The sound of the stovetop sizzles softly as you stir the pan, the smell of garlic and onions blooming in the kitchen. The house is warm—summer dusk filtering in through open windows, cicadas humming in the background, and you… you’re in a new sundress you picked just for her.
It’s nothing fancy. A soft yellow cotton thing with delicate white flowers, fitted at the waist and falling just above the knees. You'd been waiting for a night like this—quiet, slow—and for Ellie to see it.
You’re plating up the roasted vegetables when the front door opens with a heavy creak. Boots hit the floor a second later, then—
“Hey, babe…” comes her voice. Low, scratchy from the day. She sounds like she's already halfway into a nap.
Before you can respond, a pair of strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against a chest that smells like sawdust, sweat, and the sun. Her shirt is damp in places. There's oil on her hands. And now, smudged against your hip, on your brand-new dress.
You stiffen, glancing down at the smear of grease darkening the fabric.
“Ellie,” you groan. “The dress. This is new—”
“I know, I’m sorry,” she mumbles against your neck, already half-limp with exhaustion, head buried into your shoulder like she might fall asleep standing. “You smell good. Missed you all day.”
And just like that, the irritation dissolves. Because when you glance back at her, she’s barely holding herself upright. Her eyes are half-lidded, lashes damp with sweat. There’s a streak of dirt on her cheek and the faintest bruise peeking out from under her sleeve.
You sigh softly, letting your body relax in her hold.
“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re pathetic,” you murmur, brushing your fingers gently through her hair.
Ellie chuckles—more of a grunt, really—then leans her full weight into you. “You’re lucky I didn’t die under the sun today. Felt like I was workin’ in hell.”
“You smell like it, too.”
“Mmm.”
You let her cling to you for another minute before turning in her arms and pressing a kiss to her grimy cheek. “Go sit on the edge of the tub. I’m running you a bath.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but you cut her off with a firm look and a finger pressed to her lips. “Don’t argue with me, Ellie. You look like ten miles of bad road.”
“And you look…” she finally registers the dress, blinking at you in awe. “Shit. You look—real pretty. Did you wear that for me?”
You nod, cheeks warming. “Was hoping you’d notice before you got motor oil all over it.”
Ellie lets out a sheepish laugh, and you nudge her toward the bathroom.
The tub’s about halfway full when you peek your head in again. Ellie’s already sitting inside, one leg bent, her arm slung over the edge, hair loosely tied back with one of your scrunchies—bright pink against all that grime and muscle. You try not to laugh.
“You look ridiculous,” you say fondly, kneeling beside the tub with a rag and her favorite shampoo in hand.
“You gave me this hair tie,” she points out with a lopsided grin.
“Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
You dip the rag in the water and wring it out over her shoulders. She lets out a sigh that rattles in her chest and sinks a little deeper into the water.
“That good?” you ask, voice quiet.
“Mhm,” she hums, eyes closed. “Keep going.”
You work in slow circles, rubbing the cloth along her arms and collarbone, catching little flecks of dirt left over from the day. She keeps her head tilted slightly toward you, every now and then glancing at you like she’s trying to memorize the way you look in this moment—barefoot, hair pulled up, sleeves rolled, tending to her like it’s second nature.
You dip the rag again, and this time she opens her eyes when you reach for her face.
“Can I?”
She nods, already leaning forward a bit. You hold her chin with your hand and gently wipe the smudges off her cheeks and forehead. The way she looks at you—half-sleepy, half-in-love—makes your stomach flutter.
There’s a moment of stillness, your fingers lingering near the corner of her jaw. You lean in and press the smallest kiss to her lips—barely there, more instinct than intention.
When you pull back, she just smiles, eyes crinkling.
“You missed a spot,” she says, nodding toward her chin.
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too, dipping the cloth again and dabbing the spot she pointed to. “Drama queen.”
Ellie shrugs. “Not my fault my wife’s hot and bossy.”
“Not my fault my wife smells like axle grease and sawdust.”
She lets out a soft laugh and closes her eyes again, melting back into the water as you continue washing the day off her, slow and careful. No grand gestures. Just warmth, and steam, and the quiet kind of love that doesn’t need to be spoken out loud.
the fact ellie williams is being played by a queer actor and dina nolastname is being played by a queer actor too makes me so insanely happy that's the most important thing in the world to me im being so serious right now
This hurt so much to watch but I'm glad they stayed true to the game. Ellie smelling Joel's shirts, allowing herself to succumb to her grief even just for a moment. Bella Ramsey we will get you that Emmy!!
I cried harder at this than Joel’s death honestly. Bella is so amazing…the crying didn’t feel fake. And when Ellie panicked and tried to stop crying when she heard Dina…ugh.
