it hurts…” The woman spoke again, “Just hang in there. I’m gonna wrap your wound, and then once we’re safe, I can stitch it up.”

You begin to protest, borderline trusting the woman in front of you. Then you realized, she was the only one here.

"Look, I need to get you out of here. Need to get us out of here. Soldiers are gonna be swarming the streets all night, and it's almost sundown. I can take you to my place, and I’ll have a better chance to take care of you there. I know you probably don’t trust me, but it's the least I can do."

Considering the current situation, you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Do what you… h-have to..” you muttered weakly.

The pressure on your wound had lightened, while one of her hands rested on it as she used the other to grab for her bag again. She met your eye level for a moment, glancing up to survey your state. She went back to wrap some gauze around your thigh, tying it tighter than you would’ve liked, even though you knew it would help your wound begin to heal.

“Okay, I think the bleeding stopped. You poor thing, let’s get you out of here.” You watched her zip up her pack and shrug it onto her back, while grabbing yours with her other hand.

“It’s probably gonna hurt a lot if you try to stand, but we gotta get you up one way or another.” You felt her at your side, slipping your left arm around her shoulder. She had already noticed the sharp inhales you were taking upon moving from your spot.

“Here, lean on me. I’ll carry you. Just keep breathing, honey.”

The minute she began to lift you was when you knew something was really wrong with your other arm. It tingled all over and your shoulder ached something awful.

“‘M t-tryin’– it hurts…” had been uttered under your breath with another whine of sharp pain as your body moved with hers.

“I know. Shhh, Shh. Hey, Just put one foot in front of the other. You’ve got this.” Something about her voice was calming you, and it almost made up for all the pain. The two of you begin walking, slowly at first, testing out your strength for the journey. It took a minute of tripping over your own feet to steady yourself.

“Promise we’re gonna get you fixed up, brand new.” She muttered under her breath, low enough so other people nearby didn’t hear.

Somehow her words kept you going, limp after limp. Tess made sure you knew when you had to take a step up or down, and kept you going the whole time.

“Yeah, you got it. We’re halfway there. Keep it up, doin’ great.” Her words reverberated in your head with an echo. You couldn’t see where you were stepping for the majority, but you trusted her to guide you. Another few minutes of walking had your body much more worn out than normal. Once she stopped at the side of a building, her arm went to push the door open.

“Here we are.” Tess kicked it shut behind you two, and balanced you against her body. The interior was warm on your skin, but somehow your body still shivered to its core. Inside, you could hear people shifting around, but the sounds blended together amongst your attempt to stay upright.

“I’m s-so cold…”

The strength in your body was draining with every step you took; you were ready to collapse.

“I know, but you gotta keep your eyes open a little longer. We need to get you up these stairs. Then we’re home free.”

You didn’t protest as she brought you closer, inching up each step carefully in order to not strain yourself. Your legs ached with every step, persevering to make it all the way.

The last step up the top stair drained the last of your stamina, evident by the way your fingers throbbed with each beat of your heart. You were out of it more intensely than when you had been outside. Your whole body was sensitive with some form of pain you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Tess led you down the short hallway, stopping in front of her door. She fumbled with her keys, although the jingling chain sounded more like glass breaking in your head. The door flew open, and she brought you inside, tossing your pack to the side while tossing her keys in another direction.

“Alright, let’s set you down on the couch. Should be more comfortable than the damn ground.” Tess scoffed as she brought you over, keeping an eye on your limp. She turned you to the right, your bad arm on the outside of the couch as you were lowered down onto the cushions. When your feet were finally off the ground and your back rested against the pillows, it made a world of a difference.

“Fuck… I’m so tired. Everything hurts.” You stifled a groan, but Tess saw how much pain you were in. Your eyes scrunched together every time you tried to move and there were multiple patches of blood seeping through your shirt.

“I know. But I can’t leave your shoulder the way it is.”

“My shoulder?” You hadn’t the slightest idea what she was talking about, your arms felt fine.

No, it’s definitely the shock you’re in.

“It’s dislocated. Pretty swollen already, you must be in shock. And I already told you that I’d have to pop it back in. Before we left, you don’t remember?”

“No…” You mumbled, trying to recall; your memory was so groggy; you couldn’t remember half the day.

“Shit, you probably have a concussion too.” Tess reached to the back of her jeans, pulling out the same rag as before. “But I��ve gotta set your shoulder before it’s permanently damaged. It’s probably been way too long already.”

“How d’you know all this? Were you a doctor or something? Before?” Tess turned to face you, and you were able to focus on the features of her face for a moment. Her eyes were a light hazel color, and you could see little strands of grey peeking through her light brown hair.

“Or something… I did a lot to survive after the outbreak. Learned a lot more to survive the hard times.” Her words trailed off, and she went to grab something from another part of the room. Tess had collected an old shirt of hers, and came back over to you.

“Okay, so… I’m not good with pain clearly. Hope you still have that rag. Cause I’m gonna yell… or pass out. Either way, it’s gonna hurt a shit ton, and I’m gonna need it.”

Without a doubt, Tess pulled the rag from her back pocket for you.

“Got it right here. Kept it out of my pack cause I knew you’d need it again. This is gonna hurt a lot more than just some pressure on your cut.” She began tying the t-shirt together in a specific way, but you weren’t sure what she was doing with it.

“Shit. I know… I know. Just do it.” You groaned, feeling a slight tingling sensation in your left hand shooting upwards to your shoulder.

Tess set the now tied shirt onto the floor, as she kneeled down next to you. With one hand, she held the rag up to your mouth, and you bit down on it. Among the various other pains in your body, your shoulder was the worst of all. Taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself enough, Tess met your eye once she had leaned down in front of you.

“Ready?”

Wordlessly, you nodded your head. You were trying to keep calm, but the shock was wearing off and your pain came flooding back. One of Tess’s hands grasped your forearm, though you could barely feel her grip.

“Okay. One, two…”

Crack went your shoulder back into its socket with one swift motion. Just as she thought, you went groaning into the rag once again. Tess took her hands away and grabbed the makeshift sling she had tied together earlier.

“Does that feel better?” She asked, watching you spit out the rag. You took another deep breath in and out, surveying the current feeling in your arm.

“Yeah.” You weren’t sure if you believed it yourself, but for now you decided to. “Pain’s still there, but it definitely feels different. Better than before.”

“Good. Here, you’ve gotta wear your arm in this sling while it heals.” Tess lifted the tied up sling over your head, and it slipped on easily on once she had it situated the right way.

“Could I get those pills now? The idea of any kind of grace from the amount of pain I was just in sounds like a dream.” You tried to laugh, but a cough came up instead.

“Yeah. I’ve got Oxy, Hydro, Morphine…” She trailed off, not even knowing if you knew what she was talking about.

“Honestly, whatever you think will be best. I honestly don’t know anything about dosages very well, and I trust you. Besides, I just wanna knock out for the night. I’m fucking exhausted.” Your words slurred a bit, due to your swollen lip, but Tess heard you well enough.

“Alright, I’ll be right back.”

Instead of trying to keep your eyes open, you shut them again in an attempt to alleviate the pain in your head, but it pounded nonstop. You listened to Tess’s boots on the wooden floor walking around to ground yourself. A couple minutes later, she returned to where you lay on the couch.

You peeked your eyes open, and she’d crouched down with two pills in one hand and a cup of water in the other.

“Got you water to wash it down with, if you want.” Her cupped hand held two of the white pills and you raised your good arm to grab them. Patient as she was, you moved slowly.

There was no indication of any burdensome look on her face, which was odd– no one had ever been this kind to you before. You didn’t know how to feel about it.

Slipping the pills between your lips, you grabbed for the cup of water. It began to slip out of your hand the minute Tess loosened her grip.

“Here, let me. You’re gonna be really weak for a while, so just close your eyes and relax.” She said, to which she brought the cup to your lips with no hesitation.

“Now, while those pills kick in, I’ll see what I can do for your gashes and other injuries. All I want you to focus on is getting some sleep. You’re safe. I promise.” She touched your hand softly, then stood up and walked off to leave you space to rest.

Once you closed your eyes, you felt the exhaustion wash over you, though it finally felt good to rest again. A few minutes passed, and the groggy effect of the pills began to set in. You were out in no time.

In the meantime, Tess darted back and forth gathering supplies to fix you up; she’d sterilized a needle and thread to stitch up your leg, and took the last of her ace bandages out from her pack to use for your ankle. She grabbed the bottle of whiskey on the countertop, and brought what she needed over to you, couchside.

Before Tess took the needle and thread between her fingers, she cut away the area of denim that was ripped from your gash.

“Sorry, kid. I’ll get you some new pants.” To be fair, those jeans of yours were filthy with dirt and muck stains you’d never be able to wash out. Not to mention the blood that spread had well enough to become a large patch. She attempted to wipe up the dried viscera around your cut best she could, dabbing with the alcohol lightly to sanitize it. She’d counted on you being unconscious from the pills to start stitching up your gash. Hands steady, she looped the needle and thread through your cut, pulling it closed with each tie.

