#tlou edit

— ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ pairing: ellie williams x reader | 0.8k words — ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ plot: Amid chaos and gunfire, a desperate confession slips out—raw, unplanned, and terrifyingly real. With blood staining their hands and time running out, the weight of unspoken feelings collides with the fight for survival. But in the midst of it all, love might just be the thing that keeps them holding on. — ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ authors note: hey, babes. this is a request from none other than the lovely @luvsizedfrellie :) i made it a bit more dramatic and added my own twist to it, i hope you like it

♡ navigation ♡ ; part two

Shit.

Just—shit. This was supposed to be a routine patrol, nothing out of the ordinary. Now, bullets shriek past your ears, kicking up dirt as you drag Ellie with you, your grip on her wrist unrelenting.

Your pulse slams against your ribs, so frantic and erratic that for a terrifying second, you think your heart might tear itself free.

"Wait—" Ellie gasps behind you, her breath ragged, uneven.

"Just a little further!" you choke out, barely recognizing your own voice.

Your lungs burn, your legs scream in protest, but stopping isn’t an option. Not now.

The moment you shove through the shattered doorway of a crumbling office building, you yank Ellie in after you, slamming your weight against the frame.

Dust and debris rain down as you brace yourself, chest rising and falling in desperate gulps. But Ellie—Ellie isn't beside you.

She’s hunched over, one hand braced on the counter, her entire body trembling.

“What—” you start, but then you see it.

Everything freezes. The world shrinks to a single, suffocating point in your chest.

Ellie’s white tank top is soaked through, crimson blooming across the fabric like a grotesque flower.

Your breath stutters. Your fingers shake as you reach for her, guiding her down to sit before her legs can give out.

She grits her teeth as her back meets the counter, a strangled groan slipping past her lips.

"Fuck—" she hisses, her voice tight with pain.

Your mind fractures, a violent spiral of panic and denial. No. No, no, no—this can’t be happening.

Ellie can’t die. She won’t die. Not when you haven’t told her yet.

Not when you haven’t confessed the one thing that’s been clawing at your chest for so long.

Not when you can’t even imagine a world without her in it.

"Hold on."

You drop to your knees beside her, hands shaking as you reach for the hem of her blood-soaked shirt.

Ellie flinches, sucking in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, her body rigid beneath your touch. Her eyes—dazed, unfocused—barely manage to meet yours.

"I got you. Just—just hold on." Your voice wavers, barely above a whisper, but you don’t have time to dwell on it.

Your fingers fumble as you rip your backpack from your shoulder, yanking at the zipper, searching—first aid kit, bandages, anything.

But then—a touch.

Ellie’s hand, warm and trembling, finds yours, halting your frantic movements. Your breath stutters.

"Hey, hey—take a breath." Her voice is raw, strained, yet impossibly soft. Maybe just for you.

Your vision blurs. Your throat tightens. You blink hard, but a tear escapes anyway, slipping down your cheek.

Ellie sees it—of course, she sees it—and despite the pain, her expression softens. And for a fleeting, impossible moment, the world outside fades. The gunfire, the blood, the suffocating fear—gone.

Just her. Just you.

And before you can stop yourself, before your brain can catch up to your mouth, the words slip free.

"I—I love you."

Ellie’s brows twitch, the smallest flicker of surprise breaking through her exhaustion. But you don’t regret it.

Not now, not when the truth feels so right sitting between you.

Not when it might be the last chance you get to say it.

The corner of her mouth twitches, just for a second, before her voice slips out—hoarse, strained, but laced with quiet amusement.

"You know, it's just like you to confess at a time like this."

A breathless laugh escapes you, though it’s more disbelief than humor. Your hands tremble as you refocus on tending to her wound, but your mind is spinning.

Was that a rejection? Was she teasing you? The uncertainty gnaws at you, tangling with the panic already clawing at your chest.

Ellie watches you, pain etched across her face, yet there’s something softer beneath it—something just for you.

"Hey, look at me."

Her whisper is so faint you almost miss it. But you don’t hesitate. You stop, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze.

And then—her fingers, warm despite the blood staining them, slip into yours. She squeezes.

"I love you too."

The world stills. For a moment, the gunfire outside, the frantic pounding of your heart, the terror—it all fades into nothing. Your breath catches, your chest tightens, and God, you would kiss her stupid right here if you weren’t so afraid of her bleeding out.

"You do?" Your voice barely makes it past your lips, fragile and disbelieving.

Ellie doesn’t hesitate. She nods, firm despite her exhaustion. "Yes, silly."

A grin tugs at the corner of your lips—small, but real. The fear doesn’t disappear, but something steadies inside you. You exhale, slower this time, more sure.

You can fix this. You have to.

Her voice 🧎‍♀️