summary: you find ellie wounded and confused, so you fix her up. she has an interesting way of thanking you.
warnings: as always, this fic is 18+. minors shoo!! slightly graphic descriptions of an injury, fingering (r!receiving), a touch of angst
a/n: i’ve been thinking about santa barbara ellie lately and now it’s your problem. forgive me for how self-indulgent this is, and it’s a teeny bit ooc for ellie. idc idc i need her.
though the day had dawned cold, gray, and misty, the sun had finally broken through the clouds, its warm glow a welcome sensation against your skin. you’re not typically one to stop and smell the roses, but you pause, boots scraping the gravel as you inhale lungfuls of salty seaside air. you have a good feeling about today. if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get to take out a few rattlers.
you’re well into their territory, so it’s not a completely far-fetched idea. about an hour down the coast is your beachside boat, your home base, but you’d already razed through the local towns for supplies. so here you are - deep in rattler-infested neighborhoods, glancing over your shoulder every few moments to make sure you’re not being followed and watching your footing for well-laid traps.
after ransacking a few long-abandoned homes for supplies, you round a corner to find a pair of dangling bodies strewn from a tree.
your eyes narrow. one is a clicker, you notice, its skin marred with welts and fungi as it hangs limp from a rope. beside the motionless clicker dangles a girl - she’s covered in blood, red from her hip down to her hairline, her eyes closed. from where you stand, you can’t tell if she’s breathing.
idiot, you think. doesn’t she know this area’s littered with rattler traps?
scanning the area for any other signs of life, you cautiously approach the tree from which the girl hangs by her ankle, rope taut.
you’re half-hoping she’s already dead - it’s better than whatever the rattlers would have in store for her. but when you’re close enough to reach out and feel for a pulse, her weak heartbeat thumps against your index and middle finger.
“shit,” you hiss, cursing yourself for wanting to help. whoever this girl is, she’s either not from around here or just plain stupid. and maybe you’re just as stupid for cutting her down.
when her body hits the gravel, the girl gasps awake, groaning in pain as her hands fly to her hip. her fingers emerge red from the blood-soaked cotton of her tank top.
you watch with curiosity, knuckles going pale as you grip your pocket knife tight.
the brunette coughs dryly, her body weak. she pushes herself up onto all fours and finally turns her head to look at you, green eyes wide with confusion and surprise.
“could’ve gotten yourself killed,” you say, just loud enough for her to hear. “or worse. rattlers all over this part of town.”
“rattlers,” the girl croaks, eyes flitting to the knife in your hand. “the fuck’s a rattler?”
you arch a brow. “seriously?”
as the girl stumbles to her feet, she grunts again in pain and presses her palm against her hip. she ignores you, instead scanning the area for something. when she finds it, she limps over to an overgrown patch of grass and pulls a backpack from the ground.
“you’re hurt,” you say as the brunette shrugs on her backpack. her eyes search the gravel for something else - a pocket knife, you notice, the silver glinting in the afternoon light. she picks that up too, doesn’t flip it closed. her green eyes flicker over to you.
“i’m looking for someone,” she tells you, voice gravelly. “abby’s her name.”
“if she’s as careless as you, the rattlers already have her.”
“thought i made it clear i don’t know what the fuck a rattler is.”
you snort. “keep making stupid choices and you’ll find out.”
the girl sets her jaw, expression stone-cold. you glower back at her, too exhausted from the hours of walking you’ve done today to be afraid of her. she’s clearly out of her depth here, anyway.
“slavers,” you say, folding up your knife and stuffing it into your pocket. “they set those traps. they catch you, you’re fucked. so… you’re welcome.”
after a beat, you turn on your heel and start walking away. you’ve found enough supplies to keep you going for a while, and this block’s too hot. you’re ready to call it a day and head home.
when you’re still within earshot of the brunette, you pause, turning your head. “come with me and i’ll patch you up, get you some food, maybe help you find this… abby.”
you shoot a glance at the girl, whose eyebrows are knitted together. the blood on her face has gone dark, drying to a crust on her forehead.
“or stay here. choice is yours.”
when you start walking again, it’s not long before you hear a second set of footsteps approaching behind you. reaching into the side pocket of your backpack, you pull out a metal canister of water and offer it to the girl. she takes it wordlessly, gulping down mouthfuls of water as you trudge through the barren neighborhood.