Though it wasn’t the most ideal situation for something like this, Tess had the experience. Stitching up cut after cut on the road for god knows how long, trying to keep moving forward, but somehow someone always got hurt. People kept dying, or turning– and that wasn’t even the worst part. Upon making it to Boston, she learned what it was to be calm under situations like this. To become cold. It got the best of her, more often than not; any idea of the old her was lost to dreams of the world before. She never looked back, never slowed down, never took even a moment for herself. Her routine was based strictly around finding the best way to get by in the QZ. The constant eye of FEDRA’s guards and firefly bombings were enough, let alone the mile-long lines for rations that were barely ever in. It was too much to subject herself to being controlled by an invasive military, especially after all she’d done to survive. Each person Tess left behind etched a sliver of her humanity off, chipping away the heartfulness she once carried with pride.

Save who you can save, the last words whispered to her by someone that sacrificed themselves so she could make it to Boston. Everything blurred together sometime after getting admitted into the city; by then, she’d worn down that kind version of herself into the ground. Possibly that same place where she heard those words before. Quickly, she gained a reputation with Joel by her side in the smuggling business of the zone. It paid well– better than hard labor all day for a cruel amount of flimsy ration cards, just to repeat the same thing over the next day. There was a respectable line Tess drew between the things she’d done in the name of survival, and things she strongly disliked doing.

Tess’s time in the QZ had only reinforced that rigid outer shell of hers, confident the softer, weaker person inside her was left behind for good.

She’d almost made it through the day without finding any trouble, but her path through the streets was detoured by FEDRA vehicles and it happened to be the quickest route back to her place. Tess’s steps were quick, aiming to make a b-line straight back.

Then her eyes caught the image of your thoroughly beaten self, and attempted to shut down the itch in the back of her throat she couldn’t quite scratch.

Just keep walking, she’d told herself. But her subconscious knew better. Then those words echoed lightly through her head.

Tess, save who you can save…

“Shit…”

She thought she’d forgotten them all. But time never does. Those poor souls lost to hordes of runners, clickers, stalkers– each one shoved down so deep inside, and the outside shell of her was simple glass.

Keep walking, just keep walking…. No–

She truly tried to keep going, but each step gnawed into her further. Remembrance of the ones she’d lost shattered the glass holding her back, and glued her feet to the ground in place. A quick curse had Tess looking back over her right shoulder, catching a glimpse of your unmoving body. She’d figured if this were a trap, others would’ve already surrounded her.

A deep sigh came from her exhale of a tightly held breath; her heart pounding against the inside of her chest, as if something about to burst. Any second thought of moving further had vanished, her feet pivoting against the concrete, toward the stagnant body lying soundless against the brick wall.

Darkness swallowed every corner of that alley; Tess was fortunate to even have seen you at all.

It wasn’t often she found herself stopping for anyone that needed help, let alone in the QZ. Underneath the swollen and crimson stained injuries, she saw a young individual subdued and unconscious from their injuries. That was the moment she’d called out to you.

Tess shook those pre-Boston nightmares from her mind, putting all of her focus onto fixing up your ankle. With the discoloration of bruises that covered your ankle, it baffled her how you were even able to trek as far as you had gone. Her eyebrows furrowed relentlessly, each one of your injuries more surprising than the last.

“Jesus, kid. What the hell did you get yourself into?” She muttered to herself, before grabbing the roll of bandages from her pack. Tess was so focused on getting your ankle wrapped, that she hadn’t heard the creak of the wooden floor from behind her.

“Tess… what’re you doin’?”

Unbothered by the voice, her hands kept working. Though, she knew she’d woken her roommate from his slumber. Joel Miller hadn’t thought this was what he’d be seeing at almost two in the morning.

“Wrapping an ankle, the hell do you think I’m doing?”

“Tess. who the fuck is this?” By the tone of his voice, she knew he was pissed. She dare not poke the bear this late.

“It’s uh… well, no. I don’t know. They couldn’t speak when I found them.” She’d finished securing the bandage around your ankle, and placed it back down on the couch.

“Do you even know their name?” Joel stepped towards Tess, his brow furrowed.

“Joel… they were lying beat up and bloody in an alley. I wasn’t gonna take the chance and leave them there to die.” She reached for the other pillow on the couch, and placed it delicately for your ankle to rest on.

“Well, did you even check their pack for weapons?”

Tess huffed a breath, and stood up straight, turning to the man.

“I was a little preoccupied making sure they weren’t bleeding out. Besides, they didn’t have any on their body. But if you insist…”

She took the moment now to move towards your pack she’d thrown into a corner earlier, taking out a notebook, some ration cards, and a couple bags of pills.

“What the fuck? Tess, this could be a setup.” Joel muttered, the tone of his voice unsettled by the situation.

“What? No. No fucking way, Joel. I’m telling you, they would’ve died out there if it wasn’t for me.”

“You’ve gotta stop tryin’ to save people that ain’t worth it. That’s how we’re still alive, why we’re here and the dead ain’t.”

“No, I don’t believe you. They’re unconscious and didn’t even see you, by the way. I think you’re fine.” Tess shook her head while she spoke.

“Well, it’s our business that goes to shit if you’re wrong.” Joel spat, beginning to walk back to his door.

“I don’t really give a shit. Not tonight. What I do care about is making sure this person stays alive. I couldn’t care less about distributing pills to junkies.”

She did care about the smuggling, just not as much as she did about keeping you alive for the night.

“Yeah, whatever.”

His door shut and locked, leaving Tess alone with you for the night. She collected herself after that conversation, preparing anything she might need throughout the night to treat you. Just in case.

Her muscles finally relaxed the minute she’d sat down in a chair adjacent to her couch. While she draped a blanket over her legs, Tess took one last look at you, studying your rising chest and calm features.

You’re gonna be alright.

Beams of sunlight painted the walls with a glowing warmth, cast across the older woman’s skin. Morning broke early, waking Tess before either of the habitants that resided in the Boston apartment. She’d always been a light sleeper, despite that it was loud most hours in the walls of the QZ. Living in Detroit her whole life had certainly accustomed her to it.

Her hazel eyes opened against the light, finding themselves staring upwards at the ceiling. Tess had woken up several times throughout the night, which had become a normal occurrence for her. Events from last night flashed through her mind as she rose from her slumber. Her slumped position resulted with an uncomfortable spot in her neck from the chair she’d been in all night. Tess sat up as best she could, grasping the nape of her neck for comfort. No matter how many times she tried to get rid of the pain, nothing relieved her. Defeated by the lack of sleep, she rose from the chair and looked over at you still asleep on the couch.

Rays of sunlight happened to catch right over your face, peeking through the blinds as they awoke you from rest. Yesterday had become a blur quicker than light.

Where am I? What happened to me? It hurts everywhere…

You shifted lightly with a groan, eyes still closed. A headache pinged at the sides of your temples, and you took a sharp breath out of reflex. You weren’t able to move your body freely; exhaustion had drained you enough. Out of the blue, you heard a female voice echoing in your ears. Your one good eye opened, and it took a minute to adjust to the light, along with any blurriness.

“Hey, you with me?” Her voice called out to you, unintelligible at first, but once you focused on the words more, you understood.

“Where… where am I?” You mumbled, attempting to lift yourself up. You didn’t know what was worse; not knowing where you were, or not being able to lift your body normally.

“Don’t try to sit up. You’re safe, but you’re too weak to sit up right now. I saved you last night, patched you up. Remember? My name’s Tess.”

“Not really…” you sighed, accepting your weakened state.

Tess knew it would take more than just one night to gain your trust; she also knew Joel wouldn’t be as patient. She crouched down by the side of the couch where you were, getting closer to make sure you heard her.

“So, I pulled you out of that alley last night, patched you up and kept you safe the past twelve hours. I think that warrants me your name.”

Your eyes glanced over her figure, the image of Tess still fuzzy. Considering all the factors, and the fact that you were still alive, you gave in and told her your name. Tess nodded contently and spoke again.

“Well, you probably have a concussion. But I cleaned and bandaged up everything else I could. Your left arm was dislocated, but I popped it back in last night. That’s why it’s in the sling. Don’t try to move it much, it’ll take a while to heal. As for your ankle, it’s twisted pretty bad. Bruised, too. You’re gonna be off your feet for a while.” Surveying the bumps and bruises you’d received, she set other supplies to the side on the floor.

You glanced down at your body, pulling back the blanket over your legs to find your stained jeans and the stitched up gash, with other bandaging around your ankle.

“You saved me? And bandaged me up?” You speak clearly for the first time, and Tess stopped in her movement.

“Yeah. You’re lucky to be alive. I wasn’t gonna let you die out there.”

“What..” you swallowed, “What happened to me?”

“From the looks of it, you were on the bad side of a shitty deal gone wrong. Like I said, you’re lucky to be alive.” Her tone was calm, and impressive to see in a situation that was anything but.

“You went through my pack?”

“I found you in an alley. Almost dead. Can you blame me?”

“Guess not…” you said, sighing and trying to sit up. With one arm in a sling, you were having trouble moving without anything hurting. The pills were wearing off little by little as time passed.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t do that. You’re gonna be couch bound for a while.”

“What? No way. I need to… I have business and shit I need to get done–”

“Don’t play coy. We know you’re a smuggler.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, pacing in small circles.

“Well, you went through my bag. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. Wait, did you say we?”

