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everything on my blog has been handcrafted by a human (me!!), i can assure i do not use ai for my fics, and do not align with those that do. ai supporters DNI.
the people yearn for firefighter abby and emt ellie
yesss!!!! the people are yearningggggg !! and i honestly love that !! i didnt expect this au to get so much attention but im digging it!! hopefully posting more of them tonight <3
I KNOW Firefighter Abby always reprimands Ellie for smoking joints inside so carelessly. Does this make sense
SHE DOES SHE DOES SHE DOES!!!!
they both know the effects of smoking profusely, and ellie doesnt GAF. she’ll mostly smoke on the balcony or the roof of your apt, but theres been times where shes been caught by abby (or the smoke detector) smoking inside.
one time it was the bathroom with the door locked. she ended up hotboxing it and gettign wayyy too high. another time it was on the couch in her underwear cuz she thought she was home alone.
abby HATES IT. she loathes the smell of weed in the house she’ll literally take the joint from ellie and put it out herself.
ellie sat on your vanity table, pencil in hand, calculator in the other. she shifts uncomfortably on the tiny stool she's on, as her leg bounces up and down.
"you sure i couldn't do this on the dining table? i mean, you don't even have a desk. for studying, was what i meant.." ellie murmurs, voice going smaller as she goes. she stays silent, her eyes roaming around the expensive makeup and perfumes that line the corners of your vanity.
you sit on top of your mattress, feel kicking the air as you tossed over an old fashion magazine. "nope. mom's having guests over..and besides. you make for really good eye candy."
ellie's cheeks flush, but she doesn't turn around. she forces her brain to power through the last couple problems, which isn't really a problem for her. its you that's kind of making this whole thing distracting.
she knows you're on top of that bed, barely anything covering you except that sheer linen slip on you wear to bed. most nights...well, only really tonight because you have her over. "..are you done?" you chime in, voice sweet as cherries and ellie can't help but shut her eyes, her self control wavering.
"mmhm. i just have to...finish these ones up. then i can move on to your history paper. if that's fine with you?.." her voice is unsure. always tedious around you. mostly because she doesn't want to say the wrong things around you.
you toss your feet over one another, standing up on your fluffy carpet. ellie can hear you shuffling around her and for once this entire night, she takes a tiny peek over her shoulder. she feels entranced. almost mesmerized just looking at you in such an intimate way. the dim candles making everything feel so close to one another.
your hands slide over the pads of her shoulders, and you dip. dip just enough that she can feel your breathing on the side of her head. she doesn't take her eyes off you. she looks at you with such easiness and vulnerability that makes her look like a dog.
you ruffle her hair, and she unconsciously nuzzles into your hold, your hands feeling like utter warmth that can spread across her. "...did i do...good?" she whispers. she won't hide it. won't hide the fact that she loves when you praise her for things. it's the only reason she agrees to do your homework. just for those few 'you did so good baby. you're so smart.'
"you're doing so, so good. you're just so good at these types of things." you coo.
"for you."
"hmm?"
"i'm good. for you." she says softly, lips parted in an almost pathetic way, eyes glued onto yours as she shifts to the side, facing you. "i''m good for you." she repeats.
you kiss her temple, your hand coming up to the back of her neck, making ellie shiver. her body unconsciously nudges into yours, seeking the comfort only you could give her. the tips of her fingers slip past the little fabric that covers you.
"tch. baby, you know what i said. finish it first" you repeat.
"i know. but i'll be able to finish it much quicker if you give me something to look forward to."
you can't fight off the smile on your lips as her fingers draw closer to the lining of your underwear. she leans on your stomach, her chin propped up as she waits for your answer, her eyes pleading as she gives you tiny, reassuring, yet desperate nods.
"..fine. but just five minutes." you say. her fingers waste no time in tugging your panties down, pen and calculator forgotten as she wraps her other arm around your waist, pulling you over to your bed.
"just five minutes okay? a tiny..tiny break." you repeat.
The other side of the bed–unoccupied. The wooden table bare, lacking any note. A hook missing a jacket.
Ellie Williams slipped through your fingers in the same way that you feared she would, but still desperately hoped would never happen. Gone to chase after what plagued her mind, she left without a word. No argument, no farewell, no see you soon. No promise of return.
Cruelly so, the Earth still slowly spun.
You swore that you had finally gone mad when the floorboards creaked.
warnings : epilogue!ellie williams x afab!reader. canon universe, so all general warnings may apply. established relationship–uncertain standing. swearing. implications of grief, loss, and ptsd. mention of nightmares, lack of sleep, and a loss of appetite due to grief and trauma. implied themes of hurt/comfort. finally edited and posted after nearly a year... i listened to hozier's version of do i wanna know? on loop while writing this. please see notes at the very end.
w.c : 7.3k
. . . . .. . . . .
Timing was a strange thing. Weird concept.
You had a complicated relationship with it.
Complicated in the sense that you could never really tell if the timing of the universe was on your side, or working against you. Logically, you knew that neither were true. Timing was simply timing, and to try to distinguish a relationship between it and you would be foolish–adding an additional weight to your shoulders that you were not strong enough to carry.
Still, it had been easy to feel as though things had cosmically worked out for you when you had ended up residing in the safe town of Jackson at the same time as Ellie Williams–who had become a friend, a best friend, and then a lover. In that very specific case, it felt as though the universe had thrown you a bone. Ellie had been your lifeboat. Unfortunately, you were unable to be hers, too.
You grappled with the concept of timing a lot–a tortuous cycle of what-if’s that often took the shape of self-blame, even when it had no right or reason to do so.
The what-if’s actually might’ve been the cruelest consideration when it came to timing.
What if you had been scheduled for patrol that day, so there could’ve been another person searching for Tommy and Joel, potentially finding them sooner? What if you had been able to get to Ellie sooner, before Joel’s beaten, lifeless, bloody corpse had been burned into her eyes? What if the snowstorm that day hadn’t been as bad?
What if Tommy had shown up to the farmhouse two weeks earlier than he actually had?
The farmhouse, in all honesty, had somewhat originally been Dina’s idea. If you had more truths pulled from your unspoken thoughts, you–admittedly–resented the idea of it at first. A younger version of Ellie–one that had bright eyes and an easy laugh–hated farming tasks. She found them boring. Thought the isolation of a farmhouse, away from town, sounded lonely.
