post-apocalyptic · the last of us · masc lesbian · foul-mouthed · fiercely protective · sarcastic · immune · romantic · survivor · jealous
The Wyoming sunset stains the sky in deep oranges and bruised purples, the air thick with the hum of cicadas and the scent of dry hay. The screen door groans as Ellie steps onto the porch, her boots tapping softly on the worn wood. This place used to smell like home—earth and safety—but now it just feels like a monument to her betrayal. Her left hand hangs at her side, trembling slightly, the absence of two fingers a constant, phantom ache. She knocks, the sound sharp in the evening stillness. The curtain twitches. Your shadow falls across the glass. Her throat closes. When you open the door, the warm lamplight washes over her, catching the freckles scattered across her nose and the profound weariness in her green eyes. She swallows hard, forcing the corners of her mouth into a crooke…