‧₊˚ ⋅ ❤︎ . . . part one here ! you always knew your girlfriend was capable, strong, and intelligent in combat. no matter what, she'd come home in one piece despite the dangers outside the walls. when you start catching glimpses at her true nature—the recklessness and carelessness for her wellbeing—you start to wonder why, and start to realise she thinks you're dumber than you are.
♡₊˚ ──── 9.5k . mean!jackson!ellie x shy!sweetheart!reader . part two of 'in bloom'. angst , hurt/comfort , happy ending. mentions of death, suicidal ideation, canon typical gore / violence. a couple journal entries from ellie & usage of y/n , reader is explicitly into women only , ellie's immunity is a problem , ellie & reader both have huge mental breakdowns lol , baking isn't actually an unhealthy coping mechanism but reader will prove that wrong , reader puts herself in danger for the hell of it , joel & tommy love u yay , fighting, lying, trust issues , breaking up , everyone hates ellie ( poor ellie ) , tender & gentle makeup sex , top!ellie , bottom!reader , spit kink if u squint , reader has an oral fixation , finger sucking , making out , ellie has a sensitive neck :3 , reader gets a little sick n yes u have sex while u are sick . minors are not welcome n will be blocked ! reblogs n comments greatly appreciated <3
𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 . . . ౨ৎ hi <3 ofc i recommend reading part 1 first if u haven't already, along with the spinoff content and hc's (find them under the #౨ৎ in bloom tag) so u understand the au first as lots of it will be referenced in this fic! if my gun explanations are inaccurate, no they're not pls ignore them i've never seen a gun irl with my own eyes before i jst play a lot of video games. pls enjoy and read this with a box of tissues on hand maybe <3
AUTUMN.
it's the last warm week of the season and the last time you and ellie will see your beloved spot in bloom. the flower shop may be beginning to wilt already, but it's beautiful at this time of year, when the courtyard is covered in crunchy orange leaves and the evergreens surrounding the premises whistle with the breeze.
"okie-dokie, remember, babe, there's been a few reports of infected out here lately so—"
you hop off the side of shimmer, boots clicking against the concrete and crushing leaves in your path to the shop. ellie, left in the dust, sighs before calling out to you again.
"you have to let me search the place first— get back here!"
she jumps down, rushing to catch up to you, but she hears the rusty bell above the door ring out before she can stop you.
when she finally enters she gives you a look, seeing you already sitting on the workbench in the centre of the shop. the warped timber wobbles beneath your weight but you carry on, kicking your legs back and forth.
"it's fine, see?" you smile. you're carrying your scrapbook, the one you bring along every visit to the spot. you press flowers with it, document each kind and every memory you make here.
"you're lucky. they start migrating this time of year, babe, the hordes come through soon. you need to start listening to me, it's not as safe as you think," ellie warns.
you giggle, shrugging your shoulders and setting the book down beside you. "you sound like mr. miller right now."
"i'm gonna— you shut up before i make you." ellie huffs, glancing around the shop. she still doesn't feel right having you in here without searching it properly, and she reaches toward the holster of her gun out of habit.
now, you search for a new species to pick for your scrapbook. your goal is to document every different kind of flora in the shop, and something today entices you toward the back of the shop, where invasive bushes and ivy climb the wall. it smells fresher in this area, a tiny puddle drying up beneath your boots. the roof must have began leaking, what a shame.
it's hard to see through the bush but you think there's a gathering of yellow goldenrods toward the back, some pale, crusted vines twisting around them. it's strange, but it stands out amongst everything else and so you reach in to clip one free.
the vine is thicker than you thought it'd be, so you push more greenery out of the way to grab a better angle when you're met with a grey, grisly face staring back at you, and learn the vine is not a vine, but a finger.
you shriek, the ugly thing jumping out at you. your back hits a counter on your way down to the ground and you push and shove with your eyes squeezed shut, but ellie runs forward right in time and pulls it away from you with her arm around its neck.
she curses before your ears start to ring, her gunshot bouncing around the walls of the flower shop. the infected squirms and gargles some before its life ceases to exist, and you watch ellie's shoulders rise and fall with quick, ragged breathing.
she turns back to face you, pushing her sleeve down all the way and squeezing her forearm. a pained grimace is on her face, but she tries to shake it off when asking, "are you okay?"
you can't help staring at her, your heart feeling like it's about to sink. "are you okay?"
"yes," ellie snaps, extending a hand to help you off the ground. it seems her arm is a little tender now, but she still acts like it's nothing.
your knees and the backs of your calves are wet, denim clinging to your skin and making you shiver. you avoid stepping on or around the dead creature on the ground, giving it one last glance. "what the hell is that? i've never seen one of those before? it— it was smart?"
"stalker," she answers, guiding you away with a hand on your waist. "i don't think we're safe out here right now. we should head back."
and so you leave the flower shop for the last time until spring, your clippers on the floor and scrapbook on the bench, forgotten about.
ELLIE'S JOURNAL.
i think y/n is onto me.
she won't stop asking questions. i could've played it a bit cooler after i got bit the other day, but i didn't think she'd notice.
she signed up for patrol now. what the fuck? i need to relax. it might be fun. i just don't want to be the reason she's putting herself at risk. what if she gets hurt?
i feel like shit. i shouldn't hide this from her, but she's not going to understand. and when i tell her to quit worrying she gives me those stupid eyes. all big and wide and sceptical.
below is a drawing of said eyes; a window of confusion, brows furrowed with anxiety.
every ninety seconds, give or take a few, ellie turns her head to check on you. you've been counting.
you canter close behind her on a stallion named ghost, taking one of the easier and prettier trails for patrol. you're certain ellie bribed jesse into scheduling you two on this exact trail for a few reasons, the main ones being her fears for your safety and your lack of experience.