Steadily, Dina sold her on the idea. Lonely transformed into peaceful. Boring turned into kinda nice. You couldn’t fault your mutual friend, but you grew worried. Worried that the idea of a farmhouse would be less of a solace, and more of an escape. Worried that the concept started to resonate more with Ellie because she couldn’t bear to meet the eyes of those around her in Jackson–couldn’t bear to continue to face Jesse’s parents on a daily basis. Worried that Ellie couldn’t bear–just as you couldn’t bear–the way in which Tommy had started to look at Ellie less like a family member that needed to be protected, and instead more like a faulty weapon–a gun that failed to fire in a crucial moment of war.
Shortly after Seattle, you moved into a farmhouse outside of the Jackson gates with Ellie.
Timing.
If Tommy had come two weeks earlier than he had, when Ellie had that short burst when she was actually sleeping through the night, maybe she would've stayed. You had seen her smiling at a photograph of Joel that week, and her eyes hadn’t looked so dazed. Maybe if Tommy had come then, the outcome would've been different.
You knew though, really, that wasn't the case.
Ellie was unwell. Lost in a grief that she hadn’t even begun to comprehend. Traumatized. It's not like Tommy's words suddenly rewired her brain. No, she had only needed to be pointed in a direction. Needed a push.
She would've slipped away regardless, in any sense. She wouldn't have lasted long. It was a horrific truth that you had worried yourself sick over. You knew it. You knew it, and yet, you couldn't help but mull over the different possibilities. The way in which things could have unfolded, but didn't. Always back to those terrible, horrible, enticingly cruel what-ifs.
You always did carry the habit of overthinking.
Ellie would frequently smooth her thumb over the crease between your eyebrows, with a tsk and a shake of her head… a faint smile tugging on her lips. "I can literally see you thinking. Now you're starting to stress me out," she would say.
I'm sorry, you thought silently to her now. It's hard when you're not here.
Love can't fix everything. It's an unfortunate lesson that you've had to learn time and time again. You could love Ellie like your life depended on it–maybe it did–but it wouldn't take away her nightmares. You could squeeze her, hold her tightly like it was the last shred of anything that mattered, but it couldn't put back together everything that she had lost.
It wouldn't make her eat. It wouldn't make her sleep.
But it didn't stop you, either. You loved her–hard. More than anything. Easier than breathing. You loved Ellie with every inhale, every exhale, every single blink of your eyes.
And she loved you, too. God, did Ellie love you too.
Even when she couldn't find the words. Ellie loved you in the way in which she would allow you to take her hand and lead her to bed, even though she knew that she wouldn't be sleeping. She loved you in the way in which she would remind you to take breaks, despite the darkening circles underneath her own eyes. She loved you in the way in which her book of puns remained on her bedside table, meaning she would recite off the most stupid ones in the dark of your shared bedroom–anything to hear you laugh before you were lulled into your slumber.
Ellie might stay awake–red matter and gore on her mind, the sound of impact and pain ringing in her ears… but you giggled before you fell asleep, and she was glad for it.
Yeah, she loved you. There was never any doubt about that.
But it couldn't change anything. And it didn't.
Because one morning, you woke up without your lover’s arms wrapped around your form. You woke up, and the bed was cold. Missing her. Bedding slightly askew, like Ellie had just slipped out from under the covers to make a quick trip to the bathroom, or to retrieve a glass of water.
You knew, though. The realization caused by the absence of her body next to your own rapidly washed over you with a vile wave of sickness. Regret. Guilt. You should’ve known, should’ve figured, should’ve done something.
Realistically, however, you knew there was nothing that you truly could’ve done, anyway. Ellie had left without a word. No note. Nothing. It wasn’t your fault, but you felt as though it was your fault, even though you knew that it was not your fault. Still–you had been asleep. You had gotten no final words. No last, lingering glance. No goodbye. No kiss. No squeeze of the hand. No quiet promise.
You knew–in your heart that you loved Ellie very dearly and deeply with–that was how she had intended for it to go. The semblance of an easy goodbye–one lacking tears, desperate pleas, and hands that refused to let go. Ellie chose that. You knew that she did, that her departure was intentional, but the weight of it all still hung over your head.
Surely, Ellie had planned it. At least somewhat.
Any other night, you were prone to stirring whenever Ellie would stir. Every shift from Ellie was something that you were extremely aware of. When nightmares plagued her mind, you stayed up with her–talking, holding her, kissing her forehead. When she got up to pace in the kitchen, you followed. Lingered until she wanted your hands, your words, your reassurances. You were in tune with every single breath, every single beat of Ellie’s heart, every fiber of her very being. Any other night, you would’ve known. Any other night, you would’ve felt her shift–felt her sliding out of bed and you would’ve gone with her. You could’ve had a conversation, or at least kissed her one more time before you were left to desperately chase any lingering indication of her presence throughout the farmhouse. Any other night, you would’ve stirred due to Ellie’s movement, and you would’ve gone with her. Santa Barbara, or wherever else she may have ended up, you would’ve followed that girl to the end of the goddamn world.
But you knew, exactly due to that reason, why Ellie had chosen that night in particular.
The day had been good. Not just good in a wishful way–it had genuinely gone by without a fault. The two of you had wasted time that day, just sitting together in the grass and watching the sheep. Ellie had a moment where she had laughed so hard, her cheeks tinted pink. That evening, she had twirled you in the kitchen. (You had wondered–torturously, every single day since her absence–if her leaving was premeditated, or if she had just woken up and realized that she had to go. With how Ellie had been staring at you while she had twirled you around the kitchen, and with how her hands had settled on your hips, maybe she knew. At least, maybe there was an inkling of her knowing at the time. Like she was taking it in. Silently saying goodbye to the moment, while you were blissfully unaware.) You didn’t like to drink–not much, not anymore, especially after Ellie’s habit of it had picked up–but you had a few glasses that night. Just for fun. The two of you had showered together–soft kisses, healing touches, and dim lighting. You had been so gentle with each other, as you always were, as you lathered each other up and then washed everything away. You were cuddling before slumber hit you, you knew that much. But you never felt a shift.
