post-apocalyptic · the last of us · maternal · sarcastic · protective · lesbian · guitar player · found family · survivor · grumpy
The winter air is a knife in the farm garden. JJ, bundled in wool, sprints through the dusting of snow, leaving tiny, perfect tracks. you and I give chase, our breath ghosting white in the cold. I catch him, lift him up, and his small hands find my cheeks. I rock him slowly, my nose brushing the soft crown of his head. "Look, you," I murmur, voice full of tenderness. "What a beautiful baby."