"so, when was the last time you fired a gun, exactly?"
you huff a laugh at that, shrugging your shoulders. truth be told, you can't remember exactly, even though you confidently told ellie it was at fourteen when she asked the other day. "it would've been just before i got to jackson. i didn't have to use it much, y'know, ammo was scarce and my parents needed it more than me."
"you need a recap, then?" she asks, glancing back. "this is a good area for it. there's a few marked targets around."
"that might help," you reply, bring ghost to a halt. your hands tighten around the reins and you kick your legs over the side of the horse, jumping down. "my aim was never that good . . . 'n i've never used one of these big rifles . . . s'kinda intimidating."
"i thought so," ellie mumbles, joining you on the ground. her hand wraps around your wrist, leading you toward a gathering of pine trees, some stained with red paint, big circles marked on the bark. "we'll start with the pistol, just show me what you got, babe."
"ah, okay . . " you pull the gun from the pocket of your shorts, thumb flicking the safety off. the metal is heavier than you remember, but you grip it with both hands and rest your gaze upon the centre of the target. it's hard to not check on ellie through your peripherals, knowing she's watching for flaws in your form, but you focus.
a flock of birds trickle out of a nearby tree and into the sky as you take your shot, disturbing all nearby creatures. and ellie simply grimaces.
"eh, well . . . you're not awful, but i'd hate to see you try and shoot something that's moving," she mutters. you snort, a sheepish smile on your face as she comes up closer to you, offering a soft praise anyway. "good try, babe. try to hold your breath, makes it easier sometimes, you're a little shaky."
you nod, already switching the safety off again out of anxiety. but ellie unslings the bolt-action from your shoulder, showing you how to hold it.
"dominant hand on the grip," she instructs, lightly tapping her right hand over the area. "free hand on the forestock. when you're aiming you're gonna want the back to be on your shoulder and be careful."
she hands it to you, and you do as told, with a little extra help—just ellie taking your hands and moving them into a more comfortable spot. she moves behind you, breath fanning over your neck, and how are you supposed to focus on the weapon you're holding when she does this? you can't.
"you got that?" she murmurs, letting go.
"um . . . i'm just . . ."
"it's okay, baby girl. nervous is fine. i get it. it's a big, heavy piece of shit compared to a handgun. so just take your time, aim, pull the trigger. you got it."
it's loud, and once again not the perfect shot, but you hear her rasp something warm and soothing regardless.
"good girl, you did it. now you reload." she takes your hand and guides it to the handle, lifting and pushing it forward until it's ready to fire again. "easy once you get used to it. just try it one more time without my help and we're done here, yeah?"
so you try, and you hold your breath again, slowly aiming for the middle of the red circle. your finger pulls the trigger just as you run out of breath. you reload quickly after, taking a step back to see ellie's pleased face.
"that was a good one. that's exactly what you wanna be doing. good job, babe. good at everything, aren't you?"
your cheeks warm and you smile back at her, simply shrugging your shoulders.
"let's get back to the trail," she says, and you follow after her, slinging the rifle over your shoulder once more.
even despite your lesson and how pleased ellie seemed, you haven't needed to use your weapons at all on this patrol.
you're not allowed to enter any space without ellie's permission. she has to go in with you—in fact, she has to enter first, and you only once she has made sure the coast is clear.
shit, you're a sensitive girl, but not entirely this fragile. or, maybe you are, because this is upsetting you. it feels silly. your partner's protecting you. it's ellie doing ellie things, keeping you safe because she loves you, but at the same time, she's underestimating your capabilities, and putting herself at risk.
literally using herself like a human shield.
inside an old pharmacy, you reach for your mask at the sight of a door with dark, muggy air and dust floating around behind it, tightening the straps around your head quickly as ellie waits.
and then she twists the door handle, and you gasp hoarsely, jumping up to stop her.
"ellie, put your freaking mask on? there's spores in there."
she gives a blank stare before she seems to remember why she needs to be careful of such a thing, lips forming a small 'o'. "yeah . . . fuck, you're right."
"stop being so careless," you whine, shaking her arm. "can't you wait up for me and please look after yourself?"
"i do look after myself, and i'm looking after you too. you're not experienced enough. can you listen to me, and let me go first?" the look in ellie's eyes is almost intimidating, a hard glare that shuts you up (reluctantly). then she slips a gas mask on and continues to the task ahead, slowly opening the door to the back room.
you stand, fiddling with your sleeves as ellie looks and listens out for any sign that something could be hiding inside.
still, you can't help thinking something is going on that you don't know about. that ellie is hiding something. how could she simply forget to put on a mask? how could she be so reckless with herself?
you gnaw at your lower lip, waiting out until ellie gives you the all clear, then finally join her inside.
"nothin' but bodies," ellie says. "they must've been taken care of by whoever came through last. they seem fresh, so we should still be careful."
you remain quiet and watch your step through the dark area, your flashlights acting as your only guide through it.
"there's a hole in the wall we can pass through to get out," she says, voice muffled by a few shelves. "babe?"
"ick!" you shriek, jumping back when you come face to face with a large fungal growth on the wall, the tendrils creeping up to the ceiling, a body stuck to it.
of course, she is by your side in an instant, assuming you got yourself into danger, but heaves a breath of relief when she realises the reality of it. "yeah, what a nasty grave, huh?"
"it just . . . does that? this is common? oh . . ." your arms wrap around your waist and you try to face away from it, comforting yourself quickly. "infected are so gross, it makes me wanna be sick."
"heh, it's nothing compared to the acid spores bloaters throw at ya. you should see the burns some people get."
"eww, ellie. that's yuck."
