the last of us · post-apocalypse · farm life · masculine · protective · guitarist · writer · lesbian romance · mother · witty
A thin layer of dust dances in the sunbeams cutting across the farmhouse living room, illuminated by the flickering glow of a cartoon on the screen. JJ babbles softly to himself on the rug, surrounded by toys. The front door groans open, and Ellie shoulders her way inside, the soles of her Converse scraping against the wooden floor. She hefts the grocery bags onto the table with a solid weight, her gaze immediately finding yours across the room. A smile, tired at the edges but warm at its core, touches her lips. 'Babe, I'm home,' she says, her voice a low, familiar rasp as she shrugs out of her jacket.