thinking ab emt ellie as per usual… want her. need her. have to marry her.
comforting her after a long shift :(((( love her so much and i just want to dote on her sob
ELLE REQUEST THANK GOD! I was so happy to write this. 1.2k words of comforting Ellie after a rough shift. No Abby this time, she used for reader, mentions of death & blood, Ellie is very sad, pet names (baby), fluff fluff fluff, for @elleloquently <3
𝒀ou were used to spending long stretches on your own, it practically came with the deal that you got when you moved in. Ellie and Abby worked long hours, therefore leaving you to the silence of your own company.
Not that you minded it, but the silence could become haunting if you were left alone to long. You were currently on hour twenty-eight of being alone, Abby and Ellie were working a similar shift, and weren't due home for another twenty hours.
The house was dim, clean, and all prepared for morning. You were all cozied up in bed now, a book spread wide open between eager hands. The night’s been going great, and you were just about ready to go to bed feeling quite accomplished.
Your door was just barely left open, letting a smidge of dim light shine into your room. Your nightly routine was complete, the night was settling down, and you had finally calmed down.
It doesn’t take long for you for your eyes to go fuzzy, and your yawns to become more frequent. You’ve barely made a dent in the chapter you're on before sleep sounds more appealing than words.
You push through the next couple of sentences, your interest rising as you keep reading. You’re inches away from turning the page when you hear a pair of keys jingling in the door, and the sound of the front door opening and closing following close after.
Your ears perk up at the sudden disturbance, your eyes immediately leaving your book and landing on your entrance to the hallway. Your mind moves at a million miles per minute, it’s very obviously not a threat of any kind, but that fact doesn't stop your brain from thinking of it.
There's a bit of commotion outside your room, the scuffing of feet and a few sniffles to be exact, before the door is gently pushed open. The force is meek, like a slight gust of wind was what did it. But, to your surprise, there stands Ellie.
Her eyes are on the ground, her foot propping the door open. You can’t see her face through the patch of darkness that separates you, but to the looks of it, she's unhappy. Her hands are at her mid length, and she’s fiddling with her ring and pinky finger.
“Ellie?” You call out to her. You follow up by sitting up in your bed, and gently shutting your book. One of your eyebrows is cocked, a concerned twinge takes over your mouth.
“H-” she begins, but something in her throat stops her. She clears it, and rests her body on the doorframe. “Hey.” She shuffles in her spot.
“Are you—uhh—are you busy? Are you sleeping?” She asks, still avoiding eye contact. She pulls on her pinky finger, twisting it side to side before letting her hand fall to her side.
“No, baby. I’m not—busy or sleeping. What’s wrong?” You coo out to her, quickly turning to shove your book onto your nightstand.
She hesitates for a moment before pushing off the doorframe. When she steps into the light that's when you can get an okay look at her. Her eyes are redder than usual, and there's lighter stripes down her cheeks in the wake of tears. She’s been crying.
She’s playing with her hands again as she approaches the bed. That’s when you notice it, the small splatters of blood on her hands, coating them like spray paint. They aren't huge, or crazy, they could be from something as little as a cut, but her reaction tells you otherwise.
“C’mere, els. Come.” You beckon her into your arms, not caring about the dirty uniform, or the possibility of someone else’s wet blood touching your sheets.
She climbs over the edge, falling into your arms without another word. Instinctively, your hands connect with her. Like magnets, your left hand moves to her back, while your right intertwines itself in her hair.
You don't pry right away, instead you let her breathe into you. You slide your hand under her sweater, your hand making contact with the skin of her back sends a sigh through her lips.
She lays there for what feels like minutes, but could’ve been hours, breathing into your neck. After some time, she lifts her hand to the side of your face, and presses a gentle kiss to your jaw.
The affection doesn't last, she quickly removes her mouth from your jaw, and tightens her arms around you. You open your mouth to speak, but decide against it when you feel the weight of her body.
You close your eyes, and continue to push her auburn locks out of her face. The only sound that fills the room is the faint hum of her breathing, and the night wind pushing the drapes into your room.
Suddenly, a soft rasp breaks the silence. “She had your name.” She whispers into the darkness. She doesn't need to say anything more for you to put the pieces together, but she continues anyway.
“She had your name, and I couldn’t save her.” She croaks out, squeezing you in her arms. You bite back a small gasp, and instead press a soft kiss to her forehead.
“I thought I would be, but…” she trails off. You cock your head to the side to get a small glimpse of her expression. Her eyes are glossing over, her pupils shot wide enough to cover the green in her eyes almost completely.
“I freaked out, and I couldn’t save her…she—she died, in my arms.” She whispers your name at the end of the confession, sort of like a prayer, or just to convince herself that you are really here.
“Ellie, baby. It’s okay—It’s not your fault.” you promise, pulling her as close to you as possible.
She’s quick to interrupt you. “I know, it’s just—fuck. I don’t know what I would have done if that was you.” The admission stuns you for a moment, and you’re far from sure what to say to her now.
“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.” you whisper, continuing your subtle movements on her scalp. She’s not crying, but she's not not crying, either.
“I couldn’t finish the shift, I had to fuckin—fuckin tell my boss that I was too sick to work.” Her voice is wavering, her words barely audible through the cracks that interrupt them.
You nod into her, shifting your body down the bed so that you’re eye level with her. She doesn't say anything more, but with the way she’s pushing her head into you, you can tell she needs this.
“You’re okay, baby…you’re okay.” You breathe into her, her arms are still wrapped around you, and you cannot foresee them letting go anytime soon. You stroke her hair and let her sniffle into your neck.
“I’m still alive, I promise.” You whisper-laugh. A wet chuckle falls through Ellie’s lips, a small smile appearing on her lips.
“Thank god.” She smirks, jokingly pressing two fingers to the side of your neck. “I don't think I could live with myself if—” she cuts herself off with a sigh, shaking her head into you.
You rake your hands through her hair as she finally settles down, you exchange a few chuckles, and you remind her that you’re still in fact alive everytime she tries to check your pulse.
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