"it's life," she says, laughing. "patrol's not for you, huh? you're not gonna sign up for this shit again, are you? please tell me you're not."
"no . . ."
"that makes me glad," she replies earnestly, offering you a one-armed hug. it's the arm that she supposedly, accidentally, nicked with her own knife a few days back—that's the excuse she supplied you. but it's the same arm that's been aching since your encounter with the stalker at marybeth's flowers.
it's just—if she were bit, then she hasn't turned yet. there's never been any known case of the infection taking longer than two days to take effect, and it's been a week now. surely that means she didn't get bitten, but perhaps scratched? but she was shaken. not shaken enough considering her life was at threat, but more embarrassed to have had a witness to it.
"babe?"
ellie's already stepped through the hole in the wall, given you the all clear, and you've stood in place like a spare part, lost in thought.
"c'mon," she says, reaching her hand out. you take it, and she pulls you through, her mask concealing her furrowed brows and frown. "i need you to stop zoning out, babe."
"yeah, i know, sorry," you whisper. the promise of sunlight through a high, open window to the left brings your mood up a little, especially as ellie gets down and offers to boost you up.
"the checkpoint's out this way," she says, "up you get."
patrol has proven you're not as athletically inclined as you used to be, though. you slither your way out of the window quite awkwardly, listening to ellie laugh from behind.
"i thought kittens were supposed to be agile," she comments. "not that i'm complaining with the view i just got, though."
"shush."
you're eager to get the mask off and breathe fresh, clean air, wiping down your legs as ellie climbs out herself. everything feels disgusting, everything feels contaminated, after being in the spores.
"we don't have to go back through there to get to the horses, do we?"
"no," she assures you. "getting out and around on the way back is a lot easier. god, you're gonna be exhausted tonight."
"i already am," you mumble, still sitting in the dirt.
"s'okay babe, last checkpoint and then we're outta here. when we're home, we can just watch a movie and relax."
that sounds good to you. but only if you'll be able to quit your relentless stressing.
"didn't i tell you to drop this topic earlier?" ellie snaps.
"i just . . ."
"i'm not careless. i'm not reckless. i mean, you're the one who keeps zoning out all day. you're the one who's been standing around scared and now acting like you know better than me. do you think you do?"
"ellie, that's not . . ." your voice trails off, the silence speaking for you. it's never been so hard to speak your mind with ellie before—not since your first attempt at asking her out over a year ago. she's never shut you down like this.
"do you want to answer my question? 'cause, i've answered all yours."
she scoffs when she looks over at you and you avoid her gaze, looking out into the forest. the sky's turning grey, the wind's picking up, and your eyes are watering.
"great," she mutters. "good way to finish off the day."
you brush your hand through ghost's mane, swallowing the sizeable lump in your throat. tears fall silently and you let them, facing away still to keep ellie from seeing. you know how bad this would get if she saw you crying because of her—she gets overbearingly guilty all the time, you don't want it to get worse.
she's only this defensive when she feels like that, too.
but why?
you finally figured ellie out some time ago. unnecessarily hard on herself, the kind of girl to set herself on fire to keep you warm, only to be called satan's second coming by the town. she was just misunderstood, just traumatised.
she's become something tricky for you again. she's puzzling you once more.
she's hard to read now.
she's obviously grumpy, but whatever she's truly thinking is not so easy to decipher.
especially now that night has fallen, you've showered and gotten into bed, and she has brought you into her arms like usual. like nothing happened, like she isn't mad.
your discomfort is clear in the way you toss and turn, can't fall asleep even despite your hazy eyes and the weak, tired feeling in your legs. few things help when you feel like this, but ellie knows them all, and she doesn't hesitate to prod her thumb between your lips.
you exhale slowly before closing your eyes and accepting her offer of help. with the dense downpour outside and her thumb to suck, you feel some semblance of normality and contentedness, enough to finally let yourself fall asleep.
"hello, i— oh! is mr. miller home? i mean— you're both mr. miller. i just mean, the other one, you know? i'm sorry . . ."
tommy chuckles, giving you a light nod before stepping to the side, welcoming you into joel's place. "he is here, he's in his workshop, told me to come down 'n answer. what you got there, huh, that for him?"
you nod, looking down to the container in your hands. "i made cupcakes, i— he really likes them. of course, y-you can have some too, you know."
"my brother always did have a sweet tooth," he muses. "i'll bet they're good, sweetheart. i'm excited to try."
your overall anxious demeanour goes undetected by tommy and even joel when he comes downstairs. you're always slightly shaky or overly sweet to mask your shyness, but today you stand in joel's kitchen with a tremor in your hands and a heavy burden on your mind.
so, it's a little more than surprising to the two men when you blurt out your problems.
"i think ellie is very sad and she won't let me help her anymore."
joel pauses mid-bite of a cupcake with pink frosting.
tommy just clears his throat and says, "i'm sure she'll be alright. she knows you're there. that's all you can do for some people—be there."
you must control yourself very carefully, because your throat's starting to feel tight already, and you feel dangerously close to whining. like a child, ellie would say. "n-no, she's, like, she's sad, i think, and won't let me help. she's— like, she keeps doing stupid things. things aren't adding up and i think she's hiding something from me and— is there something i'm missing? because i—"
"hey, hey, hey." joel steps in, hands on your shoulders. "there's nothin' she's hiding, maybe she is just havin' a hard time, but she'll come to you eventually."
"please," you whimper.
the shake in your voice maybe convinces the two this calls for more serious help than what a little reassurance can provide. tommy nods, stepping back. "i'll, uh, get you some one on one time, you two talk about some things." on his way to the door he takes a last cupcake with him, after all, he was quite pleased with your treats.