Before Tess could respond, a gray haired man emerged from behind her, jutting into the conversation.

“You’re real cocky for someone that almost ended up dead from one of your clients. For all I know, this whole thing is a setup for you to rob us, kill us, or somethin’ else. But I ain’t gonna take that chance. Not now, not ever. Are we clear?” His southern accent came out as he spoke, and it wasn’t often you heard a voice like his among the Boston streets. It was intimidating enough; you didn’t trust him.

“Yeah– okay, dude. Jesus, I don’t even know who you are. I didn’t know you guys were smugglers!” your voice strained while you lift your arm to gesture.

“Joel, I was the one that brought them here. Like you said, this is on me. And I’ve got it. Walk it off, Texas.”

The man named Joel walked backwards, dark eyes trained on you until the moment he turned around and left. He shut the front door in haste.

“Is he always that tense?” You ask, taking a deep breath.

“No. It’s not every day I bring anyone back to this apartment. Let alone someone who looked half dead, like yourself. No offense.”

“Yeah… Why did you save me, by the way? You could’ve just left me there. But you didn’t.”

“I told you… I wasn’t going to let you die. I thought you were dead at first, but I took the chance and saved your damn life. Is that what you wanna hear?” Your vision was still a little blurry, but you could focus on the woman’s features much more easily up close. You finally made out the face of your savior, Tess was a woman with light brown hair, longer than her shoulders but not too long. Her eyes were green, and there were lines on her face from time passing. With her stern voice, you wouldn’t know her face would look as calm.

“Well, thank you.” You admitted, half ashamed you even thought about staying there to die in the first place.

“You’re welcome.”

Just as the silence settled, your body became aware of every injury you’d received. A sound of discomfort slipped past your lips, furrowing your eyebrows together.

“Are you in pain? What hurts?” Tess began looking over the stitches she’d done the night before.

With a groan, you replied, “Everything…”

“Alright, I can give you a couple more pills for the pain. Uh wait– do you need to use the bathroom? I assume it’s been a while…”

“Oh, yeah. I think in my near death I’d been.. You know, going without the ability to control it.”

“Right… Well, I can get you a clean pair of clothes, but it won’t do any good if you’re wearing your own body fluids. Do you– would you like a bath?”

Immediately insecure, you realized how filthy you must’ve become, spending most of yesterday soaked in your own blood and urine. Quickly, you nodded while looking down, shame washing over you.

“Okay, Joel’s not gonna be back for a few hours. I can spare you some new clothes and underwear, but your boots I can just clean off later. I’ll re-wrap your injuries after, too. For now, we’ve gotta get you cleaned up.”

She lifted you from the couch dutifully and slung you over her shoulder to head towards the bathroom. Tess recognized your sounds of discomfort, a string of sharp breaths and muffled groans you thought she didn’t hear.

“Almost there. Here we go.” Her hip pushed the door open, sitting you on the chair next to the tub. Once the water was on and flowing, Tess found the right temperature and began filling the tub. She made her way back to you, and began to untie your boots, placing them off to the side. She took off your button down shirt, which revealed more black and blue bruising across your back and shoulder. You hissed a breath as she pulled the sleeve down off your left arm. Before moving further, Tess looked toward you with kind eyes.

“It’s okay. Don’t feel ashamed. It’s just hard now. But you’ll be alright… Can I continue?” Her hand rested on your good shoulder patiently. You nodded silently, realizing the intimacy of the situation and looked down at the floor.

Slowly, cautiously, and gently, she undressed you while the tub filled beside you both. Not only was your body covered in bruises and scrapes, but dried blood and other viscera had caked on a few layers. The bandages from last night were discarded to the side, fresh ones in the other room for when you were clean. She saw your reaction as you entered the water, your face contorted in both pain and pleasure while you sat. The warmth of the liquid against your torso was another level of soothing, flooding your skin with goosebumps and washing off some of the dried blood upon submerging yourself into the tub. Tess grabbed a washcloth and bar of soap, lathering it up before wiping it across your back.

“I don’t know how to thank you. This is…”

“You don’t have to say anything. And you don’t have to thank me. Please– please don’t thank me.” Tess knew this wouldn’t make up for the numerous people she’d left behind– left to die so she could persevere ahead. But all she had to do was goddamn try.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, sighing while she kept cleaning off your body. Her hands were soft against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. Though she was doing something as intimate as washing you, it didn’t bother you as much as it would have on any other occasion. She carefully avoided running over your scrapes and other open wounds, yet still washing them lightly with the soap and water. Before long, the water had become a dark brown color from how much had washed off of you. Tess began to drain the tub, keeping the faucet running as it drained.

“Mind if I wash your hair?”

It was just a simple question, but it sparked your anxiety a bit more than when she undressed you earlier.

“Uh.. sure.”

Tess washed out the tub with a bucket while you sat in it. She lathered some shampoo between her palms, rubbing it across your scalp with gentle fingers.

You couldn’t deny, Tess’s hands were calloused and rough, but they felt like heaven against your scalp. Rubbing the pads of her fingers into your head was somehow better than all the times you’d done it yourself. Eyebrows furrowed against the sensation, and you groaned lowly. You somehow alerted Tess, wondering if she’d pressed too firmly on your head.

“What happened? Does it hurt? Sorry if I’m going too hard–”

“No, it’s great. Keep going.” You breathed.

“Okay..” she chuckled a bit before continuing, then used the bucket to wash the rest out from your locks before applying conditioner. One of her hands grabbed the brush on the floor, slowly untangling the mess of knots in your hair. The warm water calmed you like nothing you’d experienced before, at least not since after the world fell. Appreciation flowed through you, and the comfortable silence reinforced that all the more. It was a safe feeling, one you shared with this kind, and beautiful woman. She’d washed the leftover soap and conditioner off your body, and began to towel dry your skin in a gentle manner.

“Here, wrap yourself in this. I’ll be right back with the clothes.” Quick footsteps brought her to the pile of clothes she’d attained over the months on the run. She’d returned to the bathroom with a few things in hand, and approached you. Carefully, she stood you from the tub and stepped back onto the floor while wiping the remaining water droplets off your back.

“Thanks..” you shivered a bit against the cold air, wanting to be clothed and back under the thick blanket. The socks she slipped over your feet helped warm you, while carefully slipping on the rest of her clothes. Tess even brought a spare sports bra for you to borrow for the time being. Something about the way she moved so calmly, spoke with such a soothing voice that made this whole situation seem lighter. On any other day, you’d be stressing about finding the right pills for a client or risking your life outside the walls. Her soft movements sparked something inside you with a new kind of warmth, and it almost atoned for everything you’d been through the past 12 hours.

Once you were dressed, Tess towel dried your hair and began to tie up another sling for your arm.

“When you’re back on the couch, I’m gonna put some ice on your ankle. It’ll help with the swelling and probably some of the pain.” You nodded silently, taken back constantly by her kindness.

“If you’re in pain, I could give you another dose of pain meds. But it depends on if you want to eat something beforehand. It’s been since yesterday since you ate anything, probably for the both of us. I can fix you something to eat, though.”

“Oh, uh, sure.” You weren’t completely sure what you were doing here still, your mind foggy from the night before. The way your injuries burned and ached against one another had you aching for some kind of relief– any kind at this point. How you got yourself here, you weren’t sure of either.

Not much later, Tess came over with something suitable for you to eat, before giving you a couple more pills for the pain. Again you fell drowsy from the pain medication, resting the day away. With you resting calmly on the couch, Tess did her best to stay awake until Joel returned, running on less than five hours of sleep. It felt like ages before he came through the apartment door once again.

“Hey, can you… keep an eye on them, please… I barely got any shuteye last night.”

“I just got back–”

“Joel, please.”

“Fine.”

“Don’t hurt them, Miller. Seriously. Or I’ll hurt you.” She mumbled under her breath, trudging to the door.

“I’ve got it. Just go.”

With that, Tess collapsed on her mattress, not even bothering to pull the sheet over her, before drifting off to sleep the minute her eyelids fluttered shut.

On the couch, you woke to a silent morning; no movement could be heard amongst the apartment. Your eyelids fluttered open, turning your head to look for Tess; instead you were met with the dark eyes of Joel Miller. His figure sat across from you, adjusting the gun in his hand so you could see it well.

“You try anything funny, you get a bullet.” Joel raised his hand to gesture with the weapon. He noticed the bags under your eyes were dark and sunken in, making you appear more dead than alive at the moment, despite all the bandages.

“You wouldn’t shoot me here. It’d be too loud and soldiers would be here quicker than light.” You rasped, coughing lightly from your dry throat.

“Wanna bet?” He leaned in with a menacing glare. You kept eye contact with him as he began to stand, the intimidation not making a dent in you. It was enough to make Joel second guess his opinion of you for a moment.

“Joel, stand down.” Tess called from the other side of the room. You called her name from the couch, and she quickly replied.

“I’m here. Do you need anything?” She came into eyesight now, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and casually wearing a sweatshirt. Tess gave Joel a look, motioning for him to leave the room.

“Yeah. I need to get out of here and home.” Your eyes watched the older man get up, watching as Tess approached, “My client’s probably freaking the fuck out and wreaking havoc across the QZ looking for me.”