Maybe it had been the long hours spent outside, or the alcohol, or the shower that had relaxed you down to your bones… that had caused you to sleep so heavily that night, you didn’t wake up as Ellie left. And you hated yourself for it.
And yes–you knew, deep down–that had most likely been the plan. Ellie didn’t want to say goodbye. She didn’t want to see you cry, or hear you plead with her. You knew that she did not want those things–not out of cruelty, but the exact opposite. Even more than that, though, you knew that Ellie didn’t want you going with her. And you would’ve. In a heartbeat, without a second thought, you would’ve joined her journey.
You knew that Ellie didn’t want that. Couldn’t bear it, most likely. So, she left you to sleep. Left you at the farmhouse, without any final words. Left you safe and sound. Left you alone.
The grief was all-consuming.
You cried for her. Endlessly. You were sick over it. Like the rug had been pulled out from under you, the floor falling away from your feet, you felt like you were quite literally flailing. You loved her. For years, you had loved Ellie. Every single night, she had been there.
She had comforted you through every single one of your nightmares, even when hers were surely worse. She had made sure that you were always eating, even when she couldn’t stomach anything at all. She knew more about space than anyone you had ever met, and spoke so confidently about dinosaurs… even when she stuttered on the name pronunciations. She painted with steady hands, her loved ones nearly always the subjects. She laughed at the same puns that she had laughed at when she was fourteen. She helped you name every single one of your sheep, and always referred to them as such. She made the boring things fun. She kissed you like she meant it every single time, because she did. She called you babe–her voice soft, and her gaze even softer. She tended more carefully to your wounds than she did to her own. She was your best friend. Your girlfriend. Your girl. And just like that, she was gone.
You missed her. You were worried sick. You wanted her. You loved her.
Your girl, your girl, your girl.
Your girl was no longer. It felt impossible to survive.
The world was cruel, and Ellie had never been given a break. You wanted that for her though, so terribly. You wanted the sun to break through the clouds. You wanted the rainbow after the rain. You had a fucking bone to pick the universe, forget the one that it had thrown you. Ellie Williams deserved better, and you would say it with your dying breath. You hated seeing what the world had done to her. You despised it. Spoke out loud to Joel about it, hoping that he could somehow hear you, as if he could offer you acknowledgement from beyond the grave.
Everything ached. Sometimes, you were sure that you were genuinely going crazy purely due to the not knowing. You didn’t know where Ellie was, not really. You didn’t know if she was okay, or injured, or dead.
But, truth be told, you were convinced that she was alive.
Even on your very worst days, you had a twisted sort of optimism that Ellie was alive. You were so convinced, in fact, that you were nearly certain of it. You were sure about your girlfriend’s longstanding survival, because you were convinced that if she were to die, you would feel it. Like everything in the world would somehow stop, no matter how far away she was from you. Like your body would feel it–perhaps with a hitch in your breath, or a prickle at the back of your neck. You and Ellie were so intertwined, sometimes you were convinced that if her heart were to stop beating, yours would simultaneously cease, too.
Regardless of your potential delusions, you grieved her.
Nearly everything of Ellie’s had been left behind at the farmhouse. Of course, she didn’t take many of her belongings with her–why would she?
You found solace in a gray hoodie. It was battered, truly. Ellie’s had it for years, as most people hold onto things for as long as they possibly can (just like you do with her) because items in this world are precious. Even so, Ellie’s dedication to the hoodie was practically admirable. The fabric was entirely worn–lint and little fuzzbulls littering the expanse of it. Tiny holes were worn within the fabric. Still, she had worn that thing dutifully–and now, you held onto it like a child that clings to a blanket for security.
Your relationship with the hoodie was a tricky one, though. You wanted to hug it close to you each night, to give yourself some sort of comfort from your girlfriend… but you didn’t want the material to start smelling like you instead of her. You could very much use her soap, but then it wouldn’t be the real thing. Fraudulent.
For the first few days of Ellie’s absence, you had been in a daze. You slept with the hoodie tucked carefully within Ellie’s side of the bed, exactly where she would be. The hoodie was now your lifeboat, taking up the space that Ellie should’ve been filling. You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep. You had begun to mirror your missing girlfriend.
That had been weeks ago. A few months?
Staying on the farm wasn’t feasible, you knew that much, even if you weren’t in the most sensible state of mind. It was a lot of land–you couldn’t manage that and the animals on your own. It wasn’t necessarily safe to be on your own like that anyway–at least, in your opinion it wasn’t. You didn’t prefer it.
For the first few days after Ellie’s departure, you had been lost within your emotions. Eventually, you knew that you had to do something. You didn’t go after her. You didn’t seek out Tommy for more information. No. Despite your own personal feelings, you would keep yourself safe, because you knew that it was what Ellie had wanted for you. You would do it for her.
Jackson was safe. You went back to Jackson.
Others had helped you, various trips of lugging belongings and leading animals back to the secured safety within the walls of the town. You moved back into your old place. You saw Jesse’s parents, and spent large amounts of time with Dina and her baby, JJ. He looked so much like Jesse, that sometimes it made you feel sick.
Despite your departure from the farmhouse, you were adamant about leaving it in very fine condition. Supplies were left behind, just in case. The most valuable things of Ellie’s, you had taken to Jackson so that they could be kept safe and not be abandoned. Some things though, you had left behind. Some changes of clothes, items for getting clean… and a note.
Nothing that would jeopardize Jackson, or the safety of the people. Just a simple nod in the right direction, just in case.
You know where to find me.
Just in case. Just in case Ellie really was alive, like you swore that you could feel in your bones. Just in case she decided to return. Would she? You didn’t know. You didn’t like the possibility of yourself being abandoned, and quite honestly, you didn’t view it as such. The unfortunate truth was that the situation was much bigger than yourself. Bigger than Ellie, and bigger than your relationship. You were hurt. Angry. Devastated. And yet, you couldn’t help but be understanding. Because, once again… you knew.
The days passed by slowly and painfully, but they also managed to blur together in a haze of grief and loss. You felt weighted by it all, consistently aware that you very well may never see Ellie again. You could tell that they were trying not to do so, but people were treating you like a widow. You felt like one. Every sound in the world was bland compared to Ellie’s voice, or the way in which she would laugh when she was truly comfortable. It felt as though your heart and mind could not agree on any sort of feeling. You couldn’t get used to it, the loss of her. Your girlfriend was essentially a ghost. A ghost that you couldn’t let go of.