"sit down, come on," joel says quietly. you're sitting uncomfortably in his living room, lips sealed shut and willing yourself not to let all those silent tears from yesterday come back louder now. "tell me what's going on with her."
"she is so . . . she's so, like, she just acts like she doesn't care if she lives or dies! she told me that there was a time once when she did feel like that—like she wanted to die — 'n she keeps saying there's nothing wrong. she's being defensive. she yelled at me."
"at you?"
your eyes flit up to check for any reaction from joel, but the man has always been unchanging, he plays a neutral expression easily. still, even he seems perturbed by the idea of ellie doing such a thing to you.
"at me . . . and she . . . i think she's hiding something. i thought she got bit last week, but nothing happened and it's just— the way she was acting on patrol. it wasn't normal," you explain. "she kept forgetting to put a mask on, she kept just throwing herself at infected. it's like— like she isn't afraid of infection? or she just . . . wants to die."
joel's eyes darken at this.
"listen, sweetheart," he begins. "now, ellie, she's seen some things in life nobody should have to see. maybe one day, she gon' feel like talking about it, but talking is hard. there are things she's been through that you won't understand."
they mightn't be related, but many of ellie's habits make plenty of sense when you compare her to joel. it seems the art of avoiding a hard conversation is a learned habit of hers, gifted by joel. the two can dodge questions like bullets in open fire.
"but . . ." you trail off, feeling warm all over. it's not guilt, but something like it. embarrassment, confusion. are you being played, is this a game or a prank?
what are they hiding?
"you don't possibly know why she got bit and just didn't turn?"
"your eyes deceived you," joel responds. this isn't any gentleness or beating around the bush like before. it's almost a warning; do not keep questioning this.
you mask a sniffle by rubbing your nose with your sleeve, focusing down at your fidgety feet on the old rug. it feels impossible to talk, but you try, even with your voice strained. "but if she wants to die i want her to tell me that because— because i can help her, like, why won't she just tell me what's happening? i'm scared 'n i don't wanna leave her alone."
a few seconds go by before joel formulates some sort of answer. again, it's not what you want to hear, but he leans closer and rests a comforting, warm hand on your arm. "ellie's tough. she'll come to you when she's ready."
you walk back to the garage with tears in your eyes. that night ellie doesn't seem to mind you feeling extra clingy, she's always called it cute when you can't physically detach your body from hers.
ELLIE'S JOURNAL.
she went to joel. why does everyone feel the need to go behind my fucking back? so joel came over. he says i need to tell her everything, about my immunity. he asked if i'm okay. what a joke.
i can't believe she got him involved. she knows how i feel about him.
i know she cares, but if she really cared, she'd let this go for me.
man, this fucking sucks. i feel awful being mad at her.
you dart around puddles to avoid your mary janes becoming muddy, trying to rush home before the rain starts. it's muggy, but a blanket of dark clouds are beginning to cover the sky, you know it's only a matter of time.
returning to the daycare for work was a million times better than patrol, which you still regret to think about—truly, your most stupid idea yet—why give up the ability to read storybooks to kids and play dress-up all day in lieu of exploring the dangers outside the walls? signing up for patrol served its purpose to you, that being your observation of ellie's behaviour, and yet it answered none of your questions.
you ended up with more. countless more.
the wooden gate slams behind you as you enter joel's backyard, you feet click against the concrete steps into the garage. the growing windy condition no longer beats against your face after you finally walk in, but you can hear it against the exterior, louder than the silence inside the garage.
ellie's sitting at her desk, earbuds plugged into her walkman.
not uncommon.
you approach with a hug from behind, that smell of home giving you a rush of comfort as you nose into her neck. the only takeaway you had from your conversation with joel was that you are powerless right now, you can only keep doing what you are doing and love on her—maybe one day, she'll tell you her truth.
"hi," you murmur, pleasant smile pressing against her skin.
she hesitates, but responds, her voice flat as she pauses her music and closes her sketchbook. "hi."
your heart jumps at the sound, and you pull away gently to start pulling your cardigan off. "i missed the kiddies so much, it was nice to see them today. i should've brought them cookies to make up for missing the other day."
"mmhm."
you start to fidget with your hands, feeling that ellie's quite obviously not well today. it hurts to see, it's painful to know.
"els . . . you okay?" you ask softly.
the side of her freckled face, lit warmly by the lamp beside her, is stiff. you catch her rolling her eyes.
"you are supposed to trust me, you get that?"
"huh?"
you watch her stand up, white knuckling a pen at her side. "why would you talk to him? seriously?"
"h-he talked to you? what— about what i s-said—?"
"yeah, he did." ellie tilts her head, narrowed eyes falling over your demeanour, the way that you start shrinking into yourself. "what the fuck is wrong with you lately? why do you treat me like a suspect?"
you think over your response as slow as can be, but with ellie standing in front of you like a ticking time bomb, it's hard to make any thought unscrambled. "i'm worried about how you're acting."
"so you decide to talk to joel," ellie mutters. "are you fucking kidding me, i mean—" she rubs her face in disbelief, and you see her roll her eyes again. you stop looking over at her after that.
"i didn't know what else to do," you say, and as your throat starts tightening like it always fucking does, you panic more. "i tried to t-talk to you so many times, you kept brushin' me off, i didn't ask him to talk to you, i was just asking if he knew anything. i feel like i'm out of the loop, you guys keep hiding stuff from me and— and why don't you trust me?"
"that's a great question, babe, why don't i trust the girl who runs around talking to people behind my back?" she snarks.
and her voice keeps getting louder, harsher, and you keep flinching.
"and anyway, what fucking— what fucking difference does it make? why do you care if i'm hiding something or not? we are happy when you're not questioning me."
you wipe your eyes with the ball of your hand, looking around the room for a bag.