“About that…” She strolled over to where you were, taking a seat, “You need to tell me who did this to you.”

“What? N-No… I can’t. He’s my client. I can deal with him.” You shot up in your seat, groaning slightly.

“Oh right. Like that worked out so well last time?” Joel spoke, walking away. Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance at what Tess was suggesting.

“Trust me, kid. You’ll thank me later.” She added.

“I’m already thanking you later. I’ll probably be owing you for the rest of my life.”

“No, kid–”

“Don’t call me kid. I’m grown. I can take care of myself.”

“Okay, you’re gonna have to prove it, then. You still need time to heal.” Tess insisted you lay down again, but her words flew in one ear and out the other.

“I need to not be couch bound and sleeping through the day! I need to have a life, some kind of life in this shit hole of a city! Don’t you get it?” Your voice was rising, straining against the irritation.

“I do, trust me. I do. It’s why we got into that business, too. But hun, you didn’t deserve what happened to you. I hope you know that. Now, I’d like to know…” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to look you in the eye.

“Let it go. It doesn’t matter!”

“Yes it does. Who did this to you?” Her voice spoke pointedly, holding strong eye contact with you. Your eyes closed for a second, throwing your head back with a sigh.

“His info is on the third page in my notebook. You’ll know it’s him cause his orders take up almost the whole fucking page.” You pinched the bridge of your nose as Tess stepped toward your pack, rummaging through it until she found the notepad. Pocketing it, she walked over to Joel’s door, ajar, and spoke.

“Texas, make our guest something to eat. I have some business to attend to.” She turned toward the door, exiting the apartment with your notebook in hand.

“Wait, Tess!”

Your voice fell on deaf ears; she was already down the hallway and gone. Once the man emerged from his bedroom, you shared a plain look as he made his way to the kitchen. Before reaching for the cupboard doors, he grabbed the bottle of amber liquor and poured some into a glass.

“Pour me a glass of that, please.”

“Are you even old enough?”

“Are you kidding? I’m 25. Now can you pour me a damn drink already?”

Silently, Joel rolled his eyes and poured some into a glass for you. It was his peace offering before he went back to find something for you to eat. You ended up sharing some soup and crackers with Joel for dinner, awaiting the older woman’s return afterwards.

An hour or two passed before Tess made her way back. You were resting on the couch when the door opened. She took a sharp breath in upon entering, and let the door slam behind her louder than usual. It gained your attention and Joel’s, looking toward the door. You heard her hiss a breath, while she shook out her fist.

“Shit, Tess. What did you do?” She walked further into the apartment, the light glimmering against the fresh blood across her lip.

“Took care of that client of yours.” She muffled a groan, stretching out her fist while her knuckles bled.

“Did you kill him? The fuck–” You began to try and stand on your good foot, but stumbled before you could get any closer to her.

“What? No, I didn’t kill him. Just taught him a lesson. That smug fucker. I don’t know why you did business with him. He’s a bad junkie. You never do business with a bad junkie.” She sat down near you again, noticing the empty whiskey glass nearby on the floor.

“He was my most frequent customer. Shady as hell, if I’m honest, he kinda scared me. That’s how I knew it was him when I got attacked.

“That’s naïve of you. Why would you ever do something that risky by yourself?”

“I… didn’t have anyone else who was willing to risk their lives sneaking around the QZ. So I said fuck it.”

“Well, I still think you’re a dumbass. You’re just lucky you’re staying out of the smuggling market for a while.”

“No, I told you I can’t. I need to–”

“You need to rest and heal. I swear to god, if I hear one more word about you getting on your feet before you’re a hundred percent, I swear I’ll chain you to the couch.”

“Jesus, fine. I won’t go back out there. Throw my entire business away just to wait till these injuries kill me in the middle of the night, I guess.”

“Hey, you’re gonna be fine. The only reason I’m being an asshole about this is because I want you to survive. I didn’t pull you off the street to let you go back to that shitty situation.” Her words were honest, even if you didn’t believe them.

“Well, thanks. I guess.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” She shrugged your thanks off and went about her business.

The future weeks proved to be the longest haul you thought you’d ever been in. It consisted of a lot of reading, sleeping, and wishing you could be on your feet. You ended up asking Tess to take a trip to your place and retrieve some of your things; you were tired of having to put her out of her own clothes to wear. Plus it would just be more comfortable for you. Tess checked your injuries daily, reapplying bandages and cleaning on a steady schedule. She would not let you die from infections after doing all she could to save your life that night.

The two older individuals went about their days more regularly once you were out of the woods with all of your injuries. Tess helped you to and from the table so you could join them for meals, otherwise spending the day rereading old books and magazines while trying to find other things to do than just sit around and rot. You were grateful for Tess saving your life, but this healing process was a bitch.

Standing wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be, especially having been off your feet for days on end. Much less the blood loss you’d experienced, it was humbling to not be able to get around on your own. Slowly as the first week passed, Tess helped you get back on your feet bit by bit. You had enough strength after another week to stand on your own.

One day, the smuggling duo was planning a run while surveying a map they’d drawn up. You nonchalantly watched, sitting in a chair neary. They hadn’t noticed you, until you mentioned a route they hadn’t heard of, and her attention turned to you, impressed with your knowledge and jotted the trail down for later.

“Wait, question. Do you guys know Robert?” Your arms crossed over your chest.

Both Joel and Tess turned towards you now, their eyes widened and faces grim.

“Why?” Joel asked with a stern voice.

“He’s one of the guys that uses that route. At least, his guys do. So be careful.”

“You’re telling me you used to run with Robert?”

“Only for a little. Seemed like he wanted more than just business… with me. But I got out of there before it was too late.” Tess scoffed, a smirk forming on her face.

“Tell you what. You wanna keep smuggling, you join us when you’re fully healed.”

Joel turned to her, but she shot him a look and turned back to the map silently.

“You’re sure?” You asked, sitting up.

“I’m sure. Not gonna let you put yourself in danger again when you could have us at your side.” She looked back down at the map and continued jotting in her notes.

“Okay, cool.” You smiled to yourself, thinking Tess didn’t see, but she glanced up for a moment after she heard your words. She noticed the eagerness in your eyes and felt her heart skip a beat.

So, it wasn’t all for nothing, you thought.

You weren’t given a second chance to live just to lose what got you through the days and weeks on your own. This gave you another opportunity to survive with individuals by your side; you wouldn’t be alone anymore.

Caring came far too easy for Tess. She'd seem cold on the outside, and sure, she was a reserved person. But to see you so overjoyed about being able to continue smuggling, she couldn’t help but have a little warm feeling in her chest.

She thought the first time would be the only time a spark would flicker inside her. But then you were laughing at something idiotic one night, and she felt it again. The tensions between you and Joel had broken– finally. For the first time in a while, Tess saw multiple things looking up: you were recovering on a steady pace, and on an even better note, becoming a friend to her. She read you books, mostly classics from what she’d traded for. Ultimately grateful, you listened intently to every word she read, while trying to not fall asleep from her soothing voice.

Under all the scratches and bruises, Tess saw your kindness and personality reveal with everyday that passed. She became privy to the way you saw the world with a gentle hand, reinforcing that spark in her chest. Yet that same spark came with guilt; she knew it wasn’t fair to fall for you after all you’d been through. She wasn’t sure if you’d ever trust someone like that again. So that spark was only kept as embers, in a lockbox on a very high, very dusty shelf in her mind.

Another week of healing went by, and you were finally able to stop wearing your arm in a sling. You spent the day traveling back to your place to grab some things you’d need for the next few days. Tess insisted you stay in the apartment with her and Joel while you healed. You hadn’t been home since the day you were attacked, other than the days Tess was kind enough to retrieve some things for you.

As of present day, you had gained the ability to walk on your ankle back after almost a month of being off it. The first thought in your head the morning of was that a trip outside the walls of the apartment. You also knew others might want to pay you a visit if you returned back by yourself, which is when you mentioned the idea to Tess.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not going alone. I’ll come with. When do we leave?”

“Right now.” You grinned at her with content before you went to grab your pack.

The two of you flew down the steps and out the door, Tess following behind you with caution. Your first step into the outside air was something you missed within almost a month of being indoors. While it wasn’t exactly sunny, the cool air was refreshing against your skin and differed greatly from the apartment.

“Don’t run off now.” the older woman muttered, shutting the door behind her. Just from the way you moved, Tess could tell you were in need of something like this. You looked around at the same old streets of the QZ like it was something completely new. She felt lucky to be the one seeing this part of you, the healed and healthy part.

“C’mon, I’ll lead the way.” You turned back to her, noticing her hazel eyes trained in your direction, then shifted to the path in front of you. A few minutes of walking passed, and you’d picked up some pairs of eyes looking your way from people on the surrounding streets. It was more of a side eye glance than a stare, but still you noticed it. After being terrified to leave the four walls of the apartment, being perceived was a bit more intimidating than you thought it’d be. You slowed your steps, letting Tess catch up with you.

“Um, Tess?” You mumbled, glancing back towards her.

“What’s up?”

“All these people keep staring...”

Tess surveyed the area before noticing something you hadn’t, and she chuckled.