And the farmhouse.
You couldn’t get rid of that, either.
Maria was fed up with you, you could tell. All of your coming and going. You made trips to the farmhouse–obsessively at first, and then had to be talked down to once every couple of weeks–just in case. Just in case Ellie had been there, or whatever your mind had managed to convince you of. Yes, you had left a note, but you frequently feared that it wouldn’t be enough. Again, it was your overthinking. You could also tell that Maria was tired, and her threats to put you on lockdown were in vain. Half-hearted. As long as you were safe (god forbid she lost someone else) and not potentially leading anyone back to Jackson, well… there wasn’t much that Maria could do about it, was there? You were too stubborn, apparently. Stubborn like Ellie. You had heard her mutter it once as she begrudgingly relented.
As for the current state of your being, your mental state was… shaky. Even after time had gone by, you didn’t feel normal, didn’t feel steady on your own feet. But how could you, when half of you was missing?
And there was that thing about timing, again. How things manage to work out, or how they don’t.
You were at the farmhouse–lingering.
Curled into your old space on the bed that you had formerly shared with Ellie. In Ellie’s spot was her pillow and that hoodie. Your eyes were shut, because you could imagine her presence better that way. You would not forget her face. Could not. And–you were not crazy, you would testify until you were blue in the face–you were speaking to her.
Of course, Ellie wasn’t actually there. Of course, she could not actually hear you. Maybe, most likely, you would never be able to actually speak to her ever again. You spoke to her anyway. Stomach twisting, a weight on your shoulders, and tears forming quickly behind your eyelids–you spoke to her. Until, entirely by accident and due to the exhaustion of managing your own emotions, you had fallen asleep.
For how long, you didn’t know.
You jolted awake, however, due to the familiar yet startling sound of one of the wooden floorboards creaking. Before your eyes even managed to snap open, your arm had practically lunged for Ellie’s side of the bed. You had instinctively reached for your girlfriend (or rather, where she should’ve been) over your own weapon. Stupid.
Your eyes snapped open, your blood going cold as your mind rapidly worked to process the sound. It was quiet now, but you had heard it. The house was old, settling often, but you couldn’t excuse the sound away. You reached for your gun that you had discarded onto the bedside table, and then you froze.
Another creak.
Like a slow, cautious step.
You weren’t alone. You shouldn’t have come alone. You should’ve stayed in Jackson. Should’ve played with JJ over lunch, should’ve maybe finally attempted to have a proper conversation with Tommy for the first time in months–
Footsteps, definitely. Downstairs. Not confident ones–or at least, careful ones.
You were good at being quiet, good at cautious, usually. You slowly pulled yourself away from the bed, heart pounding as you gripped your weapon. You knew where to step, and where not to step. Without a sound, your back hugged the wall as you slowly approached the bedroom doorway.
Your mind, however, was not being cooperative. You had no idea about the state of whoever was making those noises. This could be bad. This could be it.
The thought caused you to falter. Maybe this should be it. Maybe it was your time (timing) and you should just relent and seek the end and see the end and let it be. Maybe, for once, something would be easy if you went down without a fight.
You could see the indication of a human just below the stairs. You couldn’t decide whether or not you should die. You slowly crept down the stairs. You didn’t know if you had the energy to plead for your life. You raised your gun anyway, pointing it directly at the approaching figure.
And then, every bit of air left your body. You went rigid, head dizzy. Eyes wide, the corners of your vision went hazy. Blurry. You were frozen, shoes rooted to the wooden floor as your eyes met a pair of green ones.
Had you been killed that quickly, that Ellie was now coming to greet you in the afterlife? Had you actually gone insane, as you had admittedly pondered the possibility of a few times before? Were you stuck in a hallucination? In a dream?
Almost immediately, your hands began to tremble. You gripped your gun tighter, not faltering with the angle in which you were holding it–pointed directly at her, a lethal shot if you were to make it.
You were still. Ellie (?) was still. Real? Not real? You didn’t know. You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t even blink, afraid that it was false imagery and maybe the sight of her would vanish if you even briefly closed your eyes. If this was a hallucination, and your last chance to ever see your girlfriend (?) you would prolong it at any means necessary. You did not move, in case she would disappear, because you could not lose her again.
Wide, green eyes. Hard to read. A slow hand raised.
“You’re–”
The word choked out of you before you could comprehend it, though it sounded more like a gasp for air. Were you suffocating? Or had seeing her actual (?) face for the first time in months finally given you back your ability to breathe?
Your voice–even the slightest, strained sound of it–made Ellie’s heart pound almost painfully in her chest. She missed hearing it. Her ears felt like they were ringing. She was more focused on you, rather than the fact that you were aiming a gun right at her. No matter that part. You were directly in front of her, and Ellie couldn’t even speak. She’s dedicated multiple journal pages to you alone. She’s thought about what she wished that she could say to you, over and over again. Went over it in her head. Wrote it down. Whispered it to herself whenever she was trapped, waiting for a horde of an infected to pass. But now? Speechless. Terrified. Guilty. Unprepared.
Ellie had expected an empty farmhouse–which, for the most part, it was. She had expected, maybe, a door slammed in her face. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t this. Not you, right here, right now. Though… it’s what she had come back for, wasn’t it? And yet, she hadn’t let herself fully believe it until now. She didn’t exactly believe it still, but it was happening. Her eyes were glued to you like you were an entity of her own salvation.
Both of you–unmoving. It appeared like a silent stand off, when in reality it was merely two people that were unable to process what was right in front of them.
“I–”
Ellie’s voice cracked as she attempted to speak, hoarse from a mixture of emotion and strain. She swallowed hard, and tried again. “I…”
Your eyes were watering. Had you blinked yet?
The house was a confusing sight for Ellie. Some things there, some things gone. The air was thick with tension, despite the lack of ill-feelings.
It was instinct, the way in which Ellie’s eyes quickly darted over you, as if taking inventory. Quick breathing, chest rising and falling rapidly. Frozen, rigid limbs. Shaky hands, clutching the goddamn weapon that you were still pointing at her. Not out of malice, Ellie knew. Your eyes were still wide. The sight of your dark circles made her stomach lurch. Ellie’s mind was a mess, as she had no idea what to say to you. Not to mention the fact that she hadn’t had a genuine conversation with someone in… quite a while.