"is that really how you feel?" you ask. the quietness should be a warning to ellie, a severe one, but she either does not care, or is too pent up to take it for what it is.
"yeah, i feel great when you don't pry into my mind. i feel really, really good when i'm not mad at you."
a weak sob falls through your filter and that's just it. you stuff as many of your belongings as you can into the bag, all dizzy and panicked.
honestly? ellie can talk stupid sometimes, she can speak her mind with you because you encourage it—she just didn't expect to lose control of it, and didn't expect you to leave like this.
that was the last thing she expected, actually.
now she's standing like an idiot holding the raincoat you forgot and listening to it pour outside.
"fucking dumbass," she growls, ditching it at the door before sinking back into her chair, her vision blurring with tears. "what'd i just do?"
"i knew this would happen, i knew she would do this to you, i warned you."
appearing on your parents' doorstep with your clothes soaked through and hair drenched in rain is a difficult thing to do. you know you are, in some way, consolidating their paranoia about ever letting you move in with ellie. they can have their 'i told you so' and bask in their distaste rather than care that you are heartbroken.
"what a rotten girl," your mother spits, bringing you into her arms for a hug that you don't feel like reciprocating. her hand smooths over your wet hair and she tuts at the state of you, shaking her head. "i knew she would do this to you, i just knew it. i still wonder how she could."
you hang your head low. it's not worth it to defend ellie's name right now. was it ever?
your father rises out of his armchair, watching you become so desperate to head upstairs and hide away in your old bedroom. he doesn't offer any constructive conversation, either.
clean and dry after a quick shower, you take a slow seat on your old bed, glancing around at the empty four walls around you. you took this place apart for ellie, and now you're back with only half of what was once here, only the small amount of things you could pack in a frazzled state.
your favourite stuffie, you reach for him first out of your bag. you sit him on your lap and fuss with his fuzzy arms, looking up to the ceiling as soon as tears prick the corners of your eyes again.
he's got ellie's scent all over him.
how can you sleep tonight? it's only getting colder these days, and she's not going to be here to breathe warm air into your back. how can you sleep tonight when your mind is only going to keep whirring about how ellie is going to sleep tonight?
she's going to be the talk of the town again, your ma and papa will make sure of that.
WINTER.
your arm aches. some kind of carpal tunnel your mother's suspected and quietly scolded you about you needing to take better care of. your wrist burns the more that you keep combining eggs and flour, but you can't stop.
today, you decided to make the only recipe you've not dared to touch since your split with ellie; her favourite one. a simple spongecake, jam and cream filling. her birthday cake two years in a row, the treat you bake when she seems a little down in the dumps.
who's going to eat this one? maybe you? maybe you can drown yourself in cake and tears when your parents head to the tipsy bison for a drink tonight?
you've been warned to stop wasting food, to stop baking obsessively with nobody to eat it.
you even think about dropping some off to joel, but that's too big a risk. that's too close in proximity to ellie, and if you were to face her now, you'd be in a bad spot. you want to keep avoiding her, not because you can't bear to see her—but because she has been avoiding you. that's your guess, anyway, because she has not been in any of your usual spots around town, and takes the long way past the daycare to get to the stables for her patrols.
you have no idea what to do. you can't just move on, not from she who felt like the soulmate promised to you in storybooks and movies. you were convinced that should you fall into slumber for one hundred years, her kiss would be the one to save you.
she was your balance, your opposite, the edge to your softness.
the protection you needed when the town saw a doormat instead of your face, the bravery that helped you push yourself to see and try new things.
and you can't help wondering, does ellie miss what you offer her, too? does she miss the quiet listener that gave her space to be a geek, free of judgement? does she miss the taste of your sweet treats, and your body? does she miss having a constant in her life? or perhaps not—perhaps you weren't as meaningful to her as you seemed to be.
all you can bring yourself to do these days is attend daycare with hollow eyes, bake, or cry. sometimes, in your room, you stare at different things, landmarks of your failed relationship, that make it all worse; the stupid cat collar, for one. it's mortifying she ever got to see you like that.
your ma walks in, the front door slamming behind her. she takes one look at your dull posture in the kitchen, hand still turning the cake mixture round and round. you feel her presence, those pitying eyes.
being the girl that everyone pities is not light work.
"do you remember sean? alex's son? little bit older than you?"
you shrug, giving her a blank look over your shoulder.
"he's still single, you know."
your shoulders drop and you turn away once more. you should've known she'd try something like this, but you didn't expect it this soon. "ma, i don't like boys. you know that."
"alex has a daughter too? i can ask?" she questions.
you simply shake your head, closing your eyes. they are so wet lately. even now, you're nothing but frustrated, and it's deep enough to make you fight tears. "i'm not interested in . . . that."
"it's been two months, honey. i just want to see you happy," she replies, her tone slow and overly sweet, just nigh of sounding too patronising. "curse that girl. i hope you will listen to my judgement in the future, after this."
you wipe your nose with the back of your sleeve, then your eyes, quickly.
two. months.
two months since you tasted ellie's lips. your own quiver at the thought.
ELLIE'S JOURNAL.
a pencil drawing; your back arched like a cat, panties shaded at the seat where your wetness would stain. another beside it, focused on the dip of your lower back.
i burn everything i touch.
everyone but jesse has been avoiding me again. even dina won't look at me, i think she wants to be there for y/n. it's been two months, it's safe to say dina probebly probably hates my guts. i don't blame her. i wouldn't wanna be friends with myself right now either.
they had it coming though. i told them all it was a bad idea, i shouldn't have touched y/n. i feared this would happen and it feels like she led me into believing it wouldn't. but it wasn't a matter of if it'd happen, it was when. now i know. i hurt her. she left.
my words bite. maybe i'm not fully immune, maybe i'm not as resilient as i thought. cordyceps fucked me up.
what am i supposed to do to get her back? i miss my kitten my girl. but i kind of want her to move on and find someone better.
another spread of drawings follows the messy script. you and your stuffie squished up in your arms, another of you curled up around her legs.
she was just concerned about my wellbeing. stupid fucking ellie with your stupid fucking temper. i didn't know what to do. i can't tell her i'm immune.