“They’re not looking at you, they’re staring at me.” You did a quick glance back and forth, fidgeting with your fingers nervously.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Let’s keep going.” You turned back after nodding to her, hiding the tiny smile that snuck its way onto your lips. It was almost like walking with a scary dog at your side, except said scary dog was the taller woman trailing behind you.

From the way multiple pairs of eyes shot in her direction, some glazed over, some didn’t notice as you passed by. Other pairs of eyes widened as they fell on the figure of the woman behind you. You don’t know how she’s done it, but Tess Servopolous has the Boston QZ wrapped around her finger. It seemed everyone–including Joel Miller himself– had themselves under her spell. They did whatever she wanted the moment she asked. There was no second guessing her, and when she said to do something, you were damn well to do it. You learned the hard way during your healing process, stubborn and complaining that you couldn’t get around on your own.

One night when you were bickering, she’d tried to convince you that you weren’t ready to try and walk on your bad ankle yet. Stubborn and impatient, you kept talking back to her.

“Don’t even try to get up.”

You’d been overstressing yourself about getting back on your feet, so as to find another way to keep smuggling.

“Watch me.” You had hoisted yourself off the couch halfway, then used the last of your stamina to pull yourself the rest of the way up. The first step you took was with your good foot, but the minute you stepped with the other, you groaned and stumbled from the pain, landing on the ground.

“I told you…” Tess was at your side before you could attempt to move yourself back to the couch.

Gentle and slow, her hands around your body were familiar as if you’d known them to be the hands of a long time lover. They were just Tess’s hands, but to you, they couldn’t hurt or kill any more than they could wash over your injuries with a soft touch. When you got a better look at her for the first time, you saw the kindness in her eyes, and her heart in the actions she took towards you.

Common human decency was to take care of someone injured or sick, but you felt something different in the way she tended to you. It was in the way she used her hand to lift up your chin to check how your cuts were healing. Especially when she inspected the one on your lip for a bit too long, claiming it was healing fast and that you shouldn’t try to open it again. All you could hear when she spoke was your own heart beating in your ears, lost in the hazel of her eyes. She’d even found you a cane, but you paid it no mind and kept letting her help you instead.

“I’d hate to feel like a burden…”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind taking care of you.” A warmth flushed through your cheeks when her words hit your ears.

You could tell somewhere deep down, Tess used to care for people as easy as breathing. From the way she knew so much about patching others up, she wanted to keep people going, no matter the circumstances, you knew she cared much more than she showed.

Being on your feet again, outside those same bland apartment walls brought a new feeling you weren’t able to identify. It was different not walking alone for once in the streets, always having to glance over your shoulder just in case. Now when you looked over your shoulder, you saw Tess, and you hoped she’d stay in your life for longer than just when you were healing from your injuries. She meant too much to you to just forget about after she’d been by your side the whole time.

The route to your apartment wasn’t far from where Tess lived, and you were there within no time. It was a bit overwhelming once you came up to the door, fidgeting with the keyring until it clicked into the lock.

“Well, here we are.” You opened the door, stepping into the stale air of your place. Things were as you’d left them, with a few odds and ends out of order from when Tess had stopped by for some of your toiletries. All your knickknacks were scattered about, some across the countertops and any spare surface you could find. Some, if not most, were collected on the road, and others were from your home when you first fled.

“Nice place you got here.”

“You should know, being the only person to be here besides me in the past few weeks.” you chuckle, shoving your keys back in your jeans pocket. They actually happened to be Tess’s, but you couldn’t tell the difference anymore. She didn’t mind either.

She’d been contemplating a lot on the walk over, worried about what might happen when you were fully healed. Tess knew there was a problem when her heart warmed at the sight of you sleeping peacefully on the couch, then remembered what you’d been through and wanted to burn the whole QZ down.

It was almost gone when you started to heal, until she couldn’t sleep thinking about what could happen to you when you went back out there. A wave of restlessness washed over her, and it’d been very hard to accept the fact that you could end up right back where she found you.

“Guess you’re right.” Tess muttered, stepping into the cool air of the apartment.

“I’ll be a minute, gonna grab some clothes and then we can head back.” You spoke, her eyes trailing down your back as you walked into the other room. Silently, she moved about the main room, her eyes catching all the different little objects around the space. Tess didn’t know how you had time to collect all these different things– from shells to rocks to other small toys and charms that lay about– there was no shortage of oddities. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of your open bedroom door. Timidly, she peeked inside to see you rustling through a few drawers and shoving clothes into a backpack.

“Nice… room. Cozy.” You glanced up at her for a moment while folding the clothes to put in your bag.

“Thanks, I tried to make it as home-y as possible. Makes up for the whole quarantine zone thing.”

“I get it.” Tess chewed the inside of her lip nervously, stepping into the room slightly, leaning one of her arms against the doorframe.

“Do you? That place of yours is barely decorated.” You snarked, trying to cover up how aware you were of how domestic she looked standing in your bedroom doorway. She was perfect with the light beams of sunlight peeking over her shoulder.

“Guess stuff like that doesn’t really matter to me.”

But she wanted it to matter; she wanted it to matter to her so desperately. For you, she’d do anything– put up with whatever you threw at her, because she cared. There wasn’t a way to tell when Tess noticed this fire burning inside her, lit aflame by your out righteousness.

She pined to see reminders of you every day when she wakes up. To see you when she opened her eyes in the morning. You’d simply been indented into her mind, and refused to give way.

“Y’know, you’re still welcome at my place after you get back on your feet. Seriously. My place is yours.” Tess took a step into your room nervously.

“Oh, well thanks. That means a lot. I mean… I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done for me. It’s not like we won’t see each other ever again. I’ll probably spend most nights at your place when we start working together.”

I would never want to stop coming around you either way…

On the instance of becoming friends with the woman who saved your life, it occurred to you quite rapidly that the feelings you had for her weren’t just appreciation. It shouldn’t have been that easy to realize you wanted her… to be entranced with her in a way so distracting. Some days you weren’t sure if you were actually feeling better on account of listening to every groove of her voice streak through your mind with no return. You could hardly believe she was standing in your apartment as of today, let alone sharing a space so intimate as your bedroom.

“Besides… It's your apartment. You must both want your respective space back.”

Tess sighed, masking the pit in her stomach when she thought about you on your own again. God forbid you ended up right where she found you; that would be a gut wrenching nightmare. It was already hard enough seeing you beaten up and barely hanging on to life. To even ponder the idea that it could happen again? She’d take absolutely no chances.

Getting protective when you’ve known them for three weeks, Tess? Pretty weak to let someone in while you couldn’t protect the rest of them.

“Even when you do start working with us, you’ll be right between me and Joel. That way you’ll always have one of us on your six, watching your back. We’ll have your back.” She started with a small smile, while simultaneously ignoring the voice in her head. You met her eye and nodded with a smile, zipping your bag shut.

“Very considerate of you, Tess. But if you don’t teach me how to hold my own, I’ll start practicing on Joel.” You slung your bag across your shoulder, watching as Tess followed you out.

“Oh, I’ll definitely teach you. Joel will just have to be fine with being the dummy.” She followed with a chuckle, taking another look at the interior of your bedroom like she would never see it again.

“Well, don’t worry. I’ll still be on your couch tonight.” You said, before walking out the door and locking it behind Tess.

The only epiphany Tess had that day was that she never wanted you to leave. Never wanted to lose sight of you, never wanted to be without you, could never even imagine losing you. Tess had stuffed all those warm feelings down in a tight little box that sat on a dusty shelf in the back of her mind. When she would revisit the idea of actually having a chance with you, she was unsure. But she’d do her damndest in the meantime to shove away those pesky butterflies in her stomach.

It would be a long, long time before she revisited that box again.

a/n: i linked it at the top but i will link it here as well, this is a prequel to another one of my fics called long long time. You can find that fic here and all my other tess fics here!

#devnmon writes #tess servopolous #tess tlou #tess tlou hbo #tess servopolous x reader #tess servopolous fanfiction #angst #theresa servopolous #theresa tess servopolous #tess x reader #tess the last of us #tess tlou fanfic #tess the last of us part 1 #wlw fanfic #wlw #wlw fanfiction #dividers by cafekitsune #dividers by saradika #ryes ff

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corazondebeskar-reads · 11 months ago

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ain't no rest for the wicked - chapter four

ain't no rest for the wicked series

four: no telling what tomorrow holds

series masterlist | prev chapter | final chapter

Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller

words: 5.9k

summary: Joel and Tess pay you surprise visits after work.

warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, poorly negotiated d/s-style dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v, degradation, stalking, threesome, light rope bondage, light choking with a belt, paddling, punishment, aftercare, strap-on, anal sex, rimming, light angst, orgasm denial, hurt/comfort, light description of a wound, flashbacks to outbreak day (reader), double penetration

This is the penultimate chapter.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You don’t get any warning the next time. It’s not more than a week later, and when you step out into the dying sun, Joel’s waiting outside your office building.

You’re pissed, because when he croons, “Where you goin’, sunflower?” from behind you, your heart shoots about sixty feet into the sky.

“Cheese and fucking Christ, Joel!” You’re clutching your chest, but you can’t even pretend to be mad for more than a minute.

Not the way he’s smirking, something bright behind his gorgeous eyes. He looks fucking beautiful like this, bathed in amber, dark coat against the snow.