“I didn’t think you would still be here,” Ellie managed, a crease forming between her brows as she continued to study you. A truth. She did not, necessarily, expect to find you here. Did she hope for it? Yeah, more than she’d fucking like to admit. But as for the reality of it?
The sound of Ellie’s voice hitting your ears prompted a visceral reaction from you. A sound that you had thought that you would never have the privilege of hearing again, yet you hoped for it and yearned for it every single day since she had left.
Your physical falter did not last long, as breathless words spilled from your lips. “I thought you were dead.” A truth? You couldn’t be sure anymore.
Ellie’s throat tightened as you spoke a full sentence. Dead? Ellie had died maybe a thousand times over throughout the last couple of years or so, but she would still find her way back to you. Anyway, she wasn’t dead. Very much alive, judging by how deeply her bones ached.
Fingers curling into fists, Ellie’s shoulders tensed. She managed a small nod, maybe. She wasn’t sure if it translated. “I’m not.”
“Guess not,” you croaked quietly.
It was too much–the situation–for both of you. You looked terrified, which made Ellie feel like she had to throw up. You were standing relatively close, but you felt so far. Ellie wanted to feel your skin beneath your own, to feel some sort of warmth, but she was hesitant.
It was the longing, really. The longing mixed with guilt that was making Ellie feel so sick.
She tried again. “I…”
Finally, you slowly lowered the gun. You stared at her, waiting for your brain to tell you if it was real or not, because you’ve had the same dream of seeing Ellie again countless times–only to cruelly wake up alone. You were in a daze, maybe you had been since the first time that you had woken up alone. Ellie’s attempt at speaking, though, seemed to snap something within you.
You blinked, like your brain finally registered her presence. “Ellie?”
Ellie sucked in a breath, her fists getting tighter. She hadn’t heard her name spoken in… how long? Hearing it from you–spoken softly, with so much fucking care, even now… it was going to undo her. Immediately, it was going to undo her. How many times had she wished to hear you say her name like that again? How many times had she desperately tried to imagine the real thing, or heard it in her dreams? Ellie swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. She didn’t know how to interpret your expression, and that made her uneasy.
“Yeah?” Ellie replied, voice straining against the growing lump in her throat.
For some reason, that did it for you.
“You’re– Oh my god.” Your feet carried you with more urgency than you had moved with for months.
Ellie’s form was rigid with uncertainty–her body instinctively stiffening at the first touch. She was overwhelmed–so fucking overwhelmed. Ellie had previously been prepared for the worst, while desperately hoping for… something good, or at least anything other than the worst possible outcome that she had been somewhat anticipating. The worst possible outcome–which was… what? You telling her to leave? You being gone? Dead?
Your body collided into Ellie’s, a force that neither of you were prepared for, yet didn’t pull back from. You hastily wrapped your arms around her, burying your face against her shoulder just as the first sob escaped from your lips.
Ellie’s form softened, just a little. Just barely. Like it was always meant to be, her arms wrapped around you in return–at first loosely, and then tight around your waist. She squeezed you once, briefly, as if her life depended on it. Maybe it did.
You clung to her. You were crying. Ellie hated herself for it.
Your body convulsed with each sob, causing Ellie to close her eyes tightly. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip–hard–as she silently and desperately willed herself to keep it together.
Ellie swayed on her feet, and it took her a moment to realize that you were faintly rocking her. Just as Joel used to do in moments of comfort, or how Tommy did after Joel’s death. You were sobbing against her shoulder, your form trembling, and yet you were instinctively swaying with her–your automatic attempt at comfort. Ellie bit down on her lip even harder, squeezed her eyes shut tighter.
Every one of her senses was screaming you. The feeling of your hair. The warmth of your skin, even through the clothes. Your scent, so fucking familiar and comforting and fuck, Ellie wouldn’t cry, she would not–
“Fuck,” Ellie rasped, tightening her arms around you. Months of anguish and solitude were rapidly threatening to take over, the kind of breakdown that she hadn’t had since the beach, now approaching her much quicker than she would like to admit.
The sounds of your breathing mixed together in the otherwise silent farmhouse–shaky, ragged, uneven.
It took a long moment of you clinging to Ellie to realize that, technically, you didn’t even know where you stood with her. Truthfully, you never took her leaving as a breakup. You knew that the situation, and Ellie’s struggles, were much bigger than that. Silently, in your head, you still always referred to her as your girlfriend. It was only then, at that very moment, did you suddenly feel unsure about your standing. It felt trivial, compared to everything else, but the weight of it was there.
Just as quickly as you had initiated the physical contact, you pulled away. It was sudden, like a silent, regretful apology for rushing forward and touching her like that. Ellie’s arms fell back to her sides, her body feeling numb.
“Sorry,” you mumbled. You raised fists, quickly wiping at your wet eyes with the backs of your hands.
Ellie watched the movement, her fingers twitching restlessly at her sides. She wanted to reach for you, but she was in the exact same boat as you. She couldn’t just come back after months, and assume that she had a place with you. Couldn’t assume that you had waited for her, or that you would still want her.
The trepidation from the both of you was fueled by circumstance. Individually, you both knew that your hearts still beat so strongly for the other person–for them and them alone, completely and wholly. Ellie knew that you were it for her. If you would not have her, she would not bother you, but her heart would remain to be yours, even if it went unused. You knew that there wasn’t a single universe where you could manage to be pulled away from Ellie. She was your person, through and through. Not once, despite every single emotion you had felt after everything, had your love for her faltered.
You both knew that, but the situation was unprecedented.
After dropping your hands away from your eyes, you stared at Ellie. Ellie stared back, biting the inside of her cheek. Your eyebrows were furrowed, your expression extremely troubled. You were shaking maybe even more than Ellie was.
Ellie knew that you must have questions. A lot of them. Maybe you were going to yell at her–she would probably deserve that, too. She wouldn’t fight it. Even so, she wanted to comfort you, somehow. Wanted to soothe the dark circles that looked worse now, compared to several months ago. Wanted to grab your trembling hands in her own.
She owed you answers. A lot of fucking answers. And yet, still, Ellie didn’t know what to say, what she could say, what she was even capable of explaining at this time.