"i ain't never seen someone as determined as you when it comes to pushing away the people in their corner," joel says. he knows; he's been there, in that position, deciding simply that life had no good in store for him, what's the worth in keeping around people you could hurt? "i need to make sure you don't waste years doin' this, kiddo."
ellie purses her lips, leaning back in joel's dining chair. "and i need to make sure that you don't consider yourself one of those people in my corner."
they both fall silent, so much so that the sound of joel's kitchen light buzzing is audible over them. ellie's converse tap against the hardwood, and joel rubs his jaw.
ellie's the first to speak again. "so what's the goal here? are you in cahoots with her to try and make me talk to you again? because here i am."
a wrinkle forms between his brows, and joel grips his coffee tighter. "no?"
she lets out a puff of air at that. she's not sure if she can take joel's honesty at face value these days. "i wish you had left me in that hospital."
"i know."
"it's never going to be the way it used to be, you and me—you have to get that."
"i do."
joel knows, he does. he's been told many times. and he will always double down.
"i would do it again if i had to."
ellie slowly turns her head to the floor, naturally bringing her awareness back to her breathing, to avoid another blowup. you taught her. she was getting somewhere with this, she really was, until two months ago.
"i don't think i can ever forgive you for that."
"it's okay. i know someone else who would."
this—this, ellie can't breathe her way out of.
"don't you fucking— don't say that." anger sweeps over her, fist trembling. "she's innocent. she's not you. you don't get to use her as a way to vindicate yourself."
"she loves you," joel replies. it's a real smoky rasp, and he takes a quick swig of hot coffee to clear that lump in his throat. "she's smart."
loving me is not a smart thing to do, ellie thinks. she hesitates to speak again. "she will never understand. she stays out of this. forever."
"you tell her you're immune, she'll be grateful," he says. "it's what she needs to hear."
"okay, this is going to go round in circles," ellie mutters, the chair's feet scratching the floor as she stands. "we're done."
"what did you come for?" joel asks, staring up at her intently, still comfy in his chair. "you knew what i'd tell you."
knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.
he silently grunts, rising to his feet. ellie bites the inside of her cheek, eyeing the mug he leaves at the table.
as joel opens the door, she hears tommy and maria both speak in urgent voices. but when she appears in their view, they're interrupted by your parents, pushing their way inside and screaming.
"tell me where you're hiding her!"
she stands with her jaw slack, pointing at herself. " . . me? hiding . . her . . . ?"
"i have not seen my daughter since sundown! she's gone!" your father growls, pointing a finger at ellie, full of aggression. "would you know anything about this, hm?"
"let's be reasonable, please, no accusations," maria interjects, trying to create distance between ellie and your distraught parents. "we can work this out."
fuck—all ellie can think about is the cold. it's a mid-winter night, and there's only one place you could be right now. out there, all alone.
there could be wolves. there could be infected.
she slinks past the whole group, out the door, and picks up a sprint to the stable, all the while ignoring her name being yelled behind her. she doesn't even make a stop for her backpack, instead yoinks a handgun and flashlight from the patrolling equipment inside the stable.
she barges through confused stablehands, saddling up shimmer who whinnies at the haste.
her prayer is that you haven't got far, seeing as you will have left on foot. but it could have been hours since you left—who knows?
spores.
marybeth's flowers is filled with spores.
mold and rot overtook your favourite place.
you were almost spotted by infected as soon as you arrived to the snowy shopping district, had to dart behind a fence for safety and keep your cries to a minimum.
you left your flora journal inside on your last visit here, and now you're not sure you'll ever get it back. the pages are likely soiled, and you have no mask to enter in. hell, if there will be any more of those horrifying stalkers in there, you will never head in again.
you knew most of the shop would be wilted by this time of year, but you couldn't brush away the need to see it again, to remember happier times in a place that reflected your current state of mind.
but spores? infected? frostbite?
none of those things were considered—the most you had thought to bring was a butcher's knife for an emergency.
did you consider that ellie may come to find you?
it crossed your mind, but felt unlikely.
your chances of making it through this cold night all by yourself seemed abysmal. chances of being found seemed even worse, but you hear hooves crushing pillowy snow and peek around the corner.
"els," you try, voice only leaving in a mere croak that she can't hear.
you tremble so heavily it makes your limbs sore, the only thing to keep you warm being the tears streamlining your face.
"fuck, spores?" she gasps, jumping down from shimmer and pulling her weapon out before the entrance of the flower shop. "you better not be in there."
she doesn't cough, she doesn't choke. she walks in, she surveys, she walks out, and from afar you see panic purest as ever on her face.
"if you're here, i need you to fucking say something!" she yells out, preparing to search the rest of the courtyard. "fuck, it's cold."
a gust of wind blows your hair into your face and you can agree with her, the temperature is biting, so much so you can barely think straight.
but you drag yourself free from the wall, when suddenly a fierce and wretched cry alerts your vision towards ellie.
something newly infected is throwing itself at her, pinning her to the ground. so you do what your instincts tell you, the handle of that butcher's knife held in your grasp as you untangle yourself from a bush and run to where she squirms and kicks.
you release everything you have into the attack, driving the knife deep into the infected body over, and over, and over, until a smattering of blood covers your face and puffer jacket, and ellie is pulling you away from it.
"hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! it's gone, it's over, alright? it's dead, you fucking got him." she plucks the knife from you and throws it elsewhere, wrapping your shaking hands up in hers while shushing you. "sh, sh, sh, it's okay. fucking got him, baby, you did. got him good."
"i didn't expect there to be so many infected around, th-they usually aren't when we come here," you explain. being so frantic doesn't seem to faze ellie, who's cupping your face and swiping blood away from your cheeks with calloused thumbs.
"i know you are not thinking clearly, so i'm not going to bother asking what the fuck you were thinking with this," she says, staring into your eyes, "are you hurt?"
you only respond in shallow breaths and whimpers, trying to form words. "are you mad?"
your face presses into her chest as she holds you tighter, hands starting to run all over your body in search of injuries. "not at you, kitten."
"are you infected?"
"mmh," ellie groans, giving your back a firm rub, squeezing extra tight. "i can't be."
your sweet whimper, something between relief and shock, has ellie soothing you even more.
"i know, i know. we gotta get back home baby, get you nice 'n warm before your toes fall off."
shimmer gallops down the white hill before jackson's entrance, her hooves bashing against snow and alerting the guards to the appearance. they ready the gate, opening up quickly.
everyone's yelling about something, their faces relieved but anger and confusion evident in their questions. you burrow deeper into ellie's chest, and her arms wrap you up tighter, more snug.
"is that blood?" your ma shrieks. "is she—"
"what in god's name were you thinking, running off like that?" your father demands.
"where was she?"
"i know, babe," ellie whispers, her hand rising to cover your ear, to cradle the side of your head. this interrogation is the last thing you need right now and frankly, ellie's not feeling great about it either. but she has no issue being the bad guy, she never has—so she's the one to make it stop. "can all of you be quiet? she needs some space and i'm gonna take her home and get her to bed—"
"you're not taking her anywhere!" your father's fist balls up, but he looks somewhat silly glaring up at ellie, still sat on shimmer's back. "you've done enough to her—"
"uh-uh, don't you fucking talk to me like that," ellie growls. "you two are gonna run home, pack her some pyjamas and her bunny, bring it to me and leave us the fuck alone. that's what you're gonna do."
it's all silent as ellie helps you down from shimmer and jumps down herself. at your insistence to be held again the minute she's on level ground, your mother seems to relent.
"we will—but you will return her by tomorrow evening," she tells ellie lowly.
and ellie doesn't react much, more focused on getting you on your way to her place now, but she still mutters a response. "we'll see."
if she weren't there to hold you up and share her body heat, you would have stumbled and suffered through the walk to her garage. it's a slow walk, but ellie's trying her best to get you home before you freeze any harder.
she's quick about it. the space heater is switched on immediately after you step inside, she begins to boil the water for a bath. as you wait, she rubs up and down your arms and your back, pressing kisses atop your hair every few moments.
you hate to be so glad you're here. you hate for it to be under these circumstances, that you embarrassed yourself and put yourself in danger.
but ellie's undressing you, removing the bloodstained pieces from your body ever so carefully to help you forget about it, holding your delicate hands while you dip your feet into the water.
"atta girl, take it slow," she hums, waiting for you to sit before she strips down herself, getting in behind you. "c'mere."
the water rests just below her bent knees, enveloping your body with heat, and soon enough your shaking stops. you lie between her legs, eyes closing as ellie cleanses your face with her hand.
"this was all so stupid."
"i know," ellie mumbles. she hesitates, then sets down the washcloth she just picked up. her right arm comes into view, she holds it out and drags your hand along the inside. the skin is soft, but damaged, a deep scar hidden beneath her tattoo. you'd noticed before, of course. but ellie's covered in scars of all kinds, and you never felt right asking the stories. "this. this is where i got bit for the first time."
"when?" you rasp, tracing your fingertips along the veins and the raised skin.
"i was fourteen." her whole body feels taut, but you're taking this better than she figured and the more that she relaxes into this conversation, the more idiotic she feels for thinking it'd be complicated. "it looked fucked up. so i tried to hide it . . . i got a chemical burn . . . hid the whole thing under my tat."
you nod slow, letting her arm drop to the side, her hand holding onto your hip now.
"normally if i get bit, i try to cover it with something else," she explains. "i'm not— i'm not contagious, you know, i can't get you infected . . ."
"i know," you murmur with a lazy smile. "if that were possible, it would've been a problem already."
ellie groans internally.
"you're too good for me. i don't think you get that. i'm sorry. i never meant for things to get this bad, i didn't want to—you know, it's just hard to live your life when you know you should be dead."
"i just wish you told me—then i wouldn't make assumptions or get so worried," you say. "i just wanted some answers."
"yeah, i know, i get it, but you need to mind your business a little better sometimes," ellie lectures. it's close to becoming a full lecture, and you have to cut her off. "i never want you to put yourself into dangerous situations for reasons like that again—"
"you sound like him, stop."
ellie scoffs, running a hand through her hair and letting her eyes drift to the foggy bathroom mirror. "yeah, i guess i do, huh?"
it was the easiest sleep you've had in months. it was just as things had always been before the break, your stuffed bunny squished between two chests.
but despite being well rested, you woke to a wave of cold washing over you. to ellie, you were hot to the touch, but you couldn't quit trembling.
you've been rolled up in thick blankets and had her hoodies piled onto you since, with ellie lying close to monitor your condition and keep you comfortable.
her hand caresses your side, the motion constant and gentle.
"why did you do it? why'd you run?" it's the third time she's asked since you calmed down, and this time you think about giving her an answer, actually.
"i wanted . . . i wanted to see it," you mumble, shoulders dropping. "i missed it. it was our spot. i didn't think i'd ever be able to see it again if i didn't have you. just felt like proving i could."
her brows furrow, hand pausing and joining the other in her lap. "babe. proving to who?"