“I can just leave by myself,” he says.

But you break and smile. Goddamnit. It isn’t just your cunt that’s happy to see him.

Though it very much is. You’re a little concerned about icicles forming, the way you’re abruptly dripping at the prospect of an evening with them.

He can read it all over you. Of course he can. He shakes his head and pushes away from the wall, not bothering to swallow down the smug curl of his lips.

“They been treatin’ you alright?” He asks as you make the walk across town.

“Who, work? Yeah, I mean. A job’s a job.” You shrug.

He’s looking at you like he thinks he’s some kinda human lie detector.

“Nobody’s bothering me, I promise,” you say, rolling your eyes.

His jaw ticks. You don’t realize how close he’s leaned until he’s murmuring into your ear. “Watch the attitude, little girl.”

You swallow hard. He leans back, but you’re acutely aware now, that he’s stayed close the whole time. There’s not five feet between you as you scramble to follow. No, he’s been near enough that your shoulders occasionally brush.

Thinking about it makes your stomach feel a lot like your very first (and only) cellphone. It had slipped from your pocket into the lake up north when you crossed from the dock to the little motorboat, and you just watched as it sank slowly. By the time you thrust your hand below the surface to save it, it was too late, and the water you displaced pushed it deeper into the darkness.

Your daddy had been mad beyond words, not that it stopped him from lecturing, and while you sat there peering over the edge, it lit up with a call from your best friend, even underwater. It rang over and over and over until your dad started the boat, and the motor buried it in a puff of kicked-up sand.

She had been calling from back home, where you’d be in about six hours. You figured you’d stop by her dorm and see what her latest fuckboy from the neighboring floor had done now.

By the time your dad pulled up to campus, though, the world was half over. He didn’t let you out of the car, your brother holding you back while your daddy peeled away from the curb and the bodies.

He was gone by midnight.

When you blink back to the grimy streets of Boston, you can’t remember what you were thinking about before. Joel’s still looking at you, brow furrowed.

“Where’d you go?” he says.

“Oh, uh. I dunno. Just got lost in my head,” you try to smile and shrug. Silly you, as always, drifting off in the clouds.

He doesn’t buy it, but he doesn’t push it.

When you get to the apartment, you’re startled to find Tess in an apron. As far as you know, Joel’s been the only one cooking when you came over. She spares you a kiss before she turns back to chopping carrots.

You kind of want to drop to your knees right there in the kitchen, watching her tuck back a loose strand of hair while brandishing a knife.

There might be something deeply unwell about you, you suspect. But it seems like the kind of thought that hampers your quality of life, so you scrunch it up and toss it in your mental waste bin. It bounces off the rim.

Damn. You can’t even make a basket in your own mind.

Joel smirks at the way you already look a little dazed. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs in your ear. His thumbs hook into the belt loops at the front of your jeans, tugging you back so you can feel him press against your ass. “We’re gonna have dessert first tonight.”

Tess snorts. “Been workin’ on that one all day?”

“Shut up, like you didn’t tell me to go pick up something sweet.”

You think maybe you’re going to die from secondhand embarrassment. “Can’t believe I used to be scared of you guys,” you say, foolishly, “you’re just a couple of dorks.”

Tess shakes her head, lip twitching into a smirk. “Baby, you just going to let her disrespect you like that?”

Oh, shit. If you weren’t wet already, well.

“Do whatever you want with her while I finish this up,” she says to Joel, meeting his eyes over your head.

Her words are anesthesia. Your whole brain seems to fuck right off, and it’s like you’ve been a mermaid turned human, the way your legs don’t seem to work anymore.

He lets go and steps around before throwing you over his shoulder, taking the opportunity to slap your ass.

“M’sorry,” you say, clawing at the back of his shirt for stability. Not that you really think he’d drop you, but all in all, you’re a little off-kilter right now.

“You will be,” he says.

It should scare you, you think. Despite your joke, outside of this apartment, these are two terrifying individuals. Together? Well, your initial tornado siren instinct wasn’t far off.

Instead, you moan.

He shakes his head. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“She said whatever you want.” You don’t have a clue where the boldness is coming from, but you think you like where it’s going.

“You got a mouth on you today. First thing is gonna be findin’ a better use for it.”

“Fuck,” you whisper.

He swings you down from his shoulder, and you sink straight down to your knees.

“Open,” he says, belt buckle jangling as he tugs it from the loops.

You open your mouth wide and stick your tongue out, but he doesn’t give you his cock yet. He grabs your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks, and spits onto your waiting tongue.

You startle back a little but moan and swallow it, only for his hand to fly out and slap you.

“I didn’t say you could swallow that,” he growls.

“Sorry, sir,” you say, eyes wide and sorrowful.

He leans back down and spits again. You hold still, and he gives you a crooked grin. “Attagirl. Hold that for a minute.”

You whine until he brings the belt around your neck, sliding it through the hoop on the buckle and pulling it snugly around your neck. It’s not too tight, and the sight of the loose end wrapped around his fist almost does you in.

“Yeah, you like that,” he says, shaking his head. He leaves you waiting while he pulls out his cock.

You whimper when you see it, but he tugs on the belt to abort the sound and rests his cock on your tongue, thrusting so shallow that he’s barely inside the cavern of your mouth.

When it’s nice and coated with your saliva and his own, he pulls out and slaps it across your face.

The moan you let out would be humiliating if you had it in you to care. But you don’t, only concerned with getting his cock back in your mouth.

You give him your best pleading eyes, wide and sad, with your mouth still open.

“Aw,” he coos, dry and mocking, “are you not getting what you want?”

You shake your head.

“Brats don’t.” He rubs the leaking head of his cock over your upper lip, smearing precum in his wake.

You move instinctually to lick it, but he pinches your tongue between two unforgiving fingers.

“I don’t think so. You’re just going to sit still and be good. And quiet."

If you thought Tess’s words made your mind go blank earlier, then this made you think nothing. Literally nothing. The weight of his belt around your neck, the smell of him on your lip, and the rigidity of his commands are all you can handle. Like the shutdown of your old, chunky computer, your brain whirrs to a stop.

He pulls you forward by the belt, cutting off your air and leaving no room for resistance. Not that you’d have even dreamt of it. He slides in farther this time, the head just grazing against the back of your throat.

You keep your eyes and mouth open wide. The pressure on your throat eases up, not entirely, but enough to allow you air. He begins to gently thrust in and out, reaching deeper and deeper.

You whine, jaw aching for more.

He smirks. “What? You don’t like me usin’ your mouth to jerk off?”

Your cunt clenches, with nothing, nothing to comfort it. It’s strong enough that your head tips back a little, a raggedy gasp slipping around him.

“Did you just almost cum?” he asks, tugging a little on the belt.

“Uh-huh,” you try to say.

He whistles. “Damn. Don’t you dare, though.”

Easier said than done, but you manage to hold back. His cock sent sparks to your clit as he masturbated with your throat.

The door clicks softly shut as Tess comes in, apron abandoned in place of a shit-eating grin. “Havin’ fun, baby?” she asks Joel, wrapping her arms around his waist and taking in the scene.

“Y’should have a go, use her tongue,” he says. “Fuckin’ slut almost came from bein’ used as a cocksleeve.”

You moan and try to grab his thighs, but he just steps back, pulling his cock away. The whine you make is soaked with desperation and hurt feelings.

“Why don’t you tie her up, and I’ll have a turn,” Tess says. She comes close to you, a hand in your hair to tip your head back. “Same rules, sunflower. You just stay still and be good.”

You can’t do much more than blink up at her as Joel crouches behind you and tugs your arms back, binding your wrists together deftly. He moves to help Tess strip down, his movements gentle and devout. Her neatly folded clothes get set on the dresser, and he sits on the side of the bed to watch, cock drooling over his fist.

She makes use of your mouth, rubbing her cunt over your tongue. You’ve stretched it out as much as you can and your chest aches with the need to lick, to taste, to have anything more than they’re allowing. But the ache to be good for them is deeper and undeniable.

She grinds until her clit is pushed against you and rides your steady tongue until she cums. You don’t dare swallow what’s left in your mouth, remembering the scolding you got earlier.

“Good girl,” she croons, stroking your cheek. She steps back, and you jerk a little with the intense throb that seems to rattle your bones. You’re so close, and you know what’s about to happen.

You whine and give Joel sad eyes again, begging for mercy. He doesn’t grant it, but he does rub his dick through Tess’s slick where it sits on your tongue, groaning at the warmth and ease as his cock slides smoothly into your throat, pushing the taste of her with it.

Each thrust makes you whimper and plead, not that he can technically understand you, but the grin on his face makes you think he does perfectly.

“Damn, I wasn’t gonna let ya, but makin’ you cum untouched like this…” he muses out loud.

You hold back the plea, not wanting to dissuade him.

He cups your cheek, stroking his thumb up and down. “Nah.”

Your eyes are wide again, unable to stop the pout that turns your lips down around his cock.

“None o’ that,” he scolds, using his hand on your face to fuck into you. “You mouthed off. You can wait to cum on our cocks.”

You can’t help the way your head snaps to the side to look at Tess, where she’s leisurely sprawled on the bed. His next thrust was already in motion, and his cock jabs you below the ear.