“god dammit,” ellie cries, knuckles going white as she grips the edge of her seat, alcohol stinging the open wound on her side. you mutter a quiet sorry, wiping smears of blood from her skin until only her wound remains angry and red.
“good news is you don’t need stitches,” you tell her, reaching for your first-aid kit. you wrap her wound with bandages and hand her a clean shirt, her blood-soaked tank discarded on the floor. she pulls on the t-shirt with cautious movements, careful not to disturb her freshly-wrapped wound. you dip your hands into a bucket of water to wash the blood off.
the boat rocks calmly with the rhythm of the waves, the gentle whoosh of the ocean outside a soothing white noise. ellie’s quiet, still catching her breath. you kick off your boots, stretching your legs out. god only knows how many miles you’ve walked today.
“why are you helping me?”
ellie’s question breaks the silence, her voice still hoarse. when you spare a glance her way, you find her already looking at you, eyes narrowed just so.
you shrug. “honestly? i felt sorry for you.”
ellie laughs humorlessly. “great, well… thanks, i guess.”
“you’re really not from around here?”
she shakes her head, eyes downcast. she taps her foot against the rug on the floor.
“i came here to find someone.”
“abby,” you say, nodding. “who’s she?”
a family member? a girlfriend, maybe? you’re not sure, but the still-human part of you hopes it’s not the latter. ellie’s pretty - freckled cheeks and toned arms, careful lines of ink decorating her skin, her hair somehow falling perfectly into her eyes. god, it’s been a while since you’ve looked at someone like this. it almost feels wrong. almost.
“long story.” ellie runs a hand through her hair, glances back over at you. “i have some unfinished business with her.”
not a girlfriend or a family member, you conclude, if the hatred in ellie’s eyes is any indication. you nod, not wanting to pry further.
“i don’t know anyone who goes by abby,” you confess, “but i can help you find her. or at least… i can tell you how to not get caught by the rattlers again.”
“yeah,” ellie says. when she’s quiet for another few moments, you stand up and grab the bucket at your feet, the water within it pink with ellie’s blood. you walk out onto the boat deck and toss the water over the edge, watching it splash into the sea. the weather has turned moody again, gray clouds rolling in with the coastal wind.
you fix a meal of canned baked beans and half-stale crackers, trying not to stare too long as ellie scarfs down the food like she hasn’t eaten in weeks. and, well, maybe she hasn’t. she’s quite thin, you had noticed, despite the lean muscles that define her frame.
the sun has already dipped below the horizon by the time you’re finished with dinner. your bed, at the back of the boat, is already calling your name - your legs are sore and tired from a long day of walking. call it naivety, but you’re not too nervous about sleeping near ellie. despite that threatening gaze when she’d talked about abby, she seems relatively harmless. or maybe you’re just being reckless, wooed by her good looks and mysterious charm. it’s embarrassing how drawn to her you are - so much so that you offer her a spot on your bed for the night.
“i can’t do that,” she responds, one hand rubbing the back of her neck.
“it’s that or risk dying from exposure outside,” you deadpan. she almost smiles, exhaling quickly in something akin to a laugh.
“you pulled my leg.”
so you end up in bed together, stripped down to your underwear in the long-unwashed sheets. you hadn’t asked ellie to undress, but she’d peeled her bloodstained jeans off anyway, settling into the mattress beside you. over the sound of the waves crashing against the shore outside, you hear her breathing quietly. you stare up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep.
“thank you,” ellie says suddenly. you turn to look at her in the dark, her face finally clean of blood and sweat. she doesn’t look at you, eyes trained on the ceiling.
“it’s nothing.” you shrug a shoulder.
except that it’s not nothing - you haven’t had company in months. you’ve been on your own for so long you’d almost forgotten what it’s like to share a space with someone else, to eat together and share a mattress with someone, completely at their mercy should they have bad intentions. it’s a kind of trust you’re not accustomed to doling out to strangers.
but something about doing this for ellie feels right.
or maybe you’re just an idiot. who’s to say?
as the boat cabin darkens with night, you turn over onto your side, facing ellie. she finally shifts her gaze to you, pupils wide in the dark.