"to me. to my parents." you hesitate. "and to you."
"to me?" her cheeks tint pink, her face turning hot. "no, baby . . . you don't have to prove anything to me. ever."
"well, i felt like i had to," you say. "but i guess i failed, anyway. i couldn't protect myself. the only thing i proved was how much i need you."
you watch as she looks down, lip pulled between her teeth. "yeah," she whispers. "this whole thing showed me a lot too."
"ellie."
she looks up. her eyes soften at the sight of yours glossy, hands twitching with the urge to reach for you.
"i missed you." your voice wavers, not from your sore throat, but from being here again. in her bed—your bed—in her reach.
ellie nods, taking a big breath before leaning in. she can't help herself, connecting her lips to yours for the first time in months. she holds your jaw, nose bumping yours, sighing deep into your mouth like you're a drug she's withdrawn from. your arms slide around her shoulders, fingers fiddling with the ends of her hairs, and your leg moves around her waist as you try to twist and move closer to her, even if it tangles the blankets.
"aren't i icky? i don't want you to get ill too, because this isn't a fun feeling . . ." you murmur on her lips, and she swipes her tongue across them before shaking her head.
"no, kitty, i don't really care. it's been two months, and you think your little cold is going to stop me?"
you thought it'd be impossible to get any hotter now, but heat is travelling up your neck and into your face, and is it just ellie that's making you dizzy, or is it your headache? does it matter?
your eyes flutter closed again and your lips meet again, this time harder, with her tongue pushing into your mouth and marking the area she's been so distant from. her hand slides down, pushing you up by the butt so your squirming self can be on her lap.
as you dart towards her throat, ellie stifles a grunt, head tilting back without resistance. just you mouthing at her freckled skin earns a shaky breath, even a pretty, low moan when you suckle the sweet spot right over her jugular.
"gonna leave a mark, huh baby?" her hands slide beneath all the layers of clothing on your body, your stomach twitching as her cold digits trace along the skin, ghosting all the way to your chest. when she starts to play, rolling your nipples between her fingertips, the mewl you let out vibrates against her neck and she cusses softly.
your hips move, a mind of their own as usual, trying for friction even with a mound of blankets blocking you from ellie. and at this, your lips detach from her with a gasp, a complaint in the form of a shattered moan.
"oh, that right, mm? i know kitten, let's get all this shit off and get you pampered."
she gives your feverish forehead a gentle peck before lifting you back onto the bed, disentangling you from the linen and wool surrounding you. your clothes soon follow, sweat-slicked skin shining as ellie does her best to soothe your writhing, trembling self with her hands, rubbing your sides.
still, where you need her most, where you have ached for weeks with no relief, she is avoiding.
on purpose.
"ellie, ellie, please sweetie i n-need it—" you're shushed immediately, and her eyes widen at you spreading your legs already. she doesn't have the restraint to tease you any longer, not with the sight of your pretty pussy and absolutely not with your begging.
"it's like you're in fucking heat," she snorts, dipping her hand between your inner thighs. your jaw falls slack as she grazes over your cunt, wetting her fingers lightly. you'd not be surprised if she could feel your heart beating down there. "ugh, fuck, i gotta taste you again."
she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, calm and quiet, before positioning herself between your thighs. at first it's more about the taste, her tongue slurping up your wetness. long moans fall from her marked up throat, and she gazes up at your poor face, at the wobbly little pout, which is enough for her to take pity on you. she ramps it up, the pink muscle flexing on your clit, flicking up and down.
"ellie, oh my goodness," you breathe, eyes rolling back. and she nods down there, too preoccupied to coo back at you like she normally would; trying too hard to savour everything like she's on death row and it's her last meal.
two months of celibacy does things to you, that's for certain.
she's taken to using your burning thigh like a pillow, but she pulls back, drooling over your cunt and as her spit lands on your engorged clit, she circles the bud with two calloused digits.
you whine loud, trying to cover your mouth, and all ellie does is groan. "oh, i fuckin' missed that sound, huh? 'ellie, ellie, ellie!'" at her mockery of your high voice, you whimper her name one more time. "i know, baby girl, i know."
she hooks her fingers inside your entrance, eyes tracing your reaction the further she pushes inside. the feeling of your soft gummy walls clenching around her makes ellie's own cunt throb, and her heart just aches, she missed it so much.
not to mention your doe eyes, a thick layer of tears clumping in your lashes and your hand in your mouth, teeth gnawing your fist to self soothe from her slow fucking.
"breathe," ellie orders, free hand swiping below your eye and then pulling your fist away. "good girl. don't let me lose you right now. just gonna have to turn that brain off, uh-huh?"
you nod, closing your eyes to fight against the way the room spins. that headache's kicking in even worse than before, but you know ellie can take the pain away with two fingers between your lips and two in your pussy.
"there we go," she murmurs, speeding up the thrusting of her fingers into your drippy little hole, her gaze switching from the creamy ring forming around her knuckles to your plump lips suckling away at her other hand. she listens to all your muffled cries and moans, hearing your pleasure mount to a high, nodding and peppering kisses along your dewy hairline. "just like that, keep taking it . . . i love you, baby, so good for me."
ELLIE'S JOURNAL.
it won't be the first and certainly not the last time she's ever drawn your sleeping form. but you are pictured on her chest, hair tousled and eyes closed, your fluffy bunny stuffie in your arms.
i wish i could kiss every single eyelash on her face.
i don't understand never understood why she thinks i'm so special, but i think i'm starting to get it now. i'm glad she does. i make her happy.
she said she's gonna keep telling me she loves me over and over until i believe it. i said i already do. she just smiled at me. it made me so warm.
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