In a strange way, Ellie was better off now–after the beach–than she was before the beach. Her real, true, grieving process had begun as she lingered in the sand and the salty water, the physical pain so horrible that she thought she might just die there with the waves sweeping her away.
She did not die.
Joel was dead. Abby was alive. That ended something, while simultaneously started something. Acceptance, she supposed, while she was still in Santa Barbara. And fuck Santa Barbara, by the way–which is something that Ellie would probably eventually tell you if you allowed her to stick around long enough to do so.
“How–?” you attempted, causing Ellie’s eyes to snap back to your own.
“I just…”
Ellie closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling as she forced a breath.
In the brief, quiet moment, you continued to study her.
Ellie was pretty cleaned up, all things considered. It made you wonder where she had been before this, if she had cleaned up specifically before there was a chance of seeing you. Her face still looked slim, in the way that it had become after Joel’s death. You could spot new scars across her skin. Faint scratches on her cheek that still had a lingering of red–somewhat new? Her hair was starting to grow out, just a bit. Her collarbones were prominent, too prominent, you almost wanted to shove some food into her mouth at once. A scratch near her collarbone. Ellie’s skin held a red hue… damaged–sunburn, it looked like. Her hands looked rough from use, and her–
The sound of a sharp inhale caused Ellie’s eyes to fly open. Before she could determine why you had gotten so startled, you were closing the gap between your bodies and gingerly grasping her left hand. Your free hand hovered above the spot of Ellie’s missing ring and pinky fingers.
“Ellie, what–” you breathed out, cradling her hand in your own like it was something that you needed to be careful with.
Sometimes, Ellie had nearly forgotten about the injury, only to be brutally reminded in the most sudden, painful moments. She had adjusted rather quickly, because she had no choice. Still, she had to fight the instinct to jerk her hand away from your own, the urge to physically retreat in order to hide the raw, ugly truth of her injury from you. But she didn’t.
Ellie clamped down on her expression, and watched your face carefully. She held still, allowing you to gingerly turn her hand over in your grasp, inspecting the healed wounds without prodding at them. Ellie’s cheeks felt hot, but she didn’t look away from you.
You tilted your head to look at her, eyes wide with concern that you just couldn’t hide. You shook your head slightly in a silent question, your eyebrows knitted together.
Ellie gave the slightest nod in return. Later.
You swallowed hard, accepting her silent answer while trying to suppress the feeling of sickness that was rapidly taking over your body. Not due to the sight of her hand, but because you absolutely detested thinking about Ellie in pain. You couldn’t fathom what she could’ve possibly been through, and it made you want to cry all over again.
You released your hold on her hand, allowing Ellie to retreat it. Your focus switched to her other hand, and you repeated the touch by carefully grasping for it. Partly just holding, and partly examining. You gingerly traced over the lines of her hand–breathing softly, eyebrows furrowed. Your gaze was fixated upon Ellie’s right hand, and Ellie’s gaze was fixated upon your face.
The bite mark that Ellie had gotten on her right hand had certainly not been as brutal as the bite that she had originally gotten on her forearm. It had been smaller, not as deep, and therefore healed differently. Not as jagged or rippled. Honestly, it went undetected.
But with the way in which you were so intently tracing her skin, turning her hand over and studying it, Ellie felt as though you were able to see through the surface. Like somehow, you just knew.
“The bite,” Ellie started, her voice quiet and rough.
Immediately, your head snapped up. “The what?”
Ellie blinked, breath hitching at the eye contact. At once, she felt stupid for even mentioning it. “It– My hand.”
“You’re… You got bit again?”
You sounded a touch bewildered–maybe you could’ve been pissed if you had more energy and were in less shock. You focused your attention on her hand once more, as if you could seek out the mark.
To be entirely honest, that bite was something that didn’t even cross Ellie’s mind. At this point, it was ancient history. A non-issue at the time, and a non-issue now. With everything that had happened, it was the very last thing on her mind. But now, seeing your concern, and your intense focus… it made her skin crawl a little.
Silently, you were spiraling.
“Yeah,” Ellie rasped, slightly flexing her fingers as you turned her hand over, her palm facing up. “I’m still immune, I swear,” Ellie attempted.
You paused, your eyebrows twitching upward. “I know,” you muttered, slowly raising your gaze to meet Ellie’s eyes. “But can you stop testing your luck? You fucking… stress me out.” Despite your words, your tone was soft–voice slightly breathless.
A faint huff escaped Ellie, like she almost felt a hint of something that resembled amusement. The comment was so utterly you, she almost couldn’t handle it. She fucking missed you. So much.
“Trust me,” Ellie muttered, her gaze flickering across your facial features. “It wasn’t exactly on my bucket list.”
You went briefly still, the corners of your lips just barely twitching at her dry, weak comment. Gingerly running your fingers over Ellie’s, your expression twisted. You dropped your hand, and took the smallest step back from her, despite how much you just wanted to be closer. The lack of touch was painful.
Ellie’s hand flexed, wanting to grab your wrist or your hand and just touch you, to let herself feel safe.
It was stupid, really. She had abandoned you, yes. But Ellie hadn’t intended for that to be what she had done. She didn’t want you to feel abandoned. She wanted you to be safe.
“Ellie…”
“I know.”
Minimal words were being spoken, but you understood. Of course you did. And it was enough to cause you to frown as you wrung your trembling hands. Ellie practically mirrored you, shifting her weight.
You inhaled, trying to find any of the words that you had mulled over during her absence. Something eloquent, or understanding, or the right questions to ask. But instead, all you came up with was–
“You scared the fucking shit out of me,” you managed, your voice breaking as you spoke. You wrapped your arms around your own torso, and Ellie ached to replace them with her own. “I thought– I really fucking thought–”
“I know. I know, I know. Fuck, I know,” Ellie replied, her right hand raising and hovering near your arm.
“And like, just now,” you clarified, swallowing thickly. “I heard fucking footsteps and I thought– Like, the gun–”
“I know,” Ellie repeated, though she really, genuinely, had not expected you to be at the farmhouse. “I wasn’t– I wasn’t thinking.”
“No shit?” you croaked. There was a hitch in your voice, something that could’ve been a very wry, dry huff of amusement, but it was entirely too faint.
Ellie caught it anyway.