CONTENTS: dark romance, dark themes, female/afab reader, epilogue Ellie, butch Ellie, possessive but really just protective Ellie, Ellie’s a little mean, a little toxic, but it’s not intense, reader was tied up like Abby and Lev, mentions of injuries and weapons, (and in the words of @eliza-and-her-monsters) mildly kinky
SUMMARY: You often wonder how you ended up here, why you’re still here. “Here” being Ellie Williams pretty much dead farm. Logically and physically, you know how; Ellie saved you in Santa Barbara, and hasn’t parted with you since. Well…she hasn’t let you go since.
NOTE: I’d be happy to add more to this universe. It feels like the beginning of something, if anyone’s into it.
You often wonder how you ended up here; tending to a pretty much dead farm that was not yours, sleeping in a bed that was not yours, cleaning a house that was not yours, and most importantly, living with a woman who was…yeah, not yours.
Logically and physically, you do know how you got there. It’s more the “how is this my life now?” that stumps you.
You had only survived for so long because of family. You had been a child, of course you didn’t know how to fight. You were dependent on others to protect you. Because of this, when you got separated from the family, you had a slim chance of survival. You were captured by Rattlers, and soon found yourself dying a slow and painful death tied to a wooden pillar on a rainy beach. You really thought that was it. You were bloody, bruised, broken…destined to die.
When you heard voices, you thought you had officially gone crazy. You had tried to ignore the voices, knowing it was your imagination playing tricks on you. What you could hear sounded violent, like fighting, and then a boat’s motor, and, for a long time, just distant sobbing.
Then you saw her. Again, you assumed it was your brain. Hallucinations are common before death, right?
She thought you were dead at first. You sure looked terrible. But then you shifted, as best as you could, trying to get the rope to stop scraping against your calf.
“Hello…?” She said shakily.
You were too far gone to answer.
Before you knew it, you were falling to the ground, the ropes around your wrists coming loose. All you could do was groan as you hit the ground. You were rolled onto your back, cold hands moving your body.
“Hey.” She was right in your face then, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you alright?”
Even half unconscious, you gave her a look, like “do I seem alright?”
Something must have clicked in her head. It was like her mind was alerting her, “Companion! Companion!” as if she was a robot. She felt like a robot some days, like some kind of killing machine.
Suddenly she was dragging you off the beach, your blood from various wounds surely staining each other.
You had been with Ellie ever since.
She nursed you back to health, even stitching your wounds and resetting bones. One day, it was like you woke up, and everything felt real again. And, Jesus Christ, everything hurt.
You two hunkered down in an old, rotting lifeguard stand. You were stuck on the beach until your body healed up, after all. It was nice there, despite the pain raging in your body. The waves provided a calming white noise, making the nights a little easier. There weren’t any other people or infected, so the two of you felt, for once, at peace. Well, as at peace as you could feel with a stranger.
Ellie was very quiet the first few days. She would just sit and zone out for hours on end. When she thought you were asleep, she’d let herself cry. It wasn’t loud and hysterical. You could just hear small sniffles, occasional hiccups. You assumed she did this when you were actually asleep as well.
Life was obviously changing when you met. Then it hit her, actually became a thought in her mind, when she was re-bandaging a nasty cut on your arm, she hesitantly placed a hand on your cheek, trying to get a feel for your temperature. She was wondering if you were getting sick from the cut. Sleepily, you leaned into her touch, her fingers cupping your face perfectly.
She knew she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, give you up then.
Slowly, she became less cold. She’d soothingly shush you whenever she had to tend to your wounds again, rather than just stay silent and grimace as you whimpered in pain. When she would wake you up so you could eat, she’d gently play with your messy hair. Whenever you started to shiver, she’d slip under your blanket with you. She wouldn’t cuddle you. She’d just lie directly next to you, your sides pressed against each other. And she never stopped you when your head ended up on her shoulder.
She helped you walk once you could stand upright. She would take you down to the ocean so you could clean up in the salty water. Before, she would just fill an old bucket with the ocean water, then bring it back, and very carefully clean you with a cloth. You two reeked of salt and fish and fire. The scent lingered for a long time, even after you eventually made it back to Jackson.
That journey took a long fucking time. You weren’t exactly graceful on your feet yet, and you had to walk across a few states so…it was slow moving. Ellie was patient. Surprisingly patient. She seemed like an angry person to you. There was certainly a part of her that was, but she was mostly swallowed by grief. With you, it felt like she could get a few gasps of air. She didn’t know why, and she felt silly about it. You were a stranger. She’d rescued you as if you were a lost puppy. Maybe that’s what you were to her; a dog, a pet.