He growls and yanks your face back to him, pushing inside while pulling on the belt. Your clit pulses with the beat of your heart, or maybe the beat of his cock. As if they’re any different right now.

“Yeah, you heard me,” he says. “And now that I think about it…” he trails off to look at Tess. Out of the corner of her eye, you can see a responding grin creep across her face.

She gets up from the bed and comes over to you. “Let me have another go, and you get it all out for me, baby,” she says to Joel.

He pulls out immediately, and you can hear him rustling through a drawer while she rides your tongue to a second orgasm.

“Look how sweet you’re being,” she says, bending to kiss your forehead. The praise settles somewhere in your ribs, a warm, wriggling thing.

The cock he’s picked out is smaller than the one he took last time and smaller than his own, but not by much. If you weren’t already drooling, saliva dripping down onto your tits and their carpet, you would be now.

She slips the harness on with practiced fingers, vibrator tucked snugly inside her, though she doesn’t turn it on yet. When she sets the plastic on your waiting tongue, you gasp, eyes fluttering shut.

Instead of fucking your face with it, she gives a jerk of her head to Joel. He comes around behind you and puts a hand on either side of your face, fucking your head back and forth on the cock.

“That’s it, baby,” she moans, reaching out to caress him. He presses his lips to her hand, and she pulls him in for a kiss. He doesn’t miss a beat the whole time, still using you as a fleshlight for her strap.

It’s not his roughness that brings tears to your eyes, though, or jealousy. He’s not expecting it when you break away, his firm hands guiding more than forcing.

“Please,” you beg. “Please let me touch you.” You squirm in the ropes, knocking a tear down your cheek. “Please fuck me, please something.”

Tess wipes the tear away. “Think she’s had enough?”

Joel grunts his agreement, grabbing you by the arms to help you to your feet. He hands a bottle of lube to Tess, who situates herself on the bed, one hand slickening up the cock.

He stands behind you and holds your jaw in one hand, so you watch her, not that you’d be looking anywhere else. His other hand slides down to your cunt, and he chuckles. “Y’ain’t even gonna need it,” he tells her. He pushes two fingers in with little struggle and starts working you open for her.

You writhe. It’s almost too much; it hurts a little. Somehow, you’re overstimulated, and this is the first time all day that anyone has actually touched you.

“I know,” he murmurs. “You’ve been so good. Let us both get in ya, and I’ll let you cum.”

He yanks his hand away, and you nearly sob. He unties your wrists and pulls his belt from your neck. “Go on,” he says, slapping your ass.

Tess grins at you as you climb up. She’s turned on the vibrator on her end and beckons you with open arms to crawl to her. You lean down, and she tugs you in for a kiss, her hands sliding to your hips to guide you down onto her strap.

“Can’t believe I haven’t fucked you yet,” she murmurs between kissing and nipping at your lips.

Your eyes roll back as you slide down, your pelvis angled just right so that when she bottoms out, you can grind your clit against her bush. She smirks but digs her fingers into your hips to stop you.

“Hold still and wait just a little bit longer,” she says.

Once you’re settled, Joel pushes you down by the shoulder to lay against Tess. It leaves you only partially seated, but you nuzzle into the nape of her neck, pressing kisses where you can reach.

It’s not a shock when his slicked-up fingers breach your asshole. You kind of assumed when he said they’d both be fucking you. He didn’t ask if you’ve done this before, though. He doesn’t really need to ask anymore.

You’re a little embarrassed that he’s got you pegged correctly as a slut. Before you came to Boston, you had fucked your way through the hard days, desperate to feel, well, anything.

But here, it had been harder. You made a point not to get to know anyone; it didn’t seem wise after everything fell apart before.

Then again, you think, they’re both experienced enough that they can hardly judge you for it.

You stop really thinking after that as Tess wraps her arms around you, gently thrusting up as Joel’s thick fingers work you open.

“Doing okay, sunflower?” she says.

You intend to respond, but Joel chooses that moment to stuff a second finger in you, and all that comes out is a broken, starving moan.

“Attagirl,” he says, rubbing his other hand over the dip of your spine.

When he finally deems you ready, he wastes no time.

“Oh god,” you pant as he pushes in with a strong, smooth stroke. “Oh fuck.”

They don’t really wait for you to get acclimated, not that you’re complaining. The back-and-forth rhythm is soothing, but you’re trembling, trying to keep it together.

True to his word, Joel slides his hand around and hovers his finger over your clit. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says. Blunt teeth nip at your neck as he presses firmly down, their thrusts jostling you and doing the work for him.

You cum immediately. It’s not a choice. You’d been barely holding on, and once he finally touches you, it’s like you break open. Vaguely, you’re aware of how loud you’re being, but he’s holding you tight and unrelenting. They both still and let you shake apart on their cocks, Joel’s dark chuckle against your neck as you fuck yourself through it.

You don’t think you fully come back to yourself the whole time they fuck you. You’re floating somewhere vaguely in the middle of the throng of bodies, lightheaded. Every pore feels electrified, each brush of their skin against yours drawing a gasp or cry. You know you cum again. Maybe you don’t ever really stop.

An endless wave of aftershocks, some orgasms in their own right, roll over you, and you just take it. Take them. Let them move and pinch and rub your body; just a soft vessel to soak up their attention.

When they’ve exhausted themselves and you, Joel spilling deep inside, he tugs you to the side to let Tess up. He lays behind you and tugs the sheet up as the sweat cools and leaves you shivering. His warm body presses against yours, an arm loose over your waist.

When Tess goes to leave the room, he sits up, but she’s not having it. “It’s my stew. Don’t even think about it.”

He grumbles, something you don’t catch as you fall asleep.

It feels like only a moment has passed when he shakes you awake. “Gotta sit up and eat somethin’,” he says. It’s gruff, as he always is, but there’s something that stirs you to seek him out. Instead of sitting up properly, you turn over to snuggle against his chest.

He huffs, shaking his head, but it doesn’t stop him from holding your head to him. He presses a kiss atop it before nudging you to sit up.

You can’t help the small, stupid smile that lingers. You’re too well-fucked, the pleasure still loosening your muscles and inhibitions.

Tess pushes a thick bowl of stew into your hands. You’re irritated at your own surprise. Why did you ever think it was going to be some normal canned Campbell’s shit? You literally saw her chopping fresh carrots.

It’s full of rice and tender meat, tomatoes, onion, and herbs. More than you can identify, but it’s so rich and hearty that you think you could die happy. All your senses are satisfied, and your stomach is full.

“Kill me now,” you sigh, leaning back against the pillows.

Joel and Tess exchange a look over you, but you don’t give a damn.

“Is something wrong?” she says.

“No,” you say, a soft smile settling as you close your eyes and nestle into their bed.

Joel shrugs, and they make the wise choice to ignore you while they finish eating. He wins the argument about who does the dishes, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom to clean yourself up while he handles them.

You only try to argue once against them walking you home. You’re pretty sure everyone is aware of how half-hearted it is.

Tess jumpscares you a couple of weeks later. Well, nearly. You’ve been on high alert since the Surprise Joel Incident, but your heart gets lodged in your throat at the sight of her.

It’s so incongruous that you stand there for a moment, just blinking stupidly, hand shielding your eyes from where the sun bounces off the freshly frozen snow.

“Hey, sunflower,” she says, and kisses your cheek, leaving you flushing hot enough to melt the drifts in your path.

“Hi,” you squeak.

She doesn’t hold your hand on the walk, but she sticks close and guides you through throngs of people with a palm burning at the dip of your spine.

When you let slip your worry—not that you aren’t just as happy to see her, but that the change makes you paranoid—she fesses up to Joel’s current predicament.

She warns you, this time. “I promise it won’t be like then. I’m not gonna put you in that position again.”

You’re comforted a little, but it’s still an upsetting prospect. You don’t want to see him get punished. And she won’t tell you what he did, but she does tell you she knows you’re going to understand her point.

“Lay down over the bed next to him, sunflower, just like that.”

You obey, quietly settling your top half on the mattress beside him. He keeps his face buried in the duvet while you squirm around, trying to figure out what to do with your arms.

His are bound behind him. Should you mimic it? You tuck them under you, lay them by your sides, and clutch at the sheets above your head. Tess comes in the room and snorts at your fidgeting.

“Want some help with that?” She’s holding another length of rope, and you know it’s not a question.

“What’re you doin’ to her, Tess?” Joel grumbles, finally lifting his head. He doesn’t look at you, only at her.

Her hand cracks against his thigh before you realize she’s even moved close enough. “You wanna try that again?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbles, hiding back in the blanket.

“I can do whatever I want with her, right? She’s yours, and you’re mine. You know what that means, sunflower?”

You’re suddenly a little jealous of grapes, as you try to respond but only manage a squeaky whimper. Under the focus of the sun, they get to shrivel up and hide. Instead, you automatically turn to face her.

“Well?” She prompts, but she doesn’t wait for you to respond before tugging your arms behind your back and threading the rope around.

“It means I’m yours, too, ma’am.”

At your words, Joel is finally, finally looking at you, but unlike Tess, his attention scalds.

“That’s right.” She tugs at the rope to check the fit, and when she’s satisfied, she crouches down and spreads your cunt wide open.