“you’re not gonna kill me in my sleep, are you?”
the question seems to take ellie by surprise, because her eyebrows shoot up her forehead.
“after you saved my skin?” she scoffs. “god, no.”
“good,” you murmur, chewing on the inside of your cheek. before you can reconsider, you blurt, “but i guess a pretty girl killing me is a fine way to go.”
ellie’s silent just long enough for you to mentally scold yourself for the tasteless comment. you nearly chew a hole into your cheek until ellie’s voice cuts through the quiet. “you like girls?”
there’s a sudden lump in your throat. you nod, hesitant. “yeah. i do.”
the brunette turns onto her side, wincing just slightly at the pressure the movement places on her wound. you open your mouth to tell her to be careful when she reaches out to cup your cheek, her fingertips rough against your skin.
“this is stupid,” she murmurs, her thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “tell me to stop.”
your heart thumps wildly in your chest, pounding against your ribcage. your skin burns where ellie’s touching you.
“i won’t,” you whisper, and that’s all you can say before she’s kissing you.
it’s been ages since anyone’s touched you, let alone kissed you - that must be why your stomach turns with arousal almost instantly, a fire stoking between your legs. ellie tastes like salt, her tongue prodding against your lips until you open your mouth to allow her in. her hand moves to the back of your neck to hold you in place as she kisses you, lips wet and smooth against yours. you sigh into the kiss, somehow unafraid to melt under her touch.
you’re dizzy with want as ellie trails kisses down your neck, her fingers sliding under the elastic band of your sports bra. when you pull back to remove it, exposing your chest for her to see in the dark, she lets out a heavy sigh before her palms reach out to cup each of your tits and squeeze. the calloused pads of her thumbs brush over your taut nipples and you gasp, tangling a hand in ellie’s hair to steady yourself.
you’re not sure how exactly you end up naked in her lap, her fingers sinking into your soaked cunt as she sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin of your throat. you moan, cunt tensing around her fingers, and ellie pulls back to watch you with half-lidded eyes as her hand works between your legs.
“fuck, that’s so good,” you croon, grinding down against ellie’s hand. she curls her fingers inside you, prodding at your g-spot until you’re whining her name, already feeling your orgasm approaching far too fast.
ellie groans at the wet sounds of her fingers buried in your pussy, your arousal leaking down her hand. every thrust of her fingers produces a lewd squelch, and if you weren’t so fucked out, you might’ve found it in yourself to be embarrassed. instead, you drop your head to ellie’s shoulder and mewl, hips rocking weakly as she finger-fucks you so deep you see stars.
“i’m c-close,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. ellie wraps her free arm around your waist to hold you steady, fingers never slowing as they plow into you from below.
“i got you,” ellie murmurs in response, her palm pressing against your clit. you let out a wrecked moan and ellie smiles at you in the dark, a slight curve of her lips that makes your stomach flutter.
you come with a gasp, the air stolen from your lungs by the sensation of ellie’s fingers rubbing deliciously against your g-spot, her palm warm and firm against your puffy clit. seeking comfort, you lean your forehead against ellie’s, body shaking with every tremor of pleasure she manages to pull out of you. you’re not sure if it’s just the dark boat cabin or the force of your orgasm that has your vision going black, but when you finally emerge from the thick haze of your orgasm, ellie’s fingers have left your cunt empty, her hand rubbing soothing circles over your lower back.
“good?” she prompts, nose nudging against yours. your heart stutters at the way she asks - like she’s looking for reassurance. you nod.
“really good.”
the two of you tumble around in bed for half the night, careful not to reopen the patched-up wound on ellie’s side. you mouth at her pussy and dip your fingers into the slick heat of her arousal, let her climb on top of you and slot yourselves together so your soaked cunts can find friction against one another. after you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve orgasmed, you fall into a dreamless slumber, curled up against ellie’s side in the tiny cabin bed.
when you wake up to find the bed empty and cold beside you, part of you isn’t surprised. you stretch out on the mattress, flashes of the night before playing out in your mind - the heat of ellie’s breath, the warmth of her touch, the welcome sight of her smile.
you never end up seeing her again.
and maybe it’s for the best.