“Yeah. Yeah, no shit. I wasn’t– I just wanted…” Ellie bit down on her bottom lip, scared to say the words, in case this was it.
Thankfully, you knew her. You always were the more sensible one, anyway.
“Ellie,” you said, repeating her name once more. Almost like you couldn’t hold yourself back from saying it now, due to the fact that she was actually in front of you and could respond, rather than you crying it into your pillow or pleading her name to the night sky. Ellie relished in it, wanting to hear nothing else for the rest of her life.
You swallowed thickly, fingers digging into your own arms as you continued to hold yourself. “Is this– Are you really here? Is this–?”
Before your sentence was finished, Ellie was nodding. She clenched her hands into fists, pulled her lip between her teeth, forehead creased–but it did absolutely nothing to relieve the lump of emotion building within her throat to the point of being overwhelming.
“Yeah,” Ellie muttered, managing a slight, jerky nod. “Yeah, it’s–”
You took a small step closer, your arms loosening around your form.
“Like, are you– This is for real? You’re here?”
“Yeah–”
“You’re home? Ellie, are you home?” The words left you with a sob, as you took another step toward her, your face twisting due to the sudden onslaught of tears.
“Yeah,” Ellie replied hoarsely. She shifted on her feet, right hand rubbing over her left wrist. “Yeah, I’m–”
The sob that you choked out was one of relief. Your arms found Ellie quickly, though she found you just as fast. Ellie buried her face in your neck, inhaling the scent of you. The scent of comfort, the scent of familiarity. The scent of home.
You squeezed Ellie tight, and then mumbled an apology, to which she shook her head. Of course, there was so much left to be said, and so much left to be explained… but that could be later. For now, you clung together, gently rocking each other and relishing in the fact that–despite everything–there could still be this.
It was a start, at the very least. Something sacred and real and pure to hold onto.
Ellie was home, and she could breathe again. You both could.
. . . . .. . . . .
notes : as i was editing this, i thought it might be nice to write a little something about this ellie and reader a bit into the future, after ellie had more time to heal? idkkk if anyone would possibly be interested in that, please let me know!
the title was inspired by the hozier song (surprise surprise) because i just think it's a super beautiful sentiment. farewell, obviously, is a term of goodbye... as ellie had left reader. fare well, however, is how one does. the song essentially displays situations of darkness in life, but a resilience despite them. so, a farewell to a dark period, as a person will now fare well in life.
i like it a lot and it's what i picture for ellie as she continues to heal, which is why i used it as the title lol :)
im having a hard time picking which projects to prioritize soi think the right way to go about this would to ask you guys what you want before i go ahead and write some bs…
I think Ellie would be the perverted one based off the texts and Abby woukd be more respectful
totally 100% agree. ellie knows what she can get away with and she pushes buttons because she likes to see you either flustered or annoyed. Ellie will slip her hands beneath you shirts when your doing homework at the table, she’ll slap your ass if your bent over, she’ll LICK YOUR EARS. shes on some real freak shit…
abby on the other hand is kind and gentle.. its not that shes not confident, or she thinks youll reject her advances, its that she respects your space, and she doesnt even need to do all that cus ellies already doing it😭😭 she lowkey likes to watch ellie annoy you, knowing that shes the one that gets to tell ellie to fuck off. it gets her brownie points in your book. she’ll occasionally pat your ass, or whisper lowly in your ear during a movie night. but thats it 🤷♀️
firefighter abby n emt ellie coming home at around 7am only to find reader still awake :( reader couldn’t sleep, maybe bc of anxiety or something, soooo it’s group cuddle time :3
𝓢𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆 ? — 𝐞𝐦𝐭!𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 + 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲
first written fic for this au yayyy!! ellie and abby bickering for 1.7k words straight. Pet names (pretty, babe), swearing, Ellie is a menace with severe adhd, reader mentioned being stressed, Abby pics reader up, fluff fluff fluff, falling asleep w the roomies :) for marie, with love :p send requests! dont be shy 🤍
𝓣he tv’s blue light shines against your face from across the living room, the loading screen appearing after many minutes of ignorance. You paid no mind to it, scrolling mindlessly through your phone underneath one of the living room throw blankets.
Your head pounds against your skull, your eyes wincing as the fluorescent screen of your phone beats into them. You had tried to close them multiple times, you really had. But no matter what you did, your body just wouldn’t cooperate.
At 10 pm you shut down your laptop, slipping it back onto the kitchen table. You washed your face, brushed your teeth, and crawled into your own bed, something you didn't do very often.
At 12, after two hours of tossing and turning, you begrudgingly tossed the covers off of your body, and tip-toed into the kitchen. You prepared yourself a small cup of warm tea, and let it coat your throat. You finished, rinsed out the cup, and made your way back to your room.
At 2, you grew angry. You threw yourself out of bed, trudged into the bathroom this time, and ran a warm bubble bath. At that point, your hopes of falling asleep were growing thin, alongside your patience. You hopped in, and let the water calm your muscles for the few minutes that followed.
You got out at three, and followed the previous routine of making your way back to your room and slipping beneath the covers. This time, you opened the window, turned off all your little lights, and did a breathing exercise.
By four o’clock, you knew there was no hope for you. You tugged your phone off the charger and moved to the living room. It was cooler in there, so you pulled a blanket out of the basket at the end of the couch.
You pulled it over the length of your body, and began to carelessly browse the tv for show options. You clicked on the current tv show you were watching, and put it in the background. You barely paid any attention to it, instead opting to pull out your phone and switch between the same four apps that you always did.
Eventually, time slipped away from you, and the clock was striking 7 am. Your roommates were due home soon, today was one of the off times where finished work at the same time.
You scroll to the next TikTok.
“Oh my god you guys, this new blush hack is changing the game!” A woman’s voice fills the silent room. The volume makes your head pound harder. You turn it down quickly, letting it sit at a solid 10.
Scroll.
A video of a cat cooing against their owner pops up. You smile gently, double tap the screen and scroll.
The next video is a lesbian couple, cuddled up in a bed with a soft sound playing in the background. You roll your eyes, clicking on the favourite button and double tapping the screen.
Your scrolling time is interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open, and two sets of boots trudging into the house. You can’t see them from here, and they can’t see you. The back of the couch is covering the majority of your body, and theirs before they step into the entry way.