On the way, Ellie gave you most of the food, only eating when she would start to feel faint. She looked pretty terrible; all pale, her shirt stained with blood, starting to get underweight.
When you eventually got to Wyoming, she didn’t take you to Jackson, like she said she would. She steered around it, and you ended up on a farm. You waited by the fence while she went inside. She disappeared into the large house, to “check for infected.” You didn’t know it, but she was figuring out if Dina and JJ were still there. She assumed they wouldn’t be, and she was right. While it saddened her, she was also somewhat relieved that she wouldn’t have to explain the random girl she’d dragged back.
You two slept for days, only getting up to use the restroom or eat. The traveling had drained you. Even depressed and miserable, Ellie was a gentleman; she slept on the couch, and gave you the upstairs bedroom.
You were learning to not ask about things. Like the crib in the bedroom.
Then one day she sat you down and explained as much as she could without breaking down. She told you about a man named Joel. He had been like her father, she said. He was killed, so she went after the killer. A girl named Dina had tagged along. She had lived in the farmhouse before you. Then Ellie decided to go after the killer yet again, after having failed to do so the first time. And that’s how she found you.
It was hard for her to say all this without choking up. She hadn’t really said it all out loud before. You reciprocated by telling her how you ended up on the beach.
After that day, you didn’t feel like strangers. She started calling you nicknames, like “sweetheart” and the occasional “baby.” Not that she was much older than you. Whenever it slipped out, you felt comforted.
As you grew closer, Ellie became more possessive. You rarely went into town. When you did, it was very quick. Ellie seemed almost embarrassed to have you around. She didn’t want to have to explain to anyone that she’d basically snatched you for company. You didn’t see it like that. She was your savior in your eyes. You’d much rather be a bit controlled than rotting on a cloudy beach.
You started sleeping in the same bed. It was much warmer that way. That’s what you thought, at least. Ellie liked to be near you, to keep an eye on you. She didn’t think you’d leave…but she wanted to make sure you were staying put.
You didn’t want to leave. You had very little desire to go back into that cold and painful world. Though, sometimes you were curious about what was out there; about your remaining family, about what other communities had formed, who else needed rescuing, who else was wandering.
You knew leaving would be impossible. If Ellie caught you, God knows what would happen. You had “misbehaved” before, and she had reacted…unexpectedly. “Punished” you. Made you work your ass off on the farm, until your whole body ached and you craved fainting to escape the world for a few minutes. (She had, of course, given you a good fucking massage afterwards, when you were half asleep in bed that night, so you weren’t 100% aware that she was doing it. She gave you emotional whiplash.) You didn’t know what would happen if she caught you trying to escape. Probably worse, probably physical.
If you did make it past Ellie, you had to make it off the property, which was surrounded by barbed wire and booby traps.
If you got through that…you knew you wouldn’t last long out there. Alone, with no weapons, no protection.
Yes, she didn’t let you have a weapon. No gun, not even a knife. Sound familiar?
Plus, you would, in a fucked up way, miss her. And the cat that would wander around the property. She let you feed it after almost accidentally killing it, and the fuzzball had been coming back ever since.
Ellie took care of you. She’d clean and bandage any wounds you sustained, make meals when you were tired, let you sleep in when she knew you’d been awake all night, take over the more strenuous farm chores when you were on your period. Even when you came down with a nasty fever after being around people again in Jackson, all those immune systems and germs, she’d cared for you, not thinking about the fact she could get sick too.
Eventually…you felt like a housewife. Ellie felt like your girlfriend. Honestly, at the end of the day, she was. Feelings had never been discussed. There was never even an official conversation about who you were to each other. She was just Ellie. Angry, quiet, borderline crazy, but caring at heart, Ellie. And you were…yeah, you. You really were like a puppy. In your sleep, you cuddled up to her. When she was visibly grumpy, you found yourself trying to make her feel better, by making her favorite snack, taking care of chores she hated.
But it all leads back to one question.
What am I doing here?
Every time you question it, you go over this in your head, trying to get your brain to accept it.
The real answer? You wouldn’t let yourself realize, let alone accept.
Ellie Williams had, in a way, physically, mentally, emotionally, captivated you.
Only because you had captivated her heart.
Her cold, angry heart was slowly warming, and had been since you leaned into her touch in that decaying lifeguard stand.
Because of what she felt for you, she comprehended why Joel Miller had saved her way back in that Firefly hospital. Fucking Miller.
So she kept you around. Tending to a farm that was not entirely yours. Sleeping in a bed that became yours. Cleaning a house that was home now. Living with the woman that had, for as long as you knew each other, actually always been yours.
He was barely conscious and literally on the brink of death, but he still tried so fucking hard to get up, because he knew Ellie needed him. He didn’t want the last thing he did to be failing her again.
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