You jerk a little as her cold fingers swipe between your folds. “She’s wet already, baby.”

You’re burning, one step closer to your new life dream of being a raisin, when you hear what is unmistakably Tess sucking her fingers clean of you. You moan and finally turn your head to seek out Joel.

He’s fuckin' sick and tired of you seeing him like this. But there’s a good part of him that knows he brought it on himself. If she thinks humiliating him in front of you is going to work, she’s probably right.

So far, though, you don’t seem to have lost any respect for him. When he finds your eyes, they’re soft and pleading. You don’t need to say a word; he knows you’re seeking the grasp of his firm hand.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he says.

You smile, but you don’t get to respond, distracted as Tess fists her hand in Joel’s hair and yanks back.

“You wanna tell her why you’re here like this instead of fucking her tight little cunt?”

Joel does not, but he’s not stupid. It wasn’t really a choice.

Tess tugs, sharp pain blossoming across his scalp, so he has to face you.

“I made a reckless decision.”

“And?” She prompts.

“And I nearly got shot.”

You suck in a breath but don’t look away. He, however, does—still facing you but eyes looking anywhere but.

“Nearly,” Tess scoffs. She tugs him to roll a little bit, and you see the bandage on his side, stained like rust.

“It grazed me. That’s nearly.”

She nudges him back into position but doesn’t let him turn away from you.

“Now you both get to see what happens when you do careless shit, baby. Don’t look away.” She pauses for a moment, taking something out of a dresser drawer. “And Joel?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Count for me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He wants to close his eyes to brace for the hit, but you’re looking a little nervous. “S’ok, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I can take it.”

But when Tess swings the paddle down, it’s on you. They’ve never used it with you, you’re not any kind of prepared for the broad, heavy stroke. You cry out, something akin to a yelp and a gasp, jerking forward into the mattress.

“No,” Joel snarls, wriggling against the ropes.

Tess clicks her tongue. “Not what you’re supposed to be saying, baby. Let’s start over.”

You’re slightly more prepared when she hits you again. It’s not any softer but a little easier to bear.

“One,” he bites out.

She catches you by the hair when you subconsciously press your face into the bed. “You keep looking right at him, sunflower. He needs to see.”

He looks at you, brows cinched and eyes wide. His lips part, but the words don’t come out.

You nod, a small duck of your chin, and he closes his eyes for just a moment.

When he opens them, they’re lined with pain, his aching muscles taut as he grapples with guilt. He returns the nod.

She doesn’t go easy on you. No, you get exactly the punishment Joel would have gotten. By the time you’ve taken 25 (or, well, 26), you’re sobbing softly, squirming to try to alleviate the burn.

“See, baby?” Tess says, setting the paddle down and running her fingers over your hot, aching skin. “This is what happens when you’re reckless. Someone gets hurt.”

Of course. No lesson in the world could make Joel more careful with himself for his own sake.

She cuts his ropes first, and he’s on you immediately, tugging the knot so you’re freed and pulling you into his lap.

He holds you against him. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs as you sob into his chest. “I’m so sorry.” He lets you cling to him while you cry, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back. He steadies you in a way you can’t explain. So does Tess.

It takes you a long time to recognize that feeling as safety.

At some point, Tess hands him something out of your line of sight. He reaches around you to unscrew the lid from the tub, and you jolt when his fingers move to the raw skin on your ass, but whatever he rubs on it instantly cools the burn.

You let out a sigh, leaning lax against him.

“You okay?” Tess murmurs, a hand on your shoulder.

You blink up at her and nod. “M’okay.” You crane your neck to kiss her hand, and she smiles.

Her other hand threads into Joel’s hair, gently this time. She gives him a kiss there. “Learn your lesson?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, barely louder than a whisper, voice like a knife on toast.

“Good. You were both so good.”

It’s the final string for you, the snap of the last tether. You mumble what you think is a thank you, but it comes out undecipherable. She gets the idea anyway.

Everything is warm and heady, your limbs like silicone, but your mind like a sieve. You’re wet enough that Joel can feel the heat where your bare cunt lays across his bare lap.

He dips a finger in and strokes gently through your folds. “Gonna make you feel better,” he says, laying you down on the duvet. You keen, fingers reaching for him, but Tess catches them and kisses you, kneeling beside you on the mattress.

“Hang on,” she says as Joel gets to his knees on the carpet. “Lay down,” she tells him, gesturing to where he’s frozen.

He obeys, and she tugs you forward to the edge of the bed.

“Sit on his face, sunflower,” she says.

Joel groans and reaches his hands up to help you down, but you hesitate.

“I—” you start, but she sees right through you.

“If you haven’t figured it out by now, he likes eating pussy.”

“Fuckin' love it,” Joel says, fist clenching around his cock while he waits.

“I don’t wanna be ungrateful,” you say to the wall behind him.

“You wanna get fucked?” she says.

You nod.

“You can ride him first if you want. Or you can start on his face, and then we’ll switch.”

“No,” Joel says, and you both look at him.

“Get down here and give me your cunt, now.”

You look at Tess, and she shrugs.

Knowing you’ll still get his cock makes you care a lot less what order it comes in—you snort out loud at the pun—so you do as you’re told. He settles you down and doesn’t wait for Tess; he just starts licking you—almost too gently.

You don’t complain. It feels good, and you think he’s still apologizing.

Once Tess helps herself to his cock, she reaches for you and takes your face in the cradle of her palms, licking into your mouth.

It’s all slow and luxurious. Dangerously so. You and Tess are content to make out while she rides him, a gentle cant to her hips, and he holds you open with both hands to eat you out. He’s careful to avoid the irritated skin on your ass, prying at the inside of your thighs instead.

You don’t know how many times he takes you apart on his tongue, but when it crosses the line between just enough and a little too much, Tess lifts off his aching cock and taps you in to switch.

As nice as his mouth was, sinking down on his cock is fucking divine. Life changing. You could start a church.

Well, not quite, but anyway. The point is your cunt had been painfully empty, and now that it’s stuffed full, you think you might cry.

Instead, you go back to making out with Tess and groping her tits.

She lets him cum when she does, after you’ve both had your fill. She holds you down on him and rubs your clit so you all share an orgasm.

She stands up on trembling legs and tugs you to do the same, even though you really want to just collapse on the floor.

Joel’s moved to the bed when you come out of the bathroom, dozing in the slice of streetlight from the window. Tess is nowhere to be seen. You’re still feeling a little fuzzy and dazed, but you take your cue and slip out of the bedroom to get your things.

“Hey,” Tess’s voice cuts through your haze.

You stop where you stand, bag over one shoulder, leaning against the door with one boot tugged just past the toes.

“Do me a favor? Stay here tonight,” she says.

“What?” Your heart stutters. It’s never been an option before.

“Stay. I know I was harsh on ya. Both of ya.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. Your body betrays you, as always. Fuckin’ narc. Your hands are shaking and it rattles the zipper of your boot like an SOS.

She steps closer and cups your face in one hand.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into the warmth of her calloused palm.

“C’mon, sunflower. Let me look out for you. Please.”

“Okay,” you whisper, pressing your lips to her hand.

She pulls you in, and when her lips meet yours, you moan softly. It’s less from your cunt than from your aching chest. She pulls you close, tucking your head to her shoulder, and you snuggle in, arms tucked up around her back.

It ends all too soon.

“Be good and go cuddle up to him, alright? Keep my spot warm,” Tess says, patting your cheek.

You nod, brain fuzzed over with the siren song of sleep.

Joel startles when you slip back into the room.

“Is this okay?” you say.

He blinks up at you with sore eyes and nods, peeling back the duvet for you.

You strip down. No one had said to, but you don’t feel right being clothed when he isn’t.

When you’re pressed against his warm body, he wraps an arm around you, and you sigh in tandem.

When you wake, the room is silent save for the light breaths of your companions. Moonlight refracts off the fresh banks of snow and scatters through the blinds. The city holds its breath and waits for the sun.

You lie as quiet as the streets. At some point, despite her quip about warming her spot, Tess slipped into the bed behind Joel. Her arm is snug around his waist in the way that his is around yours.

The moment is not lost on you. These two predators in symbiosis, lax and peaceful. You’re ever the ensnared dinner guest. Their places here are natural, and you… you’re scared. Scared of the way your heart is fighting to escape its cage and lay itself on their plates.

You either have to let it, or you have to run.

Joel wakes when you try to extract yourself from the bed, but he relaxes his grasp when you whisper something about the bathroom. He kisses the nape of your neck and lets you free. It’s not a lie, really. You do use their bathroom, and then you turn the light off and wait until you think he’s fully asleep again before you slip out.

It’s a longer trek home, what with having to sneak around. You’ve never been out past curfew before, and you really, really do not want to know what lockup is like.

But you don’t see much of FEDRA, and before long, you’re nearly outside your apartment building.

It wasn’t FEDRA you should have been looking out for, though.

next chapter

*title from "Duality" by Bayside

pls feel free to tell me how you feel 😬

#tess x joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel x tess #joel x reader #joel miller x reader x tess servopoulos #tess servopolous x joel miller #joel miller x tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x f!reader #tess servopoulos x you #tess servopoulos x reader #tess x reader #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #fic: ain't no rest for the wicked

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