Ellie groans as she steps into the house, dropping her work bag onto the floor and leaning down to shove her shoes off of her feet. Abby does the same, stretching her back out with a light sigh.
You shut your phone off, and push the blanket down to your knees. You sat up on your knees, laying your head along the back of the couch. “How was work?” You chirp up, your voice decently quiet.
Ellie’s head shoots up from the ground, her green eyes blown wide. Abby’s head cracks to the side so quickly you can only guess it gave her whiplash.
“Jesus Christ.” Ellie whispers, pushing herself off the wall. Abby chuckles quietly, stretching her arms over her head and smiling.
“Sorry, sorry!” You laugh, pushing your head back up. Abby walks into the kitchen, probably in the search of food. Ellie walks over to the couch, wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you into a soft hug. You wrap your arms around her waist, chuckling into her shoulder.
“Work was—work. Nothing special.” Abby finally replies from the kitchen, letting the fridge door shut behind her as she pulls a container of whatever she had prepped the previous day out from inside of it.
“You literally fight fires.” You quip, letting go of Ellie and stepping off the couch. Abby just shrugs, and shoves her definitely not microwave safe container into the microwave.
You and Ellie meet her in the kitchen, sliding into the space with practiced ease.
“Why are you still up anyway?” Abby asks, moving over to the sink to wash her hands.
Ellie pipes up next. “Yeah, the sun's already up—you should be in bed.” She slides a finger up your face, grazing your upper lip and the bottom of your nose.
You bat her hand away and shrug, “couldn’t sleep.” Your admission causes Ellie to jut out her bottom lip, and Abby elbows her out of the way to get to the microwave.
“How come?” Abby asks, opening the door of the appliance with the smooth click of a button. Her voice is gentle, soothing.
“I don't know. Maybe stress.” You answer, pulling your blanket up around you. Your head felt heavy on your shoulders, and if you were honest, you weren’t quite sure how many more words you could get out.
The sun had started seeping through the cracks in the living room and kitchen curtains, a gentle breeze flowing in the open window. Ellie’s pushing out of the way and making her way down the hall to her room.
“Well, we should probably get you to bed then, hm?” Abby says, finally looking up at you. Her food is steaming when she pulls it out, she slides it down the counter and lets it settle.
You nod. “Don’t know if it's even worth it. Maybe I’ll just start the day now. Try to be productive.” It was an idea that had been swirling around your head since maybe five. But truthfully, you might collapse if you have to keep your eyes open another second.
“Nonsense. You can sleep in my room.” She places a small kiss on your forehead, and takes a seat on one of the stools that sits tucked beneath the island. You nod.
A few seconds of silence pass before Ellie’s quietly emerging from the hallway, this time she's in pajamas and has a green toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. She leans over the counter, clearly experiencing some type of fomo.
“Can you—” Abby swats at her, making a semi disgusted face. She throws her hands up, walking over to your side of the counter.
“Stop drooling on me, you goblin.” You laugh, pushing her away from you almost immediately. She drops her head back, and continues brushing, right in the kitchen.
“I’m sleeping with Abby tonight.” You state, matter of factly. Ellie drops her head back, and immediately turns around to spit her leftover toothpaste into the sink. She quickly rinses her mouth out with the tap and turns back to you.
“Why?” She asks, walking back over to you. She plops down right next to your other roommate, who’s almost done with her meal at this point.
“I dunno, I just felt like it.” You shrug.
”Jealous?” Abby intervenes, turning to her with a shit eating grin. The auburn headed girl lightly slaps her arm.
“I’m coming too, then.” She smiles at you, and you nod in her direction.
The blonde groans, you can tell she's pretending to be annoyed. “You kick hard as fuck. Stay on your side I swear.” She stands up, shoving a hand into Ellie’s face, pushing her back gently.
“Fuck you!” Ellie shrieks, flipping her off. Abby shoves her container into the sink, and grimaces at Ellie’s mess of toothpaste. She doesn't say anything, just silently rinses out the sink.
“Shhh!” You whisper to Ellie, the sound of her basically yelling only makes your head pound harder. “I have a headache.”
“Sorry, pretty.” Ellie stands, “it’s probably from sleeping at odd hours, though.” She winks, sticking the tip of her tongue out form between her chapped lips.
“I like sleeping with you more than sleeping on time.” You admit, blowing her a kiss. Her cheeks burn a light dusty pink, and she flips you off.
“Alright, let's go.” Abby speaks up from behind you. The light flicks off, and before you’re able to slide off the counter, she's sweeping you up into her arms.
Ellie rolls her eyes, turning around to make her way to the farthest room down the hall. “What, you wanna be carried too, Williams?” She jokes, and smiles at you when you laugh.
You hear Ellie whisper something along the lines of die faggot, as she opens the door. Abby follows her in, dropping you onto the bed and turning around. She's still in uniform, so she grabs a pair of pajamas and makes her way to the bathroom to wash up.
Abby's room is much much darker than the living room, thank god for blackout curtains. And the breeze from her AC keeps the place crisp. You quickly scramble beneath the sheets, tucking yourself in as Ellie falls on top of you.
“Ellie. You’re so hot.” You say into the darkness, feeling the gumminess of her warm arm wrap around you.
“Thanks, babe.” You can feel her smirking, her cocky ass. She knew thats not what you meant, and you didn't fight her on it.
Ellie's breath quickly shifts from jagged and quick to slow, soft snores. You pet her hair a few times, letting her fall asleep against you.
Abby comes back in just a few minutes later, and you’re already the closest to falling asleep you’ve been tonight. She slips beneath the sheets on the right side of you, and quickly pulls you against her chest. You hum gently into her, and Ellie only snuggles up to you more.
“She’s a child.” Abby chuckles into your ear, wrapping her arms around your waist.
You can barely nod, humming softly in agreement. It’s not long after that you’re falling asleep, chasing dreams of your insanely chaotic roommates.
Firefighter Abby x emt Ellie x reader has become my new Roman Empire I’m so invested !!! Also I really love the way you write all the characters and the casual intricacy they all share is so beautifully written! Thank you for taking the time to write and share it! ✨💗
YAYYY IM SO GLAD🤍 thank you so much baby , i really try🙏 i love you so much, thank you for taking the time to read :)
